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silversweetpea · 2 years

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Come Home

word count: 3798

summary: A nightmare is only a nightmare when viewed at the right perspective.

Warning: reader is sad and doesn’t like themselves a whole lot but there’s no outright self deprecation.

author’s note: I am obsessed with the idea of Nightmare reader and the way that I just barely restrained myself from making this like a 30 chapter slow burn makes me feel like I have earned a little treat. A little reward if you will, so if you need me I will be writing up yet another self indulgent little story lmao. Also if anyone wants those thoughts on previous chapters of pining I cut so that this wasn’t insane I have so many thoughts please come talk to be about them holy shit.

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Nightmares weren’t designed to be loved. They weren’t even made to be thanked. You, in specific, would know that better than anyone else. And yet, standing on the outskirts of yet another beautiful party for yet another beautiful couple, it was easy to ignore the sting in the back of your throat and the way that you could feel the vines curling around your heart.

You were made in the image of love unrequited, you had always known that. But the waking world was bursting with love and at least this way you were able to stand in its afterglow.

The bride and groom were beaming, radiant in their joy. There was a moment where you were worried about the state of things when it started to drizzle but there had been backup plans ready, tents secured, and smiles on everyone’s faces.

“It’s good luck,” The bride had giggled when you did your final pre-ceremony check in with her. The woman couldn’t be older than her early twenties and yet for just a moment you could see the echoes of all the brides you had assisted. Young and old but always beautiful in their joy. eighty years was a long time to stay in the same field, to keep mysteriously appearing at just the right time, and yet you couldn’t resist it.

The plate in your hand was easily placed in reach of a wandering child, sure they would get far more enjoyment from the sugar rush than you would. You lingered long enough to look at the couple again, to rest in their warmth and imagine for just a moment that you could have that someday too.

And then there was a cough that began to threaten to rip through your throat and you were moving again. It was better that way anyhow.

“He’s not coming back for you, don’t you get that? He’s not coming back for any of us. You might as well see the world, have a little fun.” The Corinthian was the closest thing you had to a friend these days which meant that even after months of silence between you two, his voice lingered in the corners of your mind.

It didn’t help that he didn’t understand your need to be so close to humanity and you didn’t know how to explain it. Not to someone who had always been content with his purpose in the dreaming. Hell, the only reason he had ever found to venture further than it’s boundaries was because he wanted more of the world to see him and what he could do. Corinthian loved, you knew he did, but it wasn’t the sort of endless ace that you were forced to chase for all of time simply by virtue of being alive.

Still, you thought of calling him. Especially when the man in a suit similar to his tailed you from the reception.

“Hey! You’re the planner right?” Nightmares could recognize one another plain enough for you to know that the groomsman meant no harm in chasing after you. Unfortunately that did little to ease the annoyance at his questions and when you turned to face him the most you could manage was a thin smile.

“That’s me.” His eyes were bright, almost the same shade of Dream’s the last time you had spoken to him. There were no stars there though, no depth to the waters. His hair was several shades lighter and much shorter, his posture more outward than your king would have ever been with you.

“I just wanted to...” he struggled for a minute before you could see the lightbulb go off. “I just wanted to say thank you for your help in the wedding. It was really great and I know that Garrett and Anna wouldn’t have been nearly as prepared without you.”

“Just doing my job.” He didn’t need to know that you weren’t paid, that you had no intention of being paid other than the slice of cake. You never were. You had plenty of money and the fewer ways for people to prove you existed the easier it was to convince them you didn’t. That their friends were actually the planners along with some strangly helpful staff at the locations.

“I, uhm, never got your name,” Josh. That was his name. He wasn’t the best man but he was fairly close with the groom. There was a split second where you allowed yourself to imagine what would happen if you introduced yourself. The few weeks of easy affection and the hope, however brief, that you would finally find use for the bouquet within your ribs. Poppies could represent something soft and romantic instead of a constant reminder that you were left behind. Abandoned on a windowsill to wilt.

But you had played that game before and eventually the thorns would grow too big or you would pull away from a kiss to watch them pull petals from their mouth. And then when you left, the ache would be so intense you were sure it would kill you.

“You didn’t need it.” The gap closed between the two of you just enough to give him a pat on the shoulder before leaving. You didn’t look back at him as you waved. “Goodnight Josh.”

He was still standing there when you pulled out of the parking lot. New York didn’t feel nearly as big as it used to as you pulled up to your apartment and went through the motions of packing up. Four years on the dot. More than enough time to make a name for yourself that you could use as reference when you arrived wherever you were going.

Instead you ran a bath of scalding water and lingered in the water until you could convince yourself that the brief flicker of warmth you felt was not Dream reappearing in the waking world after a century of silence, but rather that it was just the water. There was no love for nightmares, no matter where you went that was true, and if there was to be no love for you in either realm at least in the world of the waking you could peek through the windows at its beauty.

There was, however, voices in the living room that shouldn’t be. It was hard to make out the words but you knew the deep baritone and creaking of floorboards were not from the television. You hadn’t even brushed by the thing since yesterday evening when you finished your last minute paperwork.

Pajamas were slipped into quickly and quietly, footsteps muffled from the towel you’d placed on the ground to absorb any of the water spilled from your movement in the bath. Your throat burns with the scratching of vines creeping up it and your hand shakes as you hover over the doorknob. You don’t fear whoever is on the other side, you worry for them. To be buried in flowers sounds so beautiful until you see it happen.

“Are you sure about this boss?” You don’t know the voice, but there’s a strange chirp like sound at the end of his sentence. There’s no malice but the words do quiver slightly. Whatever his boss is doing is making him nervous.

You don’t wait for his boss to respond before opening the door and allowing the thorny vines that had been writhing under your skin to pierce through. The petals that suffocated you were flowing freely from your mouth, piling up at your feet.

The man in front of you doesn’t budge from the monstrous image and when you manage to look him in the eye, the thorns retreat.

“What are you doing here?” It’s your turn for your voice to shake as you look at Dream. He seems tired, but not ill, gaunt but strong enough to demand respect in the center of your living room. Behind him is a raven, not jessamy but you knew how to recognize the king’s familiars in moments.

Dream doesn’t respond, voice just as you remembered it the last time you spoke over a hundred years ago. For his part, he says nothing about what the piles of petals at your feet or the way your jaw drops open. The last time you had seen him plays in snapshots in your mind.

“All I have ever asked was that you let me have some semblance of a home. I have lingered at the edge of your shadow for millennia and all I have to show for it is the same empty chasm within myself that I had upon my first breath!”

His features were just as hard as they had been then. Except for the fact that he had his hands hidden from you now. Tucked away into the pockets of his jacket, eyes softer than was warranted for a nightmare. Morpheus loved all of the dreaming, but he was never soft with a nightmare, it isn’t what you were made for.

“We can talk about this when I return.”

“Corinthian told me you have begun to use a new name,” He speaks as if this was a social call. Nothing more than two friends catching up together instead of a call for you to return to your duties or a warning of your punishment to come from leaving your post. Its all you can do to move far enough into the living room to rest your weight against an armchair.

“Yeah, I have. I found that (Y/n) fit me a bit better than Isolation.” The raven gave a startled sort of noise, head whipping between the two of you before falling back into silence. “I’m sorry, you’re new right?”

“Yeah, sorry. Name’s Mathew,” It suited him. Names usually did. Perhaps that was why Dream was still staring at you with that closed book expression regarding your new title. The warm lights of your apartment looked strange on his cool toned skin. Your life here had been built up in such a carefully human way that you weren’t sure that he was really there at all. Mathew looked like he belonged on your couch more and he was a literal raven.

Your chest aches again. To know that Dream is so close, that his whole attention is on you for however brief a moment, it’s intoxicating. It’s also suffocating.

“Well, is there a point to this call?” There are snappier responses on the tip of your tongue but you can’t will them into existance. Not when your king, the only person you have ever truly longed for, was taking such slow and graceful steps in your direction.

“(Y/n),” your voice sounds like a prayer on his lips. You had chosen it for yourself because you loved it but that love is easy to grow accustomed to, to take for granted. To hear Dream say your name is to fall in love all over again, both with your self chosen identity and the king who spoke as if you were something precious he couldn’t afford to loose. “I would like for you to come home.”

You will. His hand moves from his pocket to rest in the air, palm up. You know, despite only having brushed by his hands with your own on rare occasions, that his skin will be cool to the touch, near freezing given that your skin was still steaming from the bath.

Mathew watches the two of you, you wonder what he must think to see someone stare so intensely at Lord Morpheus’ hand.

“Why did you abandon us?” the room chills by several degrees but you don’t look away from the extended hand that stays just in your reach. “I would rather have been unmade on the spot where I stood than spent a hundred years thinking that you just didn’t care enough to come back and finish the job.”

“I have always cared for you, I care for all of the Dreaming.” A single cough, enough to dislodge a stray petal that you pull from your mouth with little more than a sad scoff.

“I know. Gods I know you care, that’s what hurt the worst. I know I’m not made to be loved or cherished like a dream is, like you are, but when you said you were coming back to talk to me I had hoped-” the words die on your tongue. You were willing to reveal more than you had ever before, but some things were still too personal to put into the air. You can only imagine the chaos that could be inflicted by someone like Desire should they catch you straying too close to their realm.

The silence is heavy and you can’t tell if you would rather it end or stretch forever. At least in this space of in between he hadn’t confirmed your fears yet. The petal you had been playing with was slowly picked from your grasp and it looked even more fragile in Dream’s touch.

“Was I really so cruel that you would think so little of me?” His voice is little more than a whisper. In fact you weren’t sure that Mathew was able to hear the two of you all. That was probably for the best though given that you were currently struggling to breathe once more and barely managed to sputter out a word before being cut off once more.

“Little-”

“You came to me with a problem and I had every intent on fixing it.” His gaze burns into you but there’s no bravery left to meet him. You just accept that he is examining you. If his face was the opposite of the careful regret in his voice you’re not sure you wanted to see it anyhow.

“You’re a king. You’re able to do whatever you want and that didn’t include finding me.” The floorboards crack as Dream moves closer again. It’s just another foot or so but you can nearly feel the brush of his jacket against you where it sways.

“It was not for a lack of wanting to search,” Mathew shuffles a bit on the couch behind Dream. Does he know who you are? If he doesn’t, who does he think he is meeting? In the time that you look away to Mathew your king moves ever closer. A single hand reaches up to your cheek at the speed which would make the erosion of stone feel like a flash in the pan of time. “I should not have made you in this image.”

“But you did.” You sound as breathless as you feel and can’t help but close your eyes at the intimacy of the moment. Millenia of longing, of starvation for the barest of touches had left you in this predicament. You can feel every atom of where you end and he began and wished that you could press those atoms even closer together to close whatever space remained between you for this moment.

“Yes.” A second hand comes up as the first lowers, both of them cupping your face. You can feel Dream’s breath on your skin but you still fear what you may find in his eyes if you look.

“Why?”

It takes him longer than you thought it would to answer and you swallow no less than three budding flowers in that time. Stress had never seemed to activate the more painful parts of your condition before and yet now you were sure that it did.

“Because when you were made, I was alone and that had seemed the worst nightmare of all. And now that I am not I see that I was correct.” There’s a flutter of wings that draws your attention and Mathew, who just a split second before had seemed to be elated with something, now turned his head down sheepishly.

It’s enough to make you smile, which is enough to give you the strength to look him in the eyes. Dream’s eyes have always been that which you admired most about him. No matter the color or shape his eyes always seem to hold infinite depths within them. Morpheus was the Dreaming and his eyes were the ocean which never quite calmed enough to navigate safely.

“Glad to be of service your majesty.” The title causes a twist, nearly imperceivably, in his expression. Had you not been watching the man so closely you would have missed it you were sure. The hands do not leave your face and for a second you allow yourself to daydream of leaning forward, of kissing him.

“You have done more than I could have asked of you, (Y/n), It is time to rest.” His hands are cool on your face and cool where you rest your own hands over them, a silent ask for him not to withdraw, not to leave you alone in your own skin again. “Please, come home. Let me remake you into something less cruel.”

It should make you nervous, the thought of being unmade. It should drive you to the brink of fear and anger and cause you to run or fight but instead you imagine living without the burden of want and your body relaxes.

“Do you promise it will be kind?” If Dream had been mortal he would not have heard you. It’s little more than a thought, your lips barely move. But Dream is not mortal and your eyes close just as soon as he nods, eyes still locked in on yours.

“You have both my word,” his voice deepened and the volume dropped as you feel his lips press to your forehead ever so lightly. “and my deepest apologies.”

The magic of the moment lingers as you feel yourself slinking into the dark of the void beyond. It isn’t particularly cold or particularly warm but you feel something you can only attribute as peace as you faded into the depths.

Being born again is as easy as waking up. The first sound is the crashing of waves on a familiar shore and the first smell is salt and water. Your new eyes’ first sight is so similar to your old ones that you’re almost not sure that this isn’t a memory for a moment.

But then Dream smiles, small and questioning in its silence, and something in you melts. Your hand moves to cover your mouth on instinct only to find...nothing. No petals. No torn up mouth. No vines.

Through your self exploration, the turn you make as you look for any sign of nightmare within yourself and the laughter that builds slowly but surely until you can’t keep it in anymore, Morpheus says nothing. You’re not sure how long you stand there because time has always been such a nebulous concept in the Dreaming, and yet you know that it’s long enough for you to make yourself dizzy from the spinning.

“What’s my title?” The king finally seems to snap out of whatever daze he had found himself in while you looked over the familiar build. From what you could tell it was exactly the same save for the self consuming flowers that threatened to rip yourself apart from the inside.

"Anything you would like it to be,” You spin again, elated at the ability to move without the feeling of constriction around your bones. Dream’s voice is warm and you can hear the smile again as you stumble to a stop, closer than you would have ever dared without an excuse to fall back on. An excuse you wouldn’t need if the sudden presence of a cool hand against your hip to steady you was any sign of approval. The closeness makes it hard to focus on air again, caught instead by the intensity of the look leveled your way. “You told me that you would grant me anything I asked of you, and yet you never stopped to wonder why I could not bring myself to ask.”

Your hand shakes as you bring it to his face as he did to yours in the waking world. Every moment is slow in case he were to change his mind, to give him a opportunity to pull away. Dream doesn’t though and to feel him lean into your touch is enough to make you giddy all over again. It makes it easier to ignore the way that your stomach has begun doing summersaults at the thought that your longing had been but one side of a window for all this time.

“I didn’t think you wanted anything I had to offer.”

“I wanted everything you had to offer and then some. I would have destroyed you.” It’s a statement, a fact. And yet you can’t help but take a step closer into his personal space, to lean more into him and see if he would support you. Dream does, without question or comment.

“Maybe. But I would have taken it nonetheless.” A second hand joined the first on the opposite hip and now that you were secure and there was no way to run from the situation you had found yourself in there was a spark of bravery in your veins. Not quite enough to lean forward and kiss him yet, but enough that despite his gaze you didn’t shy away from openly admiring him. “I still would if you offered.”

“And if I offered a place at my side instead?” There’s quiet again. Morpheus holding your hips and you holding his face and the neither of you speaking, just swaying ever so slightly in the wind.

“I would take it.” Tension slips away at the confession. A small release in the lines of his brow and an easier lilt to his smile. “You could ask me to be your advisor or your jester alike and I would accept either with the same optimism.”

“And if I would ask to court you?” The kings voice isn’t scared, but it is cautious. His words even slower, his swaying stopping long enough for him to make eye contact during which he seems to search your very being.

“Dream,” The gaze doesn’t break. “Morpheus, I would give you everything I am for nothing more than a moment with you.”

The silence returns just for a beat, something you can hear unobstructed from within your chest for the first time. And then, like the sun rising over the horizon, a smile lights up Dream’s face as he leans his face ever nearer your own.

“Is that a yes?” You can feel his words against your lips for how close you two are and you can only hope that when you close that final gap he doesn’t doubt your answer too terribly much.

Although, if he did you had some ideas on how to convince him.

#Dream x reader #Dream of the endless x reader #Morpheus x reader #Sandman x reader #Dream x you #Dream of the endless x you #Morpheus x you #Sandman x you

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand.

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are.

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day.

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation.

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human.

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation.

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable.

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?”

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place…

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!”

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night.

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness-

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then.

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet.

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely.

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts.

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down.

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated.

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior.

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated.

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

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ilcaeryx · 3 years

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Cultist [Sukuna/Reader] - NSFW

Summary: You have one god on this earth.

Tags: Sukuna/Reader, NSFW, Smut, Humor, Size kink, Cock Warming, Body Worship,

Words: Cirka 2k

Author’s Note: What’s up, sluts? I’m back. This is NSFW, so beware.

---

Sukuna did regularly mention that domination and conquest were his pastime hobbies and you would tentatively add that he adhered to them with slave-like zealotry. Whenever he insulted Itadori Yuji by calling him simple-minded, your heart ached with the desire to tell him that he was not any greater regarding his obsessions with strength. However, your self-preservation kept you alive, since a bitch that talks back to Sukuna is a bitch that gets their head separated from their body, after all.

Having sex with Sukuna is somehow leagues safer than speaking to him, you thought, gaze surveying how the apex of his back muscles cast shades upon the trenches of his spine. Inhalation, the shadows grew and deepened. Exhalation, the light re-conquered its territory. You suspected he never slept, even though he physically seemed in deep slumber. His arms were splayed on his pillow, face turned away from you.

You had self-preservation to save your ass 99 percent of the time – this time was probably that one percent where he would snap.

“Sukuna,” you called out, very lightly stroking his biceps with your nails. No answer, but his arm muscles flexed subtly as he moved his arm. “I want my side of the bed back. I can’t sleep on this side.”

You let out a shriek when his hand shot out at you, palm plastered over your lips. The sharp edge of his index nail hovered uncomfortably close to your eye, the thumb nail piercing your cheek. Out of reflex, your dug your fingertips into his upper arm and attempted to pull away from his show of force.

Sukuna turned his head to face you. His eyes glared with disinterest, though his grasp weakened slightly.

“You’ve been plenty loud during the night; why must you continue now?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks together to allow you to speak.

“I’ve slept like three hours max,” you said, ignoring his question.

“That is not my problem.” He let go of your face to return to his original position. “Go find somewhere else to sleep and I shall wake you whenever I have need of you.”

What an absolute dickhead. This was your bed, not his domination playground.

You released him and patted your face with your fingers carefully. There were no stinging scratches left behind, which was good considering his reasoning that if ‘you weren’t bleeding out, you didn’t need help’ would leave you with annoying scabs everywhere. Why you were even fucking this guy was beyond you, honestly. This was one of the top 3 worst life choices you had ever made.

You slid towards him beneath the covers and supported your upper body with your ribcage on his lower back and elbows on his upper back. His body heat intermingling with yours gave you a dull ache, from behind your breastbone flowing into a tidepool in the pit of your stomach. After pushing your hair to one side of your neck, you lowered yourself onto him. Your lips wet and breath hot across his skin, you blew softly before planting a kiss below his shoulder blade. Had it been another person under you, you would have had the gratification of seeing goosebumps forming across the area.

“Sukuna…” you said, barely audible between his skin and your lips.

The King of Curses arose from his relaxed position. “Did you not listen or are you an idiot?”

“Bit of both, to be perfectly honest.” You pinched a tuft of his hair strands between two fingers, pulling gently. “You don’t need to do anything – I just want your attention.”

He issued you a warning glare, daring you to pull some weird shit on him.

You shrugged one of your shoulders and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not like I can hurt you, right? I don’t have sharp claws.” To testify, you released his hair, buried your nails below his neck and dragged them down his back in one stroke. Four faint lines were left behind, a stylistic contrast to his dark markings. “I don’t have superhuman strength or speed.” You felt the muscular ridges above his ribs, your fingers travelling up and down each rib. “At my worst, I’m just very obnoxious.”

“How self-aware,” he mocked and laughed half-heartedly. He seemed to enjoy your tiny monologue, judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows. “Continue.”

His approval increased your confidence. While you scoured your brain for whatever concept that might amuse or interest him, you broke eye contact and directed your thumb to pad the black line running along his back. You followed it up to the crest of his shoulders and pulled yourself up over his torso. A low growl hummed beneath you, indicating that perhaps you were pushing your luck. When you brought your left hand down his chest the sound reverberated through your being, reminding you that you were not the apex predator in here. His eagerness showed as he willingly moved his hand into your range when you struggled to reach it.

“Look,” you said, just as eager to sate his curiosity, “at the difference.”

With his attention on your hand enveloping his, you settled your head on his shoulder, finally eye to eye with the King of Curses. You shifted so that your palms met. Even when ignoring his nails, his long fingers and thick wrist eclipsed yours. Finger pads with rough callouses created in combat, the evidence of a reign of lasting a millennium. You could feel the wisdom beneath your soft pads; you could’ve devoted your entire life to warfare and your hands would still not understand it the way his do.

“You know, I never used to consider myself a small person,” you lied, your voice perfectly stable, “but now I am not so sure anymore. It is quite overwhelming.”

Sukuna’s head tilted towards yours, almost tenderly grazing his cheek against your jawline. The movement gave you shivers, causing your toes to curl. You had no option but trusting his self-control when he dove below your jaw and put his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh between his lips, occasionally tasting with his tongue.

You sighed, content for the brief attention you had earned. Sukuna’s heartbeat rate did not increase nor decrease beneath your hand, his chest just as firm. He detached from your neck, his saliva cooling down that particular spot. You were on the brink of complaining when the world swirled around and your back hit the mattress, your chest and stomach feeling the room’s chill without Sukuna’s body heat.

Sukuna was not playing around anymore; he aligned his forearms beside your face and blocked off whatever else existed outside with his mere presence, lips taut and eyes alert. He situated his torso on top of yours and separated your thighs with his knee. Not close enough to grind on.

“Tell me more,” he stared you down. “What does being completely outmatched feel like?”

You wondered if he meant how it physically felt or how the emotional part of being outmanned and outgunned felt like. Considering how his empathic ability was low-functioning to non-existing, you wanted to bet your money on a physical description… Yet, your tongue prepared to tell him about the terror and the uncertainty. It was not wise to divulge such details to Sukuna.

Scheherazade’s silver tongue might have saved her life a thousand and one times but not everyone’s talent was located in their mouth cavity. Like always, your hands bought you more time to think, to evaluate your words. You tentatively reached for his collarbones before changing your mind and guiding one hand to his lips. Perhaps he had meant to kiss your fingertips, perhaps he had yet another inquiry but his lower lip separated from his upper one and you cautiously pulled it downwards. A predator’s teeth greeted you.

