#i only have one segment left for the chapter

[kyurilin]

Self care is giving your google doc anyone can edit privileges so you can work on your fanfic at work (there's nothing to do and it makes me look busy)

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

He comes in droves, hoards of himself, brokenhearted and wanting, wrecking cities for a chance to get one last glance at you. You're different, more than all of them expected. It's saddening for some, boner inducing for others. [Invincible Variants x reader]

 Tw: Suicide, drug use

[Part one] [3] [Ao3] [Chapter Index] [View Full Piece Here - It's mine!]

2 * RX Only [6.7k]

"While my queendom crumbles around me,

I'm fucking stuck here sucking this cock,

I'll kill myself right here on stage,

And it's gonna fucking rock!"

I Win - Go Hang Music

      Blood, guts, and sulfur, but no demons rising from the ground. Just a man in the night, backlit by the burning Sydney Opera House. Watching the blinking dot on his wrist cuff disappear. He holds his breath. Horrified. She was an illusion. A trick of a grief addled brain.

        The screen automatically zooms out, showing a pixelated view of the northern hemisphere of the planet. The dot reappears in North America. Numbers flash in the left corner of his blue tinted vision. When he first saw his alternates, he thought they'd have the same upgrades. Super computers laced into the fabric of their suits. Considering how stupid they were acting and how one of them asked where Mount Rushmore was- they likely didn't.

        He rises, scanning the numbers one last time, burning them to memory before minimizing them. Your coordinates and vitals, both monitored by the cuff. Perfectly healthy, alarmed, scared shitless probably, but healthy. Alive. 

        The breath he held lets go.

        Eyes scan over Sydney one last time. Before he left, he had to ensure his end of the deal was complete. Be absolutely sure Angstrom wouldn't be displeased and send him back to where he'd came from. Sure, he hadn't expected to see (Y/n) here, so soon, he wasn't really done with Sydney. He could level the place if he wanted. Angstrom would approve, but Angstrom's approval didn't matter. All that mattered was bringing you home.          Still, he searches for loose threads. Just in case.         The machinery in his suit quietly whirs. He sees no survivors. Not with the rubble and fire. But his goggles lock onto the outline of forms in neon green, hiding behind a slab of rubble where he couldn't see.          He's there in a blink. Stood at the one and only entrance of the little hovel the family had decided to hide in. Only one of them lives long enough to scream.          There, done. Now he could-         His lenses lock onto another hidden form. Then another and another. He sighs. Head turning to the floating ball beside him. Angstrom's drone making sure he was doing what he was supposed to. Five minutes, he told himself, five minutes to kill all these fucking people and be done with this place. It wasn't like he was going to lose track of (Y/n).         He rose, up, up, up. More and more forms catching in the lens. He pushed a hidden button on the side of his lenses. A tiny segmented timer started in the left corner of his view. Five minutes, on the clock.         ***         "You're fucking kidding me." First the apartment, now CVS Pharmacy.          You stood in the parking lot, breathing in acrid smoke. Looking at the building that was your personal emergency room for the last five years. That mohawked shapeshifting asshole must have rammed right through the place at some point. Bringing the red roof down on most of the building. 

        Physically, you were fine but there was something you desperately needed from under that crumbled roof. Especially since you were now suddenly living through the end of the world.         The automatic glass doors were crushed under concrete but a massive hole, probably where he flew through, was a perfectly fine entrance into the rubble. You stepped carefully over rebar and the body of a cashier. There was no more inside, just parts where the roof didn't cave in all the way, and you were standing in the biggest one. Shelves tipped, chip bags popped open on the carpet floor.          You find yourself meandering into the two upright fractions of aisles in front of you, the store so unrecognizable you felt lost. Caligula laid across your shoulders, over the crook of your neck like a scarf. Gray nose gently twitching at the smell of corpses. There were more in the aisle that was for foot cream. One man bisected by a chunk of roof. One lady who lay stiff, hands still clutching her chest where she'd likely had a heart attack.         You exit the remains of the aisle. Not sure why you’d gone down them in the first place, pharmacy wasn't down there. You were still reeling from the last half hour. Was that all it had been- had everything fallen apart in thirty minutes?           A clatter breaks your reverie, your head shooting towards it.          Crawling out from under a piece of roof was a white coated pharmacy tech. The old-timer full-timer, Wes, you used your powers on almost every time you came in. You didn’t wait for him to stand to use your powers on him.         “I need my usual.”         When he stands, he leans dramatically to one side. The muscles in his side are split, piggy pink insides poking out of his coat. He turns for the wreck that used to be behind the counter, where he’d pass hours by counting pills. Gait short, steps dragging and too slow.         “Ignore the pain.”         With that, he goes upright. Walking confidently over to a fallen shelf, bending, ignoring the slippage of his guts. He goes from paper bag to paper bag, prescription to prescription. None of them have your name on it. Going official would’ve meant asking Machine Head to pull strings and you weren’t in a hurry for more debt. Controlling the pharmacy techs was the only way.         Wes straightens. Walking on uneven ground. Stopping two feet away and holding out a paper bag to you. Prescription for Sandra O'Connell. Probably dead now.

        You frown at the bag. Contents soaked into the brown bottom. Dripping out in clear, thick rivulets. You hadn’t been specific enough. Again with semantics, the pain in your ass. “Find me some that’s intact. As many bottles as you can.”         ***        "No." He's going to vomit. "No." He's going to cry. "No!" He's going to split this planet down the fucking middle, again.         His grip on Isotope's throat tightened. "You're lying." Spit flies off his teeth, onto Isotope's cheeks.          Together, him, Isotope, and Machine Head, hover over the rubble of what was supposed to be your apartment. A dead woman lying on its very top, head like a maraschino cherry.          Machine Head kicked at the air, gargling, "Get us the fuck out of here Isotope!"         One look from Dregs pissed off ex-boyfriend and Isotope knew. If he so much as tried to leave, they'd both be dead. "I'm not." Isotope can barely speak, throat the only thing keeping him upright. Hovering twenty feet above the busted building. "She should be on the third floor."        "What third floor!?"         "The one you fucking knocked down!" Machine Head grappled his arm. Twisting his sleeve, trying to hurt him- him with his weak human hands.         His hand tightened on Machine Head’s neck. Something inside his fleshy human body cracked. The man groaned and shuddered but still fought. “That bitch is dead!”          His head pounded, like a hammer slamming behind his eyes. His fingers are a flex away from breaking both their necks when Isotope says, “I know where else she could be.” He involuntarily shuddered when his assailant's eyes fell on him. Wild as his wind whipped mohawk.         “Spill.” The freak’s grip lightened. Isotope slipped down an inch, latching to the man’s wrist for support like he wanted to be choked.          “She’s some sorta dope fiend. Boys see ���er at the CVS all the time, picking up the same shit.” Isotope’s words came out in heaves as he caught as much breath as he could. “If she’s alive.” At that word, if, his grip tightens, “Hurk— she’s probably at the pharmacy.” His arm came up, red suit creasing at the shoulder, “Right down the corner. Can’t miss it.”         His grip clenches tight, shutting Isotope up. “If she’s not there, I’m gonna see how high your body bounces when I drop you  ten-thousand feet.” He flew, slower than he’d like, searching for the right building. He knew what a pharmacy was, of course, but this wasn’t his New York. His New York was worse off than this one. Last time he saw it plants were taking over the concrete remains of the city. So he’s slow, only speeding when Isotope coughs and points out another chunk of destruction that looked like everything else in a thirty-mile radius. 

        ***

        T-minus eleven minutes until he arrived. He only had to hold onto Mach twelve for that much longer. Think of (Y/n). Think of holding you. Bringing you home.          The sound barrier cracked, then there was someone beside him. “What the fuck are you doing in my sky?”         Ah. That one. The one that called dibs on the king’s land because at home he was more than a king, better. Clad in his— their— old super suit. Viltrum’s sigil on his shoulders. Shoulder pads thick.         "Answer me.”         How the hell were they the same person? This version of him was so whiny. More insolent than a child. Apparently, his style was gaudy too. Minutes after they first met he went on and on about his outfit. How he was only wearing ‘this old piece of shit’ because he didn’t want to get his emperors clothes filthy. And still— he’d come wearing shoulder pads and metals of valor that were jittering in the wind, just barely holding on. He’d scoffed at the idea of human blood on his fuzzy emperor's cape.          Much as he wanted to, taking on the other version of himself was ill-advised. Sure, they were different but also the same in many ways. He’d know something was up.          His lips peeled apart. Glued by stagnant spit and silence. It felt like reopening a wound. “I’m done. Returning to the rendezvous.” His voice came out robotic. A modulator attached on the inside of his suit's throat.          The people of his world knew of Invincible but it was better no one saw any part of his face, recognized any inflection of his voice. Whatever was left of it anyways.          The other him, Shoulder Pads (there was no way he was calling him Mark), rolled his eyes. “That place better be dirt cuz if I gotta go to that shithole and finish what you couldn’t I’ll—“         “I assure you, the job is done.” Just leave. Go back to torturing people and making weird comments about slaves. Leave me be.         Shoulder Pad’s eyes narrowed to slits behind his goggles. “Don’t lie to me.”         “I don’t lie.” And that was the truth. Partially.         Shoulder Pad’s lips twisted. “Then you won’t mind if I come with you? Be nice to get to know my next commander better.”         Under his mask, his eye twitches. He'd heard this before, one too many times. Shoulder Pads saw him and the others as lesser. Good assets for his empire, sure, but lesser. He didn't plan on joining anyone's empire anytime soon.

        Putting up a fight would be suspicious. Though his throat was already raw with how much he’d spoke, more than he had in months, he said, “You’re finished?”         Shoulder Pads scoffed. “Hours ago. Whole country's ash.” He laughed, though he wasn’t lying. Looking down didn’t provide much of a view. Too much smoke in the way, billowing up from the entire United Kingdom like the thousands of acres were nothing but an overused ashtray. “I’ve been getting bored destroying those things they call islands.”         He nodded. A ‘so be it’ kind of gesture. They flew on. Shoulder Pads filling the not-quite silence— ripping through the air at mock twelve was awfully loud— while he thought over ways to get rid of his companion. Too many what-ifs. 

        What if Shoulder Pads saw you as some human to be killed on the spot, squashed like some kind of bug? What if Shoulder Pads toyed with you, if he tore you limb from limb? Made him relive the same memory in a different universe. Shoulder Pads taking the role of daddy-not-so-dearest.          Worse— what if Shoulder Pads was here for the same thing? A second chance.         ***     One bottle, two bottle, three bottle, four— there was a cute rhyme to tack to the end of that but you didn’t have the energy. Neither did the pharmacy tech, falling stone cold dead soon as he passed you the last bag.      You tear open the first bag, medicine for a Nancy Giovanni. You pull out the dark bottle, rolling it in your hand, making absolute sure the dying tech didn’t fuck up.              Prescription for: PROMETHAZINE VC/CODEINE [SYRUP] - 4 fl oz.              EACH 5ml (TEASPOON) CONTAINS:             CODEINE PHOSHPASE USP ... 10 mg             PROMETHAZINE HYDROCHLORIDE USP … 6.25 mg             PHENYLEPHRINE HYDROCHLORIDE USP … 5 mg             ALCOHOL … 7%             [RX ONLY]         Oh yeah baby, that’s the ticket. Cough syrup. The actually medicated stuff. Totally illegal to buy over the counter. You didn’t know what in it did the trick. The pain killer, the throat soother, cough suppressant, or the drinking so much you got a buzz part— either way, Codeine and Promethazine were a match made in heaven specifically to fix your powers right the fuck up. 

       You twist the cap and end up dropping the rest of the bags. Sighing, you settle to sit, organize before getting down the business. Though the only place was wasn’t covered in debris was…         “Sorry Wes.” You say as you sit on the dead man's back. Something hard pushes into your ass. Shit, right, gun safety. You pull the six-shooter from the back of your sweats and set it by your feet. Not the top of the market stuff Machine Head's guards get, but a solid piece. Got enough of the latest tech to pop a supe's brains out their ass. Small but mighty. ID numbers sanded off, bought off the black market, given to you by your shithead boss. Sometimes things went south. Your mouth covered or earplugs put in. So you took the gun everywhere, just in case.

        You finish popping off the cap, take a breath of the rank air, and throw your head back, brown rim to your lips. There's a joke to be had there, but again, too tired for that shit.

        Caligula hops off your shoulders, annoyed. Tail twitching as he pads away to explore under rubble. Looking for mice like he always had in your apartment. You let him go. The cat was loyal as a dog, he'd be back.

        The syrup comes rolling down your tongue. Bitter, mucus-thick, gag worthy. Nothing you weren't used to. There've been too many times you were run dry and had to chug the slop mid-shootout to keep your head on your shoulders. So you don't breathe and drink, drink, drink until the bottle is a quarter empty.

        You lean forward, elbows on knees. Holding your head as things right themselves. Your throat numbed, blood drying in your nose, head not throbbing, only a light pulse. 

        It was a funny thing really, finding your personal anti-kryptonite. Three years back you were sick as a dog. Of course, you were on duty. When weren't you? You talked a backstabbing rat up to the roof of his apartment building, holding onto him up all the stairs, weak in your sickness. Right before you told him to jump, a coughing fit cut you short. He escaped your hold, pulled a gun on you, almost blasted your brains on the door to the stairwell. Lucky thing Isotope was there, zapping you out of the way. Pushing the dick off himself, and zapping you to this very building. Suggested you fix the problem, whatever it took, because he wouldn't bail you out again.

        He sucked balls but at least wasn't a whole dick. 

        You got a prescription. Drank the allotted amount. The cold cleared. Powers coming back like a tsunami. So strong they demanded to be used. So you drank more than the prescribed amount. Killed the rest of the rats nest of police informants on your own. Almost got killed again. Machine Head was angry you'd gone alone, when not assigned. But you didn't care. You'd found a power-up. Except, because there's always an exception- the boost only lasted as long as you could stay conscious. You’d overdosed more than a few times. 

       You recap the bottle. Consolidating the bottles in the front pocket of your hoodie. Tempted to down the whole thing, scared shitless from earlier, but it was a stupid idea while not being in immediate danger. Unless Wes decided to get up and chew you out for sitting on his dead body- you were safe.

        But not stupid. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts, trying to call contingency one through twenty-seven. Most didn't answer. Dead or unable to come to phone right now, so please leave a message! Some did, orders were given. Help, in case it was needed, was coming. Things like this had a strange way of being nowhere near over once things get quiet.

        Boots come down. Your head lolls over your shoulder. Danger is standing twenty feet back. Holding Machine Head and Isotope by the throats. Isotope pale and passed out. Machine Head weakly clawing at the ground, held down, forced to stay on his knees.

        He stares at you, the not-Mark with the dark, deep-set eyes, sat on your human throne. "That's... hm. Did you do that?"

        There goes saving the syrup. Out comes the partly drunk bottle, off goes the cap, to your lips the bottle goes.

        ***

        What the hell are they doing?

        Two dots on his wrist cuff, side by side. Darting through the projected 3D model of Earth. Heading west fast, over the Northern Atlantic. Making a b-line for another dot. The only one of the three who is where he's supposed to be. 

        "Got'chu now!" A shadow overcasts behind him.

        He presses a button, zooming into the map, not bothering to turn. Had he missed a message from Angstrom? No, not possible. He was the most reliable of all of them, no way Angstrom would cut him out. Certainly, he wasn't stupid enough to think he could.

        A mace whistled through the air, coming to split his skull. His arm slices out in an arc behind him. Barley trying. The sound of his would-be assailant so keening and pathetic he couldn't even take satisfaction in the kill. He pulls his arm free, the body falls. 

        He watches the remains splat onto the last intact chunk of sidewalk left in Seattle. The city was destroyed. The last of the gnats swatted down. He might as well investigate. Double check that he wasn't being double crossed.

        ***

        "Wow, oh wow, you like that." He laughed as the last of the syrup disappeared behind your lips. The bottle is thrown to the debris, to be forgotten. His voice is cloying and saccharine, and way too familiar, "Was that good?"

        Bitterness coats your tongue. Chemical smell stinging in your nose. Head swimming but feather light. "No." You say. The syrup leaden in your stomach. Throat numb but soon to burn with vomit. You didn't have much time to dispose of this freak. "But-"

        "Dregs! Jesus Christ, Dregs get him the fuck off me!" Machine Head kicked at the ground. Mohawk, you'd dubbed him, because no fucking way were you calling a shapeshifter the name it wanted you to call it. Name aside, he wasn’t about to let Machine Head go, or even let him touch the ground. His dignity just a few short inches away as he gagged and kicked. 

        "You seriously work for this guy?" Mohawk says. "So weak." His thumb barely flexes and all the air is cut from your boss's throat, the kicks becoming frantic. 

        You know the shapeshifter is trying to get to you but it gets deep, deep under your skin. You're on your feet, swaying. "Tell me who you really are."

        He laughs but the words are pulled out of him anyway. "Mark Grayson."

        Your teeth grind. He's not lying. Maybe not a shapeshifter. Maybe a hidden supe. Someone projecting hallucinations onto you, to make you go batshit and somehow kill yourself.

        "Tell me if you're real."

        "As you are, baby."

        "Dregs!" Machine Head screeches the second his thumb relaxes. "Dregs, if you don't get him off me, I'm docking your pay!"

        Mohawk's lip twitches, hand flexing. Shit. "Don't kill him." His hand relaxes. Though his eyes aren't as glazed as you'd like. He's still resistant but you've got the upper hand as long as your stomach holds. 

        "Yes! Yes, now get him to let go!"

        The command makes your stomach roil. Probably just the excessive drugs but still, you don't like the motherfucker. He can wait. "Why are you doing this?"

        "Made a deal. Break enough shit and I get a prize." Under control, people are emotionless, no use of unnecessary words or turn of phrase. But there he was, talking like a seventh grader.

        "Which is?"

        "You," you roll out of the way before they touch down. Feet first and much harder than necessary, sending dangerous bullets of rock spraying every which way. You're fine. Clothes dusty whereas Wes's corpse is more cut up than before. Sorry, guy.

        If one had been too much, enough to think he was a hallucination, then three was enough to make you consider committing yourself to a ward.         

        You'd seen one of the newcomers back in Sydney. The other beside him, eyeing you up and down like an antique at auction, was new. You'd forgotten about the cuff on your ankle. You were no techie, but logic and superheroes meant it was a tracker, hell, maybe hand (ankle?) cuffs if activated by something.

        "Oh what the fuck!" The mohawked one spoke for you, "I called New York. Find somewhere else to flatten."

        "Is this what you were in a such a hurry to finish for?" The newcomer with his stupid shoulder pads kicked a wall to pieces, looking to his companion. 

        The full-masked one stood still as a statue, quiet as a phantom. 

        "Course not," Shoulder Pads answered himself, "You came for that," his finger pointed accusingly toward the mohawked one, "isn't that right? He bruised your ego when you first met pretty bad, huh?"

        An insult from a version of himself who thought mohawks were peak fashion meant nothing. Sure, he'd called his mask creepy, but he didn't hold enough of a grudge to want to kill the guy over it. He did, however, not like how close he was to (Y/n). Twenty feet was nothing when one moved as fast as they did.

        "Who are you?"

        "Mark Grayson." The two newcomers answered together. One similar to the voice you knew, if a little nasaler. The other like that Guardian's dickhead, Robot.

       You dip down, swiping your gun off the ground. Careful not to move too quickly and let the bottles fall out of your pocket. "Why are there three of you?"

        "There's actually eighteen," Mohawk answers. "Dickheads all of 'em."

        "To expand my empire." Shoulder Pads says, more responsive to your control.