“I can’t say it without sounding lame,” you said and crossed your arms across your chest. “Don’t laugh.”

Almost immediately, Sukuna leaned his weight on one forearm, allowing him to use the other to restrain your hand against the mattress. “I assure you,” he said, his eyes staring lazily at you, lids half-down, “you are not that funny.”

Suddenly, you wished Itadori Yuji would regain his consciousness to not have to deal with this asshole. Kind, encouraging Yuji would worship your existence. Perhaps you would eventually have learned to worship him in turn. ‘Learning’ being the key word, of course. You would fumble in the dark while attempting to appreciate him. This seemed like a good idea for about three seconds and then you returned to your occult god.

“I want to be inside you.” Sukuna, no longer interested in your thoughts, showed more interest in your body. He seldomly spoke of his wants, rousing your curiosity and – honestly – your arousal. The thigh between your leg shifted closer to your mound, touching your nether lips softly.

“You’re so demanding,” you complained, ending your sentence with a deep sigh. “You want me to be quiet, you want me to talk, you want to be inside me – will you ever be satisfied?”

You rolled your hips upwards in a slow movement, enjoying yourself as your lips parted against his flesh. It did not please you enough, so you continued to alleviate yourself.

“No.” His voice was unusually quiet. His lower lip brushed yours as he spoke. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You moved your chin downwards, the movement nearly imperceptible for someone who was not expecting it.

“I agree… if it’ll keep you quiet,” he said, releasing your arm to steady himself above you.

And you did keep quiet. Although he remained stone-faced, Sukuna seemed attentive to the way you opened your mouth and frowned in frustration, his crimson gaze traversing across your face.

He angled his hips downwards, pressuring your clit as you ground against him. You had never been more thankful for the things he did than when he let you use his body as a tool to get off. Each upwards motion elected a pang of pleasure, a beach in ebb and flow.

You don’t know for how long he tolerated your grinding but your lower body ached and his thigh was slick with your fluid when he removed his leg from you, its absence pulsating throughout your stomach. Despite your fear that he would push you away, you grabbed onto his neck to heave yourself against him, anything to regain that comfort. The relief that accompanied the heartbeat after he brought you up with him to sit upright lightened your entire being. His hands felt excruciatingly hot, almost unbearably so, on your ribcage.

Although you felt ready for him, your grip on his neck remained hard as he lifted you up above his cock. Sukuna descended you slightly, his tip bulging at your entrance. You knew your limit and didn’t hesitate to sink onto him, a movement less gentle than you wished due to your legs being wrapped around his waist. Your breath was uneven, hitching up whenever you strained against him. Avoiding getting your insides impaled by a guy’s dick was surprisingly hard labour. Eventually you settled at his base, a sense of completion glowing off you.

There were no comforting touches or encouraging words from Sukuna, whose tranquil expression made him seem more like Yuji than himself. His eyes almost shut, jaw relaxed... This was the alternate universe version of Sukuna, a man who did not lust for domination and who would settle down with his loved ones for an eventless life.

Hearing your dumb fantasies echo in your head, you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles until you saw stars. What idiocy. You had to cease these daydream scenarios or you’d be in deep shit in the future. You were an atrocious cultist.

---

I hope everyone enjoyed this. If you liked this, please give a comment/like/reblog. I listened to the Professor Tox remix of LOONA’s Girl Front and Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder while writing this.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk #jjk reader insert

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 26 part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

I’m Coming Up So You Better Get This Party Started

The Lans arrive just in time to see Cousin Jin Zixun hassling Su She, and they wonder how he has the fucking nerve to come to a party that they are also invited to.

Su she was invited by his new best friend Jin Guangyao, who deploys a full-on charm attack, wrapping Su She permanently around his little finger.

Smoother than the Lanling weather that’s how he holds himself together Watch out, he’ll charm you

Jin Guangyao grew up with women who earned their living by being charming, pleasant, and hiding their true thoughts from their clients, and he appears to have mastered this useful skill set. With Su She, he exudes confidence and authority, allowing the lesser man to bask in his attention.

With Zewu Jun he deploys helplessness and embarrassment, effectively controlling a man with much greater power than his own.

Lan Xichen confronts him about Su She's presence, and Jin Guangyao pretends he didn't know that Su She was ex-Lan. This seems super unlikely, given that JGY is good at collecting information that he can use to fuck with people, and also that he sheltered Lan Xichen from the Wens directly after Su She betrayed him.

Lan Xichen seems like he doesn't believe what JGY is telling him but then he decides to drop it, passive-aggressively saying that since JGY is uninformed, he's not guilty. Lan Xichen is actually assuming a lot here about his right to tell Jin Guangyao who to invite and who to shun, but JGY doesn't push back. Lying is so much simpler.

(more behind the cut!)

Su She wins for most unintentionally sarcastic-seeming toasting expression.

Jiang Cheng, Party Animal

Jiang Cheng arrives at the party, bringing his Jiang retinue and his bad temper. He super obviously casts around to try to find Wei Wuxian, who already told him he probably wasn't coming to the party.

Jiang Cheng is that guy who only comes to a party because the girl he likes said she was thinking about going, and then he spends the whole party saying "hey have you seen Mei Lin? She said she was going to be here but I don't see her."

Jin Guangyao formally congratulates Jiang Cheng on the Jiang clan's success in the hunt, and Jin Guangshan toasts him. As always, Jiang Cheng reacts to praise from authority figures like it's rain in the desert, smiling from ear to ear. He says that the Jiang Clan will donate the prey from the hunt to the other gentry clans. ...what?

Are we seriously saying that when these dudes go night hunting it's not just to remove dangerous bad stuff, it's for profit?

Like, do they eat monsters? Wear their fur? Make leather from their skin? Carve jewelry from their claws? Is Jiang Cheng wearing a purple monster's skin right now? (There will be an art prompt at the end of this post)

Meanwhile, check out the way Nie Huaisang is looking at Jiang Cheng, wow.

Forecast: Hazing

Having gotten the single pleasant part of the banquet over with, it's time for the Jins to pick on the Lans. Cousin Jin Zixun goads Lan Xichen into taking a drink with him, knowing that this is (mostly) against Lan rules. Jin Guangyao tries to stop him by saying, hilariously, that it's bad to drink and fly on a sword, but CJZX waves this away and keeps pushing, saying that if Lan Xichen won't drink, it's an insult to him.

A random cultivator who is definitely on the Jin payroll backs him up, saying that teetotaling is for losers, and Captain Blowhard boisterously agrees. Loudly agreeing with powerful people is the Yao clan's signature martial arts skill.

Jin Guangyao looks embarrassed and helpless, which is, as mentioned before, his own signature skill. But he's just playing his own part in this piece of theater; everything happening at this party (so far) is happening for the benefit of the Jin Clan. Cousin Jin Zixun is an ass, but he's not actually a loose cannon, and Jin Guangshan is clearly enjoying the Lans' discomfort.

Why? This entire party, the hunt, everything he's done since the end of the Sunshot campaign, has been designed to increase and consolidate his power. His main goal is to get the Yin Tiger seal, but reducing the status of the Lans is also a good move for him. The Lans have been the strongest opponents to the use of resentful energy, and worked the hardest to conceal and contain the Yin iron in the past. If he wants to use resentful energy as part of his own cultivation, he needs them to chill.

So this is a bit of a test; will they comply with the will of the larger group in order to avoid conflict, or will they refuse, which will allow him to label them as iconoclastic weirdos?.

Lan Xichen takes a long look at his brother, who is expressing all sorts of emotions while keeping his face very very still.

At a guess, he is thinking that this entire party is bullshit, that his brother's willingness to play along with these assholes is bullshit, that being viciously beaten for having a single drink in his life was bullshit, that Wei Wuxian not being here right now is bullshit.

Lan Xichen picks the "go along, get along" path, having his drink and using his magic skill of anti-intoxication to neutralize it, as he'd done previously when drinking with Wei Wuxian.

Cousin Jin Zixun picks on Lan Wangji next, and since he cannot magically or even non-magically tolerate alcohol, there is a real risk to his reputation if he drinks. But Lan Wangji breaks rules when he feels like it, not when people tell him to. He pointedly ignores the offered drink while Lan Xichen looks worried.

The rest of the party guests have a wide variety of reactions, none of them helpful, to these shenanigans. Jin Guanshan's son and heir watches with calm interest as the power dynamics play out.

All of this is actually not great strategy for the Jins. The Lans don't play little social games to gain power, because all that time they spend not drinking, not gossiping, and not doing other stuff? Is spent cultivating and practicing sword and musical battle forms. The Lan Bros are overwhelmingly powerful as individuals, and embarrassing them won't change that.

It's moot, ultimately, because Wei Wuxian chooses this moment to arrive.

Darkness Visible

Wei Wuxian actually made a big impressive stair-climbing entrance to Jinlintai a few minutes ago, with camera work echoing Lan Wangji's stair climb at the Wen Indoctrination Bureau from several episodes back.

But nobody was around to see that, other than us, and when he appears at the party it's in stealth mode; he steps into the frame from out of nowhere, and drinks Lan Wangji's unwanted drink.

Lan Wangji responds by looking at him like this for the next several minutes.

Wei Wuxian doesn't have time for their usual sport of Extreme Gazing, though; he came for a reason, which is to find and rescue Wen Ning. He gets right to it, asking Cousin Jin Zixun where he's keeping him.

Jiang Cheng, who is the king of worrying about the wrong fucking thing, jumps up to try to stop Wei Wuxian from talking. Like, seriously, he's ok with the Jins trying to take his clan's special extreme weapon, but he's not ok with his head disciple being rude in order to fulfill a whopper of a life debt--Jiang Cheng's life debt, in particular--or being rude in order to preserve the clan's independence.

Jin Guangshan decides this is a good moment to bring up the Yin tiger amulet. Wei Wuxian pushes back, hard, pointing out exactly what Jin Guangshan is doing. He says he's setting himself up to be a new Wen Ruohan.

Lan Wangji pays close attention to Wei Wuxian's reasoning here, and so does Nie Mingjue, unless he’s just trying to mask his confusion.

Jiang Cheng is too busy being horrified to listen, apparently. Or he just doesn’t agree, preferring to be reduced to a secondary authority, rather than defy a primary authority.

Wei Wuxian is, of course, all about independence; he was literally born to be a rogue cultivator, despite being dubbed “patriarch” himself, not long after this.

Let’s Go Crazy Let’s Get Nuts

Wei Wuxian gets tired of the scene and decides to lose his temper. He makes a show of being enraged, and he genuinely is angry, but I don't think he's out of control, this time.

He acts like he's out of control in order to scare everyone, but he makes his points very clearly, reminding everyone that he has power they don't have, that he's good at killing, that he's not patient, and that his teeth are nicer than everybody else’s.

Everybody in the room freaks out to one degree or another--except Jin Guangshan, who is apparently too pissed off to be scared.

It's hilarious that Jin Guangshan thought he was going to get Wei Wuxian to hand the Yin Tiger amulet over by creating a complex system of social pressure against him. Wei Wuxian's favorite way of responding to social pressure is to escalate it into violence, regardless of the consequences; he's been doing that at least since Gusu Summer School and probably a lot longer. Jin Guangshan should know this, given how many beatings his son has taken from Wei Wuxian over the years.

Wei Wuxian does a fantastically sexy scary, theatrical countdown, and Cousin Jin Zixun caves in and gives him the information he wants. It's worth noticing that even under threat of death, CJZX doesn't comply until he visually checks in with his clan leader. He’s genuinely a bad person, yes, but he’s a loyal soldier, which is what most of these clans value most.

As soon as he gets what he wants, Wei Wuxian is perfectly, smugly, in control of himself again. Everyone in the room is still stunned and afraid, so Jin Guangshan has achieved that much, at least; nobody likes Wei Wuxian having the Yin tiger seal now, including Jiang Cheng.

As he leaves, Wei Wuxian has one of those conversations with Lan Wangji in which everything is said in glances in the course of a couple of seconds.

WWX: I love you, I have to leave you; I've got some shit to take care of and I won't be coming back to all of this.

LWJ: I love you; I'm probably going to have to fight you; your funeral is going to be so upsetting

Wei Wuxian turns away from everyone, and you can see the weight settling on his shoulders, as he contemplates the choices he just made and the choices that are still ahead of him.

Jin Guangshan, for the first and only time, loses his temper in front of everybody, literally flipping a table because he's so mad about what just happened.

Art prompt: Jiang Cheng wearing an outfit made of a Chinese mythical creature. Bonus points if it’s a qilin. Bonus bonus points if Zhang Qiling (from DMBJ/Lost Tomb franchise) is standing next to him looking grumpy while Jiang Cheng wears an outfit made from a qilin.

Soundtrack: Get This Party Started by Pink, Charm Attack by Leona Naess, Let’s Go Crazy by Prince.

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #learn to count the yiling way #1900 words

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homerforsure · 3 years

Text

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

#whumptober2021 #no. 5 #betrayal #fic #911 #hanging out at the angst end of the spectrum #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hockey au #allison can’t write a short fic to save her life #minimal edits #messy ending #questionable formatting #230 am #😴

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

REDACTED verse - A dinner and a show

Prompt: any | any | competition

Word Count: 2,460

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Vincent Solaire/Lovely)

Rating: T

Triggers: Explicit implications

Summary: It's a tradition within the Solaire Clan that the King would visit his progenies from time to time. Tonight, Will is coming over to Vincent & Lovely's apartment for dinner. What's not a tradition is the karaoke competition that comes afterwards.

ConCrit: Y

I don’t know what happened. This oneshot just went out of my control but I had so much fun writing it today! I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Also, I just realised that all the characters in my oneshots have been eating lately. Oh my god, I got so hungry when I was writing them that I subconsciously includes food in some of the scenes 😭 Food is my love language so I guess it’s cute that the bois and their lovers would sit down and eat together.

That being said, I hope you guys will crave Korean food as much as I am in this oneshot! 😅

“Vincent? I need your help. Can you tell me what’s Will's favourite colours?”

“Lovely - ”

“Because I have some formal outfits in our closet, but they don’t mean shit if Will hate the colours.”

“Lovely, hang on - ”

“Is he allergic to perfumes? Colognes? I have some soft-scented bottles that should be Vampire-friendly! I think? Most of them are floral though… oh! Does he have a favourite flower? Do you think I should buy some before he comes over?”

“What? No, Lovely, I think you’re working yourself up - ”

“I know you bought some blood bags for dinner but do you think we should cook some food too? Does Will like to eat? Shit, I knew I should have bought some groceries yesterday after class!”

“You’re not listening to me at all, Lovely…”

“We have to clean up the whole place too. I don’t know how our furniture gets so dusty so quickly! I just wiped them down a few days ago!”

“...”

“Do you think I should do my hair too? It’s a bit of a mess lately; I could use a trim. Does Will - ”

Lovely's eyes widen as a deep kiss suddenly silences them. Their heart pounds when Vincent brings them close to his chest, trapping his lover in his arms. Lovely's eyes flutter close when he pulls away to press butterfly kisses on their neck. They couldn’t help it; they moan and tilt their head back when they feel fangs delicately drag down their tender skin.

“Vincent!” Lovely hisses, not sure for what, though, when Vincent's fangs pinprick where their pulse is.

“Oh? Are you finally with me again, Lovely?” Vincent breathes, loving how their heart begins to beat faster and faster in anticipation. His chest reverberates when he chuckles deeply. “There we go… I have your attention again, little one.”

They grumbled at the unfairness of it all. Just as Lovely knew all of Vincent’s weaknesses and tickle spots, he knew how weak their knees behaved when he pressed his fangs to any parts of his partner's body. Especially down south.

“I’m serious here, Vince.” Lovely whines. “There are so many things we have to do before Will comes over for dinner tonight. I want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

Vincent gives Lovely a deadpan look. They would’ve coo at how adorable he looks if it weren’t for his Vampiric speed and his habit of chucking them onto the bed whenever Lovely is being too stubborn to listen to reason. “Lovely? A question: are you dating my Sire or me?”

Lovely blinks; they didn’t expect that. “Uh, you, duh.”

“Then trust me, as your boyfriend,” Lovely has no idea why Vincent emphasised that last word, but they knew better than to interrupt him when he gets like this. “That everything’s going to be fine. Besides, I told you that while this might look like the whole ‘meeting the parent’ shtick, the relationship between a Sire and their Progeny is way more than that.” He patiently reminds them.

“Well yeah, but he means a lot to you.” Lovely points out. Now, why did Vincent look so surprised at that? “So that means he’s important to me too. That’s why this dinner has to be perfect.”

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. He just stares at them in wonderment.

Lovely let out a surprised squeak when Vincent suddenly crushed them in a hug. “How did I get so damn lucky with you, Lovely?” He murmurs, face buried on top of their head. “Sometimes I think that you’re… too amazing to be real.”

So soft and sweet; that’s Vincent. Lovely lets him cuddle them like his personal teddy bear until he's satisfied.

“Now, I need you to do something for me, Lovely. Do you think you can do it?”

Lovely raise an eyebrow. “Depends on what it is, Vince. I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I can only give you at least four hours in bed - ”

“N-Not that!” Vincent hurries to interject, a brilliant red blush runs across his cheeks despite him being a Vampire. He coughs once to get them on track, playfully glaring at Lovely for trying to distract him. “Geez, Lovely. It’s still way too early for… that. But we're definitely going to revisit that. Anyway, I need you to calm down for a second, OK? Will is a pretty chill guy and an open-minded Sire. He knows how much I love you, so you have nothing to worry about.” He gently assures them, rubbing calming motions up and down Lovely's back.

Lovely could feel their anxiety melts away. Just enough for them to finally breathe again ever since Vincent dropped the bomb that William Solaire will be coming over for dinner tonight.

Apparently, everyone in the Clan knows that the King would visit his Progenies at least once a month to check up on them. Just like how a parent would drop by their children's home for a visit, in Lovely's opinion.

“Ok. You win, baby.” Lovely sighs, loving how his rubbing eases the tense muscles. They arch their back like a pleased, spoiled cat when Vincent messages that spot below their shoulders. “Ooooh, yes, that’s the spot!”

Once Lovely's bones feel like they could melt at any time, they throw Vincent a grateful smile.

“Now, there’s the smile I’ve been missing the whole day!” Vincent teases. “C’mon Lovely, let’s plan for dinner before we take our nap. How do you feel about seafood?”

“Oh, I can go for some seafood. It’s been a while.”

“Spicy steamed crabs with scallops, battered pan-fry oysters and some chilled bowl of rice top with raw salmon and sea bass with slices of your favourite veggies? All Korean-style."

“Hell yes. I think we have all the ingredients for that. Wait. Err, can Will handle spicy food?”

"Uh... I have no idea. Maybe we should hold back on that spicy steamed crabs with scallops just in case."

Ever since the two started living together, Vincent really took a shine when it came to cooking and baking. The idea of providing for Lovely makes him ridiculously happy, and besides, him whipping up healthy and delicious food for them results in much richer and sweeter blood flowing within his lover for him to feed on so… win-win!

As the two of them traverse to the kitchen to start preparing the ingredients for dinner, Lovely slowly gain the confidence that their dinner tonight with Vincent's Sire will turn out alright.

And before both of them knew it, the sun had set.

After a fresh shower, the entire apartment is now spotless (to Lovely's standard), and dinner is served on the table, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" Lovely announce just as Vincent finish putting down the plates. They smoothen out the creases on their clothes, roll their shoulders before taking a deep, calming breath and answer the door. Like a soldier marching towards the battlefield.

Seeing his partner's dramatic reaction, Vincent just shakes his head.

As soon as Lovely opens the door, William Solaire greets them. "Good evening. I hope I'm not too early. The evening traffic has been quite a hassle lately. I figured that even if I'm a bit early, I could help you and Vincent in the kitchen." Will explains. In his arms is a bouquet of white pear blossoms, yellow gladioluses and red tulips. When Lovely stares at them curiously, Will smiles knowingly. "Vincent informed me that you don't drink, so I decided that flowers would be the appropriate gift as oppose to a bottle of champagne."

"They're so pretty." Lovely reply, breathless when they receive the bouquet. "Thank you so much, Will! I'll put them in a vase now. Oh, and please come in." They graciously step aside to let Vincent's Sire in.

While Lovely is busy rummaging for a vase in the storeroom, Will and Vincent make small talks over at the dining table. Vincent passes the ancient Vampire a tall glass of blood which Will accept with gratitude.

"Hey, Will. How's it going?"

"I'm fine, Vincent. Thank you for asking." Will reply after dabbing the bloodstain on the corner of his lips. "The Clan is the same as usual; Our Newborn members have finally settled in nicely, much to Sam's relief. I plan to visit them next week."

Vincent tops up Will's empty glass before replying. "That's great to hear." He's about to say something else before a loud bang against the wall in the storeroom stops him. "Uh, Lovely? Is everything OK in there?" He calls out.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Lovely shouts back. "I found the perfect vase for the flowers!"

Vincent groans in exasperation. When Will throws him a confused expression, Vincent is compelled to explain. "Look, Will, Lovely has been freaking out about tonight's dinner the whole day. They think that if it turns out anything but perfect, you're going to be disappointed in them. So just... just play along, alright?"

Will chuckles; his heart warms at the thought that Lovely holds him in such high regard. What an adorable human. "Is that so? Very well then, I will play the perfect guest towards such kind hosts."

And true to his words, when Lovely joins them at the table after putting the vase full of flowers on the coffee table in the living room, Will waste no time in kicking his charm to the max. In between their meal, Will makes sure to compliment Lovely's outfit (which earned him a shy yet pleased blush from Lovely and a jealous kick at his shin from Vincent). He then comments that the spicy steamed seafood dish is his favourite, and when desserts are introduced, Will gently helps Lovely open up by asking about their interests and hobbies.

Will is pleasantly surprised to find one of the many common grounds they share: their love for analysing music.

"I find RM to be one of the most brilliant lyricists in this generation." Will states once his bowl of red bean shaved ice is empty. "His songs are undoubtedly impactful for the youths of today. Not to mention that I'm quite fond of his wordplays."

"You're into K-pop!?" Lovely ask, utterly gobsmacked. Their eyes are wide in shock.

Vincent snorts. "Alexis is a BTS fan. Somehow, she managed to convert Will too."