        "To destroy so much, it ruins the life of this dimension's Mark Grayson." The Phantom answers, voice and actually helpful honesty, sending a shiver down your back. 

        "Dregs-!"

        "Shut the fuck up." Your attention on Machine Head is nothing but murderous. As the situation unfolds, you find yourself realizing, for one, Machine Head is most definitely going to die. Villains of the week are stupid, sure, but they also take no prisoners. You’d say Machine Head had less than five minutes' life left on him. 

        For two, the world was pretty much fucked. Which means- weakness, instability and power up for grabs for Mister Liu to reclaim as his. You could be by his side, his left hand as he already had a right. No more debt, no more humiliation at Machine Head's hands. Because there was no way you were going straight, not after everything. But, you could climb the ladder in the dust of the world and climb it high- as you were right now.

        High enough to push Mister Liu off the ledge. High enough to never have to take orders from anyone ever again. Be your own boss. Maybe Machine Head had less than five minutes. 

        Even better, you could relocate out of the city (which you'd have to do anyway, I mean, look at this place). Somewhere you'd see Mark so little the lingering pain in your heart would maybe start to heal. The thought of killing him had crossed your mind. You placed heavy piles of blame on him for how your life turned out. Still, you ached and yearned for a teenage romance that'd never rekindle. You couldn't kill him, yet, not without crawling into Mister Liu's skin and wearing his shoes awhile. Surely you'd grow into them, give the order for someone to kill your ex without batting an eye- one day. 

        Your Mark wasn't on the official kill list yet, but these cheap imitations? These dimensional clones or whatever the fuck? Oh yeah baby, they've gotta die.

        ***

      He didn't bother telling his tails to leave. They were all lesser, but still, him. They were good at what they did, destroying things. 

        "Can you believe that guy tried to trap me in the- what was it- the shadow realm?" The blue and yellow clad gnat yammered beside him. The variant, slightly different from the others without his lenses, blasted up from the Guardian's HQ when he'd flown by. Asking all sorts of questions that were left unanswered and more importantly, unacknowledged. Maybe if he was ignored long enough, he'd go away. "Do'ya wanna know how I got out after I killed 'im?"

        No response.

        He went on anyway. "So like, after I ripped his heart out his chest the whole shadow realm started falling apart. I was like 'oh shit, I'm gonna die' so I gabbed the guys body and was like 'lemme out'. Shakin' him n' stuff. I dunno what happened, if there was a lil life left in him or what but I think I kickstarted something in him, cuz after eight or nine shakes I was back! Man, I almost forgot how crazy I killed those Guardian guys!"

        The other gnat, blue and black and imperceptibly different from this dimension's Mark Grayson, flew up to his other side. "You gonna show me that map or what?"

        He did not answer, for they had arrived. Three dots now five, six counting himself. All around the unimportant gray mass of some Earth dwellers' hovel. He stayed above because he was literally above touching down on Earth’s soil. His mother had been from this mud ball but she'd been elevated above the rest of this dirt-loving species by his father when he brought her back to Viltrum, swollen with pregnancy. 

        The others truly were lesser than he, for they shot down. Too impatient, too stupid to know what it is to observe from afar. They did all have enhanced hearing, did they not?

        ***

        Shoulder Pads shook his head, throwing the control off his brain like a wet dog. "The hell was that?" His head stopped, hair swept across his masked forehead. "How dare you- you-" His head kicked back a degree like he'd been sucker punched. It took him a minute, with the dirt and the outfit and the daring to wave around a gun. He recognised you now. Felt the pain searing hot in his chest. "Leave," he commanded, "All of you but," he turned back to, "you, stay."

        Nobody moved to obey. 

        "I said-"

        They came down from the sky like falling angels. 

         "The hell's this?" You watched him land. Watched him roll his shoulders. Mark, your Mark. Exactly the same. But what the fuck was he doing with this lot? "Where's Angstrom?" 

        "Not here, duh." The other newcomer says, bouncing on his heels. "Are we gonna turn on each other and fight to the death now? I really hope we turn on each other and fight to the death now." His eyes, lighter brown than you remember, slide from Mark to Mark to Wes to you. "A prize fight! Even better."

        You didn't like that word- prize. How he looked at you. Not as a person but as a street dog to collar. 

        Machine Head's toes displaced rubble. His captor's mohawk stood on end, as if electrified, "Get the fuck out of here." He says, "New York's mine. 'S not the meeting place for when we're done anyway."

        The stuck-up one, Shoulder Pads, moved toward you. Ankles breaking rubble as he went, too graceful to do something awkward like stepping over an obstacle. Why do that when you could just break it? 

        "Leave us now." He doesn't seem bothered by the fact that you raised the six-shooter, aimed straight for his throat. "And I'll consider letting the rest of you serve under me."

        He was there in a flash. Arm outstretched in front of his boy king other self, stopping him in his tracks- the phantom. Shoulder Pads stopped, ten feet shy from your person. You don't know what to say because as soon as you really get going, a fight is going to break. You won't survive. You've seen what Mark can do on the news. You don't doubt they can punch holes in you before you say stop. They're not far away like Mohawk had been. They're instant murder close. You have to be careful.

        "Don't get in my way." Shoulder Pads sneered to no reply.

        The lensless newbie jutted his thumb toward you, "Gonna go out on a limb 'n guess she's also your guy's dead girlfriend?"

        The word girlfriend hits you like a sack of rocks. When hit, hit back. You breathe in.

        "Dregs!" His voice is nails on a chalkboard, screeching, loud, and desperate. "God damn it! Help me!" Your hold on Machine Head had waned. He was back to whining. 

        Your hold on his captor had waned as well, telling by his eyes. But he didn't break Machine Head's neck. Instead, he watched, curious, a smile tugged the edge of his lip. 

        Tension rolled off Phantom and Emperor Shoulder Pads in waves. Lenseless’s knuckles popped, expecting violence with glee. The white clad warrior watched on from above. And your stupid ex-boyfriend just watched you, sneer on his lip like you were the problem. Like he wasn't covered in blood the fucking hypocrite. "I don't kill," my ass. He acted like he was better than you. 

        "I'll promote you! Right above Isotope." Who was passed out and couldn't be bothered by the betrayal. "We can run this city together. I can get you as much lean as you want! Fuck- I'll put you through rehab if you want!" 

        A bubble rolled up your throat. Not much longer now before you puke out power. You swallow down the burp. Anger a beat in your throat. "I'm not an addict."

        "Sure!" Machine Head laughed, "Sure! Whatever you say, just help me!" Isotope's eyes peeled open. He groaned, barely there.  Machine Head noticed, reaching out to shake the man's knee. "Get me out of here!"

        Your Mark clicked his tongue. "I can't say I'm surprised you haven't changed."

        "Isotope! Hey! Wake up!"

        "I used to think you'd be better than," Mark gestures to your boss, to your clothes, to the dilation of your eyes, embarrassingly aware of your high, "this." He sighed, "But I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same or however that shitty song goes. So much potential wasted. (Y/n), Seriously, this is pathetic."

        "Dregs, get Isotope up! Get us all out of here!"

        Mark smirked, "Name suits you."

        Your earlier machinations crumbled. Fuck waiting, maturing. People were going to die here, in this destroyed pharmacy, so why not start with him? 

        "Hey Mark?" 

        "Yeah?" It's a shame the others don't reply to the name. Too smart, too aware that if they were locked in conversation and attention, they'd be dead. 

        "Kill yourself."

        One hand to the chin, the other to the shoulder for support, like the first time you tried this trick on his doppelganger. The snap is quick. So powerful it twists his whole body backward, spine ripping out his back. He drops, blood dribbling out his mouth. 

        A weight lifts off your shoulders. You thought this would be harder. It's sad, sure, first love dead, very Romeo and Juliet, but you're still alive. You wish you could've made him see more, get a more torturous revenge. Or in a perfect world, one you didn't admit but dreamed of anyway, got him to see your side of things. 

        But you're so happy to see nothing behind his eyes. Dead while you're alive. The laugh forces out of you in a bark. It brings tears to your eyes, doubles you over. 

        The mood shifts. Tension sizzles away between the Marks. There were expectations, different for each, but this? Certainly was not one. 

        "Did you just-?" Lensless was at the corpse's side in a blink, poking at his twisted neck. "Oh, he's super mega dead." 

        "If he was weak willed enough to listen to the whims of a human he should've already been." Emperor Shoulder Pads says. "Better we weed out the weak before going back to my empire."

        "Shit, I was gonna kill Seventeen," Mohawk said. "Beat me to it, babe."

      "Seventeen?" You question between laughs.

        "Uh, yeah? Mark Seventeen. Demsion three-four-five, like neighbors with this one."

        "So he's not mine?"        

        "Yours? Baby, I'm yours- but that guy? Not from here."

        Oh? OH! He wasn't yours. Another variant, just awfully close in appearance. Something like relief pools in your stomach, or it's just the promethazine-codeine solution getting ready to come spewing out. 

        The Phantom keeps his hands at his sides, though they want to go to his head, press into his temples until the pain stopped. You weren’t like this. You weren’t supposed to be like this. Nothing like him. Maybe Shoulder Pads was right. Maybe Seventeen was weak willed, loved you so much he'd do anything you said. You couldn't be a killer. It just wasn't possible- wasn't right.

        "Isotope," he was starting to really regain consciousness, head lolling in Mohawk's hand, "Isotope, let's go!"

        He was going to leave you. Words of promise meant nothing obviously, you weren't born yesterday but the insult of it was the last fucking straw. 

        Right as power started to glow weakly from his palms, you say, "Look at me, Isotope."

        He does, slackjawed, droll rolling down his lip. Hands still glowing.

        Here's the thing about word and meaning induced mind control. Sometimes actions, gestures, are good as words, and as long as you've got your claws in their brain, as long as they're looking at you and understand- a gesture is enough to control.

        You lower the gun. As if it'd do anything against Shoulder Pads. One hand slipping off its metal grip, coming to the side of your head right above your ear. Rule number one of gun safety: Never put a gun to your head. So your bare hand comes up to do the job. Pinky and ring curling into your palm. Pointer and middle pressed to your scalp, thumb hanging down like the trigger. 

        Isotope's hand goes to the holster on his belt. Freeing the pistol, pressing it to the green side of his head, clicking off the safety. Waiting for the last order.

        "Dregs! Don't you fucking dare!" Machine Head trashes but his kicks do nothing to Mohawk's balance.

        The Mark’s watch, hypnotized like snakes to a charmer. 

        Your thumb twitches, miming the pull of a trigger.

        The bullet goes from one side of Isotope's skull to the other. Stopped by the side of Mohawk's knee, who doesn't even flinch at the lead cracking uselessly against his suit. Pale pink brains splatter his boots and shin guards. Chunks stick to Machine Head's dented metal face. Gravity slowly rolled them down, leaving trails of blood and cerebral spinal fluid in their wake.

        The dead weight is so unexpected in his hand, Mohawk is slow to drop the body. Killing another version of him was fair game. They were threatening your planet after all. But an ally? Very un-hero like.

        "You murderous yuppie cunt!" Machine Head's hand flies to his own holster. 

        "Don't talk to me like that, boss." He goes still, gun in hand. Your hand goes to the center of your forehead and so does his. Another twitch of the thumb sends a bullet and shrapnel backward. 

        Machine Head slumps, gun dropping, body twitching. Not dead yet.

        "Access the control panel." You say.

        His hand shakes violently as it comes to the side of his head. Pressing a button that makes the front half of his busted forehead come forward. Revealing the computer gore inside his head. 

        "Remove the leftmost microchip." You'd seen him getting maintenance too many times not to know that the chip contained his very consciousness. He'd yelled at so many paid-off Best Buy employees not to touch it. Threatened their families over it, but here he was, pressing its back so it'd come popping out. Soon as it does, his whole body goes slack.

        Killing what you thought was Mark yielded mixed feelings. But Machine Head and his lackey? That was pure cocaine right there baby. You felt like you could climb Everest. Like you really could overtake Mister Liu. 

        "Holy shit." Lensless let his jaw hang. "Powers, babe!? 'S awesome! Do it again!" His fingerless glove pointed to Shoulder Pads, "That guy! That guy next! Oh, wait, try it on me!" He doubted it'd work. He was way stronger than that pussy bitch Seventeen.

        Mohawk pulled Machine Head's slack body high above his head, inspecting. He was dead alright. So dead his bladder released and stained his gray slacks dark. He let the body drop. "You're pret-tee different here, huh babe?"

        Another bubble rises up your throat. 

        "What-" Shoulder Pads started, "What the fuck is wrong with this one?" He was expecting something else. Docile. Sitting at his feet like a good pup. At his beck and call. Especially not powered or alien or experimented or whatever the fuck you were. Clearly, you weren't normal.

        Phantom had nothing to say, as usual. Too busy fighting back the tears burning the back of his eyes. What has this world done to you? What had made you so callous? What had made you a killer? Whatever it was needed to burn. This monster in you, it could be culled; he could have the you he knew back. He could have it later, but for now, he fought grief.

        In the sky, the white clad warrior lets contentment simmer in his chest. Different, sure, but good different. Nothing like that human he brought to Viltrum to breed. A kicking, screaming crybaby who had no idea how lucky she was. Part of the shreds of resistance left, left alive by him of all people. Nothing like the doting creature his mother was to his father. Relationships like the ones on Earth weren't a thing on Viltrum. His parents were considered strange, but a strange he liked- though he wouldn’t admit it to a living soul.  

        So disappointing and ungrateful, a waste of time, of resources, he was sour about when he had to kill you. But not here, not this you.       

        Shadows whipped through the sky hundreds of feet below him. Some came hopping and bounding through the broken street. The few defenders left, not dead due to their own cowardice. 

        Contingency Six, Twelve, Nineteen, Twenty-two, and Twenty-eight surrounded you in a defensive circle, showing up at just the right time. Machine Head promised security but he wasn't omnipotent, despite his upgrades. You didn't trust him far as you could throw him either. So you had heroes, fellow crooks, and dregs of society on speed dail. Hypnotized at some point in the past with the same little speech.

        "See this number right here? Remember it. When you see me calling, you answer, no matter what. I don't care if you're mid-fuck, you'll do as I say. After I snap my fingers, you'll forget we ever had this conversation but a part of you will. And you will never have your phone on silent."

        You'd have to reset them anytime you called them in to save your ass from one thing or another. It was always worth the time if it meant you got to live and the other guy died.

        Thank God for hindsight. Wait, no, not hindsight, was it foresight? Ah, whatever, you'll remember the right word later when you're not high on power and codeine. 

        Flesh drones wait for orders. The Mark's wait for someone to make a move. You don't speak, not yet, letting your eyes scan over them all. Thinking of killing them too, how good it'd feel to kill your (kind of) ex-boyfriend over and over. Thinking of the ones not here, the ones you'd seen, the ones you hadn't. You could find them, kill them after. Maybe then you'd be ready for the real thing. No more mixed feelings. 

        Blood slowly rolls down your nostril. Darkly covering the dried streak from minutes ago. Your stomach rages. Throat constricting as it readies to puke. It hurts so bad, but you can't help but grin. Thinking aloud, "This is going to be the best day of my fucking life."

        Orders shoot out your lip. He should prepare for battle, but he couldn't help but be still, staring at you and the malice radiating off you. Lensless tugs on the hem of his mask, swallowing thickly, "Can you hold up a sec with the battle plans? I've got a crazy boner."

[kamiversee]

𓆩 Crown of Sin 𓆪

Segment I Chapter: One

❀ ~ Synopsis > In which you’re a princess who's given a total of six months to converge & inaugurate a solid plan secure enough to rid you of your fated marriage arrangements to Naoya Zenin. 

❀ ~ Content > language, arranged marriage, tension from all over, bickering, mentions of a harem, etc.

❀ ~ Word Count > 5.6k

❀ ~ Pairings > jjk men & women x f!reader.

{ chapters m!list }

——You would rather die a thousand times over than become Naoya Zenin’s wife.

Something unorthodox must’ve plagued the mind of your parents this morning because there is simply no way they’d worked up such an audacity to happily relay this information to you. You were to be wed in six months time and yet, this is your first time hearing of such a proposal.

Hell, you hadn’t even received a literal proposal from this alleged fiancé of yours so, who exactly was orchestrating such a wedding and why had you no say nor awareness in it before now? 

“You two are humoring me right now, yes?” Your voice had carried throughout the space of the throne room with such grace that all the attendees of this rather small gathering couldn’t help but have their eyes drawn to you.

The few maids, guards at their posts within the room, your own mother and father who sat oh-so-comfortably upon their thrones, and the few others who were allowed to be in this space as such information was presented to you. Being the one to have ripped the bandage off and relayed said information to you recently, your mother cannot help but find her eyes drifting over to her husband for help.

The two exchange a knowing glance and you watch as they swallow down whatever nerves may have rested center in their throats. Then, your father’s shoulders raise ever so slightly and he averts his eyes over to you.

Voicing your name in that aged gruff tone of his, followed by a slight clearing of his throat, he begins to break the wafted air of silence. “You must understand that this is for the betterment of our nation. We rival none aside from the eastern nation so, naturally, it is only in our best interest to have you wed with the heir to the Zenin family throne.”

You scoff, openly. Eyes widen around the room and looks are exchanged by many but how do people expect you to react to this? Are you meant to be joyous about marrying the most pompous individual across all the lands, a man of which you have only ever encountered maybe two or three times in all your years of living?? Yeah, fuck that.

“So, I am meant to marry this man in six months' time, the engagement will be officially announced at tonight’s ball, and I haven’t a single say in this entire ordeal?” You breathe out carefully, your head tilting and eyes narrowing at the worried eyes of your parents.

Your mother responds with a shaky sigh, “Darling, we hadn’t any choice in this either. Our only options were to marry you off or go to war and we do not have the defenses to—”

“They threatened us?” You interrupt, another act that receives appalled looks from those spectating. “Please tell me you jest, mother. What could the East possibly hope to gain from going to war with us? We’ve been at peace for years and now all of a sudden—”

“Permission to speak,” Chimes another voice. Your eyes flick to your father’s left, landing on the one man he trusts with his life more than anyone else, your nation’s military general; Masamichi Yaga. “Your Highness.” He finishes off, gaze firm on the area of which you stand.

You take a moment to stare, taking in his roughened appearance despite the uniform that fits him so snuggly. Without realizing it, your eyes rake over his form up and down about twice before he clears his throat to break your lingering stare. “Granted,” You eventually allow with a nod of your head.

Yaga straightens up where he stands and exchanges a look of knowing with your father before he speaks loud and clear, “You are the princess of the second largest nation in our continent.” He states with a slightly quirked brow. 

Which prompts you only to roll your eyes a bit.

“I believe you out of anyone else should understand the natural target that is placed on your back. Especially considering you are also the only princess in said continent. You’ve been at the age liable for marriage for a few years now and the reality of this has finally set in. The marriage itself is to join the East nation and the West into one. Should you refuse Naoya’s hand, he would simply join the two nations by…” A slight grimace is noticed within his expression, “Force.”

Yet another scoff falls softly from your lips, “You say this to me as if he is incapable of marrying a man. Surely, someone like Prince S—”

“Now is not the time to joke, my lady.” Yaga interrupts as gently as he can, “He could very well go on and marry into one of the other royal families but they do not rule over our nation, now do they? The east is the largest of them all, our sole rival. Do you not see the importance of this marriage taking place? It is either that or war and, as our queen has so clearly told you, we do not have the defenses to—”

“And what of the other nations? The north? The south? Hell, even the smallest out there; Middom? Is it not possible for us to rally our defenses with them and..” Your voice trails to an eventual fall as you notice the look on Yaga’s face. He doesn’t even have to cut you off this time for you to realize this conversation isn’t going anywhere. 

You exhale and turn to your royal adviser who’s at your right side. Wide-set eyes and all, Higuruma merely offers you a nod of his head to silently console you. Like everyone else in this damn room, he was pleading for you to simply let this go and follow along with things like some pawn in everyone else’s game. 

“You would rather go to war and risk the lives of thousands than marry this man?” Yaga adds on to question.

Your lips quirked and you looked at him again, “Do you want my honest answer to that?”

“No, I would like your noble answer.” He replies dryly.

“Tch.” You huff, your face flattening. “Of course I would do anything to avoid war, I am not cruel. But I do hope all of you realize what joint nations entail for our future—their laws and customs will be indoctrinated into our society overnight. And if you think I will have any influence over that then you clearly know not of the man I am to marry. The words of a woman carry no weight with him.”

Your father is the next to speak up, “We are well aware of what this means for our future. But, it is either that or… death.”

With a crisp, yet obviously faux smile, you nod to that. “Right. Well, if that is all,” You begin to bow your head for respect, “Mother, Father, I shall excuse myself.”

Then you swivel around to make your exit, only to be stopped by the queen’s voice once more. “That is all?” She asks.

You paused in your steps but did not turn back to face her. “I’m unsure of what other argument you expect from me, mother. I either marry him or we go to war, what more could I possibly say to that?”

The sound of her sighing can be heard. It was almost as though she’d truly expected or maybe even anticipated a longer refute from you. “...Just,” Her words come out in a slow fashion and you get the feeling that she may be able to read your thoughts. “None of your schemes tonight, please? If you’re truly on board with this then don’t do anything brash—”

“I wouldn’t dare.” You cut off rather rudely, turning slightly to then cut your eye at her. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

No more words are exchanged as you hastily make your way out of the room, only the sounds of your heels echoing through the large archways and halls heard as you do so.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Moments after you’d made your exit, two people had now taken your sides and followed rather closely behind you. Too nervous to say anything just yet, they both simply follow your hurried steps toward wherever you were off to without a word. 

One was your knight, who’d always followed close behind you since your teenage days, willing to throw herself into the face of death at any given moment simply for your sake. Tall, fit, blond, with a set of brown eyes any person could easily find themself lost in, stood Yuki Tsukumo proudly wearing that pristine royal guard uniform as her steps mirrored your own in speed.

Beside her was that pleasant royal advisor of yours, Higuruma Hiromi. Also quite tall (who wasn’t these days), wide, tired eyes, and a voice that typically drives you insane with annoyance given the number of lectures you’d received by it—he was careful to trail after you, given all that’d recently transpired. 

It’s a long walk of silence before your beloved knight breaks it. “I assume things went unwell back there?” Yuki hums cautiously as she fully takes your right side, leaving Higuruma slightly behind you.

“Your assumption would be correct,” You huff almost instantly as if you’d been waiting for either of them to say something to you. “I am to be wed in six months.”

Seeing as Yuki wasn’t exactly in the room while things were explained to you, she’d hardly a clue as to what had you pacing down the halls in such a determined fashion as you did currently. “Wed? Six months?? To whom?” She rushed out in alarm, her expression quick to contort into deep concern and alarm.

“The heir to the Zenin throne,” You say with a long sigh following shortly after.

“You can say his name y’know,” Higuruma comments before appropriately taking your left side.

You roll your eyes, “I would rather drop dead.”

At that, his feet come to a sudden halt and you and Yuki follow suit. “My lady, I know you are not fond of your… situation, but, what else can we do by this point? He will officially propose tonight and unless you can find another prince to do so before him in the next few hours then—”

It was like a literal lightbulb had gone off above that tiara-adorned head of yours, sparking Yuki’s eyes to rake over the excitement that washed against your features.

“Oh my, that’s brilliant.” You gasp with a turn to your recently spoken advisor.

“I simply cannot imagine how—pardon?” He choked, “You do know he is the only member of a royal family attending tonight, right? You couldn't possibly hope to… find a better suitor beforehand and even if you did, his highness would not have it.”

Every word of his seems to go through one ear and out the other as you take a step closer to him, flash a smile, and then move your hand to his arm. “My finest of gratitude to you, Sir. Higuruma.”

His eyes seem to widen with pure confusion. “...I do not understand.”

“You play your role as my advisor well, thank you.” You proceed, not caring to elaborate in the slightest. Then you turn away and begin walking again, “I know what I must do.”

His feet stammer to follow you once more, “And what might that be, my lady? You promised your mother–, the queen, that you wouldn’t do anything brash.”

“It willn’t be ‘brash’ at all.” You chirp simply.

“Then what—”

Pausing only one last time, you glance back at your awfully confused advisor and send him a reassuring grin. “Have my lady-in-waiting arrive to my room within the hour, I have a ball to prepare for.”

With that, your walk continues. Higuruma tries to follow you but he’s stopped by a hand meeting his chest. His brows pinch together just as he looks down, finding Yuki’s palm hovering over his chest in a silent motion to get him to stop. 

He then looks at her and opens his mouth to protest against everything that’d just happened but with a simple shake of her head before he could even get a word out, his shoulders sink and he ends up turning away with a huff.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

An hour does, in fact, fly by before you find yourself in the confines of your bedroom. With your feet meeting the soft cushions of a small stool, your head held high, and your mouth moving at such a rapid pace, you’d been venting to your lovely lady-in-waiting from the moment she’d arrived in your room.

“And the worst part of it all? If I am to marry that man then I will later be expected to carry an hier—fuck,” Your voice is cut short with a low curse as the strings securing the corset part of your dress are only pulled tighter from behind you. Your back straightens up a bit more than before and your voice pitches to a higher and breathier degree, “‘Hime, that’s… hah, too tight-, I can hardly breathe.”

She perks up from behind you and releases the strings from her grasp entirely, “Ah, I am so sorry, my lady!” The maiden gasps softly. Her fingers then trail upward along the fabric weaving through the corset holes and you feel her making steady adjustments. “I was so caught up in that story of yours that I uhm,” She loosens an area or two, allowing you a moment to breathe. “Got carried away… How’s this—better?”

You release a long exhale as your shoulders relax, “It’s much better now, as far as breathability is concerned. But,” Your eyes linger on the nearby propped up mirror and you ogle your figure closely. “Well, now it is too loose.”

In the mirror’s reflection, you notice those violet locks of hair resting atop her head sway to the right as her head tilts to study your figure from her angle better. “Hm. I see.” She utters to herself before taking hold of those strings once more. “I’m going to tighten it again, are you ready for it this time?”

With a nod, you glance back at her and raise your thumb up. “Mhm, pull until I say stop.”

Her hands begin to do just that, slowly pulling the strings to tighten the piece once more. As she gives her softened tugs, her eyes lift to your face and she watches the way a hitched breath leaves your lips. “Too tight?”

“Did I say stop?” You ask lightheartedly.

She shakes her head, “No, but–”

“Utahime,” You breathe her entire name so suddenly that her hands come to a halt immediately. “Keep pulling.”

Probably with some form of nervousness under your direct gaze and commanding tone, her head drops and she focuses her eyes back down to her hands—giving you one firm tug that makes your body jerk backward ever so slightly. You gasp, again, and this time a hand of yours moves back to grab her wrist.

“Right there,” You utter, “That is perfect, thank you.”

Utahime stares at your grasp on her wrist for a moment longer than necessary before clearing her throat and sealing that tightly pulled fabric with an appropriate knot. Then, she removes her hands from your dress entirely and takes a step back. “Well uh-, as you were saying, my lady?”

You’re busy twisting and turning slightly to gather your appearance in the mirror before you respond, oblivious to the nearby eyes also gathering your frame. “Oh, yes, I would be expected to deliver an heir not too long after I am married. Knowing my parents and the Zenin family, both I and the man I am to marry would ascend the throne mere weeks after the wedding. The very next thing that follows that would be…”

“Having his child,” Utahime finishes for you, her voice disappointed—for your sake. “I’m sorry to hear of this, truly. I wish there were something I could do to help.”

You chuckle before stepping off of that small stool you’d been posted upon, striding over to your nearby dresser, and popping open a box of jewelry. “Fret not, ‘Hime,” You console with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I will not marry any Zenin man. Not in this life, nor the next.”

She paces over to you and dips her hand into that recently opened box, “So, what will you do?”

“Good question.” Protrudes Yuki, who’s been leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom listening for quite some time now. “I am really just dying to know what that big plan of yours is.” She scoffs, earning your glance. She nods her chin to you slightly, “I saw the look in your eyes earlier so, tell me, princess… what’re you plannin’?”

The smile that spreads across your face was much too bright for you to fight, “Like everyone else, you two will find out tonight.”

Your knight’s eyes roll as she pushes off the frame and begins to approach you and Utahime. “Awh, don’t do that. The last ‘scheme’ you pulled off—”

“Got you your current position as my knight, if I’m not mistaken, Lady Tsukumo.” You adjourn as Utahime swipes up the corresponding jewelry to your dress and begins to assist in accessorizing you. 

Yuki only gets closer before posting herself against the wall nearest to the dresser you stand at. She gives you a firm stare, receiving a matching one from you, before instead focusing her gaze on the necklace currently being fastened around your neck. “Touché. But it was reckless.”

“Harmless,” You correct with a shrug. “I mean, really, God forbid a woman gets what she wants through slightly drastic measures.”

She looks around the room for a moment before tutting. “You put yourself in harm's way just to test my capabilities.”

“I put myself in harm’s way to prove your capabilities to those who doubted,” You correct for a second time, flawlessly. “Plus, that was years ago. I won’t go to any lengths like that this time around, the safety of my nation is on the line. Just know I have an idea I may act on.”

Yuki can’t help the worry etched onto her face as she only questions you further, “And this idea is safe?”

Smiling still, “No ideas are ‘safe’ for women in this day and age.” You remind her.

Silence befalls upon the room and even Utahime’s fingers pause on the clasp of your necklace that she’d been struggling with for the past few minutes. Her eyes soon glide over to Yuki and they exchange a look, their thoughts mutual within the quietude.

After that briefness passes, Yuki’s voice softens and she leans toward you ever so slightly, “So then, perhaps you shouldn’t act on it?”

Your face twists up as if you were offended, “And marry that coxcomb?” To which Utahime snorts. “Over our dead bodies.” You huff.

The air seems to have lightened up and Yuki grins, “‘Our’..?”

“You’ve said you would die for me, yes?”

She hums, “Without hesitation.”

“Then, yes, our.”

Utahime’s accessorizing comes to an end as she finally gets that clasp in order and takes a step back—pulling you to turn around to face her, and then taking in your prepared appearance. “Perfect.” She chirps.

“Gorgeous,” Yuki adds beneath her breath with a faint cock of her head.

You’re left smiling at the hushed compliments from the two before hearing a telling knock on your bedroom door, followed by the voice of someone informing you that guests are beginning to arrive for tonight's event. You hadn’t even realized how much time you’d spent venting to Utahime and getting ready for the dreaded ball and now, the sun was on its journey to set and it was time for said ball to actually take place.

Sometimes, you forget how fast time seems to move when you are in distress. You soon reply to the quick announcement you’d been given and you and your two accompanying ladies begin to make haste toward exiting your bedroom.

Faint worry remains on both Utahime and Yuki’s face as they follow your lead but they make no more vocal arguments about it. Yuki trusts your judgement, to some degree, and Utahime is moreso frightened for what the future holds for you regarding this arrangement.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

All doubts and worries entirely aside, by the time you indulge yourself in the festivities of the ball graciously hosted by your parents, your internalized fear for how things may go seems to fade. That timeless ballroom music you’d been surrounded by all your life floats through the air along with the sound of laughter and chatter from the lavish guests who’ve traveled from all over just to be here.

These glorified parties are a repetitive cycle you’ve been forced to grow accustomed to but, you’ve never minded them much until today. The entire time you socialized with the many aristocrats and members of high-class families, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. No one seemed to mention Naoya or his family to you, which led you to wonder if earlier that morning had merely been some lucid nightmare of yours��

Surely if this engagement were to take place tonight and had been planned out long before you were privy to it, someone would have mentioned it or even asked if you were excited for it by now. Unless all those around you were just as aware as you are of how dreadful a family the Zenins were..?

Or hell, maybe people were told not to say anything to you—

It’s then that someone bumps into your back, nearly causing you to choke on the bubbly beverage you’d been sipping on for the past few minutes. And just when you thought you’d scored a moment of peace for yourself…

An overwhelming sum of cologne slithers into your nose and although the smell is quite pleasant, clearly its wearer had sprayed far too much on themself—leading you to cough in an attempt to clear both your nose and your throat. Then, with an arm raised slightly over your face, you turn to whoever just bumped into you.

You don’t know what hits you first, the abrupt sight of him or that grating tone of his. “I swear you people have no sense of awareness. Has your sense of sight failed you, leaving you unable to see that I was clearly—oh,” Naoya grouses, his upper lip lifting faintly in a twinge of disgust. “It’s you.” He diverts, silently revoking his words prior out of what little respect he holds for you.

As unfortunate as it is, you have to drag your gaze upward to meet his. Just then, you mentally curse whoever's responsible for his mere existence because it should truly be a crime to be that painfully attractive, especially considering how all that typically flies out the window the moment he opens his mouth. You think your breath hitches at first sight of him.

Perhaps it was the proximity, considering he’d just bumped into you and made no efforts to back away after but, either way, he is undeniably… quite handsome. You have to blink thrice to register that this is the same rude man you’d last seen years ago, who you definitely do not remember being this… yeah, you won’t be throwing him any more compliments—albeit they’re all mental, as of now.

In the same way you seem to be taken aback by his appearance, he unconsciously weighs his head to the side as he drinks-, more like, gulps in your appearance. His eyes run up and down your face at least four times before he looks further down, in an attempt to glance at the necklace you have on, only to find himself leering at your chest and whatever cleavage you had visible. And, to say the least, if anything is mutual between the two of you, it’s definitely the attraction.

You decide to work up your usual confidence to speak, having reminded yourself who exactly you're looking at right now. “My eyes are up—“

“I know where your eyes are, woman.” Naoya cuts off with such a quickness that your head cocks back in immediate offense. But, before you can say anything else, he clears his throat and you watch him squeeze his eyes shut. “Pardon me,” He grits out, the words sounding as though it pained him to speak them. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so…” His eyes flutter open and he inhales strongly before cutting his intake off with a cough. “Close.” Is the last word he breathes out to you.

Your eyes remain on him and his every facial shift—the way he pulls his head back, takes another deep breath, bats his lashes elsewhere for a moment, brings his fist to his lips to cough again, and then shakes himself out of whatever that all was. You’re left unsure of what his body language translates to but you don’t believe you have it in you to care considering the way he starts talking again.

“Anyway,” Noaya straightens up where he stands and finally looks down at you (literally and mentally), “Let’s make this quick since I’ve finally found you, yeah?”

You raise a brow and move to cross your arms, “Does that imply that you were searching for me?”

His lips twitch, “No.”

“Some fiancé you’ll be…” You grumble out to him, to which he snorts.

“Just lend me your hand so I can propose, we’ve eyes on us.” He tells you rather quickly and quietly. You didn’t even realize how long your attention was on him before you blinked and looked around, finding the eyes of many lingering on you and him.

Oh. So people were aware of his upcoming proposal…

With a heavy sigh, you glance at him once more and he’s got this cunning look plastered all over his face. “I believe a man is to drop down on one knee to propose, no?” You ask almost dryly.

Naoya’s brows twist up, “You expect me to get on my knees for the likes of you?”

You shrug off his rudeness, “How else are you to propose?”

“You give me your hand and I slide this ring on your finger,” He tells you with a steadily lowering voice, dipping a hand into his pocket.

You honestly cannot believe the constant audacity that simply oozes off of this man. It’s as though he expects everything in his life to be served to him on a silver platter. “I will offer out my hand to no man who refuses to at least get down on one knee for me.” You tell him simply, your confidence not wavering in the slightest.

His left eye twitches in pure irritation. “I refuse to do anything ‘for you’.”

“Then I refuse to marry you.” You shrug.

He scoffs right in your face, “You haven’t the liberty.”

You huff back, “How can I be expected to marry a man who’s yet to propose?”

“You—“ Naoya grits his teeth and looks to the high ceilings for a moment before groaning slightly. He eventually returns his eyes to you and you can tell he’s over this entire thing. “Does compliance come this difficult for all women?”

“Does arrogance come this naturally from all men?” It’s from here that the two of you glare each other down while bickering back and forth as if it were second nature.

“Must you have a rebuttal for everything I say?”

“Depends on how long you take to propose to me like a proper gentleman.”

He pauses for a split second before sassily rolling his eyes, “You irritate me.”

“I’ve hardly done anything,” You reply with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Is shutting up something you’re incapable of?”

Dismissing him for the first time, you begin to look elsewhere. “Are you going to propose or not? I don’t have all night.”

Naoya swears he’s seconds away from tossing the ring in his hands into the nearest trashcan and declaring war because surely that would be much simpler than getting you to go along with things, “Don’t rush me.”

“You’re the one who said to make this quick,” You remind the man, noticing the distant gaze of both your parents and his.

The prince in front of you grits his teeth again, “I—“ 

“So hurry up.” Your hand waves in a dismissive manner as you turn your head back to him, “Get on your knees, Zenin.”

He’s clearly physically incapable of accepting any sort of orders from you without having anything to say so, “Address me by my first name.” Is what leaves his lips shortly after.

“I will not.” You deny.

He flashes a knowing smirk, “You must.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will discard this act of peace and declare w—“

“Fine,” You choke out, almost in fear. “Naoya… if you wish for me to be your wife in six months' time then you will drop to one knee and propose to me, properly.”

He finally begins to lower down to one knee, speaking in a harsh whisper, “The excess was unnecessary.”

“I care little of what you deem unnecessary.” You utter right back.

“I care little about you.”

“Good.”

Whipping the ring out quickly and assuming the perfect position below you, he glares, “Be my wife.”

You wish you had a way to capture how he looks right now. Naoya being on his knees is a sight no one can say they’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing before so, naturally, many of the onlookers begin to gasp and share gossiping whispers to one another. 

You keep your voice low but many watch your mouth move, “Is that how you propose? No wonder you’ve yet to find a woman before me…”

Naoya’s fingers pinch the ring held up to you tighter and you notice a vein pop out along his sharp jawline, “This arrangement was not by my personal choice. Now, do me… the honor, and…” He waits a moment before raising his voice so that those nearby can hear, “Marry me.”

You deadpan, “It sounds like you’re demanding me—“

“Jesus-, fuck, woman!” He curses unintentionally with a momentary drop of his head. Before you can let out the laugh his reaction invokes, he flips his gaze right back up to you and looks you dead in the eye as he speaks in a firm tone, “Will you marry me?”

For the first time since he’s ever known you, you smile at him—causing his body to feel… weird. He thinks he hates that stupidly gorgeous spread of lips and flash of teeth that starks across your face. Then, your hand is held out to him and you nod. “I suppose.”

He narrows his eyes at you and doesn’t move.

You roll your own. “Yes, I… accept your proposal.”

Not wasting any more time whatsoever, Naoya practically shoves the ring onto your finger, his touch oddly as smooth as silk against you. “Finally. Now—“

“Under one condition.” You add on with a very slight retraction of your hand.

“Condition??” His brows meet and his eyes frantically travel over to where both your parents stand, “I was not informed that this would come with any—“

“No one knew of any until now,” You say as you lean down a bit.

He groans, “What is it?”