When Lovely turn to face Will once more, their expression frozen in disbelieve, he adds, "We're planning to catch their concert once the situation permits it."

Will's pop culture admission finally broke the ice. Lovely laughs in delight before launching themselves into an animated conversation about modern music with Will.

However, it wasn't long before their topic suddenly went off the rail when Vincent claimed that he's a better shower singer than Lovely.

"Oh please, Vince, I thought you were dying in the bathroom," Lovely interjects with a roll of their eyes. Vincent splutters at his partner's cruel remark, but Lovely presses on without mercy, much to Will's amusement. He resolutely keeps his mouth shut despite his growing grin slowly making its way up to his face. "Face it, you're tone-deaf. Being a Vampire doesn't magically make you a good singer."

"Those are some fighting words, Lovely. Can you back them up?"

"We can settle this tonight if you want. You and me; we can duke it out in a singing swag off with Will as the judge." Lovey declares with a smirk before they head into the living room. All revved up as if their previous anxiety over dinner had never happened.

"Oh my..."

Vincent turns to Will with a grateful nod. "Thanks for helping them relax. And hey, you don't have to stay if you have some other plans tonight, Will."

Will stares back at his Progeny with a faux, scandalous look on his face, complete with a hand on his chest. "Why, Vincent, where would I be anywhere but here? It's not every day that I get to see you humbled by your lover. Don't think I forget that you were once known as the Playboy of the Solaire Clan."

Shock looks good on Vincent's face. It's cute that he actually forgot how he was before Lovely walks into his life. Oh, Will is going to milk this for all its worth.

"Alright! The system is set up!" Lovely announce from near the TV with a microphone in their hand. "Will, come on! You need to help me prove that Vincent sings like a dying cat. Here, here!"

"Oi, oi! We haven't even started yet!" Vincent rebuke and flits over to grab the spare microphone. "You know what, Lovely? I'm so confident that I'll win this that I'll let you go first."

Lovely grins viciously and accepts his offer. Once Will makes himself comfortable on the couch and signals for them to begin, Lovely open their mouth,

Will couldn't stop smiling as Lovely sings their heart out, and Vincent makes his grand entrance after they're done (singing one of Will's favourite songs in hopes to sway his Sire to his side). Vincent and Lovely are having the time of their life, teasing one another as they sing. Will commits this night into one of his most cherished memories.

*"Dari apa yang aku perhatikan

Manusia mahu senang tapi tak semua mahu berkorban

Dari apa yang mereka katakan

Ada yang jawab jujur tapi selebihnya kuat beralasan..."

However, as the night grows long, Will doesn't have the heart to tell them that they both are horrible singers.

Tonight, it's Sam's turn. Will deliver three knocks on his door before Sam swings it open. He looks exhausted, unamused and seconds away from running out of the house.

"Good evening, Sam."

"Good evening, William. Before you come in, can I ask why my Progenies insist on having a karaoke competition tonight? On the night where they knew you were coming?"

Will begins to smile widely. Both he and Sam could hear a heated argument between Frederick and Bright Eyes from the living room.

"No, you can't sing Bambi, Bright Eyes. I won't allow it! You're going to break the windows!"

"Oh my god, would you let me live, Freddy!?"

"We've been over this; you can't sing! Wait. What are you - put down that microphone - "

Music starts to play at maximum volume, and then,

Sam closed his eyes and sighed deeply and in resignation when Bright Eyes began to sing louder to drown out Frederick's shrieking.

**“Feel it like memalla itteon mam wiro

seumyeodeun danbi

dabi piryo eopji

Because you’re my favourite..."

"I don't know what had happened - and I honestly don't want to know - but I hope you're ready to deal with these two tonight."

"Why, Sam, where would I be anywhere but here?"

These are the English translations & link to the songs that Lovely and Bright Eyes were singing:

*“From what I can see

People want the good life, but are not willing to sacrifice

From what I hear

Some are honest but others are full of excuses...”

**“Feel it like timely rain that seeps into my dry heart

No other answer is needed

Because you’re my favorite...”

#redacted asmr #fanfic #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #vincent solaire #lovely (listener)#william solaire #sam collins #frederick #bright eyes (listener)#pop culture references

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lokiskitten · 3 years

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Loki Laufeyson | Valentine’s Day pt3

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

people who wanted to be tagged : @ravioli-demon @wolfish-trickster @kaz11283 @marvelouslovely

plot : ( refer to the two previous parts ) You just shared a lovely dance with Loki. Once the mysterious intruder finally leave his room, you two decide to intimately confess to each other.

warnings : none.

It wasn’t particularly well taken for a young lady to be found in a boy’s bedroom before marriage, and that especially when it included the King’s youngest son. Quickly getting up from the bed, both of you started to panic slightly as the knocks continued to resonate throughout the room, a familiar feminine voice soon echoing from behind the door. “Loki! My dear, are you here?” You recognized Frigga’s voice, your queen and Loki’s mother.

The black haired man turned towards you, head tilting energetically as he gestured for you to hide underneath the bed. Of course, you obeyed, quickly getting onto your knees before gently sliding underneath Loki’s bed. Thankfully, it had enough room for you to feel comfortable. Once you had disappeared from his sight, the raven haired teen turned towards the door and cleared his throat. “Come in.” He allowed his mother to open the door, trying his best to feel more calm to make sure he wouldn’t make the queen suspicious.

As soon as she had received the authorization to walk in, the respectful woman gently pushed the door open and smiled at her son as soon as his face appeared for her eyes to see. “Hello my dear.” She spoke, joining her hands against her lower stomach as a smile appeared on her lips. “Good evening mother. Is there anything I can do to help you?” Loki asked respectfully, still acknowledging your presence without necessarily trying to show it.

Whilst Loki ans Frigga continued to converse, you remained laid underneath the bed, listening to how they talked about the ball and understanding the woman’s worries when it came to her son going to the dance by himself. However, something none of them knew was that he wouldn’t have to go alone. It took them a couple of minutes to be done, Loki trying his best to send him mom off as soon as he could so that he could drag you out of underneath his bed.

After hearing the door shut close, your head poked out from underneath the bed and allowed a giggle to escape your mouth. “well, that was embarrassing.” the man spoke, referring to his mother calling him by his secret nickname : Kiki. Shaking your head as you got back up to your feet, you couldn’t help but laugh again though made sure to reassure your new friend. “I think it’s cute. She’s always been so nice to you.” You stated, whilst sitting back down onto the bed, legs crossing onto the other.

Sighing tiredly, Loki slicked his hair back before resting his green eyes onto your gorgeous silhouette. “You won’t have to go alone, Loki. I am not going with your brother. It probably won’t be hard for him to find a new partner anyway..” you confirmed, earning a blush from your new partner. For the first time in a while, the demigod had won something over his brother. That should’ve probably flattered his ego, but Loki felt nothing but pure pride which was accompanied by humbleness.

Sitting down next to you, he watched the way your delicate hands rested onto your lap. Your face turned towards his, making eye contact with the beautiful demigod who was only asked to be loved by another woman than his mother. Though, everyone knew he loved her more than anything else. Your heart started to race, tongue poking out of your mouth in order to moisturize your lips which were getting peculiarly dry. Leaning in, you felt overly disappointed when the black haired boy decided to look away from your face.

But your empathic self couldn’t help but think that it was because he felt intimidated. After all, it was probably normal for him to get overwhelmed by irrational fear. In order to reassure him, and to assure that he would warm up to you, your hand rested onto his, the size difference making you blush. Surprisingly, his hand flipped in order to squeeze yours, a gesture that made your heart warm up more than it ever did before. “I.. I haven’t done anything with anyone before.” You explained, confessing openly to him.

Hearing about this interesting fact allowed Loki to look towards you again, green orbs reflecting the sudden curiosity which had grew inside of him. “I haven’t either.” Loki confessed with a smile, squeezing your hand a tad tighter. “Do you think it would be.. wrong?” You ended up asking, nervously biting down onto your bottom lip as you apprehended Loki’s answer. This question obviously had a specific meaning to it, and you wished that he would understand it without you having to explain. Though, you probably would’ve managed to overcome your fear if it was truly needed. “I don’t believe in good nor wrong.” The demigod answered sternly, pure truth coming out of his mouth.

“I’ve always been taught to wait for the right person. To wait for the day where I would finally get to lay my eyes onto the man I’m destined to marry.” You explained further, causing a chuckle to escape Loki’s lips. “Tell me about it.” He responded, both of you finally making eye contact before you began to stare at each other’s lips. And cautiously, nature led you to press your lips against one another’s.

Here’s part three! I was very tired today but still felt like posting something, so this was shitty and short, I’m sorry. Expect some more interesting stuff for part four, hopefully ;) again, let me know if you want me to tag you into part four!

#Loki laufeyson #Loki #Loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #Loki laufeyson fluff #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston imagine #Tom hiddleston fanfic #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine

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restlessfandoming · 3 years

Text

"you, my enemy" (chilumi oneshot)

Lumine must assassinate the cruel king of Snezhnaya, Ajax.

i could see this being turned into a full fledged fic? but for now, here is the dollar store version LOL

[Masterlist] [AO3 Link]

"you, my enemy"

“I want you to kill the king of Snezhnaya.”

Lumine’s eyes flickered to her client. “King Ajax?”

“There is only one, is there not?” the hooded man responded.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You must have the wrong person,” she said. “I do run-of-the-mill jobs. I don’t murder kings.”

“I was told you were the only mercenary who could do it.”

Lumine slid out of the bar booth. “Find someone else who is insane enough to do that. I value my life.”

The man’s arm shot out, grabbing Lumine by the wrist. She would have sliced it clean off, had the man not taken off his hood.

He had an unmistakable hue of scarlet red hair, with equally fiery eyes to match.

“You’re Diluc,” Lumine said. “The son of the slain King Ragvindr.” It’s never a good idea to get involved with royals.

His face wavered at the mention of his father. “And who was the one who murdered him?”

“King Ajax,” she answered. “That sounds like your own quest for vengeance. Not mine.”

Diluc pulled her closer. “Magic,” he whispered.

Lumine’s blood ran cold. “Magic?” she echoed hollowly.

“I’ve been trying to find the right person to do this for a long time,” he told her. “I had to do my research.”

“What does magic have to do with this?” Lumine asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“You use magic,” Diluc stated. “That’s how you’ve completed every single one of your assignments perfectly.”

Magic had been banished long ago, a witch hunt massacring any and all magic users within the land of Teyvat. Each of the seven kingdoms had decreed it, agreeing that those with magic were too powerful—a threat to the people, all people.

Ever since, the rare few born with magical powers were forced to hide away their abilities for survival. I thought Aether and I hid it well enough.

“You do this, I won’t report you to the authorities,” Diluc continued.

“What about you?” Lumine hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead with the rest of your family.” She shook off his grip. “If I report you to King Ajax, there’s no doubt I’d get a hefty reward, more than you could ever give me for murdering him.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. “If there’s any suspicion of a magic user, what sort of action do the authorities take?”

You’re killed on the spot—no questions asked. The kingdoms didn’t want to run any risk of magic users rising up, no matter how small of a threat.

“We would be executed at the same time,” Diluc said lowly.

Shit.

Lumine sat back down in the booth, sinking into the seat, gnawing on the side of her cheek. Then, she took a deep breath in.

“You’ll give me every single piece of Mora you have,” she demanded.

Diluc’s face visibly relaxed. “Of course.” He crossed his arms. “The hidden vaults of my family are all yours: every single jewel, Mora, artifact—when you complete the job.”

Lumine’s mouth nearly watered at the prospect of all the riches.

No, she wasn’t greedy. That amount of Mora meant she and her twin brother Aether could retire from this life, this life of scraping by with the money they made from bloody bounties and assassinations. It was the only job they could do, being abandoned as children, having to learn to fend for themselves.

This one job meant she and Aether could have quiet peace until the end of their days.

She held out her hand to Diluc.

“You have a deal.”

* * *

When Lumine arrives in Snezhnaya, she expects impoverished villages, famished citizens, and cold, desecrated lands—all while this merciless, vile king sat on his throne of bones and riches.

However, what she finds are bustling streets of business and cheerful citizens. Children played freely on the streets. The kingdom was thriving.

Is this king truly as evil as the stories say?

It hadn’t been long since King Ajax had begun his crusade of conquering the entirety of Teyvat. It had started with his brutal assassination of his own ruler at the time, the slaying of the late Tsaritsa, quickly followed by his claim to the throne. Then, he had taken over the small country of Mondstadt, and Liyue fell shortly after.

Any who opposed him would face the sharp end of a blade. The stories of him on the battlefield were whispers of blood soaked garments and a wicked smile as he slaughtered soldier after soldier with no remorse.

The image of this bloodthirsty monster faded as Lumine watched these citizens move around care free, as if they were unaware of the atrocities laying under their feet committed by their dear King Ajax.

Glancing up, she could see the distant looming monument, the grandiose castle of the king, looking over the land with a watchful stone eye.

She listened intently to the conversations around her, seeking any information about this Ajax, about how to get close enough to do her job.

She always wanted the most covert way, and now even more so. This was very much her highest profile case, and if she wasn’t careful, she could potentially start wars, with her murder being the first blood.

Perhaps the best way was to become some nondescript maid, someone’s whose presence and subsequent disappearance wouldn’t be questioned by any of the king’s allies. Perhaps as a chef? She could easily poison his food and silently slip away.

How she wished Aether was here with her. He was much more a strategist than she. Unfortunately, he had taken on a different job, far away in Inazuma. They would not see each other until both of their assignments were completed.

Lumine sighed, moving down the street, in search of a bar. Drunk bastards were always the best source of information: they didn’t know how to shut their mouths. In a bar, there were no figures too suspicious, and if there were, they would quickly be forgotten within a few pints of ale.

She pushed past vendors, until she was stopped by a brunette woman in a lavender robe.

“You are not from here,” she said with a breathy smile.

Singled out already? “I’ve only just recently moved here,” Lumine lied.

“Oh? For what reasons?” the woman pressed, her long eyelashes batting as she assessed Lumine head to toe. “Work?”

“No.” What was this woman’s motive? “I’ve heard Snezhnaya is a great country to live in.”

A content, pitched sigh. “Well, since you’ve just moved here, why don’t you come work for me? Outsiders earn a pretty penny.”

Lumine stared at her. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I am Ying’er. I’m in charge of a local performance troupe.” She stepped closer, and Lumine could smell her flowery perfume. “I would love to have you join us.”

“No, thank you,” Lumine told her, inching away. Sounds like a cheap cover for a brothel. “I’m not in need of a job right now.”

Ying’er pouted, but stepped back. “Alright then, sweetie.” She leaned on the doorway of her shop. “I’ll be right here if you decide to come back,” she finished with a wink.

Lumine gave a curt nod before slinking away, back to her search for a bar. She pulled the hood of her cape over her head, sticking to the shadowed walls on her walk. Do I really stick out that much here?

In the distance, she heard the subtle pounding of a drum, and watched, astonished, as the crowded streets parted straight down the middle. An eerie silence filled the previously buzzing plaza. Something was coming.

All the citizens had their heads bowed—Lumine quickly followed suit.

The booming of the drums came closer, and she heard the thunderous marching of armored boots layered into the sound. She glanced up.

There was an entourage of armored soldiers, an assortment of glistening weapons at their sides, escorting a decorated golden carriage.

King Ajax.

What was this? Was there some sort of special occasion taking place?

Much easier to find than expected.

The carriage rolled past. Lumine strained to look at the window while still keeping her head bowed.

Unfortunately, the window was curtained, a velvety red cloth obscuring any view of the king. Lumine wrinkled her nose in disappointment; she had wanted to see what she was up against.

The terrifying rumors of King Ajax never told of what he looked like. Lumine imagined a beastly figure, one with dark shaggy hair and sharp teeth, bones all jutting out in the wrong directions, filleted with raw scars all over.

The carriage continued to move past.

Could she do it? Could she use her magic to take him out right now? There certainly was a large number of people around, and all of them would be suspects; all the easier for her to get away.

However, the guards could easily murder everyone in the plaza if a perpetrator wasn’t found. And, as Ying’er so blatantly pointed out, Lumine didn’t exactly fit in with the Snezhayan citizens.

She would just have to wait. Wait for a better opportunity. Wait to learn more about King Ajax. Wait to plan the best way to kill him.

There was a rustle of murmurs as the citizens returned to their activities, the royal carriage and its guards wheeling out of sight—the air more tense than before.

Taking in a deep breath, she resumed her search.

I need a drink.

* * *

Lumine sat in the corner booth as always, the seat in the bar that could overlook the entire establishment, the place where she could easily see who entered and exited the building.

She sipped at her mug of ale: not enough to become inebriated, but just enough to take some of her stress away. She still listened intently for any utterances about King Ajax.

She kept her eye on a man who was chugging pint after pint of alcohol, complaining about his job, his kids, his wife.

Maybe he’ll complain about his king as well.

“God, I miss Mondstadt,” the man sighed.

Lumine raised a brow. Someone from the conquered land of Mondstadt? He should definitely harbor some resentment for King Ajax.

“Careful there,” the bartender muttered. “The king will have your tongue if you speak ill of him.”

The drunkard scoffed. “The king ain’t here, is he? Too busy with his parties and parades to ever come to a hole-in-the-wall bar.”

The bartender shrugged, silently wiping a glass.

“C’mon,” the man continued. “You don’t think it’s weird how he always invites those performers to the castle? What a dramatic man.” A hiccup. “You think he beds all of them?”

“Probably. Lots of women would want to sleep with the king”

“See, King Ragvindr never did things like that.” He laid his head on the counter. “A modest man. Genuinely cared about his people.”

“King Ajax cares for us. He provides—he’s made Snezhnaya wealthier than ever.”

“Hmph. Is that why he murders people in cold blood? Remember that man that got executed in the street for not bowing to him?”

“Just listen to him, and you’ll be fine.”

Lumine slid out of her booth, making her way to the exit, to a certain brunette woman with a lavender robe.

He likes performers.

A plan started to bubble in her mind as she walked the streets to Ying’er’s shop.

She would slip into the castle with the performance troupe. She would feign illness, seemingly leaving early, when in actuality, she would hide until all the guests had left. King Ajax would retire for the night, alone—and that’s when she would strike.

Lumine smiled, just a bit, confidence coming to her now that she knew what to do.

Her and Aether’s life of freedom felt like a breath away.

* * *

“You’ve certainly improved quite a lot,” Ying’er said, sauntering into Lumine’s quarters.

Lumine set her lyre down. “Guess I’m a quick learner.”

It had been a few weeks since Lumine had arrived in Snezhnaya, and became one of Ying’er performers. She had decided to learn an instrument—the lyre—while staying with Ying’er and the rest of the performers at the hostess’ establishment. She preferred it over becoming a poet or dancer.

Ying’er was right: many people came to watch Lumine sit prettily on stage and play her lyre—her face painted with make-up, and her body adorned with beautiful robes and gowns.

All the while, Lumine anxiously awaited the king’s invitation to their performance troupe. He had invited different groups all over town, though not Ying’er’s yet.

Was this plan a failure? Where was that damned man’s invitation—

“Is that what I think it is?” Lumine asked, eyeing the embellished envelope in her boss’ hand.

Ying’er hummed in affirmation. “The king has finally invited our group to perform at a party tonight.”

Finally. “What an honor,” Lumine said with a smile.

“Very much so.” Ying’er put her hand under Lumine’s chin, examining her face. “Yes...I will have you dressed in our best garments and make-up.”

The woman smiled. “After all, you are our pretty little star.”

* * *

The carriage ride to the castle was filled with the girls’ giggles and whispers, how they wished for the king to whisk them away into a life of riches and royalty, to be his beloved first wife. Lumine kept a hand pressed against her leg—ensuring the dagger hidden under her heavy robes wouldn’t fall out.

She didn’t like to get messy with such a close ranged weapon—she would usually just use her magic from a distance—but she wasn’t going to take a chance if something were to go awry.

As they neared the castle, everyone burst into gasps, admiring the massive stone structure. The excitement doubled as the dozens of other carriages came into view as well.

This is going to be one very extravagant party.

Before she knew it, Lumine was sitting in the great hall, along with the rest of the party goers, awaiting the king’s arrival. She saw the empty throne at the very front of the room, raised on a marble platform, his rightful place above his subjects.

A fanfare of brass instruments blared. The king is here.

The room collectively stood, bowing their heads as the king’s personal guards filed in. Lumine quirked her head to look for King Ajax.

Oh.

The king was not a hideous looking beast at all.

In fact, he was quite the opposite.

He walked in, tall stature carrying an air of importance (and arrogance) on his shoulders with a billowing crimson red cloak, a broad grin plastered on his face. He was young, exactly around Lumine’s age.

He had reddish-brown hair framing his face, locks that glittered like gold in the light of the room, and his eyes were like vortexes—deep whirlpools of the bluest ocean water. All his features were sharp, upturned, like a cunning fox waiting contently to trap its prey.

She watched as he made his way up to his throne, a sickening anxiety spreading through her limbs.

Lumine had never killed anyone so close in age to her—it had always been older men and women. And, of course, she had never found herself attracted to her target.

“Please,” the king spoke, still grinning. “Have a seat.” As he sat on his throne, the rest of the room sat as well.

Lumine swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was light, playful even.

Was that truly the murderous king of Snezhnaya?

“A toast, to you, my people,” he said, raising a golden goblet. “Let the festivities begin.”

Lumine gulped down her own glass of wine, then shook her head.

I’m here for a job. Not romance.

The room filled with chatter, and Ying’er motioned to Lumine and the rest of the musicians to the corner where they would be performing their music for the night.

Lumine gathered her lyre, shuffling towards her spot in her heavily layered robes. Her mouth was set in a taut line.

A momentary lapse in judgement.

As she played the first few notes, her eyes flickered to the king, who was busy greeting various nobles at his throne. She narrowed her eyes at him, at that sly, sly smile on his face.

It won’t happen again.

* * *

The night seemed to drag on forever. After what seemed like an eternity of playing music for the room—as other patrons ate and danced and conversed—the musicians were finally taking a break.

Lumine delightfully chewed through expensive meats and breads as various actors, dancers, and poets took the floor in front of King Ajax to present their pieces.

The king seemed to be entertained, joining on some of the performances himself.

That drunkard from the bar was right. King Ajax was quite dramatic, inserting himself into the spotlight whenever he so pleased. How pretentious.