It’s almost as though there was some sort of shift within your tone. As Naoya moves his eyes back to you, he finds your entire presence wildly different in comparison to a few seconds ago. And the darkened look you hold in your eyes, the way that smile of yours had yet to fade—just what could you possibly have planned in that feeble mind of yours??

“I would like to curate a harem for myself during our engagement,” You requested.

Naoya fights internally to hold back the shocked laugh he’d almost let out in your face, “Why am I not surprised the wench wishes for a harem of all things…”

You let out an offended breath, “Excuse me—“

“Sure,” He scoffs, sizing you up and down as he quickly raises to his feet. “You can make your lil’ harem. Run around and tarnish your reputation all you want but, that will not be enough for me to end this engagement.”

Back up to his feet, he finds himself looming toward you and surprised by how unmoving you are, “I don’t plan on it.”

Naoya only inches closer, “Must every last word be yours?” He asks, breath fanning over your skin with a faint scent of… mint?

You respond silently with a thin-lipped smile, mentally discarding how you keep picking up on such small details.

To which a vein in his forehead makes a sudden appearance, “Oh you little—“

“Let us all congratulate the happy couple!” A voice, Higuruma’s, chimes in, “A joyous union this’ll be for our nations!” He announces quickly.

People rush to swarm you and Naoya within seconds, celebratory wishes and congratulations thrown at you from left and right as if this was truly some big surprise. Perhaps it was the fact that Naoya was actually able to propose to you and you were able to accept it without… anything else taking place instead.

So, you suppose you have something to celebrate now. Your request for a harem was approved without any question whatsoever. Perfect. You may not have had the time to get anyone of royal status to propose to you before Naoya did, especially considering it would take an act of love for someone to do so in the first place but, you sure as hell just bought yourself some.

m!list | next chapter |

tags 1/2;

@angellliqua @celestial-lunar  @withcheese @itoshi-r @silvarys @everything-red @fishosezo @haesify @sassybananaweaselpsychic @orange-juice-is-ass

@notjustagirlinthisworld @sushiimara @larkson0 @di-in-al @sxnkuna @hanuh @cayla0000 @helloxkittylo @idkmanshrugg @chocolatecheer

@michelintopic @cinaminroll @french3xit @valleydoli @broimherebcsimboredok @sleepisforpuzzies @cuti3patooti8 @sukunadckrider @f0r7una @ventila98

@vixionix @levislug @mauve-gojo @chosomi @semi-lover @bee3l0v3r @noooo-onee @r4sh3li @yenayaps @chososbestgirl

@smutyturtle @simp-plague @pnkblueberry @stargirl-mayaa @kunareads @tojisdollx @gojoslefttoenail @forbiddenblog @glittercherry777 @samm1e13

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) Chapter four - Do I wanna know?

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Pairing: Pre poly!chain x reader, platonic Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: Feelings keep building up within the group, and you are unknowingly at the heart of many of them. Between Legend's rather atrocious attitude problem, Sky running himself ragged to play normal, and the others in varying states between there's a lot left to desire. Thankfully, Legend gets a reality check, and you come to a decision about how to move forward.

Warnings: cursing, arguments, grief, drinking (nothing too bad, but there's a flask and the description of burning whiskey), faerie magic

Other: I promise it's a good dream segment this time. If I missed anything, please let me know.

-------

"Your reflexes need work." Legend huffs from the sidelines as your wooden sword is ripped from your grasp yet again.

You just sigh heavily.

He always has something to say, it's rarely helpful when directed to you.

"You're improving. Don't listen to him." Wind says quickly.

"Your form is shit and you're going to get hurt." Legend scoffs.

"They're improving!" Wind snaps.

You pick up your wooden practice sword and sigh. "Unless you're going to come help teach me, please stop."

Legend's just crosses his arms.

"I can try." Wild offers.

You turn, looking at Wild quickly.

The cook isn't anywhere near as confrontational as Legend, but he isn't usually so quick to offer his company.

He nods. "Yeah. It's good to mix it up so you don't box yourself into one style."

"Is that a thing?" You frown.

Wind shrugs, "I don't know."

"It's a thing." Warriors says, "And frankly, after five days of only learning from Wind, you need the change."

The captain sounds polite and distant, eyes full of that strange grief that isn't for you but you seem to stir up. Okay, fun.

"If you say so." You shrug.

Wind hums, but hands his practice sword to Wild.

"Are you sure?" You ask Wild.

He just nods, falling into a stance you have been working on copying.

Once you fall into position, sword drawn, Wild rushes you.

You dodge to the left, swinging around just in time to catch his blade on your own.

You brace your sword with your other hand, pushing against his strength.

He's stronger, though.

In the blink of an eye, he pulls his sword away and smashes the hilt into your side.

The wooden hilt connects in the space between your ribs and hip bone, a jolt of pain shooting up your spine.

You grunt.

Wild slips to the side.

You are moving on instinct, driven by the pain.

You swing around and feign left before rolling right and ripping Wild's feet out from under him. It's so fast that you don't think it just happens.

Wild falls, and as soon as he's almost down, you are swinging yourself up and over him.

You straddle his stomach, wooden sword held to his throat as you pant.

"Where did that come from?!" Wind gasps, rushing over. "That was so cool!"

"I- don't know." You frown.

Wild stares up at you with wide eyes, breathing slowly.

You get off of him and offer a smile while holding your hand out. "Sorry about that. I don't know what happened."

Wild takes your hand. He pulls himself up, and he's giving you some strange look.

"That was amazing." Wind breathes, the sentiment the same as the first time. "Are you sure you aren't a hero?"

You laugh, "I'm definitely not. I don't know where that came from. One second, I was in pain, and then I had my sword to Wild's throat."

"I told you you were improving!"

"A one-off doesn’t count. Legend says with a roll of his eyes.

You glance over, and you see the man looking... far more haunted than his tone of voice seems appropriate for. He looks like he's seeing a ghost.

What is going on with these boys?

"Legend." Wild says with a look before he turns back to you, rubbing the back of his neck. "That was a good take down."

"Thanks." You say, trying not to preen under the praise of a man who can barely interact with you.

Wild just offers a shaky smile. "Do you want to go again?"

"I mean, sure. But are you sure?"

Wild nods. "Yeah. I- You need training. I'd hate to see you get hurt because you can't fight."

"Oh. Well... Me too?"

He smiles a little less shaky. He looks like he's fighting some sort of inner demon.

Do you have a magic power that just messes with the head of every man named Link that's over eighteen?

Wind is grinning, " You just kick ass again, okay?"

"We'll see." You smile.

"You'll do great." Wild says in what is only a little bit of a straining voice.

You both fall into a fighting stance again, eyeing each other.

Wild attacks first, swinging at you in a wide arc that has you step back.

You catch the next swing, knocking it aside.

It's a worn dance.

Block.

Duck.

Swing.

Side step.

Block.

Wild gets your thigh with a stab of the sword. Skin is sure to bruise and a dull throbbing blooms.

You dodge the next blow as all you can focus on is keeping your sword and the throbbing in your leg.

"He's going to win." Legend informs you with a bored voice.

("He's going win!" Some calls from behind you in horror. "Honeybee, get down!")

You groan as the memory - or whatever that was - distracts you enough to have the hilt of Wild's wooden sword slam into your side again.

You swat at Wild with your sword halfheartedly while your brain works over time.

You see it - an opening.

Ducking under Wind's arm, you pop up, headbutting his chin and sweeping his legs out from behind him with your sword.

You don't know what's happening until Wild is on his back and you have a foot on his chest. Your sword once again at his throat.

"What the fuck?" You whisper.

Wind is grinning, pulling you to the side and into a hug. "That was amazing! Holy shit!"

You laugh, dropping the wooden sword and letting Wind pull you. You hug him back. "I don't know how I did that!"

"Who cares!" The teen laughs.

"So what- two lucky take downs aren't special." Legend scoffs.

"Oh shut up." Wind says. "They did awesome!"

You snort. "It wasn't that great."

"It was some great improvement." Wild offers as he stands. "I don't know where it came from... but good job."

"Thanks. Sorry about that... I don't think I was supposed to headbutt you."

"It's a good tactic. Real fights don't have rules." Wind huffs.

"Still bad form." You smile weakly.

"You wouldn't stand a chance if you actually fought." Legend says.

"Legend." Wild hisses.

You can't say what makes you do it, but you want to challenge Legend. You want to make him at least respect you!

"Then come take a turn." You challenge Legend with crossed arms.

"When I win, you go back to learning with Wind."

"Obviously, he's a good teacher." You smile.

"Hell yeah!" Wind grins up at you.

Legend rolls his eyes but stands up all the same, brushing his tunic off in a bored manner.

Wild offers you a weak smile.

You take up the wooden sword.

"At your leisure." You say with only a little spite. The appropriate amount of spite, if you will.

Legend scoffs, circling around the area with you.

He rushes you, slicing the wooden blade through the air towards your side.

You step back.

You dodge every swing and stab he gives you. Most of the dodges are messy, but they count.

Swing.

Dodge.

Parry.

Duck.

Side step.

There-

An opening.

("When you see an opening strike first and strike hard, dove. Mercy gets you killed." A man says as he patches you up with a tenderness that you miss.)

You let his sword hit your side, swinging around with the momentum.

You step wide and get behind him faster than you thought you could move. You've got your sword across Legend's throat and your arm across his torso, holding him to you.

"Were you holding back on us?" Wind gasps.

"No." You breathe out, stepping away and letting your sword fall from him.

"You sure you aren't a hero?" Wild manages.

"I'm not. I've never fought before I just - I don't know. Maybe all those humans being built different tropes are right."

"Hu-main?" Wind asks, mangling the word.

"Human. That's what I am. It's why my ears are round."

"Oh. Neat!" Wind grins

"Why don't you fight Wind like that?" Legend demands as he spins to glare at you, crossing his arms for good measure.

Pleasant.

"I told you, I don't know where it came from. With Wild, I got hurt, and then I had him on his back."

"Oh?"

"With you... there was just an opening. I don't know."

"So what, Wind hasn't hurt you?" Legend rolls his eyes.

"Maybe I just don't think of him as a threat to my life." You suggest, only half joking.

"I- You think I'm a threat?" Wild asks with a weak voice and wide eyes.

You sigh. "I mean ... you're dangerous, but I'm not scared you're going to hurt me. If you wanted me dead, I would be."

You give a little shrug. It seems fair. You've slept around them all. If they wanted you gone, they've had ample chance to off you.

"That's - wow." Wind frowns.

You shrug again. "It makes sense. Besides, I think maybe it's just that you came in and I haven't fought you before."

You don't want to discuss the dreams. You don't want to examine the almost memories you keep having of voices you can't name.

You don't want to think about the feeling of that spear-

Breathe.

"Maybe." Wild says. "I need to go collect things for dinner. Legend, can you help?"

Legend looks at Wild before nodding stiffly. "Sure."

You and Wind watch the duo leave.

Wind has you run through a few more sparring sessions against him, your abilities are much less impressive.

You try, and whatever it is that cause you to beat Wild and Legend seems to have made you better and moving quickly. But it is still a strange circumstance.

Wind just takes it in stride, realizing you truly aren't holding back.

Wind is able to coach you through better dodging and speeding up, though.

It's worth it. You aren't amazing, but you're better than you were yesterday.

---------

Legend follows Wild into the trees with no fight. His head is whirling, and his heart is racing.

Watching you fight Wild was... painful.

Watching someone with the face of his treasure... the face of his angel... Watching you fight against his soul brother is wrong.

Watching you pull out that first move that Legend himself once taught his treasure was... bizarre.

The way you dropped down and swept feet out from under the champion was a move that Legend spent weeks working to perfect with his treasure.

"Do we believe they aren't a fighter still?" Legend huffs.

Wild turns, face a mess of grief. "They looked as surprised as we were."

"I don't trust them." Legend says. "Someone just waltzing in and being so much like - ... It doesn’t add up."

Wild sighs, looking up at him with an exhaustion that goes soul deep. "I get it, but I think it's all true."

"It just seems convenient."

"It does. But have you seen our luck? Why wouldn't some doppelganger get dragged in?" Wild laughs shakily.

Legend rolls his eyes. "Even the goddesses aren't that cruel."

"Legend. Please."

"What? I'm just saying-"

"Enough!" Wild snaps, "Okay?! Whatever is happening, you need to stop!"

"What?"

"You're being a dick!"

"I am not!" Legend hisses

"You are! You're taking your grief out on someone who you don't know. You're pissy with everyone."

"You take that back."

"No. I may not be handling things well, but I'm not glaring and talking shit to an innocent person."

Legend turns a dirty look to Wild. "You can't say it doesn't hurt."

"Of course it hurts!" Wild hisses. "It hurts every day."

Legend crosses his arms. "You don't even remember them, you don't -"

"Shut the fuck up." Wild snaps.

"No, you -"

"I lost them twice, you asshole. You don't get to hold monopoly on losing them!" Wild snaps, jamming a finger against Legend's chest.

Legend pushes the champion's hand away with what is almost a growl. "Don't."

"Then stop acting like you're the only one who lost them!"

"I'm not-"

"You really are."

"What am I supposed to do?!"

"Maybe just don't be a raging ass!" Wild snarls.

"I'm doing my best-"

"Bullshit." Wild snarls, "You're isolating them! No one calls you on your shit but Time! If you would pay attention, you'd notice that Hyrule and Sky are two seconds for nervous breakdowns!"

"That's not-!"

"You're allowed to be upset, Legend. No one expects you to magically be fine. But we do expect you to pull your head far enough out of your ass to help take care of the others."

"I am! I stay up with Hyrule-"

"He just wants you to tell him he's good enough!" Wild hisses. "You are his Idol! He needs you to stop glaring at some unlucky person and start empathizing!"

"I can't just turn my emotions off!"

"Don't! But spend less time being a dick to our new member and maybe focus on your other relationships!" Wild all but screams.

The champion rarely gets like this, but sometimes it's unavoidable.

Legend flinches, looking away quickly. He wants to defend himself more. He wants to hurt Wild back.

There's a voice in his head that sounds unbearably like his treasure that tells him it isn't worth it. He... isn't in the business of arguing with that voice. Not after... last time.

"Are you done?" Legend asks lowly, clenching his fists in an effort to hold his tounge.

"I doubt anything else I say would matter." Wild scoffs as he turns away.

Legend just sighs heavily. He will go check in with Hyrule later but right now he wants to scream. "I'm going for some air."

Wild waves him off, "Have fun."

The champion doesn’t sound like he means it, but then again Legend doesn’t care.

Not right now. Not when his temper is barely contained.

Legend takes to the right, walking without care until he's finally far enough away to let his anger lose.

-------

Sky finds himself helping you with gathering firewood, trying to make sure he isn't letting any of his messy feelings spill onto you. Being near you is both great and horrible. But that seems to be the way life is for him these days.

You are picking up branches from the ground.

"So... What's your world like?" You ask as you glance over your shoulder.

Sky offers a soft smile. "It's nice, mostly peaceful in the sky and we're settling the surface too."

"That makes sense. Do you like the surface?"

He doesn't know how to answer that. Yes, he lives the surface he feels right there.

No he doesn't like the surface because he was there when his Sunshine passed and he wasn't there for them.

Yes he loves it because there's less memories there to hurt.

He hates it because there's less of them.

"It... has it's pros and cons." Sky decides.

He imagines that's a safe enough answer. Much easier to say at least.

You nod, "That makes sense, most things do."

He can't argue with that.

"So... what was knight school like?"

"Busy." He says.

You laugh a little. "I bet it was."

"Do you have a knight academy?"

"I think the closest thing is military school. It's not always ideal."

"Oh. Like the army?"

"That's a branch of it."

"How strange." Sky muses.

"Do you have anyone waiting for you back home?" You ask.

Sky freezes, the implication of the question hurts.

He doesn’t have anyone waiting for him in the way of romantic partners. His Sunshine is dead and he failed them.

Here you are though, with their face and voice, asking him.

"Not- not anymore." Sky chokes out.

"Oh. I'm sorry." You say, voice going sift and sympathetic in a sweet sound that makes Sky want to scream.

He knows it isn't your fault. He does!

But Hylia, you hurt him sometimes.

"It's really not your fault." Sky says.

"Okay." You say. "I'm still sorry, loss and grief don't have some convenient timeline like people pretend."

Sky flinches, hearing the apology in your voice - in his lost lover's voice - is too much. You don't seem to be malicious, honest empathy weaves your voice instead and that hurts even more.

"Well... Thank you." He says.

"I know we haven't known each other long, but if you want to talk I'll listen." You offer a soft smile, more of a tug of your lips than anything.

He swallows thickly. "Thank you. That is a very kind offer."

"I mean it. I know people say that without meaning it sometimes... But I do."

"I-" Sky has to swallow hard again. "I believe you."

"Okay." You say.

Sky let's silence wash over the both of you. Something guiltily reliving blooms when you don't press the topic. The weight that settles in his chest is heavy. Your earnest care causes pain.

But it's very kind of you to say and mean such things. He wishes...

Sky wishes you looked different or had a different voice, he knows if you didn't drag up all the pain and grief he tries to squash down you would be one of his favorite people.

It doesn’t matter, though. You look and sound the way you do. You bring up all the painful memories without even knowing that they exist.

--------

Twilight sits at the fire with Hyrule and Warriors, trying his best to ignore you on the other side of camp where you are giving Epona lots of attention. He can't stand he's mad about it, his girl deserves all the best. He just... can't stand looking at you right now.

"Did you see them take Wild down?" Hyrule asks, kicking a rock gently.

"I did. Perhaps they have some sort of repressed muscle memory?" Warriors suggests.

"They did see that lizafos." Twilight muses.

"Don't remind me." Warriors groans, setting his face in his hands.

"Seemed like you was seeing a different time there." Twilight sighs.

Warriors lets out a shaking laugh. "I was."

"Do you... want to talk about it?" Hyrule offers.

Warriors looks over at them, face in a far away expression. He looks ready to break.

"When I lost my dove, it was to an ambush where they pushed me out of the way." He breathes out, staring intently at the fire.

"Oh... Wars..." Hyrule frowns. "I'm sorry."

"They saw the beast before I did... watching (Y/n) spot the beast and then shove Wind behind them was... It made me remember." The captain croaks miserably, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Warriors..." Twilight breathes out.

"Why do they have to be so alike?" Warriors chokes.

"I don't know." Hyrule sighs.

"Ya know somethin'?" Twilight asks, drawl thickening like the block in his heart.

"What?" Warriors asks.

"When me an' Wild went lookin' for 'em after that, they saw Epona an' called out 'sweetheart' with such joy i' threw me fer a loop." The rancher admits, glancing over to you and Epona.

You're in the middle of feeding her apple slices and cooing. You've got this soft look on your face too.

"We're such messes." Hyrule laughs shakily.

"Right? Golden Three, I feel like such a prick. Here's someone so much like my dove it hurts and I can't be normal around them."

"Non o' us are." Twilight sighs. "It'sa righ' miracle Sky is able ta be there fo' em."

"He cries every night." Hyrule snorts, "He's running himself ragged for it."

"We all are." Warriors sighs, pulling a flash from the pack beside him.

"Wars." Hyrule frowns.

"Don't." The captain says before taking a hearty swig.

"Ya willin' ta share?" Twilight asks.

Warriors chuckles, low and dark, "Why not?"

Twilight accepts the flask and takes a swig, letting the burning whiskey rush his throat and stomach. He knows drinking isn't the best choice but a swig or two tonight with his brothers feels okay.

The rancher passes the flask back. "Thank ya."

Warriors takes another swig himself. "Sure."

"Do you think... they'd be friends with each other? They're so similar." Hyrule frowns at the fire.

"Maybe." Warriors sighs.

Twilight leans towards the fire. "I don' know... sometimes in th' righ' ligh' I could swea' they're our (Y/n) and not some doppelgange'."

"I hope not. I couldn't lose them again." Hyrule says weakly.

"Don't go down that road." Warriors says, "You'll get your hopes up."

"Yeah." Twilight laughs lowly. "Yeah, I will."

"We'll get through this." Hyrule says with a certainty Twilight would kill for.

The fae dosen’t promise. He almost never does, but it feels like one anyway.

"If we sti' togetha'." Twilight smiles weakly.

"No man left behind." Warriors echoes distantly.

Twilight thinks that sounds nice.

-------

You stand alone in the middle of a field of grass while lazy summer breezes billow past you.

All that you need to do is wait here for Link. All you want to do is see him, hold him, kiss him, and tell him how wonderful he is.

After all he's done for the world, Link deserves a break.

Someone calls your name from behind.

You turn, eyes landing on your lover.

Link stands there, brown curls shining in the light. Freckles dot his skin. He's beautiful.

"Link!" You smile.

He smiles back as he makes his way to you. "Hello, love."

Link wraps his arms about your torso, smiling up at you adoringly.

You press a kiss to his cheek. "You're late."

He flushes a little, ears drooping down a tick. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I believe I was promised a date, fairy boy."

"I believe you were." He smiles sweetly at you.

The expression is one only for you, melting your heart in ways you aren't ready to examine. His eyes are warm like a spring day, pools of green you'll never forget.

You smile back.

Link holds his hand out to you, palm up. "Shall we?"

You take his hand with a laugh. "We're not going on an adventure for the fate of the world, are we?"

"No, I promise we aren't." He says easily, squeezing your hand gently.

The fae magic that makes promises so dangerous settles into your being. To have a faerie trust one enough to make promises so easily is... flattering.

Heady even.

It's a testament to his trust in you that he makes them so freely to you. He accepts them from you far less than he makes them, but that is more his weariness than his trust levels.

"What are we doing then, Link?"

He hums once, then giggles. "That's a surprise, my love."

"Of course it is." You say.

He does so love his surprises.

Link tugs you along gently, flashing you a love sick smile.

The two of you go through the clearing and towards a path in the forest. Sunlight filters through foliage like gold freckles on nature.

He leads you to a babbling brook where there's a blanket and a picnic basket.

"A picnic?" You smile.

"With all your favorites."

"This is amazing, thank you!"

"It's nothing, honeybee." Link waves off.

"It's amazing!" You grin, squeezing his hand lightly.

He smiles right back, pulling your joined hands to his face and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "I'm glad you like it."

You sit on the blanket with him, eating and laughing and talking as time passes by like warm molasses. There's nothing to worry about here at his side.

You pass your afternoon together with the kind of love that's like a fireplace on a Sunday night in winter. There's nothing but security, trust, and respect.

"You're amazing." Link tells you as he glances over, the words a stark change in topic.

"You're even more amazing, Link. You're the hero!"

"I'm a traveler."

"You're a hero, Link."

"Maybe." He says softer.

You smile, deciding on words that will weigh heavy with the half faerie. "You're my hero, Link."

You press as much intention as you can into his name, knowing the magic true names hold and pressing your love into the word.

He gives a shy smile as his frame shudders on instinct due to both your claim of ownership on him and the use of his true name with magic that tastes achingly of you. "I will be yours, as long as you will be mine."

You smile, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I will be yours, I already am."

Link pulls you back in gently before kissing you again. "I love you, honeybee."

"I love you too."

"I can't wait to grow old together." He admits.

"Me neither." You grin. "Shall I promise you?"

"You don't have to." He says quickly. "You can't guarantee things like that."

"Promising it means I'll have very little choice otherwise."

"But if you break it... I don't know what would happen."

"I won't do it if you don't want me to, but I want to." You say.

Link falls quiet, searching your gaze as if it holds all the answers of the universe before he lets out a nervous giggle. "Only if you are certain."

You smile, "I am."

"Then I won't stop you."

You smile, taking both of his hands gently. "I promise to grow old with you, Link."

The magic that binds such things as contracts settles into your being. The magic is Link's, so to your, it feels lovely. It's like a sunbeam across a lake, wild and warm and comforting all at once.

He presses a kiss to your lips gently. "I promise I will love you for the rest of our lives."

The magic of a second rather heavy promise settles into your being as well. The weight and truth behind it is dizzying and perhaps addictive.

You wouldn't have it any other way, though. Right here, side by side with the man you love, there's nothing you want to change -

You wake up slower, dying embers meeting your gaze as you take in the night around you. The dream leaves your head fuzzy and warm, a sense of loss you shouldn't feel sinks into your heart.

You don't know these men. Less than a week ago, you would have checked anyone who told you they were real and sentient into rehab or something. Circumstances have changed and you're trying to ignore everything the whole 'video games characters are real and I played through what would be a very traumatizing experience for them like it was a toy' thing along with all the implications behind it. Sometimes it's easier to ignore than others.

You groan lowly.

This isn't sustainable. You can't keep living like this. The guilt about the video game thing and the general lack of fighting is not setting you up for success.

The weird dreams that feel like half baked memories are driving you up the wall.

Maybe some space would help.

That's not a bad idea. Space could be very good. It would get you away from the strange air the chain has going on and let you try to sort through your own feelings.

Maybe you could stay at the next town?

You would be leaving Wind, Sky, and Epona behind but they don't need you. You're sure the group would be much calmer if you left, and you would be able to deal with everything you have in your mind.

Besides, you aren't made for adventure like this. You know you're slowing the group down by a lot.

This would be for the best.

That settles it. You are staying in the next town.

You sigh and sit up, looking over to see Time doing a perimeter check while Four pokes at the embers with a stick.

The smallest hero looks heartsick, something that tugs at your heart.

"Are you okay?" You stage whisper.

Four's ears twitch before his gaze slides to you. "I'm fine. What are you doing awake?"

"Weird dreams." You say.

"I'm sorry."

You shake your head. "Don't be."

"Okay." He says. "You should try to get more sleep."

"Probably... I actually want to talk to Time first, though."

"Oh. Is - something wrong?" Four asks with a stilting and straining stumble over his words. He has drawn brows and a far away look.

"Not really. I'm just going to stay at the next town, and I figure he should know since he seems to be the leader."

"Oh." He says, falling silent as he looks you over.

You suppose there isn't much to say to that.

Minutes pass by with the heavy silence before Time comes back over and sits by Four.

He stares into the embers as if searching for something. It makes guilt well in your throat at the thought of interrupting this.

You know it's important to tell him as soon as you can, so he can plan around it. He deserves that much, they all do.

"Time." You say.

His gaze snaps to you. The heavy and cold sensation it leaves on you is nothing new by now. He doesn’t seem to mean it to be cruel, but he is undeniably intimidating and reserved.

"Yes?" He asks.

"I've decided I'm going to stay at the next town." You inform, loud enough to he heard but quiet enough not to wake others.

His ears twitch up, then down. He looks your face over but nods. "Very well. May I ask why?"

You can't imagine why he cares. He has his hands so full with everything else. You won't keep it from him, though.

"I'm not a hero, or a fighter, or someone else who's good at this lifestyle." You say, acknowledging the obvious, "I'm slowing you all down. I also have a lot I need to sort out in my head, and adventuring is not productive in that."

Time gives a soft hum, "It is safer for you in a town than with us."

"It is."

"You aren't slowing us down as much as you might think." Four offers.

You snort, "I am, but thank you."

"Does anyone else know?" Time asks.

"No, I just decided. I'll tell Wind and Sky in the morning."

"Okay." Time says. "Is there anything you need us to do?"

"No."

He nods.

Time doesn’t ask about what you need to deal with in your head. Neither does Four. There's the same heavy silence between you three that you can't escape with most of the group.

You swear you see regret flit across Time and Four's faces, but it's gone so fast you must be imagining things.

You lay back down, "Good night."

Four and Time both bid you good night.

You drift back to sleep to the knowledge that you finally have a real plan to go off of beyond 'don't die or upset the heavily armed men'.

Now you just have to tell everyone else.

-------

Next

Tag list: @danyzta @vrsin @silver-the-pendejo @tulip-does-stuff @justanotherweeb666 @yourlocaltreesimp @blueberrysungie @victoryssong23

[wings-of-ink]

Chapter 5 is finally here!

Tumblr crew, please let me know right away if you see any issues with running the game. I *think* I fixed the issue with fonts not changing but I did the upload a different way so I'm paranoid. It works for me though.

This was a big one – do not anticipate your saves working. Such is the nature of a work-in-progress. Some of the code for early chapters had to change. I do apologize, I know it's a lot of content to click through.

I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if you find any serious problems/errors – especially ones that break the game. I have tested it myself a few times, but I can only do so much on my own. I will be watching Tumblr closely for a bit, so if there are any urgent issues you can pop them into my ask-inbox.

This chapter was written using a different method. Mostly, it worked out for me and helped me find more typos and grammar issues, but I found more programming errors than normal. My hope is that all the major ones have been resolved. A game-breaking issue was found just this morning and took a few hours to resolve (it was a mess so I redid the entire section - peeps, if you see issues in the moment with Zahn let me know because they were my troublemaker, go figure).

A couple of new trigger warnings were added as well, so be sure to peruse the list if you may have areas of sensitivity. In the future, a couple of areas of this chapter may receive options to bypass segments with certain difficult content, so be advised that these do not have a skip function enabled currently.

Coming in the future…

Lunan is taking a break through the end of the year! I will still be monitoring Tumblr, answering questions, and resolving any technical issues of course. But I will not be writing chapter content. Some short extras may be posted in the meantime to Tumblr.

Each chapter will get a passage-by-passage check for typos and grammar issues before the release of Chapter 6.

A chapter skip function will be arranged so you can bypass content you've already read. This will likely be implemented before or with Chapter 6.

The release time for Chapter 6 is currently unknown but estimated for late Spring of 2025 (March-May *ish).

The Patreon will likely start up in January 2025 and will focus on early releases of new content and extras/POVs (including the spicy kind).

Thank you so much for sticking with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter and have fun with it!

~Lunan ^_^

PS: Also let me know if you find weird stuff in there that might be from testing, lol. I think I deleted all that stuff, but I am more than a little bit frazzled today and there is a real possibility that I left some garbage behind...

Itch.io Link:

[ellswritings]

In My Corner

(Part 1), (Part 2), Part 3, (Part 4)

Phil Brooks/CM Punk x reader

Colby Lopez/Seth Rollins x reader

TW: As always, angst. Phil being messy. Jon and Joseph being protective brothers. LA Knight being a flirt. Another flashback. (No Dolph’s were hurt in the making of this chapter).

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling, @scream4mami

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

It had been two weeks since Survivor Series. Two weeks since the return of CM Punk. Y/N taped her wrists carefully as she heard the crowd cheer loudly for Bobby Lashley as he just defeated Karrion Kross. She wasn’t scheduled to fight that night, so she remained in a sports-bra like top and a pair of comfortable sweats. Her only appearance tonight would be to interfere with Jimmy and Solo’s match against Randy and LA Knight. She would show up near the end, providing an assist to her Bloodline brothers so they could try to get the upper hand, but it ends up not working. It’s brilliant planning and foreshadowing on the writers' parts to have Jimmy and Solo lose this match, especially since Jimmy had already left the faction and came back all in the same year.

Joe isn’t there tonight, and since Colby is contracted to Raw, he doesn’t appear on SmackDown unless it’s a special occasion. She’s just happy that she has Jimmy and Solo there. If she didn’t, she doesn’t know if she’d be able to handle seeing Phil tonight.

Y/N finishes wrapping her hands, using the tape as an anchor to keep her mind from drifting along the river of thoughts that seems everflowing. She usually wraps her hands even if she doesn’t fight. It’s almost like a protective shield for her, showing that she’s always ready for a fight.

It had been a habit since she could remember. Something she always did no matter what the circumstances. And then when she met Phil, someone who did the same thing for the same reasons, even incorporating it as a part of his gear, it made her feel less crazy.

Y/N shakes her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about him. Not now. She needs to pay attention to the screen. As the show gets closer to the end, she can’t miss her cue.

“Hey you.”

The pensive woman looks up, noticing a smiling Cody Rhodes standing over her, his suit perfectly tailored to him. She’s always admired the way he looks so put together no matter the chaos ensuing around him. Right now they’re showing videos of the veterans and Troops they’ve had the pleasure of visiting in the past, so it gives her a moment to breathe.

“Hey,” she greets, scooting over on the bench she’s occupying to make room for the man.

He takes the silent offer, sliding down next to her, bumping her shoulder playfully with his. “You doing okay? You’ve been unusually quiet tonight.”

Y/N sends him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Yeah, I’m good. Guess it just feels weird not having a match.”

“You’ve defended the championship pretty much every week since getting it,” he says with a light chuckle. “I think it’s okay for you to take a break.” There’s a stretch of silence that falls between th, Cody tilting his head as he reads her like a book. “But you don’t have to lie to me, you know that right?”

Y/N furrows her brows, fiddling with the bracelet a fan made her. “What do you mean?”

“I know that’s not why you haven’t been yourself tonight,” he clarifies. Y/N opens her mouth to protest, but Cody stops her. He places a caring hand on her knee, one that she appreciates more than words could ever express. “I’ve known you for a long time, Y/N. Hell, we’ve been friends for most of it. So I can tell when you’re lying. Talk to me. I don’t have another segment for at least forty-five minutes so I got time.” He smiles gently.

Y/N exhales, allowing the tension to slip from her shoulders. Cody has always had that magic presence to make everything feel less heavy than it actually is. He’s right, they’ve been friends since forever. He knows her better than she realizes sometimes. But then flashbacks of when they had to fake a relationship for the camera back during his Stardust days makes her nose crinkle with joy and embarrassment. It was fun doing it, going out and getting a reaction from the crowd. But now that they’ve grown, matured, some of the dialogue and very… tense moments they shared makes them laugh.

“I guess it just feels weird… seeing him back, y’know?” She swallows thickly. “I was kinda hoping he’d already be signed to Raw so I wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him here, but,” she shrugs, “c’est la vie.”

“Ah, French,” Cody says teasingly. “This must really be gettin’ to you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, slapping his bicep, “Shut up. That just summed up my thoughts the best.”

“You shouldn’t be letting his comeback drag you down, Y/N/N,” Cody tells her meaningfully. “Just don’t think about him, okay?” He rubs her shoulder tenderly. “You’re both talented, you both belong here, and thankfully, this company happens to be big enough for the both of you.”

Y/N knew he was right. His logic always managed to put everything in perspective. Cody’s been friends with both her and Phil for a long time, so if anyone would give her an unbiased opinion, it would be him.

Cody’s hand lingered on her shoulder just long enough to be steadying without overstepping. He leaned back against the bench beside her, casting a quick glance at the monitor before looking back down at her with that quiet steadiness she’d come to rely on.

“Look, I say this as your friend and as somebody who’s watched you claw your way to the top from day one,” he started, voice soft but certain. “You’re the Undisputed Women’s Champion. Not by accident. Not because someone handed it to you. Because you earned it. Every match, every bump, every sleepless night you spent studying tapes and fighting through pain—you did that.”

Y/N looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers against the tape around them. She didn’t say anything.

“So don’t let any man—past or present—make you feel small about that,” Cody added, more firmly now.

Her throat tightened, but she managed a small nod. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” he agreed, letting out a breath. “But just because it’s complicated doesn’t mean you forget who the hell you are.”

That pulled a soft laugh from her. “You’re really on a roll with the motivational speeches tonight.”

“Hey, I save my best stuff for the people I care about.” He gave her a sideways smile. “And you know I mean that. I mean, Liberty calls you Auntie. That makes you family.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up despite the weight in her chest. “How is she?”

“Oh, she’s good. Obsessed with Frozen again. The other day she told Brandi she wants to grow up to be a wrestler and a snow queen. I told her to talk to you for pointers on both.”

Y/N chuckled, finally leaning into the comfort of the moment. “I’ve got a sparkly robe somewhere in my gear bag. She can borrow it.”

“She’s gonna lose her mind,” Cody grinned. “She already asked if you’re coming to her tea party next weekend.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Y/N said, her voice finally lighter. “Tell her I’m bringing tiaras.”

“Good. You’re her favorite, you know.”

“Only because I let her do my makeup.”

Cody gave a small shake of his head, smile lingering. “You’ve always been that person. The one people feel safe with. That’s rare in this business.”

There was a beat of silence as Y/N let that sink in.

But then a loud static fills the room making Y/N freeze up on the spot.

“LOOK IN MY EYES, WHAT DO YOU SEE…”

The speakers on the monitor flared to life, and Phil Brooks stepped onto the stage on the screen in front of them.

Y/N suddenly forgets Cody’s sitting next to her, her attention being fully drawn to the man that just appeared on the monitor.

Cody’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back to her. He didn’t say anything right away—just shifted slightly, like he might try to shield her from it if he could.

Y/N’s arms wrapped loosely around herself. She stared at the screen, jaw clenched, watching as Phil soaked in the roar of the crowd like he belonged there.

He always did, she thought bitterly. No matter how long he was gone, he always walked in like he owned it.

“You okay?” Cody asked gently, his voice lower now.

Y/N nodded slowly, even if it was a lie. “I will be.”

She reached for the tape again—something to keep her hands busy, to ground her in the moment.

Then, softer: “Tell Liberty I’m bringing glitter too.”

Cody smiled, just a little. “She’ll love that.”

But he didn’t take his eyes off her.

And she didn’t take her eyes off the screen.

It feels like everything around her fades as she watches him climb into the ring with ease. His upper half is adorned with his new merch shirt, the words “Hell Froze Over” covering the front in bold letters. His hair is cropped much shorter than in the early days. He even went through a bald phase after losing to Rey Mysterio, but he’s never had it like this. It looks good. He looks good. And Y/N hates that she can even admit that.

But she would be lying to herself if she said otherwise. His biceps flex out of the sleeves in an effortless way, his smile lights up the whole damn arena more than the fixtures above him ever could. He looks happy, like he found his purpose again. The pop from the crowd is insane as they all sing his song to him, some chanting his name instead. It brings her back to a time when they’d come out together and it would feel just like that. Like they were on top of the world.

A surge of pain pangs through her heart as she forces herself to swallow the memories. She feels Cody lace his hand through hers in an attempt to comfort her, but it’s no use. She’s already stuck watching and anyone could see that it’s a losing battle to try and get her to stop.

His smirk is the same she remembered, but with an even larger amount of confidence and his lip ring missing. He runs a lap around the squared circle before grabbing a mic from one of the stagehands in the far right corner.

“Ladies and gentleman, I have some good news!” He announces excitedly, that contagious grin never leaving his lips. “It’s the top of the nine o’clock hour, and that means I’m not the end of the show, I’m not gonna get my time cut.” He points to the audience, his voice booming throughout the arena. “You wanna chant, you go ahead and chant!”

The crowd erupts once more, his name the only mantra on their tongues. He soaks in the attention like he always did, his head tilted back like their simple words healed any and every affliction he’s ever had. Her eyes rake over his tattoos, the ones she traced over and over again a million times. She knew him like she knew the lines to her favorite movie, and no matter how hard she tried to forget his features, she never could.

“You guys do understand that Adam Pearce is trying to sign me to Monday Night Raw, right?” He asks with a teasing tone, trying to elicit more cheers from the audience. He was always good at getting the people riled up. The room fills with boos and pleads for him to stay right here on SmackDown. “I think they were a little bit louder on Raw, don’t you?” The crowd screams no, booing even louder than before which makes Phil stop and laugh. He’s elated, eyes bright at the reception he’s been receiving. And no one could blame him. Everyone loves CM Punk.