The crowd clapped and cheered as another performance was brought to an end, an air of boisterous chatter resuming. Lumine swallowed her last piece of food, making her way to Ying’er.

Time to get started.

“Ying’er,” Lumine called to her boss, clenching her side. “I feel a bit sick.”

The brunette woman raised a brow. “You were looking quite well before.”

“Yes, it was very sudden,” Lumine responded, turning to the exit. “I think I will just head back now.”

“So soon, dear? We haven’t even introduced ourselves to the king yet.”

Lumine was already on her way out. “I’ll see you back at the shop.”

She slipped past the guards patrolling the halls, ducking into the nearest empty room, a storage closet of sorts. Perfect.

She hiked her long robes up, unsheathing her dagger, cutting away at the garments. Sorry, Ying’er. But I can’t fight in this. She threw the discarded fabric in a dark corner, where they would be forgotten about.

She slid the knife back into its sheath, and cracked the door open the tiniest bit—enough to watch the entrance into the great hall.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

* * *

Lumine would have fallen asleep had it not been for the two guards who stopped to converse right outside her door. Within a matter of seconds, Lumine had gone from sleepily nodding off to firmly clenching her weapon in her hand, nerves buzzing on high alert.

“That party dragged on forever,” one of the guards said. “I don’t know how King Ajax does it. Isn’t he exhausted every night?”

“Not sure. He seems to enjoy it.”

“He’s been gone a while now. Should we check on him?”

Lumine tightened her grasp on her dagger. He was gone?

“No. He likes to be alone at night. He’ll kill you if you interrupt him.”

“Oh...Should we just go to the other side of the castle then? So we don’t...interrupt him?”

“...Sounds like a good idea.”

The sound of their footsteps faded, and Lumine dared a peek out the door to scope out the hallway.

There were no other guards, and the boisterous sounds of the party were long gone.

Lumine slid out of the closet, sneaking down the hall, starting her search for King Ajax.

Sounds like he’s still here somewhere. Alone.

This job was getting easier and easier.

Too easy.

* * *

Please be in this room.

There was a great stone door before her, one she had come to after a mind-numbingly exhaustive search through the entirety of the large castle. She pushed on the door, as slowly and as quietly as possible, then looked in.

She nearly cried out in relief.

Sitting in the middle of the room was King Ajax, his back turned to her.

He was completely silent, unmoving, in this empty stone room. Was he asleep? No, it looked more like meditation.

Lumine slinked in, silently, conjuring the elemental energy of the wind in the room.

She would take every bit of air out of his body. Quick, quiet, no mess. It was the method she had always used.

She closed her eyes to focus, feeling the pull of air from his lungs.

He was going to die, and she was going to be free, free with her brother—

WHOOSH!

Lumine opened her eyes just in time to see Ajax rush towards her.

His hand wrapped around her throat, and he slammed her into the ground. All of the breath in her body hissed out of her, and she clawed at his hand.

“Who are you?” he growled.

She stopped prying at his hold, quickly yanking out her dagger, and slashing at his face.

He dodged, forcing him to loosen his grip on her.

She slashed again at his hand, throwing herself away from him as he recoiled in pain. She rubbed at her neck, gasping for breath. The king was looking at the gash across his fingers.

Shitshitshit.

Lumine quickly focused her energy on the earth below, trying to create shackles out of stone to hold him in place, or to just bury him alive.

The ropes of earth sprang out of the ground. His eyes flickered to the coils as they rushed for him.

Yes!

But then a swirling mass of water appeared, engulfing him, destroying the chains in the process.

What—?!

A sharp stream of water shot out from the bubble, coiling around Lumine before she could react. She was pulled to the ground, bound, and unable to move.

The bubble of water dissipated, and Ajax stepped out, eyes ablaze. He approached Lumine.

“Who are you?” he asked again, less angry, more inquisitive.

She strained against the chains of water, her elemental energy unable to rid them. She locked eyes with him. “You’re a magic user.”

He squatted next to her. “You are too,” he responded, the smallest ghost of a smile on his lips. He took her dagger into his hands, weighing it. “Now, why were you trying to kill me?”

Lumine bit her cheek. No, she couldn’t sell Diluc out; he could still get Aether killed.

“That’s how you conquered Mondstadt and Liyue so easily. You used magic,” she pushed, ignoring his question. “That’s forbidden.”

He barked out a laugh, wiping his bloodied hand on her robes. “And yet, here we are, two magic users in one room.” He pointed the dagger at Lumine’s neck. “Tell me why you were trying to kill me, before I make it only one. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Lumine said. “I’m a magic user. That threatens your power, doesn’t it?”

Ajax studied her for a second, pulling the dagger back, just a bit. “True.” He tilted his head. “But I’ve never actually met another magic user before.”

She averted his intense gaze. “So what are you going to do? Keep me alive and experiment on me?”

“No.” He stood. “How about this...in exchange for sparing your life, you become my student.”

…

What?

“You mean learn magic from you?” Lumine glared at him. “How do you know I won’t kill you in the future?”

“You won’t,” he said. “This murder attempt? Wasn’t personal—you tried to kill me from a distance. Someone must have sent you.” He closed his eyes, squeezing the hilt of the dagger. After some shaking, it disintegrated into dust.

“Also, you can’t kill me,” he continued, opening his eyes. “You’re severely untrained. You saw how easily I subdued you.” A small smile. “All the more reason to learn from me.”

Maybe this was the gods taking mercy on Lumine. Ajax didn’t kill her right away; she had a chance to live, to get back home to Aether.

“What’s in it for you? This only seems to benefit me,” she said to Ajax.

He hummed, thinking. “A potentially powerful weapon,” he responded, eyes glinting.

Maybe, once she learned more magic, she could overtake him, and complete her job.

She locked eyes with him.

“You have a deal.”

The ghost of those words burned bitter on her tongue.

* * *

Lumine nearly died the next morning.

“You did what?!” she gasped out, after deathly choking on a part of her breakfast.

She was currently sitting across from Ajax in his elegant dining room, who had just informed her that he had announced their marriage.

He leaned back in his chair. “A random new woman living in the king’s castle? Bound to raise many rumors,” he said, nonchalant. “This way, there are no rumors, and we can train without being questioned.”

Lumine worried her lip. He has a point.

“I don’t—We don’t have to...do anything in public, do we?” she asked.

“No.” He smirked. “Unless you want to, pretty girl.”

She grimaced. “No, thank you.” Here for a job, not romance, she reminded herself, no matter how handsome this cocky bastard is. Not to mention, she still planned to kill him.

And so, Lumine’s days were filled with training, pretending to the servants and maids she was King Ajax’s fiancée. She was trapped, as Ajax reminded her many times that if she tried to leave, he would swiftly execute her.

She learned more about him, as much as she didn’t want to. She saw that he did really care for his people, and provided for them as best he could—though he wasn’t above using his power to strike down those in his way, whether it was an enemy or a citizen who simply disrespected his reign.

And that was ultimately what he wanted: power. To have power over everyone in the land of Teyvat. He had endless ambition—Lumine could credit him that much.

Some days, she caught herself imagining it as well: a world she could rule over, have everyone bend to her will, set the laws so people like her and Aether could live without fear, and be provided for. In some ways, she could relate to Ajax’s desires. In some ways, she could justify his methods.

It very much disgusted her, at first. But then, it was liberating. To have someone who could understand the darker sides to her being, understand the blood on her hands.

Even Aether could never fully understand her. How part of her was always glad to be given magical powers to defend herself and those she cared about. How part of her enjoyed her current situation.

After all, she was living lavishly, compared to the impoverished life she had before. She had every meal provided for, luxuriously, and a soft bed to lay in every night. No threat of the authorities finding out about her powers and murdering her.

Could she perhaps bring Aether here?

Ajax had spared her—was it too much of a stretch to believe he would spare her twin as well?

If Aether could be brought here, she wouldn’t have to kill Ajax. She wouldn’t have to kill perhaps the only person in Teyvat that knew who she truly was.

* * *

“If you found another magic user,” she asked Ajax over dinner, “would you train them as well?”

Ajax took a sip of wine from his goblet. “No.”

“...No?”

A small smile, a slight flash of his canines. “I can’t have my weapons outnumbering me, now can I?”

Lumine’s mouth went dry. “If you won’t train them...what would you do with them?”

“Kill them.” He set the cup down. “They would be a threat.”

“I’m not a threat?”

Ajax barked out a laugh. “No, Lumine. No, you are not.”

Ah.

So she and Aether couldn’t be together here. Aether was still in danger of being outed by Diluc.

“Why?” Ajax questioned. “Are you lonely here?”

“I’m trapped in your castle. What do you think?”

He rested his head on his hand. “My bed is open at night, if you’d like.”

Lumine drove her knife through her food. “You’re insufferable.”

“Oh, Lumine, it’s just banter,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t think we’re friends? I quite like your company.”

She pursed her lips, staying silent.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Ajax stared right at her. “I see you while we train. You like it here. You like becoming more and more powerful.”

He leaned over the table. “You and I are very similar.” He smiled. “There’s a hunger in your eyes. You want exactly what I have.”

Lumine stood abruptly. “We are nothing alike,” she spat uselessly. He sees right through me.

“I told you, you don’t have to lie to me,” Ajax responded, sitting back in his chair. “We are already married. We could rule together—as partners.”

...What?

“I thought I was your weapon.” Her knuckles were white from clutching the edge of the table.

“Partner if you so choose.” His blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Weapon if not.”

What game is he playing? “There has to be some sort of catch.” He was essentially offering her his power as king, even if it was just partially.

“No catch,” he said. “Like I said, if you refuse, you’ll just continue your little life of entrapment, as my weapon.”

“One of these options is obviously better than the other.”

Ajax laughed, genuinely, his expression softening, just a bit. “I guess one is.”

She gave him a look, quizzical, before swiftly leaving the room, his proposal still hanging in the night.

As the guards escorted her back to her room, she played the conversation over and over again in her mind.

Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad as King Ajax’s consort, his companion through his crusade of Teyvat?

He was right: part of her deep down ached for that kind of power.

But joining Ajax meant sacrificing her dear brother.

The aching desire hissed, Is that a sacrifice you are going to make?

* * *

The castle’s stone floors were freezing on Lumine’s feet as she traversed through the halls barefoot. No shoes meant no sound. No sound meant she could surprise the guards, getting the upper hand to take them out. Already, there was a trail of dead guards behind her as she passed through the corridors, the air stripped from their lungs.

Her sheer white nightgown fluttered around her as she dashed about, and in the dim moonlight waning through the windows, she thought herself a ghost, an angel of death. She was on a path she could not stop.

She knew exactly where he was. After spending so many days trapped here, of course she knew where the king’s quarters were.

She knew him like clockwork: what days he would stay up in his study, what days he would retire to his chambers and when. She knew where his guards were, when they would switch patrols, when their protection would be the weakest.

And when it came time, she stood outside of his door, wavering on the spot slightly.

She shook her head, trying the door. Locked.

Taking a breath in, she rapped her knuckles on the hardwood.

She heard rustling beyond the heavy oak door, her heartbeat picking up. She would have to get in there quick, before he looked behind her and saw his guards missing.

The door swung open, a flash of anger on Ajax’s face until he saw who it was.

He gave her a closed-eye smile. “Ah, Lumine, to what do I owe the pleasure—”

Lumine stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

She could feel him go rigid under her touch. She walked him backwards, further into the room, closing the door behind her with her foot.

As the door shut, he broke away from her. “Are you accepting my proposal?” he whispered, his hands clutched around her arms.

Lumine nodded, going for another kiss, arms slinking around his shoulders. This time, he melted into her touch, pulling until he was under her on his bed.

He fell for it.

Pity crept into her heart. From the way he breathed her in, the way he held her in his arms, there was a softness she had never seen from him.

He loved her.

She was his weapon, and now, his greatest weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips.

His eyes opened, those ocean eyes on her as she pulled the air from his lungs with ease.

You shouldn’t have trained me.

His hand reached for her throat, but went to his own as he gasped and choked.

She wrapped her own hands around his, pressing down. She slammed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see his face.

He thrashed wildly, and she repeated I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorry over and over again until he went still under her.

…

...

She opened her eyes, the world blurry around her. She wiped away the tears pooling in her vision, and looked down at Ajax.

He was unmoving, eyes glazed over, arms limp at his side.

Lumine reached for his throat, hand shaking, fingers checking for a pulse.

He’s dead.

She scrambled off of him, crumbling into a ball on the floor.

I killed him.

Her breathing was uneven—she was the one gasping for breath now as uncontrollable sobs racked through her body.

I am so sorry, Ajax.

* * *

“Lumi?”

Lumine turned to see Aether looking at her with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

A breeze rustled by. Lumine turned back to look over green fields that stretched as far as she could see.

“I’m okay,” she responded.

“Okay,” he repeated. He smiled a bit, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “Diluc’s hawk came this morning. He sends warm wishes to us both.”

After the assassination of King Ajax, Lumine decreed Snezhnaya a freed country, a country with no ruler, and returned the lands of Mondstadt and Liyue back to their rightful heirs. Diluc, now the restored king of Mondstadt, gave Lumine and Aether the riches he promised, and a home deep in the countryside for the peaceful life they so desperately wanted.

But sometimes Lumine had nightmares of Ajax.

She would be sitting next to him, on their thrones as the King and Queen of Snezhnaya. Sometimes, little princes and princesses of theirs would be running around as well.

They would have conjured all of Teyvat together.

They would have loved each other.

Lumine would wake up, tears in her eyes, heart heavy with desire for that life.

And then she would cry because her life would never be peaceful ever again.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #chilumi #fanfiction #fanfic #me

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pxedpiper · 3 years

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Horizon (21)

Plot Summary: Once a princess of a kingdom you loathed to call yours, you have somehow found yourself aboard a pirate ship, stuck on the ocean waves. Now you try to figure out how to escape them, but as you continue to journey with them, you find yourself wondering if you even want to.

Pairings: Ateez x Reader (Kim Hongjoong x Reader)

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and sexual implications throughout the fic, nothing ever specified in detail

Previous / Masterlist / Next

A/N: Y'all ever just spend all night writing 23 pages of a chapter because you got possessed by the god of writing suddenly???? yeah that was me with this chapter bc HOOOOLYYY SHIT she's a long one! Not that I'm sure anyone will complain with that but like damn i really did go off here. Chapter warnings though: this does contain child abuse (though I don't think it's incredibly descriptive??? i tried my best) as well as uh smth near the end that i think y'all will like (eye emojis bc i'm on laptop) I hope you guys enjoy this EXTREMELY long chapter !!! i'm about to go pass out lmao

It wasn’t hard to corner Seonghwa; thanks to him spending a lot of time in the kitchen, it was easy to catch him during a time no one else was likely to interrupt. You casually strolled in, trying not to make it seem obvious that you were there for a reason.

“Hello, Seonghwa,” You greeted, “Are you busy?”

“Not terribly, just preparing dinner for later,” He replied, not looking at you, “I would like some help, however, if you’re willing.”

“No problem,” You jumped up, “What do you need?”

“Make sure these vegetables are cut up properly,” He instructed, handing you a kitchen knife, “It’s no dagger, but I don’t think I need to doubt your skills with a blade, now do I?”

You confirmed, “Jongho’s mother showed me what to do when we first went to his home, remember? I can handle this.” You began to chop the vegetables, letting a moment pass before you spoke up again. “Seonghwa?”

“Yes?” He answered absentmindedly, clearly focused on cooking.

“I couldn’t help but notice… Every time that Hongjoong brings up the possibility of seeing your families, you act differently. You and Yunho both, truly.” He froze in place at your words. “And I remember before, you told me it’d been six years since you’d last seen your family. I didn’t want to ask more at the time, because I was still new to the crew and didn’t want to pry, but I hope by now I’ve earned enough trust to be able to ask, Seonghwa.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” He sighed, leaning forward onto the counter, “I don’t like to talk about it. It isn’t important, anyway.”

“Of course it’s important, it’s about you,” You replied, looking at him, “And I’d say it’s only fair, considering you know everything about my family. If you really don’t want me to know, then I’ll stop asking, but I think it might benefit the both of us if you still get upset over it.”

He was silent for a moment, thinking over your words, before sighing again, “I know by now you know the common theme amongst everyone in the crew, correct?”

“Yeah, that Hongjoong saved you all in some way,” You instantly responded, “It applies to me, too.”

“Well, I was the very first person he saved,” He began, “I was his first crewmate. He met me right as he’d stolen The Utopia from it’s former owner.”

“That recently?!” You were shocked, “That means you’ve known him since before he was the Pirate King!”

“Yes, Yunho and Mingi, as well,” Seonghwa nodded, “But I won’t go too deeply into that. You see, before I was a pirate, I was just a sailor, I’d go out sailing for food to help feed my family, my parents and little brother. But one day, a storm came with no warning, and we weren’t prepared. I was the only survivor of that crew.”

“Oh my god,” You almost whispered, “How did you survive?”

“To this day, I’m not sure,” Seonghwa admitted, “It was almost like I was meant to survive, like I wasn’t supposed to die there. Maybe one of Maddox’s tricks, now that I think about it, but who could tell for sure? The point is, I was alive, but still adrift in the middle of the ocean. I thought that if the storm didn’t kill me, surely the hunger or dehydration would. But that’s when Hongjoong came, barely managing the ship all on his own. He noticed me sailing on my own and brought me aboard, giving me something to eat and drink while he was at it.”

“That sounds like Hongjoong,” You smiled fondly, thinking of your captain.

Seonghwa matched your smile, “Yes, and I was so thankful. I felt as though I owed my life to him, and after finding out that he was in need of crewmates, I quickly volunteered to join. He was surprised, but not exactly in a position to turn it down. And thus, I became his quartermaster.”

You tilted your head slightly, “But, what about your family? What happened to them?”

“What, indeed,” He sighed, “I know you’re no stranger to how pirates are considered by the general public. I couldn’t go back as a pirate, what if they’d shame me or want no part of me anymore? Who could blame them if they did? I thought it better to just let them think I was dead, then they wouldn’t feel the shame of having a pirate as a son. But, even now…”

“You feel guilty over it,” You finished, catching on to what he was about to say, “Seonghwa, I really don’t think you need to worry. While, yes, maybe at the time they might’ve had a bad reaction, by now I’m sure they’d just be glad to know you’re alive, pirate or not. Maybe it’s time you finally saw them again, let them know you’re still here and thinking about them.”

“I can’t,” He shook his head, “At least, not now. I’m not ready to face them yet. Besides, with the war looming over our heads, there’s no guarantee I’d even survive, and how cruel would it be to show up in front of them only to die, this time genuinely? It’d be too much, for both me and them.”

“I understand,” You nodded gently, holding onto both of his hands, “I won’t tell you that we’ll definitely make it out of this, because I don’t know for sure, and we could all die in this war. But, I want you to promise me that if you make it out of the war alive, you’ll go find your family. They need the closure, and quite frankly, you need it, too. Can you do that for me, Seonghwa?”

“I… I’ll try,” Seonghwa hesitantly stated, “But I can’t promise anything. Let’s focus on winning this war first, shall we? Then we’ll see about me finding my family.”

“That’s good enough for me,” You grinned at him, “Now, do you still need help with dinner, or can you handle it by yourself?”

“I can take it from here, (Y/N),” He chuckled, almost as if he were amused. As you turned to leave the kitchen, you could hear him call after you, “(Y/N?)”

“Yes?” You turned to face him again.

He gave you a sincere smile, “Thank you. For listening.”

“It’s no problem,” You returned the smile with one of your own, “After all, what are friends for?”

Later, as you searched the ship for Yunho, you ran into someone near the bow of the ship. Looking up, you quickly saw that it was Eden.

“I’m so sorry, Captain Eden,” You quickly apologized, “I was looking for Yunho and wasn’t aware of my surroundings.”

“It’s fine,” The older man waved off, an almost disinterested look upon his face, “I was actually meaning to speak with you myself, Your Highness, without Hongjoong keeping watch over you. I had something to ask you.”

“Please, don’t call me by any titles, as I already said I have none,” You reminded, “But alright, what do you need?”

“How come you haven’t left the crew yet?” With that question, the mood changed so suddenly that you could hear a pin drop.

Unsure of what his meaning behind this question was, you hesitantly replied while trying to maintain a friendly air, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t-!”

“I mean to say, how come you haven’t left the crew and freed them of this war yet?” Eden cut you off, doubling down on his question, “You know there’s no possible way for a ragtag group of pirates to win against the Royal Navy, why not just give yourself up and spare their lives?”

Dropping the friendly air, you narrowed your eyes and frowned at him, “And where exactly do you come off speaking like that when, quite frankly, it’s none of your business?”

“You asked for my help and my charge is your captain, so, quite frankly, it is my business,” He replied, matching the hostile air, “I agreed to help for his sake, not yours. You’ve given me no reason to believe you’re not a detriment to this crew.”

“Maddox said-!” You started, but were once again cut off.

Eden scoffed, “Maddox? You mean the madman down at Tortuga who you all now claim to be the ocean? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“You said to Hongjoong earlier that you believed him because he knew better than to lie to you,” You argued, becoming increasingly more annoyed with Eden’s attitude the more he spoke.

“I did, yes, and I did believe him. I believe that he believes it, not that it actually happened. How you convinced him of such magic, I’m not sure, but I don’t care,” He responded, “I want you to leave Hongjoong and this crew, forever. They’re all too caught up in their love for you to realize that you’re leading them to their deaths, but if you truly care for them as much as you say you do, then you’ll go back home to your castle and call off this war.”

“How fucking dare you talk to me like that?” You stepped forward, enraged as you leaned in close to his face, “I may not have titles any longer, but I won’t be talked to in such a matter. Who exactly do you think you are to be giving me such an order?”

“Your captain’s captain, if you’ve already forgotten,” He returned your glare with one of his own.

You let out a slight scoff, “Yes, you’re his former captain, but you’re not mine. You have absolutely no authority over me, and so I don’t have to listen to a single fucking thing you have to say. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, I’ll prove it to you one way or another. Just you watch.”

“I’m telling you one last time, leave the crew and go back home, unless you want to see the crewmates you love so much die in front of your eyes,” He warned once again as you turned around, not backing down in the slightest.

Whipping around, you leaned in close once again, whispering harshly, “I’m not going anywhere, do you hear me? I made a promise to Hongjoong that I would stay on this ship, that I would never leave, and my promise to him means more to me than any authority you have over him!” Having finally had enough, you pushed past him, still fuming at how much he’d riled you up. Now you definitely needed to find Yunho, he always knew just how to calm you down.