Y/N felt her stomach twist watching him laugh that way. She missed that laugh for years, the one that he only reserved for when he was truly happy. Which way back when was extremely rare. But right now, he seems laidback, different from the prickly man she remembered. It’s as if he cut every cancer out of his life and was left with nothing but the euphoric feeling of freedom.

She didn’t see that smile often when they were partners, but she got to see it more than others. Part of her wonders that maybe she could’ve been the reason it was hard for him to feel this way. Happy, at home. An inexplicable sadness floods her veins at the thought that maybe, just maybe leaving not only the company, but her was the best decision for him.

“That’s the question of the hour I’m getting: CM Punk, now that you’re back in the WWE, where are you gonna sign? And I feel fortunate that I get to take this journey with y’all, because I’m partly gonna leave it up to you,” he gestures out to the audience who cheers loudly. “So do you want me to sign and be a Monday Night Superstar?” More boos ensue which causes him to laugh once more, sticking his tongue out and raising his eyebrows like he had just pulled the prank of the century.

“I– I legit I– I can’t hear you,” he mockingly raises a hand to his ear to try and make the audience louder. “Did you want me sign to be Friday Night SmackDown exclusive?”

The screams are deafening even through the monitor. People stand up out of their seats, exclaiming just how badly they want him on Friday Nights. Y/N can hear her own heart thumping in her chest. If he really does leave this decision partly up to the audience, there might be a larger possibility of him sticking around.

“Do you want me to throw twenty-nine other superstars over the top rope? And then climb this turnbuckle and point at a sign and main event WrestleMania?!” He gets closer to the camera, his eyes challenging every single person on the roster.

Y/N knew this wasn’t scripted. Creative must have given him free reign for his return speech. He’s always been good with words, so why wouldn’t they? If anyone knows how important main eventing the biggest function in the wrestling industry is to him, it’s her. They talked about it for years. Many late nights of them staying up, her listening to him vent out his frustrations every time he was passed over. He had come close so many times, but no one ever gave him the chance. She remembers telling him on multiple occasions that one day he would. He would live out his dream of being the main event.

Little did they know, she would do it before he ever could.

The crowd continues to scream and cheer wildly. His name is the hottest chant of the night. She swears she can even hear some of the superstars outside of the locker room backstage chanting along quietly as well.

“An old friend of mine that welcomes me back home with open arms, famously likes to come out here and say…” He leans closer to the microphone, eyes scanning across the crowd playfully. “What do you guys wanna talk about?”

Everyone yells happily at the reference to the American Nightmare. Y/N feels Cody tense next to her, nervous of how she might react to the mention of him being friendly to Phil. She simply moves one of her hands up to her shoulder where his is and laces their fingers together. He visibly relaxes, taking her touch as a gentle affirmation. She might not have stopped looking at the screen, but at least she’s aware of her surroundings.

“And I’m famous for talking. It’s kind of what I do. But I also have been listening, and I hear there’s a few people that are a little bit upset. They don’t like the happy, go-lucky CM Punk. They don’t like the CM Punk that says, ‘Hey, I love you guys.’”

Y/N shifts uncomfortably on the bench. He wouldn’t know about how she was feeling. He couldn’t know. She’s only vocalized it to the people she’s close to. And it’s not the fact she doesn’t like seeing this version of him, it’s just that truthfully, she doesn’t want to see him at all.

He continues to soak in the crowd's reaction before continuing on. “I’m home, and I'm glad to be home. So I listen and hear, and I understand that. So allow me to turn this up to eleven. Allow me to be that spicy CM Punk you all know and love.” The pop grows even louder at the thought of hearing him speak his mind. Y/N’s leg starts bouncing up and down nervously. She doesn’t know what to expect. “Allow me to get comfortable at home. This is me putting my feet up on the couch and my feet got a lot of mud all over ‘em, ladies and gentlemen.” He wipes his feet on the mat below as if scraping off the gunk on his shoes.

“So, it’s not what do y’all wanna talk about? It’s… who do you want me to talk about?”

He sticks his arms out to the side, waiting to hear a coherent answer from the audience. He cups his hand around his ear as a way to get them to yell louder. Y/N feels her heart pounding in her stomach at this point. It’s like waiting for a huge bomb to drop and there’s nothing she can do about it. She can’t run, she can’t hide, she can’t stop it, she just has to sit there and watch. She’s frozen.

“Do you want me to talk about Cody Rhodes? I could tell you some stories.” Punk laughs heartily, the audience joining him at the thought of hearing some embarrassing moments about the quarterback of the company. “Or do you want me to talk about someone who’s not here?” The crowd grows louder, knowing exactly who they’re referencing.

The Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns.

Or as Y/N knows him, one of her best friends.

Her free hand clenches, nails digging into the taped skin of her palm. Thankfully the tape is there or she would have punctured the soft tissue on impact. “By the sounds of it, someone who’s never here.” Punk stares directly into the camera, showing just how unafraid he is. “Roman Reigns.”

Ones shoot up in the air as an acknowledgment to their Chief. Y/N smiles softly at the loyalty of the fans. No matter who tries to tear down Roman, they still have the support of their fan base, and that’s all that matters.

“Tribal Chief, I acknowledge you. Congratulations on all your success.” There’s a short pause, “Don’t forget who the OG Paul Heyman guy is.” The audience goes absolutely wild at that statement. The storyline he set up with just that one line is more powerful than anything else he could have done. He paces across the ring, jaw clenched. “Don’t forget that he was my Wise Man first.”

He cups his jaw, only just getting started on his list of names. “Now, Roman may not be here… But his cousins are.” A mix of boos and cheers echo throughout the arena. “Solo, a big tough son of a gun that I don’t know, but I’m familiar with his brother Jimmy Uso.” He jumps from one twin to the other, “By the way, shout out to Main Event Jey Uso, who’s over on Monday Night Raw.” Yeet is yelled out across the building along with loud cheers. “I see you, Uce. These are the things that I have to wrestle with. Do I want to go to Monday Night Raw and hang out with Jey Uso?” There’s another mix of boos and cheers. “Or do I want to stay here on SmackDown and scrap with Jimmy Uso?”

Only cheers are heard from that one. Due to it being a SmackDown audience, it’s not surprising this is where they want him to sign. Y/N would love to see him try and get involved with the Bloodline. There’s a reason they’re one of the most dominant factions in history.

“But if I scrap with Jimmy Uso. Holy gosh, he’s got a lot of cousins.” He smirks at his own joke, the audience roaring at his sense of humor. “I’m talking like endless Samoans, right? So if I’m going to scrap with him, I’m going to need backup. And they’re in tag team action tonight. Can I trust a guy who I have history with? Who hears voices in his head?” He points his finger to his temple, getting directly in front of the camera as he lets the audience cheer for Randy. “Can I tag with Randy Orton? I don’t know, are we gonna get alone? Are we not gonna get along? It’ll probably be entertaining either way, right?”

“One guy I’m pretty positive that would tag with me is Randy’s partner tonight. And his name is,” he points out to the audience the same way Shaun does, the audience responding with “L…A… Knight. YEAH!” as if it was really the man himself doing it. “Yeah,” Phil nods in confirmation. “Who else?” He looks back out to the audience before suddenly remembering something. “Oh. Someone said Kevin Owens.” They all scream in unison. “Kevin Owens. That’d be interesting, right? Can I tag with Kevin Owens? Maybe I can fight Kevin Owens.”

He puts his hand up, pausing the conversation. “Let’s pump the brakes on that one just for a second. Kevin’s a little bit prickly. And I mean to say, is that him and I are probably too much alike, and I don’t know who would feel comfortable working with somebody who randomly just punches people in the face backstage.” He shakes his head, adjusting the neckline of his shirt. “I mean, it’s 2023, ladies and gentlemen. You just can’t be doing stuff like that. That’s insane.” He chuckles almost as if he doesn’t even believe his own words. Like he’s saying it just to entice a reaction.

The crowd suddenly starts chanting his name once more which only makes his smile grow wider. “Everybody is happy to see CM Punk, even JBL,” he points over to the announce table teasingly. “Everybody’s welcomed me back with open arms.” His face scrunches up, two fingers shooting out as he reconsiders his words. “Except for these two people.” He smiles into the camera. “There’s always those few bad apples that spoil the bunch, am I right? But I’m not gonna put any stock in anything they need to say. And it’s not just because one of them has a whiny voice, and the other just goes along with whatever he says.”

He paused, pacing the ring with deliberate slowness, gaze sweeping the audience like he was handpicking someone to shoot down next. The smirk sharpened.

“It’s because one of them still has to ask permission to speak. Man walks around here like he’s top dog, but every time he opens his mouth, you can practically hear someone else’s hand up his back, pulling the strings. He wants to be the architect, but he’s never built anything that didn’t collapse the second someone else stopped holding it up.”

The crowd reacted in waves — gasps, laughter, a few savage claps. They even start to sing Seth’s entrance theme. He nods along, “That’s about all he’s got is that song, keep it up.” He allows them to finish their singing, orchestrating along in an almost mocking way.

Phil’s eyes narrow just slightly. His tone softens, not in kindness, but in control — the way a man wields a weapon with precision. “And the other—” he pauses and taps his chest twice, “—used to be closer to me than anyone else in this business. She knows who she is.” He lifts the mic from his lips for just a second, letting the suspense breathe.

Y/N’s throat tightens. She doesn’t blink. Her fingers tighten around Cody’s, but her eyes never leave the screen.

Her name is suddenly the only thing people are screaming. Phil doesn’t smirk though the way he did with Seth. In fact, his eyes storm in a way she hadn’t seen for the entire segment.

“She didn’t shake my hand when I walked back through the curtain,” Phil continues. “Didn’t text. Didn’t look at me backstage. Just turned her head and walked the other direction.” His jaw flexes. “You’d think after all the years we spent side-by-side — fighting the same fights, standing up for the same things — maybe she’d be happy I’m still breathing. Guess not.”

The crowd grows quieter, sensing this part isn’t for them. It’s personal. Intimate. Sharp-edged.

Y/N’s vision blurs slightly, and she has to blink to make sure she isn’t crying. She's not. But she feels like she could be.

Cody shifts beside her. “You okay?” he whispers.

She doesn't answer. She can’t. Her eyes are locked on the screen, her pulse hammering in her throat.

Phil walks to the ropes, leaning on them with one forearm, his voice lowering even more. “You know, I used to think you were the realest person I’d ever met.”

She felt it before he even said it. That quiet twisting in her stomach — the part of her that already knew he was about to go there.

“But real people don’t cry on rooftops at 2 a.m., telling someone how terrified they are that they’re unlovable… and then punish them the second someone actually dares to love them.”

The reaction to that wasn’t loud either. No pop. No laughs. No gasps. Just a hush — that awful, collective pause where everyone wasn’t sure if it had gone too far, or if they just didn’t understand the weight of it.

But she understood.

Every syllable dug in like broken glass under skin. Not because it was untrue — but because it was. And because nobody else knew what it meant, but they could feel how much it mattered.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

And just like that, she was back on the rooftop. Wind whipping her hair across her face. Knees hugged to her chest. Phil beside her, not saying anything. Just listening. Just being there — when she’d needed him the most.

Before everything fell apart.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

It was nearly two in the morning when Phil knocked on her hotel room door for the third time.

No answer.

He shifted from one foot to the other, jaw tight, a gnawing unease rising in his chest. She’d texted him earlier — a halfhearted reply to a joke he’d sent, which was already weird. Y/N never gave him half anything.

He banged on the door again. “Y/N, c’mon. I brought pizza,” he said, trying for humor. “It’s cold now, and I’m pretty sure the delivery guy spit in it, but I thought of you. I’m such a sweetheart, right?”

Still nothing.

Phil ran a hand through his hair and stepped back, scanning the hallway. It was late. Most of the roster was out drinking or already passed out. He glanced at the elevator — no clue what possessed him to bypass it — and took the stairs.

Then he heard it.

Soft, broken sobs echoing up the narrow concrete stairwell like a haunted melody. He froze, every muscle going rigid.

He knew that sound.

It was her.

He took the steps two at a time, heart hammering in his chest. As he rounded the next landing, he saw her — curled up in the corner of the stairwell, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, hair messy, cheeks red and blotchy, eyes glassy with tears she was trying and failing to hold back.

“Jesus…” he breathed.

She didn’t notice him at first, too lost in whatever hell she was drowning in.

“Y/N.” His voice cracked a little more than he liked. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Her head stayed buried between her legs, her voice coming out muffled. “Go away.”

He didn’t.

Phil crouched beside her, unsure of what to say, how to be. This wasn’t his thing — tears, breakdowns, emotional spirals. He barely knew how to manage his own, let alone someone else’s. But this was her.

And seeing her like this — Y/N, his loud-mouthed, unbreakable, ride-or-die best friend — looking like she’d been shattered into glass — it did something to him. Hurt something in him.

“I’m not leaving you here,” he said, voice low. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head, still not looking up. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” He sat fully beside her, ignoring how uncomfortable the concrete felt against his back. “C’mon. Is it your ankle? Did someone say something? Did Vince finally find the video of you flipping him off behind the Titantron?”

A breath hitched in her throat that almost sounded like a laugh. But it was strangled, short-lived. She finally lifted head just enough to meet his eyes, it knocked the air out of him.

Her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, filled with panic and something far worse: shame.

Phil had taken chair shots to the head that hurt less than the look she was giving him right now.

“What happened, Y/N/N?” he asked, and his hand twitched—wanting to touch her but not knowing how. “You’re scaring the hell outta me.”

“I—I can’t breathe.” Her voice cracked. “I feel like—I don’t know how to—” she gasped, trying to swallow her own shaking. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

That was enough. Screw awkwardness.

Phil finally leaned over with surprising gentleness, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

She tensed immediately—like a live wire. But when he didn’t move, didn’t push, didn’t speak, just stayed—something cracked.

A sound escaped her, half-sob, half-sigh. Then she reached for him. Not just lightly—desperately.

She grabbed the collar of his hoodie with both hands, yanking him close, and buried her face in his chest like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her above water.

Phil’s throat tightened. He wrapped his arms around her fully then, shielding her from everything—the cold concrete, the silence, the fucking world.

They stayed like that for a long time.

His voice finally broke the stillness. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

She shook her head against him.

“You don’t have to be tough with me, Y/N. I know you. I know when you’re pretending. And right now you’re barely holding it together.”

Her grip on his hoodie tightened.

“I trusted him,” she whispered, voice ragged. “I really thought…”

Phil went still.

“Dolph?”

Y/N gave the faintest nod. “I caught him. With someone from the ring crew. Said it didn’t mean anything.”

Phil pulled back just enough to see her face. “He what?”

She looked away, wiping at her eyes quickly. “Don’t—don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Too late,” he growled. “I’m gonna beat his peroxide-blonde ass into the ground.”

“No, Phil—” she grabbed his wrist.

“He’s a grown-ass man, Y/N. He doesn’t get to treat you like a side piece. Like—like you’re disposable.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, voice breaking. “You think I don’t feel stupid already?”

Phil’s mouth opened, but she wasn’t done.

“I don’t think I’m loveable.”

Phil’s stomach dropped.

“What?” he asked, stunned.

She looked away. “I don’t think I’m the kind of person people stay for. I’m too much. Too intense. Too fucking angry all the time. I say the wrong thing, I push people away, I’m exhausting, I—”

“Stop.” He grabbed her shoulders gently but firmly. “Don’t you ever say that shit to me again.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, silent and hot.

“You are the most loveable person I’ve ever met,” he said, voice raw now. “You just don’t see it. You don’t see what I see.”

She blinked.

“You are so loveable, and he didn’t do what he did because you aren’t. He did it because he wouldn’t know a good thing if it knocked his fucking teeth out,” he continued, anger sparking off every word. “You walk into a room and it’s like—everything makes more sense. Even the chaos. And yeah, you’re stubborn and you’re sarcastic and half the time you look like you wanna bite someone’s head off, but you care. You care so deeply, and no one ever sees that but me.”

He paused, jaw flexing.

“I see it. I always have.”

Y/N stared at him like she couldn’t breathe.

Silence stretched between them, thick with heat and heartbreak. His hand rose slowly to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. And then—he leaned in. Just slightly. Their faces were so close now. Too close.

Her breath hitched. Her hand was still gripping his hoodie.

But just as his nose brushed hers—just as he almost closed the distance—

She froze.

And so did he.

Because that was the moment the weight of everything came crashing back.

Neither of them said her name. They didn’t have to. She was the elephant in the room. The one waiting in a hotel bed a few floors up, wondering why Phil hadn’t come back yet.

He exhaled shakily and pulled back, just an inch.

Y/N let go of his collar like it burned her.

And the space between them filled with every unspoken thing neither of them were ready to say.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Cody felt the shift in her. He sighs, trying his best to get her to face him and look away from the screen. Y/N’s limp form goes along with the movement, still lost in the memory from long ago. The American Nightmare lifts her head up, forcing her eyes to meet his, and that’s when he sees it. The tears she’s barely keeping at bay. He doesn’t know the depth of what Punk said, but it clearly cut deep.

The silence between them was louder than any crowd pop Y/N had ever heard. She sat on the bench, elbows resting on her knees, trembling hands pressed together like she was trying to hold herself together. But the damage had already been done.

Phil’s words were still echoing in her head, louder than the speakers that had blasted them across the arena minutes ago. He knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. But using that? Using that moment against her, on a live mic, in front of thousands?

It wasn’t just a low blow. It was betrayal.

Cody watches her with careful eyes. He’s seen people unravel in this business, he knows what it looks like. This wasn’t that, but it was close enough.

He didn’t know what to say to make it better, to make it go away. The silence stretched on for about a minute or so before she finally broke it. Her voice is low and flat, a way of hiding her true emotions from plain sighs.

“I should’ve known…” she lets out a biting laugh. “I should’ve known he’d pull some stupid shit like that.”

“Y/N, no one expected him to do that,” Cody tries to bring her down. “Sure, maybe a small insult here and there, but nothing like that.”

She shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek. “You know better than anyone. Phil knows exactly where to hit to get the reaction he wants. He doesn’t throw punches that don’t land. He never has.”

The blonde man next to her sighs, running a hand over his face. He wasn’t expecting this amount of drama so soon. He figured something was coming, just not now. “I just didn’t think you’d be the one he threw the punch at.”

“Phil’s never been the forgiving type,” Y/N mutters. “I knew it would be me.” She stands up with a grunt, wiping the make believe sweat on her pants. “Just goes to show I place my trust in the wrong people.” She opens and closes her fist, anger starting to slowly seep from her. “I didn’t tell anyone about what happened that night. Not even my own family. Just him. And he used it as some sort of punchline.”

Cody watches her from his spot on the bench, quiet for a brief beat. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But I want you to know… what he said doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you look broken. It makes him look like a damn coward.”

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, letting a shaky breath out of her nose. She was doing everything she could not to feel anything. It made no sense how the man she used to trust more than anyone managed to hurt her the most.

But she couldn’t deny… she had hurt him first.

“Don’t,” she shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to patch this up. He’s your friend too. You don’t need to insult him to boost my ego.”

“I’m not,” Cody denies. “I’m just telling the truth. He may be my friend, but that was a dick move.”

Y/N opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She truly didn’t know what to say. That’s when she glanced up at the clock on the wall. She starts fidgeting with her taped hands again, barely able to look at Cody. “You have another segment with him in like fifteen. You should go.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m not gonna be the reason you’re late, Cody,” she cuts him off. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Her voice had a different edge to it now– commanding, clipped. The kind she wore like a suit of armor to guard her from anything emotional that could hurt her.

Cody finally stands, his lips parted slightly, hands open in front of him. His right arm moves up slightly like he’s going to reach out and comfort her, but he stopped himself. She didn’t want nor need him right now. Just remember who you are, alright? You’re one of the toughest people in this building. Don’t let him rewrite your story.”

She didn’t answer. Just grabbed her jacket off the hook and yanked the door open. The hallway was buzzing with quiet tension, people pretending to scroll on their phones, pretending not to be watching her. But they were. Everyone was.

Everyone knew.

She was trying to walk off the fury in her bones, but every step only made it worse. Her eyes burned. Her throat ached. And the image of him, standing out there with that smug half-smile and venom on his tongue, played on a loop in her head. Over and over again.

Then she heard it.

“Yo, Y/N!”

She looked up, and there they were, rounding the corner like sentinels.

Jonathan and Joseph Fatu — her brothers in every way that mattered.

Jon’s gold chains clinked as he stomped toward her, shoulders squared, eyes dark. He didn’t wait for her to speak. Just stopped in front of her, looking her up and down like he was checking for wounds.

“You good?” he asked. But it wasn’t a casual question. It was a loaded one. A don’t lie to me right now, not you kind of question.

Y/N didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Joseph stepped in beside him, arms crossed over his chest, jaw locked so tight it looked like he could grind diamonds. “We heard what that piece of shit said.”

Jon’s voice cut in, sharp and cold. “You want me to handle it? I will. I swear to God, I’ll go down to that locker room and make sure that man never says another word with a full set of teeth.”

“Jon—” she started.

“I’m serious, sis.” His chest was rising and falling too fast now, like just saying it out loud made his blood boil all over again. “He came for you. Not your character, not your spot, not some storyline. You. And he doesn’t get to do that. Not while I’m walkin’ this earth.”

Joseph’s arms dropped to his sides, fists clenched now. Quiet rage radiated off him like heat. “Say the word,” he muttered. “And I’ll make sure he regrets ever stepping foot back in this company.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. Not from fear. From the overwhelming weight of being loved like this.

She stepped forward, placing a hand on Jon’s chest and another on Joseph’s arm. “No. You can’t. You’ve got a match tonight. That’s where your focus needs to be.”

“You think I give a damn about the match right now?” Jon snapped.

“I do,” she shot back, her voice cracking under the strain. “Because I know what it cost us to get here. What it cost you. Don’t let him take your moment, too.”

There was silence. Heavy and charged.

Jon dragged a hand over his face, breathing hard, then looked down at her. Really looked. “I’m gonna be honest with you… I ain’t felt rage like that in a long time. And I’ve felt some rage, Y/N.”

“I know,” she whispered, voice softening. “Believe me, I know. I want to put my fist through his smug-ass face too.”

Joseph finally spoke, his voice quiet but solid as stone. “We’d burn the world for you, y’know that right?”

Y/N’s throat tightened so fast it felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I know,” she smiles softly, looking between them, heart pounding. “You two are my whole heart. You know that, right?”

“We know,” Jon said, nodding.

Joseph gave a small grunt of agreement and pulled her into a one-armed hug — tight, grounding, unshakable. Jon stepped in on the other side and wrapped her in his arms, both of them holding her in the middle like a fortress.

No cameras. No audience. Just them.

They were warriors, all three of them — bruised, hardened, and born to fight. But in that second, they were just family. Just love.

Jon pulled back slightly, thumb brushing the side of her cheek. “We got you, sis. Always. No matter how far he digs, no matter what he says. You’re untouchable to us.”

Y/N managed a small, tearful laugh. “Remind me to never piss you two off.”

Joseph’s lip twitched into the closest thing he had to a smile. “Too late.”

They all chuckled softly, and for a second, the world felt manageable again.

Jon gave her one last squeeze. “We love you. Remember that. Now go do what you do best. Prove that motherfucker wrong just by walking out there.”

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard, eyes burning again — but this time for a different reason. “I love you both.”

“We know,” Joseph said again, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

And then they let her go.

Not because they wanted to.

But because they trusted her to handle it.

She watched them walk off toward gorilla, her brothers. Her soldiers. Her heart. And she stood there for another moment, pressing her hand to her chest as if trying to hold herself together with sheer will.

Phil may have tried to humiliate her. But she wasn’t alone. She had a family that filled the gap in her life he created.

With a deep breath, Y/N continues on backstage. The show moves on, and thankfully she doesn’t see Phil for the remainder of it. Before she even realizes it, it’s almost time for her to interfere in Jimmy and Solo’s match. The boys have already made their entrance, LA Knight going down now. Y/N finds herself waiting in gorilla, cracking her neck as she waits for her cue.

The small area buzzed with activity— producers speaking into headsets, agents double-checking cues, a stagehand calling out times. Y/N stood off to the side, arms crossed, head low as she got into character. She forced any thoughts that weren’t about her entrance to the back of her mind. The audience deserved her one hundred percent effort and she can’t give it to them if she’s distracted.

Then suddenly she felt a presence behind her. Calm. Steady.

Randy.

She didn’t look up at first. Just stared ahead, heart beating like a war drum in her chest.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just stood next to her, his usual relaxed posture somehow even more grounded tonight. As if he was anchoring her to the floor.

“Hey,” he said finally. Low. Even.

She glanced up, surprised by the softness in his tone.

He looked at her — really looked — and then nodded slowly. “You good?”

Y/N gave him a weak half-smile. “Depends on your definition of good.”

Randy gave a small chuckle. “Fair enough.”

There was another beat of silence before he continued, voice steady and sure.

“Listen. I’ve seen a lot of shit in this business. People talk. People twist knives. But you…” He looked at her, his eyes clearer than usual. “You’re still standing. Still swinging. That makes you a badass in my book.”

Her breath caught slightly.

Randy wasn’t the type to hand out compliments like candy. When he said something like that, he meant it.

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice even further. “What Phil did? That wasn't cool. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t crumble. You’re still here.”

Y/N tried to laugh, but it came out half-sigh, half-snort. “I feel like crumbling.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “feelings are bullshit.”

She smiled then — a real one — and he saw it. His smirk grew just a little.

“I’m serious,” he added, gently nudging her shoulder with his own. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And I’ve been in this company longer than half the damn furniture.”

Y/N gave a soft laugh. “You’re not that old, Orton.”

“I’m ancient,” he deadpanned. “Practically fossilized.”

She shook her head, but the knot in her chest loosened just a little. That was Randy’s gift — he didn’t coddle, didn’t sugarcoat, but he knew how to show up when it mattered.

“You know,” he said, glancing toward the curtain as his music cue got closer, “Phil thinks he got the upper hand tonight. Thinks he exposed something.”

He turned back to her, gaze sharp now — not angry, but protective. Fierce.

“But all he did was show the world that even at your lowest, you’re still more real than he’ll ever be.”

Y/N’s throat tightened again.

“I mean it,” he said. “You're a fighter. You're family. And tonight? You’ve already won.”

She blinked fast, not trusting herself to speak. So instead, she reached out and squeezed his forearm — a silent thank you.

Randy held her gaze for another long second, then nodded once.

That was all he needed.

Then he turned and walked through the curtain, the first beats of his theme hitting the arena like thunder.

Y/N stood there, pulse still racing, but her chest lighter than it had been all night.

“Voices” was still echoing through the arena as Randy Orton sauntered to the ring, arms stretched wide like he owned every inch of it.

And he did — the crowd erupted like a bomb, chanting his name, stomping feet in rhythm with the music. He didn’t acknowledge them much. Just that signature smirk as he rolled his shoulders and locked eyes with his opponents across the ring.

Solo Sikoa stood like a brick wall in his corner, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Jimmy Uso bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, rolling his neck, eyes narrowed at Orton. Beside them, LA Knight leaned back against the ropes in his usual cocky posture, smirking like he’d already won.

The ref checked all four men before calling for the bell.

DING DING DING

Solo launched forward first, locking up with LA Knight in a violent grapple that took them stumbling into the ropes. Knight tried to use speed to his advantage, ducking out and landing a few sharp jabs, but Solo caught him mid-move and tossed him across the ring with brutal force.

“Damn!” one of the commentators yelled. “Solo Sikoa treating LA Knight like a sack of potatoes!”

Knight scrambled to tag out, slapping Randy’s chest harder than necessary. Orton stepped through the ropes slowly — deliberately — and rolled his neck like a predator sizing up prey.

Y/N watched all of it from the curtain. Heart pounding. Breathing shallow. She hated being backstage like this — watching people she loved fight it out while she just stood still. Waiting.

She gripped the edge of a road case nearby, trying to breathe through the tension in her chest.

Please don’t get hurt. Please don’t get hurt.

Orton and Jimmy now circled each other. The crowd was split — dueling chants rising up from every corner of the arena.

���LET’S GO ORTON!”

“US-O! US-O!”

Jimmy struck first — fast superkick attempt that Orton narrowly dodged. He caught Jimmy with a textbook powerslam that rattled the ring, and immediately tried to go for the cover.

One—Kick out.

It wasn’t enough. Not even close.

Orton was grinning now, stalking Jimmy like a wolf, muttering trash talk low enough that the cameras barely caught it. Jimmy spat blood and gave a wobbly grin back. “That all you got, old man?”

And then he struck — sudden, sharp enziguri that caught Randy flush in the jaw. The crowd roared as Jimmy crawled over, slapping Solo’s arm for the hot tag.

Solo exploded into the ring like a storm. Clothesline to Randy. Spinning heel kick to Knight. Samoan drop on Orton — and the ring shook again.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Come on, boys. Just keep going. You're killing it.

But then she saw it — the shift.

Randy tagged in LA Knight. And Solo turned his back just a second too long.

Knight chop-blocked his knee. Solo buckled. Knight was on him instantly, hammering fists, dragging him to the corner. Randy joined in from the apron, elbowing Solo’s chest while the ref tried to get control.

That’s her cue. One of the stagehands nods over at her, letting her know it’s her time. Y/N grabs the fabric in her hands before rushing out to the ramp, running as fast as she can down towards the ring. The arena pops the moment her music hits, the screams deafening. Y/N has to fight off her smile, remembering to stay in character for Kayfabe.

She sprinted down the ramp like a bullet, eyes locked on the chaos in the ring. Jimmy had gotten past the ref and was trying to pry Randy off Solo. Knight had slid out, talking trash and backing up like the coward he was.

Y/N didn’t slow. She slid under the bottom rope and tackled Knight straight into the barricade with a pop that sounded vicious.

The crowd lost it.

Knight stumbled, yelling out as she grabbed his collar and slammed him face-first into the edge of the announce table.

“Y/S/N’s had enough!” Corey Graves shouted. “She is unleashing hell out here!”

Orton spun around inside the ring, distracted by the chaos. Jimmy caught him with a huge kick — down went Orton.

For one glorious second, it looked like it was going to work. That was the goal, make everyone think her interference would benefit them. Y/S/N shifts on her feet, getting ready to be stopped. Then Knight surged back up from behind her — faster than expected.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her backward, dragging her away from the ring.

“No! No—let me go!” she screamed, thrashing.

Knight locked his grip tighter and spun her around, slamming her against the barricade. Not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to keep her still.

He discreetly leans down to whisper, “You okay sweetheart?”

Y/N tries not to smile at the genuine concern in his voice. She continues to thrash around but manages to mumble back, “I’m good.”

“‘M not hurting you, am I?”

“No Shaun, you’re good,” Y/N tells him, managing to squeeze his bicep as she continues to fight against him.

Back in the ring, Randy crawled toward Jimmy. Solo tried to pull himself upright on the ropes.

And then it happened.

Randy lunged.

RKO. Outta nowhere.

The crowd erupted.

One. Two. Three.

DING DING DING

LA Knight let her go instantly, raising his arms like he’d done the whole damn thing himself. Orton rolled out of the ring, dazed but victorious. Solo pounded the mat in frustration. Jimmy lay flat on his back, chest rising and falling like a drumbeat.

Y/N just stood there. Frozen.

The crowd was still cheering. Still chanting her name. And for a moment things finally felt normal again. They felt good. This is where she belongs, in the ring with her friends. Suddenly what Punk said didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. As long as she still has this, what he thinks shouldn’t bother her.

But that small voice in the back of her head is still there to remind her. No matter how much time has passed, or how long they’ve been apart, Y/N will always care about what Phil Brooks thinks. Simply because that’s what loving someone means to her. Caring. And there’s no one she loved more than him.

They all head back up the ramp, appearing broken over losing the match as Randy and Knight soak in the applause. They move the curtain aside, Joseph guiding Y/N from behind, Jon from the front. As soon as they’re out of sight, all three of them start laughing and shouting excitedly at how well everything went out there.

“Hell of a match!” Angelo Dawkins shouted as Jimmy clapped Solo on the back, both of them grinning through the sweat and adrenaline.

Stagehands, crew, and talent alike met them with high-fives and claps on the shoulder. There was a distinct buzz in the air — one born not just from a great main event, but from the moment.

The moment she had made that entrance. The moment the crowd lost their minds.

“Yo, Y/N,” a road agent called, shaking his head with a grin, “that pop was insane. You blew the roof off this place.”

She cracked a half-smile, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t bad, huh?”

Jimmy laughed, nudging her with an elbow as they walked through the halls. “Not bad? Ma, they screamed for you like you cured cancer and kicked someone in the teeth at the same time.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “You’re so dramatic.”

Solo stayed quiet, but his hand came to rest gently on her back — a subtle comfort. That was his way. Reserved, steady, loyal to the bone. He didn’t need to say much. She felt it in the way he walked beside her, shielding her from the crowd of bodies.

They were still high on adrenaline when Jimmy threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

“You good, sis?”

She nodded. “Yeah… I’m good. I think I needed that.”

“Damn right you did.” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. “You a freakin’ rockstar.”

Before she could answer, someone came barreling down the hallway toward them — tall, cocky grin, sweat-soaked hair.

“Whoooo! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” LA Knight’s voice rang out like a shot. He didn’t stop running — just reached her in one clean motion and scooped her off the ground, spinning her in a tight circle as she let out a surprised yelp, laughing uncontrollably.

“Put me down, you lunatic!” she laughed, half-heartedly smacking his shoulder.

He did, but not before flashing that signature grin. “Couldn’t help it. You lit it up out there, sweetheart. Crowd started screamin’ so hard I thought the roof was gonna cave in.”

She chuckled, out of breath, cheeks flushed from the spin. “You always this complimentary after a match?”

“Nah,” he said, with a wink. “Just around women who could kick my ass.”

Y/N’s eyes soften as she feels his hands travel down to her waist. If only Colby was here to see this, he’d be livid. “Well, then maybe you and I will have to mix tag team eventually. Y’know, when you get outta this whole ‘I hate the Bloodline’ thing.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted darlin’,” Shaun smirks. “I hate your pseudo brothers, not the pretty woman Roman keeps by his side at all times. I wouldn’t mind gettin’ to know her.”

Jimmy and Solo were still smirking in the background, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, but not saying anything — at least, not yet.

She and Shaun stood there for a moment, still buzzing, still laughing — two people who had just pulled off a show-stealing moment and were riding the high of it. Easy conversation. Genuine smiles. For a brief second, she looked lighter. Almost…free.

And Phil saw all of it.

From across the hallway — where the crowd of praise and laughter faded into an ugly, bitter blur — he stood with one hand gripping the strap of his bag, the other clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying. He didn’t need to.

He could see it.

That smile. That goddamn laugh.

He’d told himself it didn’t matter. That he’d burned that bridge and salted the earth, and that tonight — everything he’d said in the ring — was a choice. A declaration.

“There's always those few bad apples…” A throwaway dig. He could live with that.

“… someone else’s hand up his back, pulling the strings.”

Low blow? Sure. But he’d said worse.

But then he’d looked her way. And he’d felt it again.

He’d dragged a buried memory out into the open, weaponized a moment that used to mean something — everything — just to prove he could. Just to kill the thing in his chest still clawing for air.

But it didn’t die.

If anything, watching her now — with them — it pulsed even harder, more furious than ever.

The memory of her broken and raw in that stairwell still haunted him. It had become a part of his bones. The way she grabbed his collar. The way she said she wasn’t loveable.

He remembered the smell of her shampoo. The heat of her fingers trembling against his ribs. The way it nearly killed him not to kiss her that night.

And he remembered how, even when he was with April for those few years after he left, he would still look for Y/N everywhere. In the stands at the hockey games he went to since she was his usual watch buddy. In his brief stint in UFC, he had hoped to see her somewhere, even in the crowd during his time in AEW. Every damn time he’d hoped to see her, but he never did.

Tonight, he’d said what he said to erase it. To salt the wound. To move the fuck on.

But now?

Watching her with Jimmy and Solo… watching her laugh into LA Knight’s chest like nothing had ever happened between them…

It didn’t erase a damn thing.

It only made it worse.

Because that version of her — the light, the ease, the wildness in her smile — he’d seen it before. He’d earned it after years of tearing down her walls. He gave her a part of himself that he didn’t give to anyone either. And now?

Anyone who smiles her way, she just lets loose, that past tension she used to carry, completely gone. Now she gave that free-spirited side to everyone else with ease.

Everyone but him.

[gr1ffins]

Been up very late thinking about how old everyone is in Babel, because it’s not something ever directly spoken about in the book, save for Robin in the first chapter.

Kuang leaves just enough details for us to put together the ages of characters. I like that she doesn’t explicitly say things, and makes you figure it out.

Spoilers below!

‘So where are you from?’

‘Canton.’

‘I was born in Macau. I don’t remember if I ever went to Canton. So then, when did he bring you over?’

‘To London?’

‘No, you dolt, to Manila. Yes, London.’

His brother, Robin thought, could be quite an ass. ‘Six — no, seven years ago now.’

‘Incredible.’ Griffin turned left onto Banbury Road without warning; Robin hastened to follow. ‘No wonder he never went looking for me. Had something better to focus on, didn’t he?’

Chapter Five, pages 95-96.

The year is 1836, and this is Robin’s first year attending Babel, his first week in fact. We know that Robin was taken in by Lovell at 11, so he’s 18 in this scene. (‘…seven years ago now.’)

This confirms students are 18 when they begin attending Babel, and then 22 by the time they graduate in their 4 year. I’ll be using this as my basis.

We still don’t have any confirmation on how old Griffin is. Until a scene much later in the book.

‘Keep it,’ said Professor Lovell.

‘Sir?’

‘I have been staring at that bar everyday for the past five years, wondering where I went wrong with Griffin. If I had raised him differently, or seen him earlier for what he was, if Evie would still — but never mind.’ Professor Lovell’s voice hardened.

Chapter 15, page 268.

The year is 1839, Robin and his cohort have just concluded their third year at Babel. They are all 21 years old, maybe 20 if they have birthdays late in the summer. This segment implies that Evie was killed five years before this, in 1834, just two years before Robin arrived at Babel.

Let me restate this:

Robin was already 16 when Griffin killed Evie. And how old was Griffin when he killed Evie?

As they flipped through the ledger, another theory became more evident. Evie had been wildly prolific between the years 1833 and 1834, but by 1835, her research had dropped completely off the record. Not a single innovation in the past five years. They'd never met an Evie Brooke at any of the departmental parties or dinners; she’d given no lectures, no seminars. Whoever Eveline Brooke was, as brilliant as she'd been, she was clearly no longer at Babel.

'Hold on,' said Victoire. 'Suppose she graduated in 1833. That would have put her in the same class as Sterling Jones. And Anthony!’

And Griffin, Robin realized, though he did not say this out loud.

'Perhaps she was also lost at sea,' said Letty.