Eden gave a small smirk as he watched the girl storm away, practically seeing the steam run out of her ears at how angry he’d gotten her.

Making his way over to Hongjoong’s quarters, he took a seat across the younger captain, “Well, she’s definitely a feisty one, that’s for certain.”

Hongjoong groaned, putting his quill down so he could put his head in his hands, “Don’t tell me you gave her one of your ‘tests’...”

“I had to make sure she was ready to fight alongside you all,” Eden replied, his tone almost innocent, “This is her family we’re going against after all, we can’t afford for her to pull any punches.”

“Yes, well, now I’m afraid she may end up punching you before anyone else, the way you do things,” Hongjoong sighed, leaning back in his chair, “So, what then? Did she meet your standards?”

“I think had we gotten anyone else we’d be in trouble,” Eden answered, not looking at his former student, “Despite her royal upbringing, she’s a perfect fit amongst you all. I guess you could call that irony, you being the Pirate King, and all.”

“Yeah, she was always a perfect fit, even if things started out rocky at first,” Hongjoong smiled softly, thinking of the girl that had taken his heart.

Eden didn’t miss the look on his face, speaking up, “I know you, Hongjoong, I know that look. And even if I didn’t, I could see it the minute I saw you with her. You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?”

“Deeply,” Hongjoong admitted, not wanting to even try to argue it, “Like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve had… infatuations before-!”

“You’re telling me,” Eden scoffed, remembering some of the antics Hongjoong had gotten up to as a young teenager.

“But,” Hongjoong continued, giving a glare to his teacher, “It was never anything as… intense, as this. It’s almost indescribable, just every inch of my being wants to be near her. It was hell when she let herself get captured, Eden, pure hell. I barely know how to contain myself.”

“If you feel this strongly about her, you should tell her,” Eden advised, “It won’t do any good to just sit around on your feelings, letting them build up until they put you at a disadvantage. It’d be best to tell her the next time you see her.”

“We’re about to go to war, Eden,” Hongjoong sighed, “One or both of us very well could die, and then where would that leave us? What would be the point of confessing if we may not even live to see a future together?”

“Alright then, let’s think about it, shall we?” Eden humored his student, “Let’s go through the different scenarios. Number One, you live and she dies.” Just the mere thought of it caused Hongjoong to tighten his fists; he absolutely could not let that happen. “Now, would you want her to have died never knowing of your feelings, and have yourself live on knowing she never knew? Or would you at least want her to know before she passed, know that there was someone on Earth that loved her deeply?”

Hongjoong was silent, not knowing how to respond.

“Number Two,” Eden continued, “You die and she lives. Would you want her to live with the regret that you died for her, but never knowing why outside of you being her captain? Would you want her to live with that guilt?”

“No,” Hongjoong spoke softly, staring at the desk in front of him.

“Number Three, you both live. Then you can both live on happily as whatever you want, whether it be a pirate and his crewmate or as two civilians settling down in a town somewhere. It seems that there’s a pretty clear answer to me,” Eden concluded.

“You left one out,” Hongjoong pointed out, “We could both die. Then what?”

“What does it matter then, Hongjoong? You’re just trying to give yourself reasons not to tell her about how you feel,” Eden argued, “Besides, if you tell her now, at least you can say you had some time together, even if it was short. Some time is better than none at all, you’ll do well to remember that. You need to tell her, Hongjoong, before it’s too late.”

Hongjoong was silent for a moment before he sighed, “I’ll think about it. Besides, I don’t even know if she feels the same way.”

“She definitely feels the same way, she was damn near ready to kill me when I told her to leave you and the ship,” Eden scoffed.

“Right, well-!” Hongjoong continued the work he was doing, then paused, “Wait, you did what?”

You were still steaming with anger as you tried to find Yunho, almost missing the blue haired boy as he ran into you as well.

“Hey, watch it there,” He chuckled, clearly not upset until he saw that you were, “What’s wrong? Did Wooyoung call you princess again?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s that I can’t believe that Hongjoong was raised by such a rude, no-good, infuriating bilgerat of a man,” You ranted, anger still clouding your head.

“Okay, let’s calm down a bit before he hears you, I doubt that’ll make the situation better,” Yunho grabbed onto your shoulders and tried to calm you down, “Let’s go to the railing and talk, alright? Like how we used to back when you first came on board.”

“Alright,” You nodded, taking deep breaths to calm down, “Let’s go.” Once you were at the railing where you liked to watch over the ocean, you informed Yunho of your altercation with Eden, relaying every detail.

“Ah, it seems you’ve been given one of Eden’s ‘tests’,” Yunho chuckled, understanding the situation now, “Don’t take it to heart, he likely meant none of it. It’s just what he does to every new crew member, to make sure Hongjoong isn’t surrounded by anyone who’ll hurt him. It’s like you said, the man’s like his father, and he wants what’s best for him, even if neither of them will admit it. He can take it a bit far though, damn near almost got killed by San for doing the same thing.”

“I think I’ve had quite enough of people giving me tests,” You grumbled, thinking of when Maddox had sent the storm to test your willpower on your first voyage to Elysia.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you!” Yunho laughed, “But like I said, he meant none of it. If anything, he probably respects you more now due to your response. You put Hongjoong before him, which is what every crew member should do for their captain. For once, your temper actually worked in your favor.”

“Oh, shut up,” You stuck your tongue out at him playfully before you both burst into laughter at your antics. It was silent between you two, before you spoke up again, “You know, this is a lot like before, you and me at this railing while you tried to calm me down. I didn’t trust anyone back then, but now I trust you all with my life, isn’t it funny how things turn out?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Yunho smiled, gazing out into the ocean, “Nearly thought you’d and Yeosang would end up killing each other, the way you two fought. Now here you both are, ready to fight side by side. I’m almost proud.”

“I have something to admit,” You started, “Nothing bad, but when we last saw Maddox, he gave me a mission of sorts. He told me to get close to every crew member, to find out everything I could about them, to strengthen our bonds, I assume. If I’m being honest, I’d almost forgotten about it because it seemed to happen naturally, but there’s one more person I still don’t know a lot about, and that’s you, Yunho. And, I figured, you were the first person on this ship that I began to trust, so how fitting is it that you’re the last person that trusts in me?”

“If I’m being honest, I kinda figured that’s what you were doing,” Yunho admitted, “And, well, I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later that I’d tell you my past. I don’t mind telling you, but I’m afraid it’s quite bittersweet. Not tragic, like Mingi’s, San’s, Yeosang’s, and Wooyoung’s, or complicated as Seonghwa’s. Just… bittersweet.”

“I’m listening,” You encouraged, holding onto his hand.

“I used to live in a small town, way far away from here, clearly, with my father and younger brother,” Yunho began, “My mother died when my brother was very young and I’m sorry to say he went not too long after. I was fairly young myself, so it didn’t really impact me as much as it would now, but it changed something within my father. He became increasingly overprotective, to the point where I was essentially being kept captive in my own home. I wasn’t allowed to go out, and anytime I tried I’d get yelled at. I’m sure you can relate to that feeling.” He looked at you, the smile on his face not matching his words. You merely nodded, allowing him to continue.

“However, try as he might, he couldn’t stop me from looking out my window at night and seeing the stars, all sparkling and beautiful. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I’d sneak outside my home through the window and climb up onto the roof to be able to get a better look. I guess if you wanted to be poetic about it, you could say the stars were my first love,” Yunho had a fond look on his face as he told the story, “And so, from the minute I learned to read, I spent all my time learning about the stars and anything that comes with it. That’s how I learned to be a navigator; my love for the stars was the very thing that gave me my role on this ship. And that’s where Hongjoong comes in.”

“Hongjoong and Seonghwa had just made it to shore when I saw them; my former home was by the ocean,” Yunho continued, “They’d just met themselves, I believe, as I remember them telling me that Seonghwa had just become Hongjoong’s first crewmember. They’d stayed in town for a few days before they spotted me, looking at them through the window. I still don’t know what possessed Hongjoong to try to talk to me, but he walked right up to the window and introduced himself, Seonghwa trailing behind him, trying to stop him. I was surprised they’d even bothered, but I was overjoyed, as well. They were the first people beside my father who’d actually talked to me. I told them about myself, and why I was stuck inside, and you wouldn’t believe how angry Hongjoong got, him and Seonghwa both. They both promised that they’d find a way to bust me out, and that I could go with them as a pirate as their third member. Well, it didn’t take much to convince me, that’s for sure. I agreed instantly, and they set their plan for that night.”

“Once it was dark, Seonghwa caused a distraction, luring my father outside and away from the house, while Hongjoong snuck in and helped me carry whatever I needed out to the ship. Once we made it out, Hongjoong gave some sort of signal to Seonghwa to let him know that we were in the clear, and Seonghwa snuck away from my father. By the time he made it back home, I was already on the ship. I never knew what he did when he realized I was gone, or even what became of him. I joined the crew as their navigator and never looked back since,” Yunho concluded, “I don’t really feel bad about it, because I know I’m a lot better off than I would’ve been back there, but at the same time, I feel for the poor man, you know? His wife and child die, and his only remaining son runs off, never to be seen again. If I didn’t remember how bad it was, I might’ve been inclined to return, but as it stands, I don’t really ever want to see him again. I’m happy now, I don’t really need any sort of closure, not any he could give me anyway.”

You nodded for a second, understanding, “We’re a lot more alike than I thought, our stories are so similar. Now I understand what you meant when you said that you know how I felt back when we first talked.”

“It takes one to know one,” He agreed, still looking off into the ocean, “Though, I will say, it is nice to finally let it off my chest again. The crew knows, of course, but… I suppose it takes someone who knows exactly what it’s like to be locked away from the world to fully understand the weight of it. I’m glad you were the one I could properly talk about it with.”

“It’s no problem,” You smiled at him, giving him a slight nudge, “Consider it returning the favor for listening to me talk back then. Now we’re even.”

“Now we’re even,” He nodded, smiling himself, “Now, let’s go join the rest of the crew, shall we? I suppose by now Hongjoong will have found out what Eden said and demand he give you an apology, so let’s see how the rest of the crews make fun of him this time.”

The rest of the trip to Eysia was calm, unlike the first time when Maddox had created that storm to test you. This time, there were no tests, only calm waters as you reached the island.

“The water is calmer than usual,” You pointed out, “Almost as if it’s expecting us.”

“You think Maddox knows we’re coming to see him?” Wooyoung asked, looking out into the water.

Yeosang replied, “It’d be a shock if he doesn’t, he seems to know everything, doesn’t he?”

“Well, he is the ocean,” You shrugged, “He probably hears us talking right now. I guess we’ll know for sure in a bit. We’re reaching land.”

“I still can’t believe there was such an opening amongst those rocks,” Eden frowned, but not in contempt, but rather confusion, “How’d you manage to spot it the first time?”

“That would be thanks to (Y/N),” Hongjoong came up, a proud smile on his face, “She’s got an amazing eye, she’s the best lookout we could’ve asked for.” Flustered at the praise, you looked down and smiled, not meeting Hongjoong’s eyes. “Now, are we ready? We’re heading to shore now. Who’s coming? I know (Y/N) is joining.”

“Captain, do you even need to ask? Of course the whole crew is coming,” San sighed exaggeratedly, as if he was tired of Hongjoong not knowing what to expect from them.

“Yeah, I just hope that we actually get to go in the cool looking cave this time and not be forced to wait while (Y/N) goes in alone again,” Wooyoung added, pouting at the memory of the last time the crew was at Elysia.

“I’ll be going as well, as Captain of my own crew,” Eden told Hongjoong, turning to look at him, “I’ll need to meet him for myself if we’re truly to get help from him.”

“Understood,” Hongjoong nodded, “Let’s go, then.” Once you made it off the ship onto dry land, you were met with a familiar face.

“Welcome back,” Elysian greeted, a genuine smile on his face, “It’s nice to see you again. And welcome to you, Eden. It’s nice to meet you for the first time.”

“Right, you as well,” He answered somewhat awkwardly, “I’m guessing you’re the Elysian they’ve told me about, then.”

“That’s correct. Like what Maddox is to the ocean, I am to this island, thanks to (Y/N),” He shot you a grateful smile, “Now, I understand you all find yourselves in a tricky situation. Maddox is expecting you all.”

“Yes!” You could hear Wooyoung softly cheer to himself.

“Lead the way,” Hongjoong said, ignoring Wooyoung’s little outburst. It didn’t take long until you were back in the cove from before, where you last met with Maddox, this time surrounded by the crew you’ve come to love.

Said man smiled at you, having been waiting, “Hello, again, (Y/N). It’s been quite some time.”

“But not for you, has it?” You guessed, “You’ve been seeing everything we’ve gone through since we left, haven’t you?”

“That’s correct,” He nodded, the smile on his face not fading.

“Damn lot of good you were, we could’ve used your help during some of the things we went through,” Mingi scoffed.

“We could use your help now,” Hongjoong added on, looking at him with a determined look.

“I could not and cannot be involved,” Maddox answered, “If I were to, I’d be disrupting things too much and fate would be changed. Things must follow a certain path, and I must remain impartial as the deity of the ocean. In some small cases, I can alter things to fit fate’s path, but anything of this magnitude I must stay out of.”

“So, you’re essentially saying you’re useless,” Eden spoke dryly, arms crossed as he looked annoyed.

“Not necessarily,” Maddox contested, “(Y/N), Hongjoong, could you two please step forward?” Looking at each other, the two of you did what he said. “(Y/N), I promised you that the next time we met, I’d tell you everything about how the two of you met before and how neither remember. It’s time I keep that promise.”

“We already have a suspicion,” Hongjoong spoke, “A dream I had, we think it’s a memory of our first meeting.”

“You’d be right,” Maddox nodded, “But it’s not the full story. The truth is, I was the one who wiped both of your memories.”

“You what?” The both of you spoke at once, shocked at the information he’d just given you.

“The two of you met before you were ever supposed to,” Maddox began to elaborate, “Sometimes, things like that happen naturally, which is why it’s my job to fix them so fate doesn’t end up changing. I had to wipe your memories of each other to make sure that when you met again, you’d be complete strangers.”

“Well, can you give us those memories back?” You asked, “Or, at least tell us what happened?”

“I can,” He confirmed, “It won’t hurt fate for you to know now that you’ve met and grown close as intended. If you both wish it, I can return your memories back right now.”

You looked to Hongjoong, who nodded, “Do it. I need, no, we need to know.”

“Very well, then.” Maddox spoke, “Then, I’ll need you both to close your eyes, and think back to when you were children…”

“(Y/N), are you sure we should’ve snuck away from the guards?” Your brother asked you worriedly, “I mean, they were given to us for a reason!”

“Oh, relax!” You laughed, practically skipping in the town square, “We’re the prince and princess, we should know about how our kingdom works, and what better way to learn than to see it firsthand? Come on, this helps you more than me, you’re the one who’s going to be king after all!”

“Hey,” He stopped you, grabbing onto your shoulder so you could face him, “I know Mother and Father remind you of that all the time, but you don’t need to remind me. Once I’m king, I’ll make sure you have some sort of power, not be some bride they think they can marry off.”

Smiling, you took his hand, “Well, that’s very sweet of you, but we’re here to have fun, not talk about what kind of king you’ll be. Now, come on, let’s go see what’s out there!” You led your brother away, running down the streets as you both laughed and giggled. You were twelve years old, and your brother fourteen, and it felt like the world was before you as you both took in the sights and sounds of the town. It wasn’t as grand as you were expecting, but it was something different than the castle walls, and that alone was enough to get you excited. However, it wasn’t long before that excitement came crashing down.

There was a crowd gathering in the street, and you could hear someone’s cries in the middle of it, it sounded like a young boy’s. Making your way through the crowd, you pushed your way up front where you could finally see what was happening; a young boy around your age with light red hair was getting whipped and kicked around by people much older and heavier than him, and everyone only seemed to be watching. He was covered in blood and mud, and you could see scars littering his body which told you that this wasn’t the first time this had occurred.

You whispered to your brother, who had caught up to you, “What’s going on? What are those men doing to him?”

“Those are slave traders,” He whispered back, “I didn’t know there were any in this kingdom, they sell people off and treat them terribly. Looks like that one got him mad about something, he’s giving him a real beating…” In horror, all you could do was watch as one of the older men kicked the boy again, causing him to spit out blood upon impact.

“How come everyone’s just watching, why don’t they do anything?” You hissed, growing increasingly angry at all the people just standing idly by.

“Look at him, what do you expect them to do? They can’t just take him in a fight, and I’m sure he’s probably got some dirt on all of them to keep them quiet. All they can do is watch.” At this, another blow was dealt, and you’d finally had enough.

“Well, I can’t watch this! Come on!” Without thinking, you quickly rushed towards the boy and grabbed his hand, ignoring your brother’s instant cry of your name. “Come on, get up!” You rushed, taking advantage of the fact the slave traders seemed so shocked, he’d frozen in place. Quickly as he can, the boy rose to his feet, and at an instant you were off, holding onto the boy’s hand as you took off running, your brother quickly following.

“Quickly, follow me!” You urged, knowing you were likely to be chased, “We can’t let them catch us!”

“(Y/N), you’re going to get us in trouble!” You brother hissed out, managing to keep up with your pace, “What are you thinking?!”

“Run now, talk later!” You answered, continuing to run.

Your brother admonished, “Do you know what you’ve just caused?!”

“How was I supposed to just leave him there, he’s all bloody!” You argued, gesturing to the boy, who’d remained quiet, confused on what was happening, “They would’ve beaten him until he died! He’s not that much younger than you, you know!”

“I-!” Realizing you were right, your brother sighed, “Alright, fine! But when Mother and Father find out, it’ll be on your head!”

“That’s fine with me, now let’s go!” Quickly, the three of you found a small alley to hide in for the time being. It was then you turned to smile at the boy, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you make it somewhere safe, alright? Just trust me. What’s your name?”

You could see that he was still slightly hesitant, but he spoke in a soft voice, “...My name is Hongjoong. Kim Hongjoong.”

“I’m (Y/N), and this worrywart is my brother (B/N)!” You introduced yourself and your brother, continuing to try to make the boy more comfortable with the two of you.

“You mean… the prince and princess of the kingdom?!” The boy’s, Hongjoong’s, eyes widened as he realized who he was in the company of.

“That’s right! Which means you’re the safest with us!” You grinned, “Hey, how old are you, anyway? You look pretty young to me…”

“I’m… twelve years old… I think…” He trailed off, not knowing for sure what his actual age was since he never knew his parents.

Your grin widened, “Hey, that means you’re the same age as me! That’s amazing!”

“(Y/N), we need to know what to do with him before the slave traders come and find us,” Your brother reminded you, “We need to think, fast.”

“Well, can’t he just stay with us in the castle?” You frowned, not wanting to part with your new friend, “That way he won’t go back to being a slave!”

“Look at him, do you really think Mother and Father would agree to letting him stay in the castle?” You pouted, but as much as you hated to admit it, your brother had a point. With how grimy and bloody Hongjoong was, there was no way your parents wouldn’t turn him away at an instant. Just as you were about to speak up again, you could hear the slave traders beginning to catch up.

“Quick, no time to talk, let’s go!” You grabbed onto Hongjoong’s hand again and ran, your brother following close behind. You made it to the docks, where you could see a ship loading it’s cargo and saw an opportunity. “Hongjoong, go on that boat! Hide in a barrel or something, but make sure you get on that ship, alright? It’s your best chance to escape!”

“But, what about you two?” Hongjoong asked, uncertain about the situation, “What will you do?”

“Don’t worry about us, we have guards looking for us,” You assured, “We’ll be fine, just have to deal with a bigger punishment from our mother than usual, is all. You’re what matters here, Hongjoong, if you don’t go now, you might not have another chance! Now go!”

He made his way to sneak onto the ship, but turned back to face you again, “Will we meet again?”

You smiled, glad to know he wanted to see you again, “I’m sure that someday, we will. Now, go on then! Be free!” He nodded quickly, giving you a smile in thanks, before he rushed out into the cargo hold and hid from view. Just then, you heard the slave traders catch up behind you, clearly out of breath.

“There they are!” One called out, “Where’s the merchandise?”

“You’re too late!” You provoked, “He’s long gone from here. Now you can’t ever hurt him ever again!”

“Why you rotten little…” The man tried to march towards you, but stopped at your brother’s words.

“Ah, ah, you wouldn’t want to hurt the prince and princess of the kingdom, would you? Especially not with the guards right behind you?” Turning around, the slave traders did indeed find the guards that were looking for you both behind them, looking none too pleased at the situation they were looking at.

The wind blew as you grinned. It seemed like karma really did exist after all. But oddly enough, it seemed like you were already forgetting what you were so happy about…

Your mother slapped you across the face, the impact making you land heavily on the tiled ground. You didn’t look up, refusing to meet your eyes as you touched your stinging cheek, your brother standing right behind you.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! Not only did you sneak away from your guards, you caused a scene in the middle of the square, right in front of everyone, and even dragged your poor brother into it with you! Do you know how much shame this brings both us and him?! You stupid, stupid child!” Your mother continued to yell, hurling insults as you stayed on the floor.

“I just…” You spoke softly, trying to remember what you had done in the first place.

“Just what? What explanation could you possibly have?!”

“I-I don’t remember.” You looked away again, knowing you just made things worse.

Your mother scoffed, “You don’t remember? How could you not remember what just happened today? Horrible child, and it’s a question of why (B/N) will be the one in charge?”

“Well, then tell me!” You raised your voice unexpectedly, “Tell me what it was that was so terrible, that it makes me a horrible child!”

“I- Well-!” It was clear that your mother either wasn’t expecting that response, but it only infuriated her more, “Idiotic girl, you should know what it was! I shouldn’t have to tell you of your own wrongdoings!” It was clear that she didn’t know either, but you didn’t notice at the time.

“Why not, it’s never stopped you before!” You fought back, clearly having had enough of this treatment.

“Enough!” Your father spoke up, having watched the whole ordeal, “(Y/N), you’re not to step foot outside of these castle walls, do you understand me? Clearly you’ve proven that you can’t be trusted to go out, not even with your brother.”

“What?! But what about (B/N)?! He joined me, too!”

“(B/N) is going to be king someday, he needs to be out in the town for the people to know and trust him.”

“But that’s not fair!” You argued, close to tears at this point. “You always treat him better than me! We’re both just as guilty of the same thing!”

“That’s enough, (Y/N)! My word is final!” Your father shouted, “Now, go to your room while your mother and I think of a proper punishment for (B/N).” Tears welling up in your eyes, you quickly ran back to your room, slamming the doors behind you and not letting anyone else inside as you cried.

Meanwhile, with Hongjoong, he now stood in front of Eden, who had found him stowing away in the cargo hold, and was now staring down in front of him with a cold look.

“Now, let me get this straight,�� The older man spoke slowly, “You are a former slave, who managed to find the courage to escape his tormentors, and stowed away on this ship to find freedom? Did you just plan on us never finding out?”

“I… admit I wasn’t thinking much at the time…” Hongjoong answered softly, keeping his head down. In truth, he couldn’t quite remember what had happened or what he’d been thinking, but that was the best explanation that he could come up with.

“No, clearly not,” Eden drawled, “And what were you planning to do once we reached land? You really did not think anything through, did you?”

Hongjoong stayed silent, knowing he was right.

Eden stared at the boy, thinking, before he sighed, “As much as my entire being hates to admit this, I must say you do have courage if your story is true. And I can’t in good conscience let you out on your own when you don’t have a clue on how the world works, especially not with you being so young. So, I propose this: you become one of my pirate’s crew, and you’ll have food, drink, and safety for as long as you stay. If you choose to leave later, that’s fine, but for now, I’d say it’s in your best interest to agree. So?”

Hongjoong didn’t even need to think twice about it, looking Eden directly in the eyes, “I’ll do it. I’ll become a pirate.”

“Very well,” Eden nodded, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know myself, but it won’t be easy, got it? If you’re going to stay on this ship, you’re going to pull your weight, understand me?”

“Yes, sir!” Hongjoong instantly replied.

“Good, then from now on, I am your captain, and you will refer to me as such,” Eden declared, “Welcome to the crew, Kim Hongjoong.”

Opening your eyes, you were shocked as you saw Maddox in front of you again. Looking around to regain your bearings, you could see the rest of the crew and Eden, watching you both with rapt attention. You turned to Hongjoong to see him in much the same state you were, shocked and dazed.

“That was…” You trailed off, not sure where to start.

“The two of you were always destined to meet, but that would’ve been too soon,” Maddox explained, “Had I not intervened, things could’ve turned out for the worst. But, I knew that one day the two of you would meet again, so I took your memories so I could return them now, in this moment.”

“I…” Hongjoong still seemed a bit dazed, but he quickly shook it off, “We can’t focus on that right now. Maddox, we’re about to go to war, and we need some help. Are you sure there isn’t any way for you to help us?”

“I cannot,” Maddox confirmed, “But there is someone who can.” He turned his head to Elysian, who seemed confused.

“Me?” He questioned, “Why me?”

“I created Elysian, which means he has abilities similar to my own, albeit weaker, and can travel away from the island. Furthermore, due to him being my creation, he has no obligation to keep fate in line, nor does he know what will happen unless I tell him, so he’s the perfect person to bring along with you. I can’t say that you’ll win, but I can say that he’ll be a big help,” Maddox explained.

You walked up to Elysian, “Will you help? We need every person we can get right now.”

He smiled gently at you, “It’s because of you I was given a name and given a purpose. Of course I’ll help you in your time of need. It’s not even a question.”

“Thank you,” You sighed with relief, “And thank you, Maddox, for showing us the truth. Even if I’m not fond of the fact you stole our memories in the first place, I at least understand why.”

“Thank you for that, at least,” He responded, “I wish you all the best of luck. May we meet again soon.”

It was late at night as you were on the deck, practicing your sword training. You figured that with a war on the horizon, it was best to make sure you brushed up on all your skills, even the weaker ones. You were sure you were alone, until you heard a familiar voice come from behind you.

“How is it that you’re never asleep when you’re supposed to be?” Hongjoong smiled at you, watching you practice.

You stopped and laughed, answering, “I could say the same thing to you, captain. What do you need?”

He was silent for a minute before he spoke up, “Care to talk a walk around the ship with me? I find there’s a lot on my mind… A lot I need to get out.”

“Of course, no problem,” You replied, sheathing your sword, “Let’s go.” The two of you walked slowly, silence filling the air aside from the waves hitting the hull of the ship.

Finally, Hongjoong spoke up, “That… was a lot we learned today, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” You agreed, “But it was as we expected. I helped you escape onto Eden’s ship.”

“(Y/N), you saved my life,” Hongjoong spoke blatantly, but with clear emotion, “I surely would’ve been killed had you not interfered. I know Maddox says we were never meant to have met there, but now that I know, I can’t imagine things having turned out another way. I owe my life to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Hongjoong,” You shook your head, “You saved my life back at that auction, as far as I’m concerned, we’re even. You don’t need to give me anything, least of all your life.”

“What if I want to give you something else?” Hongjoong asked, “Not my life, but something close to it?”

“Like what?” You asked, confused as to where he was headed.

“Like my heart.” At those words, you stopped in place and looked at him, seemingly paralyzed at what he just told you.

It felt like time froze still for a moment before you could finally find your voice and say, “What?”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to tell you that you’ve become very important to me in the time that you’ve been on this ship,” Hongjoong began, “Of course, all my crew members are important to me, but with you, it’s beyond that. For a long while now, you’ve been the most important person in my life, and now with my memories returned to me… It’s clear. You were always the most important person in my life, you who saved my life, it has always been you. From the moment we first met eyes at the auction, to when we finally faced Elias Sweet and dealt with him for good, to even just recently with Reeves, you were the person I was fighting for the most. I fell in love with you, so deeply, and I can’t afford to hide it any longer.”

“I- But why now?” You asked, trying to regain your bearings, “We’re about to go to war, why would you tell me this now?!”

“Because, if there’s anything those memories taught me, it’s that we are meant to be together,” Hongjoong affirmed, taking your hands in his, “There’s no logical reason to believe that we would’ve met ever again after I got on that ship, but here we are now. There were so many times where things could’ve gone wrong, but they didn’t. Maybe it was Maddox’s doing, maybe it was fate, I don’t care, because I know now that we can make it through this. We’ll survive this war, because the two of us are together, and once we’re together, we can do anything. I believe in us, do you?” By now, you were crying due to the overwhelming emotions.

“Of course I do!” You cried out, holding onto Hongjoong’s hands tightly, “Hongjoong, I love you so much! I just- I just!” You didn’t know what else to say, and good thing too, because Hongjoong took that moment to grab your face with one hand and kiss you deeply, the other hand trailing behind your back to pull you closer. You kissed him back with the same intensity, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed your bodies together. The two of you broke apart for air only to kiss again, and again as they only grew more passionate.

Eventually, Hongjoong rested his forehead on yours, whispering, “Stay with me tonight, in my quarters. Please.” You could tell what he meant by that request in his eyes, and you felt your body grow hotter at the thought.

Even so, you still nodded and agreed, whispering back, “I will.” Not wasting a single second, he picked you up in his arms and carried you to his quarters, kicking the door closed behind him.

What happened the rest of that night was between you and him.

#ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez imagines #ateez pirate au #ateez scenarios #hongjoong fanfic #seonghwa fanfic #yunho fanfic #yeosang fanfic #san fanfic #mingi fanfic #wooyoung fanfic #jongho fanfic

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extemely-thoughtful-person · 3 years

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50 followers special theory!!! (Prepare for a brain rot!!!)

Even MORE Chapter 6 Predictions: the Olympus Tech Company, RSA vs NRC details, and mini theory regarding the release date.

Now, your probably all getting impatient about Chapter six's release date. The events are something to look forward to, but it just doesn't answer what happens next in the main story line. But because of impatience, I would like to say something: it could be worse.

Seriously, I was (and still am) a fan of RWBY, and let me tell you. Their yearly hiatus is pure torture. Their release dates are in late October to early November, with their volumes ending anywhere around the end of February to early April. This leaves a time span of anywhere from 8 to 10 months between each volume. And the writing for that show isn't even close to as good as Twisted Wonderland's.

So I'm taking a second to appreciate not just the quality, but the speed of the writing and development of each chapter. Along with the effort that goes into each event, repair and update. Your doing great TWST crew! Keep up the good work!💕♥️

So, with that said, let's get to a few issues I've been thinking about for a while now.

The Olympus Tech Company

What We Know So Far

The Olympus Tech Company is one of the best tech companies in Twisted Wonderland. They sponsored the VDC voting system, and are a pretty big deal in the world. Upon receiving an invitation for an internship from the company, we learn from Ortho's reaction that getting something like this is a huge deal. It's probably a very rare occurrence for the company to undertake interns.

Idia got the intern easley enough, most likely due to his skill, and not social status. But, instead of accepting the invitation, he tossed it in the trash. Along with the rest of his invitations to work for other smaller companies.

Many people have been asking the very fair questions: Why would you throw away a great opportunity like that? What kind of past events would lead a person to toss away something that thousands of people would jump at the chance to do?

These kinds of questions are good, but this is the questions I've been asking: Did Idia make the right choice by throwing a valuable invite in the trash? Will his choice come back to bite him in the rear later on?

The reason why I ask these kinds of questions is because we don't know anything else about the Olympus Tech Company (OTC). For all we know they could premote enslavement there. (They obviously don't, but we don't really know that)

So because we know so little about the company, I decided to consult the next most accurate source besides the game, the Hercules movie. More specifically, mount Olympus, and it's residents. And I gotta say, some of the stuff I found at the beginning of the film was more than enough to make an educated guess as to what kind of company the OTC is really like.

And it's not as good as the universe makes it out to be.

My Research and Opinions regarding Olympus

Before I formally begin, allow me to cast some light on a very important factor that will change your whole output on the movie. Remember the first song that's preformed by the Muses, the Gospel truth right? This song is preformed throughout the film in smaller parts, but the whole concept of the song is very disturbing if you think about it like this. Although the title Gospel refers to the type of music used in the song, it is also a reference to something else: the perspective of the whole story. Gospel means "good message" or " good word" but it is also referred to as "the word of God".

And in this case, the word of the gods of Olympus. Or even Zeus himself. But do you realize what that means? This story is told from the perspective of the Olympians. But what about any input from a neutral party? Or even a question or two from Hades himself about the situation from his point of view?

Nope. It's just the Olympian's perspective. That's probably why Hades is depicted with more monstrous features, because they saw him as the villain.

Keep this Gospel detail in mind, because it comes in as a very important factor later on.

Now, where to begin?

The Titans

From what I could gather the titans are the primal monsters of this whole movie. They're mindless powerhouses that walk the face of the earth until Zeus comes along and traps them under the ocean. The only way to free them is to wait for the planets in the solar system to align perfectly, which in turn should cut a path through the waters and, with the help of a god, free them.

And right off the bat, there are several things that I'm questioning. Like, If Zeus put them down there in the first place, then what's to stop him from doing it again? Why is Hercules the only one who can beat the titans in round two? And despite the almighty power of the Olympian counsel, how did dozens, if not hundreds of gods lose to the titans when Zeus defeated them by himself in the first place? And how in Hade's name did Hercules beat them all? And he's lesser than all the gods at this point! How?! HOW?!??!!!

Besides that, there's not to much else to say about them. But they could be important...

Olympus

Okay, there's a lot of things I've noticed about Olympus itself. Btw, I'm not talking about the gods of Olympus, just the place itself.

Firstly, everything is made of clouds. If something gets destroyed, then it automatically repairs itself. But I think that the cloud structures of the buildings isn't just a callback to the heavens, but it reminds me of a place that seems unreal. Like, something like this isn't supposed to exist. "It's too good to be true" kinda place. It looks like a paradise, like a perfect place to live, like a place everyone would want to live.

Which brings me to my next observation: the gates to Olympus are closed. I feel like this detail is more important than you may realize. It could mean that only the gods and goddesses are allowed up here, it could mean that you need to earn your ticket there as well. One things for sure, not just anyone can waltz up there like they own the place, there's a certain type of person that's allowed up here. If you don't fit the status quo, then you aren't welcome.

Besides the gates being closed, anyone who can go over or are authorized can and do go in. But don't expect to get there without a ticket.

The gods

This is where things get dark.

The gods and goddesses of Olympus are very chill up close the first time we see them. They seem like nice people, just hanging out in heaven enjoying a paradise. They got invited to a party to celebrate a reasonable event that anyone should enjoy. Nothing seems to be wrong about this, right?

Well, when Hades enters the picture for the first time the atmosphere gets dark. It's because it's a very rare occurrence for the god of the underworld to be in Paradise. Even the other gods are wary of his presence. But Zeus did invite him because they're brothers, right? Family inviting family for a nice reunion? Hades is just being ungrateful, he's killing the mood and it's his fault, right?

No. It isn't Hades fault for anything. Mostly.

Remember what I said about the Gospel truth? How the story it told from the prospective of the Olympians? This is where that prospective comes into play.

Hades is just terrible from the olympian point of view. Is he actually bad though? No. I think that Hades is better than all the gods on Olympus combined. And the interactions tell us a lot, and give us information to back this up.

For one Hades says that most of what the gods actually do is just...well... nothing. They just hang out on Olympus partying and enacted what they call "divine justice" on the mortals. They just cash royalty sacrifices from their temples on earth, get human worship, and laze around while they do next to nothing. We even see this later in the movie.

Hades on the other hand has the full time job of ruling the underworld, which I might add is a huge responsibility. You gotta make sure that the dead come to the underworld, make sure they get the proper judgement, and you need to make sure they don't try to escape into the living world. This job takes up most of Hade's time, but like I mentioned in a previous post about Ignihyde being about adapting, Hades manages to make the job doable by only one person keeping the underworld in order. But even with the shortcuts involved, it's still a pretty hard job.

And get this, Zeus gave...no forced this job on to Hades. The poor guy didn't even get a say in the matter. He didn't get to choose, but instead a cosmic rando of a brother just walked up to him and said " Hey, bro! Imma gonna give you a job away from home that's gonna be a bit tough, but don't worry! All you gotta do is keep an entire realm that is just as big if not bigger than Olympus under control. Make sure the dead don't come up to the surface to start a zombie apocalypse! Okay? Okay! Love ya! Thanks!"

And Zeus doesn't even bother to help Hades in anyway. So basically, while the gods just sit on cloud cushions doing next to nothing, Hades is down in the underworld doing an important, thankless job just because his younger brother gave him that responsibility without his input.

I did say Olympus was full of nice people, I never said they were good.

And what Zeus did to Hades? It's disgusting because Hades did nothing to deserve this treatment. And wanna know something else? Inviting Hades to a party on Olympus is just a huge insult rather than a nice reunion. Because Zeus is basically saying, " Hey bro! Welcome back to the paradise we practically kicked you out of! It's such a nice party we're having, reminding you of everything your missing out on! Isn't my son adorable? It's so nice that he was born into a place like this, and loved by everyone just because his father is the king. Btw, no one finds your jokes funny because, if we're being honest, you don't really belong here!" And Zeus even has the audacity to tell Hades to stay longer. Wanna know why he does that? It's because if Zeus just told Hades to leave then it would make Zeus look bad, telling his own brother to go. In reality, it would be nicer to Hades to just tell him he's not wanted than making yourself look better by keeping him in a place that's out of his league.

So I'm asking the question, is Hades right to try and take Olympus?

In many cases, yes. However the way he goes about it isn't that great. But honestly, I don't blame him for wanting to tear his deadbeat family apart.

Another question that I ask myself: If Hades was allowed to stay in and rule Olympus, would he do a better job?

Actually, yes. I believe he would, because even though Hades would enjoy himself up there, he has a productive personality. He managed to make running the underworld easier for himself, so it would be cake for Hades to be in charge of Olympus. Not only that, but he could do so much better because he would not just find ways to cut corners with quality work, his presence would make things farer for everyone else.

Remember what I said earlier about the status quo? That only the gods are allowed on Olympus? Hades may be a god, but it's made clear from his first appearance and the Olympian's reactions that he doesn't fit the status quo. Monsters, and other creatures don't fit the mold either, and are gazed upon as, well, monsters. But, if Hades was in charge, then I'm willing to bet he would try and find a use for the cast outs. After all, in the underworld, he has Cerberus guarding the dead, Pain and Panic working as minions carrying out smaller jobs for the god, and the Fates, who are informants giving Hades accurate information. All of the characters above don't fit the status quo, and yet, Hades still relies on them to lend a hand and trusts they'll do their jobs. (They don't always, but at least they try.)

If I'm being honest here, I don't think that Hades isn't worthy of Olympus, I think Olympus isn't worthy of Hades. Because as far as we've seen, none of the gods even come close to doing something as important or as difficult as Hades.

The Olympus Tech Company And what it might be like

So, taken all this information about Olympus, what do we think the OTC is like?

The answer is a garbage company.

Its probably just like any mega corporation that hires underpaid workers who work in poor conditions while the higher-ups do next to nothing, living a life of luxury while certain people below them are working hard to earn a living.

That's the basic gist of the company. They probably don't let anyone move up the ranks unless that person is appealing in some way. Basically if you fit their status quo, then you get a raise, maybe a better position. Who knows? Maybe they steal ideas from their lower employees. They don't actually care about any of them though.

And the stuff they program and produce is probably something like today's corporations would be able to produce. Their company is modern, but not advanced, though they probably think it's advanced compared to lesser companies. The type of technology their company produces is most likely the equivalent to our modern day tablets, phones, and computers. Just stamp a brand on it and OMG you've got the latest tech from the OTC. They probably also care about quantity over quality, meaning that they're willing to sell more of their products rather than products of good condition. Unless you wanna pay more for quality.

What about interns? What sort of treatment do they get?

Idia got an invitation to become an intern during his fourth year, and that's supposed to be a big deal, given how rare they are. But if we're right about the company being garbage, would they show that to interns? Probably not because that could cause a dent in their reputation. As for treatment of the interns, they would get treated well enough, definitely better than the factory workers who have been in the company way longer.

So comparing the OTC to Ignihyde, The OTC would definitely have more respect (which they do not deserve) and Ignihyde would be more advanced (but they're not too big on credit).

Olympus and OTC comparison

What do both places and people have in common?

Both have Lazy higher-ups who take all the credit

Both have a class in the company who don't fit the status quo

While the Olympians do nothing, the OTC's technology refects the higher-ups lazy attitudes

Both the highest don't care about the people below them

Both will use whatever means necessary to secure their reputation, wealthe, and possition

Hades and Idia comparison

Both do important jobs that they had no say in getting ( they didn't ask for this, guys)

Both feel left out, but have gotten used to it overtime

Both are good at finding shortcuts and making good use of resources

Both can change their strategy when the situation calls for it

Both don't fit the status quo

Both disapprove of the normal people ( Idia thinks they're just NPCs while Hades thinks the dead are boring)

Both hate people, and they both probably have bad blood within their families

So basically Idia's reaction if he ever got to see the OTC up close? He'd either nope the heck outa there, or if he ever took the opportunity and made it big in the company, he'd turn it on it's head and completely reform it.

OTC vs Ignihyde

So what kinda conflict is gonna strike between these two very different places?

Well, to start off, I wasn't sure what kind of conflict would strike out between an NRC dorm and an entire company. So, again I looked at Hercules and picked out the first big enemy. So, let's look at the threat at the beginning of the movie, the Titans.

I said they would be important somehow, and at first, I wasn't sure. I tried thinking of something that could fit as a titanic threat. Maybe an unstable invention, a nuclear weapon, or perhaps a powerful discovered Magical artifact? All things considered, no matter what is was, it was going to be imprisoned by the CEO of the Olympus Tech Company for not just safety reasons, but for research purposes. The problem was coming up with what exactly.

And then, the realization hit me with the force of Ares's chariot.

Ortho Shroud is based off of the Titans from the movie.

Yes, yes, I know. Outrageous claim. But there is a lot of evidence to support this Theory.

Firstly, the Titans were seen as huge primal monsters causing endless natural disasters such as hurricanes, volcanoes, and earthquakes. They were left unchecked until Zeus imprisoned them all.

Taking a look at Ortho, we've seen time and time again that he's capable of causing mass destruction as well. His archetype gear fired a powerful beam of magic that destroyed a tree, his star gazer gear is capable of punching through storm clouds (which, btw are huge) tearing up the sports field in the process, and he almost leveled the entire college during the Ghost marriage event. And these are only a handful of times we've seen him ready to use violence and destruction as the solution to the problems at hand. Basically, Idia is good at designing destructive weapons, and Ortho's outfits are perfect examples of this. Not to mention there was more than one Titan and Ortho has several different outfits each one capable of causing a different kind of mass destruction.

The next, and probably the most important tie these two groups have in common is this: lightning.

Zeus imprisoned the Titans with his thunderbolts, and they hold a grudge against him because of it. They don't like lightning.

Well, guess what? Ortho doesn't like lightning either. Now, we don't know exactly why. There a number of different reasons, and here are a few guesses:

Lightning killed the original Ortho

He can malfunction due to a lightning strike

It's a part of the Shroud family curse

He thinks its annoying

We still don't know exactly why, but a distaste for lighting is a definite connection.

And what happened to the Titans? They were imprisoned by Zeus.

And what do you think's gonna happen to Ortho in the next chapter?

Once the OTC finds out the truth about Ortho, and that he's actually a robot, they're gonna want answers. Why is your brother a robot? How did he manage to build something like this? It's just an AI, right?

And when they see how much damage Ortho can cause, the head of the company is going to want him contained. So the base of conflict between dorm and company? It's not just Ortho that's at stake, but the entire dorm. The OTC may be a bigger deal than Ignihyde, but the dorm is probably centuries ahead of any tech company. In a previous post, I listed off a few things I wanted to see as Ignihyde's unique feature. One of the things that I mentioned is a data archive. If the dorm has a library for all their knowledge, which probably contains lots of info for magical technically, then who wouldn't say that could be of some value to the Olympus Tech Company?

I wouldn't be surprised if the OTC took some of it's inspiration from the actual disney company in america because those guys are basically known for taking something, rewriting and rebranding it, then claiming all the credit for whatever they did. It would make perfect sense to have the company based off of the real life company who it's owned by. The whole Hercules movie was written by two people who highlighted disney's flaws of merchandising and branding and threw those into the movie. A subtle but realistic joke about Hercules's popularity and how it's used by the company.

The OTC and their possible ties to RSA

Now, it's not just going to be The Olympus Tech Company vs Ignihyde this chapter, we've still got RSA to worry about. Throwing an entire school towards an entire dorm would be a little unfair, so the rest of NRC would definitely be involved with the annual school vs school Magift tournament.

I've already covered the possibility of RSA cheating for a century in a row. I'm holding on to that theory because if these bozos win without some kinda godly trump card or rule violation and just because they're the perfect players from the perfect hero school, I'm gonna burn that prep academy to the ground, sow the ground with salt, and throw the ashes of the school into a volcano! I'll take great pleasure watching that volcano erupt, destroying the remains of that blasted, stupid institution once and for all!

Alright, you get the point. Making a perfect academy would be the worst thing you can do.

But what if it's not just the Magift tournament? What if they were cheating at the VDC as well?

How could they though? It's decided by a majority vote which is done in real time by the people. How could they tamper with the people's votes?

They messed with the voting system. And the OTC were sponsoring that, right? The Olympus tech company is responsible for NRC losing again. Now, I'm not saying that they convinced more people to vote for RSA, I'm saying they actually messed with the numbers. And since they sponsored the system, all those votes were completely at their mercy. They could've made some invalid, deleted a few, and in the end the results were the same. RSA came out on top.

But do you notice how close the match was? By just one vote. I think that originally, NRC was ahead by a few, so the OTC cut some votes off from the original winners to make it look like it was a close game, but RSA was victorious.

I think Neige's supporters were in on the secret. They knew the game was rigged in their favor, and they knew they would win. Did you really think that they were just reassuring Neige just to make him feel more confident? They were stating the fact. They were definitely in on it.

Now the question: why would the OTC go up against NRC? Why help RSA win?

There are at least two possibilities as to why. But both depends on a certain factor, the character based off of Hercules himself.

Possiblity #1: Vil Schoenheit is also based off of Hercules

Both have a similar pasts (minus the godly background) but both do have a father in a higher possition.

Vil is going up against Idia in the next chapter. The chapter might have an important element of heros and villains. And we may see where Vil tries to play the role of the hero.

So, what does this have to do with the OTC?

The Olympus tech company's reason for cheating would be in this case that they were bribed by RSA. They tampered with the voting for money.

Very dirty of them, but because of corporate greed? Why not?

Possiblity#2: there is a new character who fills the base and the role of Hercules

This one is probably the more likely one, as it would not only give us a chance to meet more RSA students, but also the head CEO of the OTC.

In this case, the CEO would be based off of Zeus, and he would have a son based off of Hercules. The Hercules character would attend RSA, and maybe have a few friends who are based off of Hercules's friends (Random thing where he's gay for Twisted!Megera, but that's just a joke.) Basically, it would follow the equivalence rule about the hero and villain counterparts. After all, Hades went up against Hercules, not Zeus. Having Idia and Twisted!Hercules competing in Magift against each other would make the most sense.

Now this would be where the OTC motive for rigging the voting system come in. Twisted!Zeus is the head of the OTC, and his son attends one of the academies with a representative from that same academy. It would make RSA look bad for losing, the same academy his son attends. Why not push the votes in RSA'a favor to ensure that the students of the academy keep their flawless reputations?

Of course, it's possible for it to be a combination of both possibilities.

And if the OTC is sponsoring the score boards for the Magift tournament, who's to say they won't do the same thing again?

But, there's something they never considered about this year's Magift tournament.

Tipping the scales

RSA students most likely have been taught to work together. This is a good thing for them. They've been taught how to function as a unit, how to help each other through hardships, and to come out victorious together. This is all fine, and I'm willing to bet that the teachers at RSA have taught this lesson to the students as a traditional one. It's always been there. And it's known for this tradition

NRC students have always been asked the question: what do you want? They persue their own goals and dreams, rarely working with others to come out on top. And when they do work together, it's usually on conditions. Crowley's probably been at the college since the start, and has not just taught the students to not rely on anyone but themselves, but also the harsh cruel reality of the world: Happy endings don't just happen on their own. You need to work for them. The students don't rely on each other, and never have.

Both academies's greatest strengths is the others greatest weakness. RSA's weakness is it's students falling apart and being separated. NRC's weakness is the students working together with no motivation, because they aren't used to working with people they hate, it's constant fighting among themselves.

But that system is about to be broken by one person: MC

MC has been teaching the students to work together and establish friendships with each other. Through the NRC students misadventures, MC has been teaching them to overcome hatred and ban together. So now, not only are the NRC students capable of working as strong individuals, but they can now function as a unit as well.

This eliminates the system of strength and weakness because now, RSA has the weakness of not being able to function as individuals. Not all students suffer from this, but most would. But the ability to work with others as well as by yourself would give NRC the advantage in a fair game. But if we count the fact that RSA has the cheats and support, this game was never ment to be fair.

So to sum it all up:

The OTC is a company full of jerks

Ortho is based off of the Titans and needs to be protected at all costs

Ignihyde must protect their entire dorm from the dark crime of plagiarism

The OTC may be helping RSA cheat due to bribery and/or family connections

We can't trust anything sponsored by the OTC

And MC is going to help our bois destroy the competition

Or, again I could be horribly wrong.

Thanks for reading!!! And....

Before i official end the post, I'd like to say two quick things. The first is a mini Theory regarding the release date for Chapter 6. It could either be with the chapters story line time in late May, or the sixth chapter is released on the sixth day of the sixth month, or more specifically, June 6.

Secondly, thank you for 50 followers!!! Even though I don't spend all of my time on tumblr, it's a great comfort to me knowing someone does read what I write ( even though most of it seems outrageous and incredibly farfetched.) You all mean the world to me! Thanks!!!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland theory #i did a thing #twst #ignihyde #Olympus Tech Company #ortho shroud #twisted wonderland idia #rsa we're doomed #rook i swear if you know what's going on but don't tell us i give you a taste of my shoe #vil schoenheit #MC #Crowley #we're doomed #disney twisted wonderland

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priscilla9993 · 3 years

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Killian Jones and Alcoholism

This is mainly a summary of things relating Killian/Hook to alcohol/rum. It was done for a college paper and is very long, therefore it’s under the break. To warn you, it is going to be mainly Wish Hook based since I needed to narrow it down and it was easier to show how he handled alcohol as a recovering alcoholic. Enjoy!

The character in question for this case study is Killian Jones, well known by his more colorful moniker of Captain Hook, as portrayed from the ABC TV show Once Upon A Time. He lives in a region of a fantasy realm known as the Enchanted Forest. He used to be a Royal Navy Lieutenant with his older brother Liam, straight-laced on being good and not getting into trouble in any way, especially after getting somewhere in life and no longer subjected to being an indentured deckhand like when their father abandoned them as kids. During a daring quest to Neverland to find some medicine for the king, Peter Pan said they had been tricked to bring back a poisonous plant called Dreamshade, meant to be used as a weapon against unsuspecting enemies. Killian was wary, ready to denounce his service to the king, but his brother was willing to have faith in a noble king and country. With one swift motion of the plant’s prick hoping to prove otherwise, Liam began dying and realized his mistake. Recruiting the help of Pan and some magical water, Liam was cured but soon died in Killian’s arms on the voyage back to the king, the price of the magic being death if Liam ever left Neverland with the water running through his veins. His brother’s death made Killian vengeful at his king and country as his brother had been noble until the very end and everyone else was corrupt, playing noble, proving to him that the world was at fault. From that day on, he took over the ship and decided to be a pirate named Captain Jones, pursuing freedom, and throwing away all he’s ever known because being noble didn’t serve justice. This starts his life of thievery, promiscuity, and never-ending drinking. His coping solutions to deal with his emotional pain only gets worse when he loses his hand, first love of his life, Milah, and his honor after losing a duel against Rumplestiltskin, a coward turned into a powerful Dark One; which leads him on a path of revenge to kill the Rumplestiltskin, “the crocodile”, to avenge Milah and his pride. This leads him to makeshift a hook for a hand and him going by the nickname of Captain Hook, leaving the last piece of his past behind and never letting himself be vulnerable again.

Throughout the series, whenever he or someone in his vicinity is having a rough time, his solution is to pour out some alcohol and drink his feelings away, acting like an egotistical flirt rather than expressing himself and wallowing in misery. His choice of alcohol happens to be rum, a hard liquor. The acute symptoms he has in the show are the loss of judgment, a reddened face, confusion, potentially heightened sexual desire, and sometimes blackouts/unconsciousness. There are multiple times where he’s in a tavern, pouring doubloons into drinks for his crew, rum for himself, and flirting with women/barmaids to have a nightcap with. From here on, I will refer to him as Hook unless stated otherwise. On one occasion of his usual proclivities displaying or implying such symptoms, Hook tries to seduce a woman named Emma. She manages to use his habit of drinking to her advantage, making him jolly and willing to take her back to his ship for the said nightcap; her actual objective was being a distraction while his future self did recon for info on how to get back to their timeline in a Back to the Future sort of way. He continues heavily drinking on the way back with Emma without a care for his health. As soon as the plan goes awry with Hook seeing double, Emma not realizing Future Hook was still doing recon, he gets knocked out for good measure and partial jealousy. Future Hook justifies this, saying his past self was “asking to be knocked out, will wake up upset, and blame the rum.” The lines construe how frequent the drinking was for his future self to determine Hook’s ill-mannered disposition while drunk.

Eventually, in a parallel way that stems from drunk Hook, is a feeble and spent pirate coined as “Wish Hook”. I have and will be focusing on this iteration for the whole of the paper, but what was written before was his younger self’s background. Wish Hook is the same guy as Hook, but years older down the line, differing paths from Future Hook as he never found love again with someone like Emma and had let his grief and alcohol from more recent negative events consume him. Wish Hook had lived out most of his lifespan, having been a sober father, but cursed to be poisoned any time he drew near his daughter after a witch encounter. Haunted by his regrets and somber circumstances, he turned back to an alcoholic, spending his days eased by rum. His body and actions in this form show the physical and mental effects of chronic alcohol consumption. About ten years or less had passed between his younger self and he had become an experienced middle-aged man with a complicated history, yet he looked far older than his years and decrepit. Without a doubt, by looking at him, people could assume he was an old drunk, his liver and heart having gotten fatty and overworked from the alcohol catching up to him. His belly was rotund, his hair disheveled and gray with streaks of white, his stance crumbling to nearly falling over with each step, and clothes dirtied with filth and old rum stains. Wish Hook still had a flirty and dramatic personality to cheer himself up and mask his turmoil, rum making him courageous and numb, while his actions told another story. He didn’t have sexual desires or try to provoke anyone by that point, just wanted to drown himself in alcohol. His words typically came out slurred, his movements sluggish and unrefined, and he had low problem-solving skills when it came to formulating a plan based on anything other than motive.

In the Enchanted Forest, alcohol like rum is not hard to come by as long as money is involved. Killian Jones/Captain Hook as a pirate drinking rum all the time did not affect him negatively socially or career-wise. If anything, it boosted his status and reputation. For him to be mingling in bars asking for expensive hard liquor and fine women to spend time with was a pleasantry. Bar owners got money, the crew got free alcohol, the women got paid, and he got to immerse himself in pleasure rather than thinking about trivial or serious things. Hook was the life of the party as a pirate captain, seen as a person with good tastes and great to have a fun time with when it came to alcohol. However, when it came to settling down and being a father later on in his life, Wish Hook reserved himself back to his more vulnerable side, caring about how his alcoholism could affect his parenting or child’s perspective. There are moments like that where he’s introspective and wants to do better by others that look up to him or who he cares about. In the show, when he is parenting, there is never a time where he has a bottle or flask of rum stashed nearby or is drinking. Wish Hook deems alcohol as the problem when it affects his judgment or his perceptions on how he could hurt the way people he loves view him. Love in any form brings him back to his core of being the best person he can be.

Killian Jones’s problem originates in nurture rather than nature because his alcohol problems started after he needed a reliable coping mechanism to lean on to deal with grief and anger. Although both nature and nurture influence him, for argument’s sake, nurture has the upper hand. Growing up, his father was a person he looked up to and wanted to be like, but that changed when he found out his father was a criminal who sold him and Liam to pay a route for a selfish escape. What little of his parents shown on-screen left betrayal or sadness in him, not the desire to drink. His parents weren’t clear on alcoholics or drug users as far as it goes. The only things he inherited from nature were probably his mischievous personality, temper, looks, and a high tolerance for alcohol. Living on a ship and being a poor deckhand, Killian didn’t seem to be the kind of guy to squander his savings on alcohol or other frivolous means. However, he would be on a ship constantly surrounded by adults who drank with a captain who cared more about money rather than morals, feeling squandered by his oppressed freedom and building resentment for authority. Without his brother steering him on track, Killian was no more than a young man with impulsive rebellious nature. When Liam went to get them navy papers to earn them their freedom from Captain Silver, it took Killian an offer of temptations from Silver, as much alcohol as he could drink and a bet on his money, for him to fall hook, line, and sinker; no pun intended. Alcohol and gambling meant a reprieve from thoughts, a chance at earning more than what he had before, and the same social standing as the other men aboard the ship. Perhaps, as much as he wanted to be strong as his brother, one good force cannot shield against all of the negative parts of society and adulthood. From Captain Silver, Killian got his first taste of alcohol and his desires did the rest, leaving him blackout drunk and penniless for Liam to find. As he grew older and slowly became Captain Hook, there was nothing about pirate life, being an adult, or people to keep him from drinking. He needed people to talk to, who supported him and he could feel vulnerable in front of, but the few people he trusted in his life were dead. As anyone knows, pirates steal treasure, so they’re not exactly the forgiving or down-to-earth types. Instead, rum became the solution to drown or fuel his emotions, being the substance of celebration and de-stressor.

Hook’s rum/alcohol addiction would fall more on the dependence spectrum rather than abuse. What had started as a small reprieve to the woes of life became a daily saving grace when he was wracked with loneliness or anger. He depended on the rum to mask his disposition of physical pain from his missing limb as well as emotional pain having experienced love and loss. Abusing alcohol meant that it would put him into dangerous scenarios, have little to no commitment to change his habits to improve his health, and he’d put off important social aspects. If it was alcohol abuse, Hook wouldn’t try changing his habits when he sees it affects others or his relationship with those he loves. Sure, he spends most of his life binge drinking and making merry with the tides of life, but when given the chance and support to abstain from alcohol, he takes it in a heartbeat. For Wish Hook, the thought of being a father who abandons his child or messes up under hazy judgment didn’t add up to him. With the birth of his daughter, Alice, he made a vow to stay with her as long as he could and to be the person he thought she could be proud of. Nevertheless, when he had lost purpose in life by something he had no control over (via death, distance, or curse), his first reaction was to either turn back to alcohol or solve his problems. Sadly, after he had spent a couple of years looking for a cure for his poison heart curse, he gave up hope and chose to go from sobriety back to alcoholism, into a form of regrettable self-destruction. Hook knew that it was not the way to go about life but he felt he had no other choice and had nothing left to lose, leading him to further prioritize and depend on rum to continue living. He built a tolerance to it, needing a copious amount to get drunk, and potentially suffering withdrawals from it after getting in too deep. From the state he was in by the time he gets old and portly, being a nearly homeless drunkard, it can be assumed that he spent most of his days looking for money to acquire more alcohol so he could feel okay.

Finally, by the end of the series, Killian Jones had managed to go through all the stages in the Stages of Change Model. He was in the Precontemplation stage as a pirate and Captain Hook as he didn’t see a problem in his daily rum and alcohol festivities, making no commitment to change his ways. By the time he gets to be Wish Hook and becomes a father, hesitant about settling down, he could be in the Contemplation stage. He’d want to do something about his alcohol problem and not be stuck relying on it but doesn’t know how to go about it or why he should, therefore staying stagnant to change. When he has his daughter, Alice, in his arms for the first time, we see him in the Preparation stage, planning to give up his ship, sea life, status, and most importantly, rum. Hook gives himself time to think of why he would do so and how he’d commit to it, eventually telling his crew the news. By the time he is taking care of her, he has already taken the actions needed to wean himself off alcohol and apply himself towards abstinence, taking him through the Action and Maintenance stages. There is a relapse back to the Contemplation stage in the paragraph before when he becomes poisoned and loses hope. Even so, the silver lining is that he had made the hard journey back into the Maintenance stage with the help of Ariel detoxing him and others giving him a magical second chance of bodily time renewal, sparking the hope to reunite with Alice and find a cure for his poisoned heart.

Plans go awry on this end as we get to his final iteration as he is teleported and cursed into our modern day and age as Detective Rogers. Although his memories of what happened in the past as this persona are fuzzy, he is shown to stick to his renewed alcohol abstinence and maintains that in many ways, just like when he was Wish Hook. His habits become integrated as a function rather than a hindrance as part of the Maintenance stage. As Rogers, we can see him frequent bars such as Roni’s or Flynn’s Barcade when he is invited out with others. He is shown to let others know what to get him, as a regular or not, something non-alcoholic. This usually shows up as sparkling water or regular water with a lemon slice in it. His friends and work partner continue to support his sobriety through friendly acceptance and never forcing him to drink alcohol along with them. Rogers is tempted by alcohol again when he believes a missing girl from a cold case, one he was responsible for since he was drinking on the night she went missing, is dead. He sits on a park bench alone grieving, a full bottle of rum next to him, ready to drink. As Rogers gives it a whiff, he is disgusted at himself for getting back to this state again and slams the bottle down on the bench in frustration, not even having taken a sip. He came too far that doing so again would be meaningless and would get him nowhere. Even though he is in situations full of temptation, he makes huge strides to not relapse and maintain his sobriety, with the hopes that it will eventually lead him back on the right path of happiness and belonging. Fortunately, his actions have positive consequences that ring true when the curse breaks and he gets reunited with his daughter and has the strong support of friends and family. In conclusion, Hook is a flawed human being that is more complex and his struggle with alcohol/rum is just a part of him, one he will never lose but continues living with.

#killian jones #captain hook #wish hook #detective rogers #killian jones meta #alcoholism #alcohol #stages of change #character study #ouat s7 #liam jones #slight emma swan mention

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jackoshadows · 3 years

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GRRM talking about exploring redemption specifically with Jaime and stating he personally hopes there can be a possibility of redemption for everyone is in his 2014 Rolling Stone interview. It’s a pretty well known quote, kind of a weird one not to know if you’re gonna weigh in on the big Jaime redemption debate... I guess you can just go for GRRM saying he finds it weird people crush on Jaime and the Hound instead, but it doesn’t really seem the most relevant one to me.

Alright, so I looked up his 2014 Rolling stone interview where he talks about redemption:

Q: Both Jaime and Cersei are clearly despicable in those moments. Later, though, we see a more humane side of Jaime when he rescues a woman, who had been an enemy, from rape. All of a sudden we don’t know what to feel about Jaime.

A: One of the things I wanted to explore with Jaime, and with so many of the characters, is the whole issue of redemption. When can we be redeemed? Is redemption even possible? I don’t have an answer. But when do we forgive people? You see it all around in our society, in constant debates. Should we forgive Michael Vick? I have friends who are dog-lovers who will never forgive Michael Vick. Michael Vick has served years in prison; he’s apologized. Has he apologized sufficiently? Woody Allen: Is Woody Allen someone that we should laud, or someone that we should despise? Or Roman Polanski, Paula Deen. Our society is full of people who have fallen in one way or another, and what do we do with these people? How many good acts make up for a bad act? If you’re a Nazi war criminal and then spend the next 40 years doing good deeds and feeding the hungry, does that make up for being a concentration-camp guard? I don’t know the answer, but these are questions worth thinking about. I want there to be a possibility of redemption for us, because we all do terrible things. We should be able to be forgiven. Because if there is no possibility of redemption, what’s the answer then? [Martin pauses for a moment.] You’ve read the books?

Q: Yes.

A: Who kills Joffrey?

Q: That killing happens early in this fourth season. The books, of course, are well past the poisoning of King Joffrey.

A: In the books – and I make no promises, because I have two more books to write, and I may have more surprises to reveal – the conclusion that the careful reader draws is that Joffrey was killed by the Queen of Thorns, using poison from Sansa’s hairnet, so that if anyone did think it was poison, then Sansa would be blamed for it. Sansa had certainly good reason for it.The reason I bring this up is because that’s an interesting question of redemption. That’s more like killing Hitler. Does the Queen of Thorns need redemption? Did the Queen of Thorns kill Hitler, or did she murder a 13-year-old boy? Or both? She had good reasons to remove Joffrey. Is it a case where the end justifies the means? I don’t know. That’s what I want the reader or viewer to wrestle with, and to debate.

Q: I don’t know if somebody like Jaime or Cersei can be redeemed. Cersei’s a great character – she’s like Lady Macbeth.

A: Well, redeemed in whose eyes? She’ll never be redeemed in the eyes of some. She’s a character who’s very protective of her children. You can argue, well, does she genuinely love her children, or does she just love them because they’re her children? There’s certainly a great level of narcissism in Cersei. She has an almost sociopathic view of the world and civilization. At the same time, what Jaime did is interesting. I don’t have any kids myself, but I’ve talked with other people who have. Remember, Jaime isn’t just trying to kill Bran because he’s an annoying little kid. Bran has seen something that is basically a death sentence for Jaime, for Cersei, and their children – their three actual children. So I’ve asked people who do have children, “Well, what would you do in Jaime’s situation?” They say, “Well, I’m not a bad guy – I wouldn’t kill.” Are you sure? Never? If Bran tells King Robert he’s going to kill you and your sister-lover, and your three children. . . . Then many of them hesitate. Probably more people than not would say, “Yeah, I would kill someone else’s child to save my own child, even if that other child was innocent.” These are the difficult decisions people make, and they’re worth examining.

So reading through this, GRRM says that he is exploring the answer to the question - Can the villains in my story be redeemed? As he points out in this interview, the answer to this question in 2014, was that he didn’t know.

He also compares Lannister villainy to Michael Vick, Woody Allen, Roman Polanski and Nazi war criminals. He asks if Nazi war criminals deserve forgiveness after feeding the hungry for 40 years. What do you think? Do you think Nazi war criminals deserve forgiveness and redemption?

But fandom has decided that according to this Jaime has now been redeemed and anyone who questions the existence of said redemption is a Jaime hater who lacks an understanding of how Jaime Lannister is totally a good guy now.

Oh and look, he is also talking about Cersei Lannister’s redemption in this same interview. Funnily enough, I don’t see anyone in fandom talking about Cersei’s redemption arc when GRRM is asking the same question with her character as he does with Jaime’s. He is talking about whether Cersei Lannister can be redeemed - Cersei has murdered babies!

GRRM is also asking if the Queen of Thorns deserves redemption for taking out baby Hitler. No one seems to be talking about that either.

GRRM also questions if Jaime’s attempted murder of a 7 year old is justified by framing it as the character trying to protect his own children. In my opinion though, this is a guy who is in his thirties, engaging in careless incestuous adultery with the Queen, in the enemy/guest’s home where the enemy could have come upon them anytime and then tried to murder a child to cover it up. Not justified, at all. This is Jaime Lannister about Joffrey:

Because Joff was no more to me than a squirt of seed in Cersei's cunt, and he deserved to die.

I don’t know, the character does not come across as caring for his children. It was more about saving his and Cersei’s lives than it was about his children. And Cersei tried to stop him from murdering Bran.

Who had the harder choice to make? Jaime has sex with his twin sister, the queen, in Winterfell - because he just doesn’t care - and then tries to murder Ned’s child to cover it up. Or Ned, who wants to save Jaime’s children from Robert Baratheon’s wrath, warns Cersei to leave as soon as possible and in doing so dooms his entire family.

Ultimately the author is exploring the question of whether the baddies in his novel can be redeemed. Not that they will be redeemed or that they are on a path to redemption. He wants there to be a hope for forgiveness for his baddies at the end of their journey. Villains doing good for 40 years - can they be redeemed? In whose eyes do they need to be redeemed?

Jaime could be redeemed in Brienne’s eyes - because she loves him and he helped save her life. Does this mean Bran Stark should forgive him? Does this mean the small folk in the Riverlands who suffered and died because of the WOT5K brought about by his careless adultery should forgive him? Does this mean he is redeemed in the eyes of the reader?

As I stated, in my previous posts, from my interpretation of Jaime’s arc, I don’t see any redemption from Jaime Lannister in the books yet. He is still arrogant and self- serving. A little humbled by the loss of his hand - but able to brag all the same about being ‘Goldenhand the Just’ because he hanged some hungry outlaws. No introspection or acknowledgment of his past actions. We did see some guilt in the dreams he has about abandoning Elia and her children to the Mountain’s mercies despite having sworn an oath to protect them. What he will do about all that? I don’t know.

He did not abandon Cersei because she’s a bad person who murdered babies. He abandoned her to the mercies of the Faith Militant because she was unfaithful to him - because of the personal injury to him. He sees keeping his oaths with respect to Sansa as salvation and then sends off Brienne to do his job, while being engaged in enforcing Lannister rule in Westeros.

The comparison to Theon Greyjoy comes about because Theon has accepted his wrong, Theon is full of remorse and regret. Theon wishes he could go back and do differently. Theon is a broken man - and yet, despite being so afraid, he risks all to help Jeyne Poole - a character no one cares about.

'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid? ' 'That is the only time a man can be brave‘

Saving Jeyne Poole is not going to earn Theon Greyjoy any rewards. But he does it because it’s right - not because it makes him feel good. Does it mean that Theon Greyjoy - who murdered two little boys - is now redeemed and will get a happy ending?

So yeah, can Jaime be redeemed? The author will try to answer that question in books yet to be written and leave it up to the reader to decide if the character has indeed been redeemed. Thus far I see no redemption, in my opinion and as per my interpretation of the text. Take that as you will.

#GRRM #Rolling stone interview #asoiaf #anti Jaime Lannister #Cersei Lannister #Theon Greyjoy #Queen of Thorns

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part six

I keep forgetting to post this story OOPS

Warnings: panic, general self-deprecating thoughts, unrequited love thoughts, maybe slightly ooc!Tony, I think that’s all

Sam, Steve, and who you learn to be T’Challa, now King of Wakanda after his father died in the bombing at Vienna -- which makes his obsession with clawing Bucky’s eyes out make much more sense -- are shoved in a vehicle alongside you.

You have no idea what they did with Bucky -- other than he’s still alive -- and you have no fucking clue where you’re going, but the ride is long. Too long to be in a car with Sam and Steve, especially with Sam trying every second he can to get on T’Challa’s nerves.

“So you like cats?”

“Shut up, Sam, please, for once in your life,” you groan from your spot next to him.

Even Steve gives him a look.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?” Sam asks.

“Your suit…” Steve narrows his eyes. “It’s vibranium?”

“What is that?”

You don’t get an answer.

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of King. So, I ask you, as both King and warrior,” T’Challa pauses. “How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

The silence is deafening.

“It wasn’t him,” you blurt, earning yourself a glare. “Laugh at me all you want, but it wasn’t Bucky that killed your father. Don’t get revenge on the wrong man.”

T’Challa turns to face forward, refusing to say another word.

You do the same, instead focusing on what Bucky is feeling. You wonder if he can feel just how pissed off and panicked you are. You’re pissed, of course, because all of this fighting wasn’t necessary. You jumped off buildings for that man, and he still insists that he doesn’t know you.

Maybe you’d be able to write it off as a dreadful miscommunication for the past decade of your life, but you can’t. Not when you can physically feel that he is lying. The tightness in his chest doesn’t lie. Neither do his eyes.

But God, you wish they could.

You turn your head to hide your quivering lip. The last thing you need is to break into a sobbing mess in the back of this vehicle with three men surrounding you — especially when one of them was just trying to kill the same soulmate you’re upset over.

You know it’s not true, but part of you does wish Bucky was dead.

It was a lot easier on you to fantasize and dream about him when you thought he was dead.

+++

The government facility in Berlin looks far more secure than anything you’ve ever seen. Having guards posted all around when the four of you step out of the vehicle almost seems like overkill. They already took your weapons, what are they expecting any of you to do?

You glance over your shoulder to see Bucky in a small container. Your heart breaks at the sight of him, being restrained and in such a tight space. But the fact that he won’t even look your way breaks your heart even more.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Steve asks, having the courage to voice what you want to know.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you,” the man replies. He’s short and wears a gray suit. It’s hard for you to take him seriously as an authority figure when it looks like his pants need to be hemmed. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.”

You cross your arms over your chest, keeping your mouth shut. Sharon stands next to the man, but at least she looks like she’s on your side — or Steve’s, since she obviously has a thing for him.

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander—” Sharon begins introducing him, but you stop her.

“A guy too big to introduce himself?” You raise an eyebrow. “Wow.”

Everett barely smiles, but it isn’t friendly. “Yeah, uh, who the hell are you?” It’s taunting, but you’re too exhausted to give in.

“No one,” you wave your hand, letting Steve keep going.

“What about a lawyer?”

Everett finds that about as amusing as your sentence. “A lawyer, that’s funny.” He turns to address Sharon. “See that their weapons are placed in lockup.” Then turning to the four of you, he says, “We’ll write you a receipt.”

As if on cue, men pass by holding Steve’s shield and uniform, Sam’s wings, and your gun and bullet proof vest. You had almost gotten away with the vest, but once they felt it, they wanted it off -- probably afraid it had some explosive inside it. So, now you’re without your protection, and you miss the weight of the vest. Something about it soothed the ache inside you.

Sam looks ready to burst at the seams. “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.”

You’re ushered forward by some guards and you go without resisting. You see Steve take one more look at Bucky, but you don’t bother. No sense in looking at someone who doesn’t want to see you, anyway.

Everett walks ahead, leading the way across a glass bridge to the other side of the facility. “You’ll be provided with an office, instead of a cell.”

“How kind,” you snort.

He ignores your comment. “Do me a favor: stay in it.”

You roll your eyes. What does he expect you guys to do? Start a fight when the ratio of unarmed super-soldier to heavily armed guards is about 1 to 1,000 in here?

Natasha joins the group, giving you a particularly cold stare before talking to Steve. “For the record, this is what making things worse looks like.”

You manage a chuckle. She has a point, after all.

“He’s alive,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

Yeah, you think. A lot of good that’s doing to everyone.

By the time you reach the other side of the bridge, you’re ready to ask T’Challa to claw your eyes out instead. You won’t even put up a fight. You’re just tired of holding these tears back and feeling this burning pressure in your chest. You don’t know if it’s yours or Bucky’s emotions at this point, all you know is that you want to be left alone.

The weight of it all is crushing down on you now that there aren’t guns firing at you.

He doesn’t want you.

Your soulmate doesn’t want you.

Fuck.

You wipe a stray tear away, spotting Tony Stark up ahead. Tony seeing you cry is not something you ever want to happen, so you chew on the inside of your cheek instead, hoping you can slip past him quick enough that he won’t notice.

But, of course, that’s too much to ask for when you’ve got Sam and Steve next to you. And when the three of you are now criminals.

“Colonel Rhodes is supervising clean up,” Tony says to someone on the phone. But, because he’s Tony, he has to glare at the three of you while he says it. “Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that because I just said it, anything else? Thank you sir.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. Here we go.

“Consequences?” Steve inquires, very obviously not giving a damn from the sounds of his tone.

“Secretary Ross wants you prosecuted,” Tony pauses, looking pointedly at you. “All of you.”

You glare at him. “I wasn’t expecting to be an exception, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” Tony replies, always having to have the upper hand. “What I was thinking, is that when I paid for you to have top of the line combat training, I didn’t mean for you to use it on something like this.”

“For God’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring Steve and Sam’s bewildered stares. You should’ve known he’d use this moment to blast your secret to everyone.

Your training is something you kept under wraps because naturally, if someone knows you’re going to be a challenge, they normally take it. You wanted to be as off the grid and as normal appearing as you could, so you quietly trained while loudly posting about your degree and only your degree. No pictures with Sam or Steve in them when they’d come to visit. Just you or your best friend, nothing more. You wanted to appear as though you were staying out of the way of any and all affairs that could deal with The Winter Soldier. You knew you’d be left alone if you acted as if you didn’t care. You even went on random dates and posted about them. You slipped under everyone’s radar just like you wanted.

“I’m not doing this right now,” you push past Tony in search of an empty office.

“No, I think we are doing this now,” Tony pulls you back by your arm, which you wrench out of his grip immediately. “I paid for those classes so you could defend yourself, and now you’re a criminal. How do you think that makes me look?”

“I don’t know. Grab a goddamn mirror. It’ll tell you.”

Your sarcasm only fuels his anger. “Listen to me—”

“No, okay?” Your voice cracks and you hate it. You hate the way Steve has been looking at you, like you’re about to break into a million pieces right on the floor in front of everyone. You hate that Tony thinks he can just lecture you about something he has no fucking clue about how it feels. You hate that Bucky doesn’t want you and you hate that he’s in a tiny box right now and that if you never would’ve met Steve two years ago then you wouldn’t be hurting like this right now.

Tony stares quietly at you, waiting for you to finish.

So, with as much strength as you can gather, you finish. “I’ve just jumped off buildings and almost taken bullets for my soulmate who does not even want me.” You pause to let it sink in. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d really love to go cry my eyes out for thirty minutes. You can lecture me after.”

Tony’s face falls and pales a little even, but you’re too exhausted to notice.

By some stroke of bad luck, Everett Ross happens to overhear your words. His dumbfounded expression comes into view and it takes all of your leftover energy to not deck him right in the jaw.

“Did I just hear you say that you’re his soulmate?”

“No,” you snap. “Because he doesn’t know me and doesn’t want to talk to me. So, sorry, you won’t get to weaponize me today. Now, do you have an office I can cry in? Or do I need to go find it myself?”

Stunned, Everett flounders for a response. “Uh, you can just pick an empty one.”

“Great,” you swallow around the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes on the ground as you finally escape from everyone around you.

The office is glass, so it isn’t like you’re getting much privacy at all, but it’s enough. You take the farthest one, turning to face the wall so no one else has to see your pathetic tears as they stream down your face.

Saying it out loud made it real.

Bucky doesn’t want you. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t care what you feel. He doesn’t care that you’re his soulmate. He doesn’t want any part of any of it.

Your chest feels like it might rip itself open just for your heart to escape, and part of you wishes it could. You wish you could be without your heart and this soulmate business just for one day.

All those years. Thinking he’d want you.

The past two years. Rehearsing how to talk to him. How to make it work because you weren’t foolish enough to think it’d be easy. You knew it would be hard, that he’d be troubled with his own issues. But you never thought about the possibility of him straight-up rejecting you.

All of it. For nothing. For a soulmate who insists he doesn’t know you.

You try to muffle your choked sob as best you can, but you fail, the noise only causing more tears to fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was brainwashed by HYDRA and you were stupid enough to hope that he’d want you in his life, that he’d remember you.

Maybe he doesn’t remember you. Maybe when they did something to his mind, it erased all of you.

But he remembers Steve, you remind yourself, and the hurt takes over once more.

You turn and press your back to the glass, shutting your eyes so you won’t see if anyone is watching you. You know how absurd you must look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want you. What does any of it matter anymore?

You slide down to the floor, burying your face in your knees. God, it hurts. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and you want it to stop. You wish you never went to that damn exhibit with your best friend. You wish you never knew about Bucky. Living in blissful ignorance was painful, but at least you had peace alongside the pain.

At least that image of your soulmate wanted you.

+++

Back outside, Everett watches your shaking form with a newfound worry. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know.” Tony hangs his head. “Do you need me for anything?”

Everett glances at his watch. “No, actually I’ve got things to get to.” He disappears without another word.

Tony thinks it over, wondering if he should even go check on you. You’re like a daughter to him, though he’ll never admit that to you, and you’d never suspect it. The two of you hardly speak. You were surprised when he reached out about your protection. Steve had apparently mentioned you, and Tony being Tony, knew he had the money to make you feel safe.

And he did. The classes helped. Keeping everything about you, except what you wanted people to see -- that you were an Honors student, a well-supported, intelligent young woman -- a secret helped.

The two of you bicker. You argued when you first met. Tony wanted to pay for extra security, personal security that would follow you around. He wanted to move you from the college apartments to some fancier complex where he could control the security protocols. You turned him down, asked about classes. He compromised. But not without some off-handed, pissed-off remark, that you promptly replied to with, “Fuck off.”

You’re strong, he’ll give you that. Anyone else would’ve denied their feelings, sworn they weren’t the soulmate of the fist of HYDRA. But you embraced it. You knew you couldn’t change it. You knew you would get Bucky back one day -- your Bucky.

But you never would’ve guessed that he would’ve reacted this way. Shielding you from bullets while insisting that he has no idea who the hell you are.

His insistence is what hurt you the most. You had thought when you confessed that you can feel when he’s lying, he would’ve given in. That maybe he needed a confirmation, a reason to believe it was really you, because anyone can lie. Technology -- Stark’s, at least -- has advanced, anyone can look like whoever they want. You thought Bucky needed proof. But that wasn’t it.

He just didn’t care.

Tony watches as you turn around, pressing your back to the glass. Your eyes are closed, face wet with tears and hand pressed over your mouth. You slide to the floor, and that’s the last straw.

You look up when you hear Tony knocking on the glass.

Once you see it’s him, though, you put your head back in your hands. “I said thirty minutes,” you mumble. “I know damn well it’s only been ten.”

“Just shut up and come here.”

You look up again, your expression pained as if he just slapped you. Tony frowns. He’s making it worse when he wants to make it better.

“What do you want?” You ask tiredly, rubbing both hands on your face to wipe the rest of the tears away. You sniffle loudly, grimacing at the noise. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just come here.”

“What do you want?”

“To give you a damn hug,” Tony mutters, invading your personal space by sitting next to you on the floor.

You accept his hug, but only for a few seconds. That’s all you can take.

“Sorry,” you murmur, shrugging him off and scooting a foot away. “Anything that touches me makes me want to punch. I don’t know if it’s him feeling that, or me, but…” You sigh. “Regardless I’d just like for this to be over.”

“You and me both, kiddo,” Tony exhales, leaning his head back against the glass. “Why did you go with Cap and Sam?”

You shrug. “If it was Pepper...wouldn’t you?”

“Pepper wasn’t brainwashed by HYDRA,” Tony says. “And Pepper didn’t assassinate dozens of people.”

“But if she had, if it was Pepper in that box right now, wouldn’t you have done anything? Even if you knew it was a losing battle?”

Tony stays quiet, thinking. “Yeah.” He nods slowly. “I would.” Then he lets out a dry laugh. “I don’t think she’d put me in that position -- I think it’s more likely the other way around.”

You look over at him, frowning.

He sees you looking and sighs, closing his eyes. “We’re taking a break.”

That explains it. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. In her defense, I’m a handful.” Typical Tony. Deflecting his real feelings with humor. “Anyway, I’m sorry, too. Earlier. I shouldn’t have spilled your secrets like that.”

You shrug. “It’s whatever. It’s out there now. I’m sure Everett is thinking of every way he can to somehow get through to Bucky through me.” The mention of your soulmate has tears jumping back into your eyes.

Then a wave of panic rushes over you.

Your eyes shoot open and you scramble to your feet, moving to the farthest corner of the office to get a good look at the screens. Without audio, you can’t tell much, but that doesn’t make it any better.

“What wrong?” Tony asks, joining you.

“He’s panicked,” you murmur. “Where’s Steve?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer you before you’re practically running out of the office to find Steve. You find him with Sam and Sharon in another office.

“Steve--” You stop when you hear the audio. It’s Bucky’s voice.

“Where’s Y/N?” He says. You look at the screen, thinking your ears have deceived you, but he says it again. “Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, noticing the look on your face.

“Something’s wrong,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t know what. But he’s panicking. Or maybe it’s me. Something’s wrong.”

About that time, the power goes out.

Literally. Everywhere. Emergency lights coat the room in a soft blue glow, the red of the exits the only other light working in the place.

“Fuck!” You smack the table, looking to Sharon. “Where is he?”

“Sub-level five, East wing,” she answers quickly.

You don’t look to Sam or Steve, you just start running.

The slapping of footsteps behind you is the only indication you have that they’re following you. Tears spring to your eyes as another wave of panic comes over you, nearly choking you this time. Something bad. It’s something bad.

Anger comes next, burning in your chest. What the hell is happening? That psychiatrist -- what’s he doing to your Bucky?

Then you feel it.

It spreads throughout your whole body. The old feeling you had once forgotten. Two years is long enough to get used to Bucky and forget all about The Winter Soldier, but not long enough to not recognize it when it returns.

You push forward, running as fast as you can. You slow once you’re at the correct sub-level, waiting for Sam and Steve. You hold your hands up when they come into view.

Steve comes skidding to a stop. “What?”

“He’s not Bucky right now,” you say quietly, despite the thrumming in your ears. “He’s the Soldier. We have to be careful. I don’t know what happened, but I felt it.”

“Shit,” Steve cusses. “Okay.”

Back on track, the first sign that the Soldier is here is all of the guards lying unconscious on the floor. Inside the room, the psychiatrist sent to evaluate Bucky -- though you’re suspecting he isn’t the psychiatrist -- lies in the middle of the floor, barely conscious.

Steve walks in and drags the man up off of the floor, pinning him to the wall.

You’re right. He’s not who he says he is.

While Steve is handling him, you and Steve step up to the doorway, but you pause, pressing your arm to Sam’s chest.

Shit. He’s in there.

Sam either doesn’t catch your signal or doesn’t want you walking in by yourself, because he ignores you and steps into the room. Regardless, it earns him a punch to the face that he barely dodges.

“Bucky!” You scream, pushing Sam out of the way before Bucky’s metal fist can smash his head in. “Bucky, stop!”

But he doesn’t. He keeps going after Sam, and only stops once he has thrown Sam halfway across the room into the box he was kept in. Sam falls limply to the floor, unconscious.

“Bucky, look at me,” you plead, tears pushing to the front of your eyes, but you blink them away. “You have to come out of this!”

Bucky pushes past you, going after Steve this time. Well, you think. First, he knocks the psychiatrist out cold, but you don’t mind that. What you do mind is when Bucky focuses back on Steve, choking him up against the wall.

You try to pull on his arm, but you know it’s useless. He holds you back, keeping you away from him, but still not hurting you.

You think. Quick. What would help? Why isn’t he hurting you? He’s capable of handling more than one person, and you’re obviously provoking him in some way right now as you claw at his back. But still, he isn’t hurting you. Why?

A long shot of an idea pops into your head.

“Soldier!” You raise your voice, straightening your shoulders, hoping it’ll give you the look of an authority figure. “Soldier. I said stop.”

Steve hits the ground with a thud, coughing loudly.

“Soldier,” you repeat, keeping your voice even. “Look at me.” Slowly, Bucky turns around. He’s still the Soldier, but at least he isn’t trying to kill Steve. “What are your orders?”

“You give them.”

You blink. “What?”

“Orders are to protect you,” the Soldier says. “Keep you safe.”

Your breath hitches. You push away your emotions, thinking instead how you can use his orders to your advantage right now. You don’t exactly like using him this way, but you don’t have any other option when he’s a highly trained and chemically enhanced assassin.

“Steve is a friend.” You pause, nodding to Sam who is slowly coming back to consciousness on the ground. “So is Sam. Do not hurt them. Understand?”

Firmly, Bucky nods.

You look over your shoulder at Steve. “We’ve gotta get him out of here,” you say. “They’ll kill him if they find him like this.” Regardless of the fact that he’s listening to you.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse. He goes over to Sam, pulling him off the ground. He’s disoriented, but awake. “Come on. We gotta go.”

“Okay, Soldier,” you almost wince, hating talking to him like this. “Get us out of here. Can you do that?”

Again, he nods. His flesh arm wraps protectively around your waist, practically picking you up as he begins to walk.

You try your hardest to ignore the effect it has on your body, but you can’t help it. The combination of his strength and this being the most intimate way that he has touched you yet leaves you breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Wait,” you pause, and Bucky stops. “I’ll hold onto your arm,” you say, slipping his arm from around your waist. You grip his bicep, your other hand sliding into his. You hate to be doing this because you know once Bucky remembers, he’ll probably hate you even more for it. But right now, the Soldier won’t walk two inches without some sort of grip on you. “Is this better?”

The Soldier’s bicep flexes underneath your fingers. You swallow thickly. Maybe this was worse.

“As long as you’re safe,” is all he says, before continuing on.

You look back over your shoulder to find Steve watching with a sad smile.

You shove down the swelling sadness in your chest. You know this is the last time you’ll get to hold his hand, or hold onto him like this. But he can’t stay the Soldier forever. He needs to be Bucky again.

Even if Bucky is the one who doesn’t want you.

#i knew you #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #angst #angst city #all angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #the winter soldier #cacw

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