'A cursed class, then, that,’ observed Ramy.

The room suddenly felt very cold.

Chapter 13, page 230.

So, Griffin’s cohort graduated in 1833. They would’ve been 22, at that time. Evie died in 1834, so she was just barely 23, at best. Griffin died in 1840, so he was, at oldest, 29.

Same with Anthony and Sterling. It’s very likely they were all still 28, as during the hostile takeover over of Babel, Hilary term (January-March) barely began:

They'd chosen a good day for revolution.

It was the first day of term, and one of the rare days in Oxford when the weather was deceitfully marvellous; when its warmth promised more sunshine and joy than the relentless rain and sleet Hilary inevitably brought.

Chapter 26, page 447

Considering they died just before this, I think it’s safe to assume Griffin, Anthony, and Sterling were all 28. This means they were likely 24 when the story began.

So, to conclude, Griffin is Robin’s older brother by 6 years.

I do find it very in-character for Professor Lovell to have never told Griffin about Robin, even outside of plot reasons. It’s mentioned many times that Professor Lovell only speaks about things when he deems it absolutely necessary, and is otherwise very vague. He would have no reason to tell Griffin about Robin, because that would imply he cares to some degree.

It would be, in some strange form, acknowledging they are family. Why else would Griffin need to know? So yes, I think Professor Lovell would’ve completely omitted the fact Griffin has a brother, just as he did with Robin’s other siblings still in China.

It’s entirely possible that if Griffin continued to stay undercover at Babel, he would’ve just been smacked in the face one day with the fact he has a half brother. In the middle of Babel. The possibility makes me hysterical.

[nikonladyz4]

Jimin and Jungkook Debunking Taekook

Chapter Two Solo Era 2023-2025

Are They Ready to Share More About Their Bond, Post Military?

The solo era has been enjoyable, with talented members delivering good, if not great, music. However, it has also been frustrating due to a segment of the so-called fandom that is determined to hate and discredit not only Jimin’s music but also levy personal attacks on both Jimin and Jungkook. This behavior stems from envy, jealousy of their success, and most importantly, the strong bond between Jimin and Jungkook. We have solo fans for Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, and the most vocal group of haters, the Taekookers, all contributing to a toxic environment.

But what I find intriguing and cherish the most about the solo era, despite the haters’ rhetoric, is the unbreakable bond between Jimin and Jungkook. I want to share my perspective on what I observe and believe based on the actions of Jimin and Jungkook, as well as the members and other individuals or entities.

EVENTS

I’d like to discuss events that happened over the past two years, in my opinion, that debunk the lore surrounding Taekook.

Weverse Lives

Jungkook had multiple lives in the early months of 2023, where he frequently talked about Jimin. He watched Jimin on Suchwita with Suga, even though he hadn’t watched any other shows or members on the show. Later, he started watching other content that highlighted Jimin. When Jimin entered the chat during many of his lives, Jungkook would light up with excitement.

Jungkook even attended one of Jimin’s dance practices and praised him. During the solo era, Jimin was the only member he publicly supported, except for attending Suga’s first Seoul concert with Taehyung and Jimin. Jungkook performed at the second series of Seoul concerts alongside Jimin and RM, but he didn’t publicly support any other members in 2023.

After Jimin’s music show appearances, he held a few lives. On one live, Jungkook entered the chat and told Jimin “I Am Your fan”. During a series of Lives held by Jungkook on Silver Day, he changed his outfit three times and told Army to watch for something special at midnight. Jungkook also spoiled Jimin’s song “Letter” by playing a few chords from the song where he sang background vocals. 

Jungkook’s Half Naked Live with Jimin

I believe we all watched Jungkook’s live stream on July 27, 2023. This live was a few weeks after Jungkook spent time with Jimin in New York City for Jimin’s solo debut on Good Morning America and the filming of the first two episodes of Are You Sure - NY/CT. Jungkook hosted the live while lying in bed, partially naked (or fully, as he playfully peeked at his body under the sheet). Shortly after the live began, Jimin joined him in the chat for a somewhat charged conversation. Jungkook and Jimin engaged in flirting, with Jungkook repeatedly inviting Jimin to join him on the live. However, Jimin declined each time. Army was left stunned and amused by the conversation, while third-wheeling the show.   

Are You Sure

Jimin and Jungkook, following Jungkook’s solo debut in New York City in July 2023, embarked on a travel show that showcased their close friendship and possibly more. The duo spent several days exploring New York and Connecticut, indulging in delicious meals and engaging in various activities. Each episode featured affectionate moments between the two, highlighting their unbreakable bond.

However, some fans attempted to dismiss the show as mere fan service, except for the brief interaction between Taehyung and Jungkook during their trip to Jeju Island. Despite this, Taehyung unexpectedly joined the group after seeing the itinerary in the group chat. Jungkook repeatedly reminded Taehyung that he was a guest and unlikely to be invited again. Jimin also clarified with Taehyung, although welcome, he was a guest.

Despite Jikook’s efforts to maintain boundaries, Jimin and Jungkook continued to interact, leading Taehyung to become increasingly disinterested in the trip after the first day of activities. He found himself as the third wheel and even left on the third day to spend the day golfing with his Wooga Squad friends. 

Jimin’s Birthday Live

During Jimin’s birthday live performance, he expressed his genuine concern for Jungkook’s well-being, especially during his solo debut. Despite it being Jimin’s special day, he couldn’t help but feel sad and a bit despondent. Jimin’s worry was for someone very close to him, Jungkook.

Flying to Japan Together

On November 23rd, Jimin and Jungkook embarked on a trip to Japan for a music show scheduled for Jungkook. They also had a few private days in Tokyo and Sapporo to film AYS. This was the first time the two members had traveled together since the Busan concert in 2022. Unfortunately, the trip was marred by controversy due to vile hate and death threats. The reason behind the hate was that Jimin and Jungkook were traveling together, and there were rumors that they were enlisting together in the military. Haters even sent emails and tagged the Ministry of Defense, claiming that Hybe was filming gay propaganda. This was a serious attempt to harm their personal lives by involving the military. Despite the overwhelming hate, Jimin and Jungkook arrived at the airport together, proudly walked through the corridor lined with fans, was screened through security while hugging, and boarded their plane.

Stuck on You - "This is Jimin" Contemporary Dance

As part of the anticipation leading up to Jimin’s second album, he released a series of dances in diverse styles. One particularly emotional dance was a contemporary piece set to the song “Stuck on You” by Ariana Grande and Justin Bieber. The dance was released shortly before Jimin and Jungkook’s enlistment in the military. The passion and beauty of the dance beautifully conveyed the emotions expressed in the song’s lyrics. Many fans believe that the lyrics provide a glimpse into the feelings Jimin and Jungkook have for each other.

So lock the door And throw out the key Can't fight this no more It's just you and me And there's nothing I, nothing I, I can do I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you

Military Enlistment

South Korea requires all able-bodied men between the ages of 18 and 28 to serve in the military for at least 18 to 22 months, depending on their branch of service. In December 2024, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook enlisted in the military. Jimin and Jungkook applied to enlist together as part of the military companion program, which allowed them to enlist, attend basic training, deploy to the same base and unit, and serve together for their entire 18-month enlistment. Despite their companion status, many Taekookers persist in spreading false rumors that Jimin and Jungkook don’t serve together. However, both Jimin, Jungkook, and Jin have confirmed that they do serve together. Jimin and Jungkook regularly engage in conversations, sing together while showering, and discuss their plans before going to bed.   

Release of MUSE

Jimin’s latest album, Muse, was released on July 19, 2024. The album delves into themes of love, falling in love, and the complexities of romantic relationships. It draws inspiration from BTS’s song “The Truth Untold” and the Smeraldo Flower. Throughout the album, there are numerous LGBTQ+ coded elements, with references to Jungkook both during the promotional period and in the album itself.

One of the most prominent references is a massive billboard featuring Jungkook’s eyes that falls from the sky in the title track’s music video. The title track CD cover and music video incorporate the pride flag colors and rainbow colors throughout the video. Additionally, purple and gold, which are known to be the colors of Jimin and Jungkook’s microphones, boxing gloves, clothing pieces, and other items, play a significant role in the music video.

Jungkook Live - December 18, 2024

Jungkook, still enlisted in the military, surprised the fandom, Korea, and the West with a surprise LIVE broadcast on Weverse on December 18, 2024. He revealed that he came 90% for the Army, leaving the remaining 10% a mystery. I speculate that he made this move in response to the negative sentiment surrounding Jimin and his father, as well as the overall negativity from some Taekookers at the time. Jungkook made it clear that he still served with Jimin at the same base after basic training. They would often get together after work to talk, sing, and even shower together while singing.

🐰 Anyways I’m here because I wanted to see you guys so much. I was thinking of what I should talk about but… about 90% of this is just because I miss you guys 🐰 I’m working hard (serving) with Jimin hyung and we’re doing well 🐰 Jimin hyung and I often talk about songs and hum them. 🐰 We often get a little away from others and we also sing loudly 🐰 Jimin hyung’s songs are so well made to fit his style/voice, they’re so high 🐰 Me and Jimin hyung sang this song so many times!  🐰 We sang it almost every day together while showering and all

Weverse Letters

Jimin and Jungkook have been relatively quiet on social media since their enlistment. Jungkook occasionally posts on Weverse and his dog Bam’s Instagram account. Jimin hasn’t posted on his Instagram in over a year but has written four letters on Weverse and participated in a comment thread with Jungkook on another member’s post. His latest two letters provided an update on his life in the military, discussions he’s had with Jungkook about music and performances they want to release post-military, and their future professional and personal plans.

If I had to think of one thing that's changed, it would be the year, and with that, the conversations I have with Jungkookie before we go to bed. Those have changed a lot.

The day we'll be able to meet all you ARMYs is getting closer, so we're thinking about seeing you again, and about all the things we'll have to get ready before that, or what kind of things to show you in the future and what kind of lives we'll be living, etc. We're talking about a lot of things.

Family Social Media - Jungkook’s Brother, Junghyun

Jungkook’s brother, Junghyun, reactivated one of his old Instagram accounts this month. The account used to feature a lot of photos of both Jungkook and Jimin. Junghyun also posted (via tags) or liked Jikook fan art. However, he has removed most of those posts from the account. He left one photo of Jimin posing with him. The Jikook fan art was the original image on this account.

Conclusion

So, why do I bring up all these events? I return to my opening paragraph of debunking Taekook lore. In my opinion, the events that have transpired over the past two years have easily debunked Taekook shipping rhetoric. I firmly believe that both Jungkook and Jimin share close but distinct relationships with Taehyung. With that in mind, the relationship that Taehyung has with Jimin and Jungkook is characterized by love and affection, but it is purely platonic. Until the members of BTS, along with Bighit, collectively denounce shipping and shippers, the toxicity surrounding the shipping community will persist. However, in light of the recent events, I believe that Jimin and Jungkook subtly attempt to address the negative sentiment through their actions and words, as described above.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I believe Bighit is subtly showcasing Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship. In chapters one and two, Jimin and Jungkook are close friends with an unbreakable bond. Working on solo albums in 2023, both members had extremely busy schedules and were unable to meet daily. Contrary to the claims made by Taekookers, we know that Jimin and Jungkook did see each other throughout the year. They were captured together at Jimin’s dance practice, the recording of the song Letter for the FACE album and Suga’s concerts. They also spent time together filming Are You Sure in New York City, Connecticut, Jeju Island, and Japan. Additionally, they were together to discuss enlistment in the military buddy program and complete the application process. Ultimately, they enlisted in the military together, which serves as a testament to their unwavering bond.

Although the focus of this essay is on the years 2023-2024, we can’t forget the ten+ years that Jimin and Jungkook have publicly shown their bond. We have GCF Tokyo and Saipan, Mama 2018, Rosebowl, Hickeygate and hundreds of other “minor and major moments” where they showcased their bond publicly.

Both Jimin and Jungkook engage in skinship and affectionate behavior on camera. They have both demonstrated support and personal authenticity for the LGBTQ+ community through their music videos, Golden Closet Films, photoshoots, photo folios, and music. 

The comments Jimin made in his recent Weverse Letter hinted at a profound and possibly life altering decision he may share: “WHAT KIND OF LIVES WE’LL BE LIVING.” This statement is particularly significant given the speculation that Jimin and Jungkook will reside together in Jungkook’s new house. While I don’t anticipate an official announcement of their relationship status, I believe they will no longer feel the need to conceal their relationship. This new contract offers them the freedom to live their lives as they choose, free from the constraints imposed by the K-pop industry. 

Both Jimin and RM have repeatedly mentioned that they will be able to discuss certain matters with Army that they were unable to talk about before enlisting. I believe one of these topics MAY pertain to personal relationships, although it’s not necessarily about the identities of their partners, but rather whether they have been or are currently in relationships.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ONE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

warnings maraye’s b*****end

May 2025 — New York City, New York

“5 minutes, Carter! You’re on in 10!” I hear my manager, Kaylee, speak from behind me. She didn’t even look up from her phone.

I’m seated backstage at The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon getting ready to go out on stage for my segment of the show. My ready room is packed. Heavy makeup cases and hair products sit on the vanity and nearby tables. My hair and makeup and stylist people moving in and out of the room to get me picture perfect.

“I’ll see you when you get off. Good luck out there, beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” I respond, feeling a soft pair of lips press against my cheek.

It’s my— I don’t even know what to call him— boyfriend, Julian. We’d been going out for a bit , no longer than around three months, but nothing had been made officially-official yet. His full head of curly brown hair tickles my eyebrow when he kisses me, bringing a flush to my already pinked cheeks. He walks out of the ready room, I assume to his seat out in the audience alongside my sister Casandra. 

My hand goes up to my cheek, up against where his lips left a sloppy mark against my makeup. My makeup artist, Tyler, swats my hand away before I can smudge what he just spent two hours working on. 

“He’s gonna ask you about him.” Kaylee’s voice cuts through the air.

“What?”

“Jimmy. He’s gonna ask you about Julian. Not directly, of course, but he’ll ask if you have a muse and blah blah blah.” Her work phone slips into the back pocket of her wind leg jeans. The click of the black heels on her feet grow louder as she approaches me. “Don’t answer, say you get inspired by a ton of things but not anyone in particular.”

My face twists up. “Why should I do that?”

Kaylee sighs. We’ve talked about this a multitude of times, and I can tell it irritates her more and more each time I pry. My career is based on sharing my most vulnerable and intimate moments with people all over the world. I didn’t mind sharing if someone had influenced my music or not.

“It keeps the interview focused on you and how amazing you’ve been so far this year. If you do that, it’s gonna be about your relationship. You don’t want that, I promise you.” Kaylee explains.

I nod understandably, but my mind thinks to the future conversation Julian and I are most likely going to have about me not claiming him publicly. A conversation we’ve had too many times for my liking, for only being a few months in.

Oh, and unofficial might I add.

The creak of the heavy white door opening pulls us out of our conversation. There’s a man in a white Polo and black slacks with a headset on. “Call time. Let’s get you out there, Maraye.” He speaks.

I nod, standing up from my seat. I quickly brush a hand over my hair, making sure that any flyaways from my jet black side part unit stay down where they should be. 

“Go get ‘em, Carter.” Kaylee encourages, rubbing my back softly and smiling her soft comforting smile.

—

“Fresh off of her first studio album release, please give a warm welcome to our next guest, Maraye!” 

The start of The Roots introduction music is my cue to walk out, and I do. The Amina Muaddi heels on my feet moving across the black stage. My dress is a nice maroon color, a sleeveless u-neck top that fits my body like a glove. 

I smile out to the live audience, waving my hand before taking a set on the blue-gray couch. The applause dies down and Jimmy looks over at me, the cover of my latest album, ‘f*** daisies' is propped up between his hands on the wood table.

“Thank you so much for having me!” I greet, crossing one of my legs over the other.

“No, thank you, for coming out! I wanna jump right into this,” he speaks. The camera pans to the album cover. “Because this album has taken the internet by storm in the last month that it’s been out.”

“Yeah. It’s been very surreal. I’ve had EP’s that have done great, but all the love on this album has been incredible.”

The audience breaks out into more cheers and applause and I feel my heart nearly triple in size.

To say my life had taken a complete 180° turn in the last five months would be an understatement. From spending last fall on tour with Kehlani, to getting my communications degree from the University of Southern California, and now the release of my album. I was truly blessed and grateful.

“What’s so impressive about all of this is that you’re only 22 years old, and you have three songs off this project that have spots on the billboard top 15.” Jimmy praises. “Out of those three—f*** daisies, SOS (Sex on Sight), and Unpredictable with your good friend Destin Conrad— which one would you say was your favorite to make?”

I take a deep breath, my eyebrows furrow with a look of thoughtfulness which makes the audience laugh.

“Probably SOS. To have Usher featured on that song was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And I’m from Atlanta, so having an ATL legend on my first project was huge.” I answer.

“Did you, y'know, learn anything from him for future music?”

“The way he works with layering his vocals was unbelievable. I think that’s why SOS is one of my favorite works, the harmonies on that song are unreal and I give all credit to him.”

“Would you say that this song had a muse? I work for the people, so I have to ask.” Jimmy teases, and I force a smile. I could just hear Kaylee’s voice in the back of my head screaming I told you so.

I shift in my seat. My eyes bounced from him, to the man I had coined my boyfriend sitting in the audience. “I use a ton of experiences for inspiration in my music. Things that have happened to me but also to those around me.” I start.

From the corner of my eye I see Julian, the red button up that covers his shoulders and his gold cross chain keeps him in my view perfectly. He moves in his seat and I just know he’s uncomfortable, or angered, or something else that I can’t really bring myself to care about with all these cameras pointing at me right now.

“So I wouldn’t say it came from anyone in particular. I probably just had a little too much wine that night.” I joke, keeping the atmosphere lively and energetic.

Jimmy laughs and The Roots play some sort of jingle in the background, both of which make me release a breath I didn't know I had been holding. 

“Well we all can’t wait for more music from you Maraye. Everyone stay tuned, Maraye will be giving us a special performance of SOS when we come back from the break!”

—

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

It’s later at night, 9pm when I finally take a seat on my living room couch. The recently rented apartment smelled like vanilla thanks to the candle Rickea decided to light while I was grabbing the pizza.

Why my teammate decided to surprise visit me when I could be resting for our season opener tomorrow night was beyond me. I thought it must be a little rookie hazing, messing me up for the first game, but I wouldn’t tell them that. 

Cameron was here too, a massage gun up near her still recovering knee. 

I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, listening partially to what Rickea was telling me about tomorrow’s plans. Some sitcom played on the tv, or a talk show. Again, I wasn’t very sure.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Rickea yelled. She dropped down on the couch, nudging me enough to drop my phone from my grasp. “Your first pro game is tomorrow! Can you act excited?”

“I am excited!” I shot back, playfully pushing her back off of me. “You’re just yelling in my ear right now, ‘Kea.”

“Ugh they grow up so fast.” Cameron speaks up. She wipes her eyes from fake unshed tears. I roll my eyes at them both. These cannot be my teammates.

“I’m older than you?”

“And yet, you’re a rookie and I’m not. Matter of fact, come massage my knee for me, rook.” 

I reach for the pillow closest to my right and throw it at her before she can even blink. Which she retaliates for by tossing one back at me.

“Okay enough! God, you guys are children.” Rickea interjects. Her hand reaches for the TV remote. “Tryna watch my friend on TV and y’all wanna act like fools.” 

“Do it at your place then! The fuck?”

Rickea pushes me towards the other end of the couch, and I huff and flop against it. Cam begins to laugh. I reach over for another pillow but she stops, raising her arms in defense.

The volume on the screen in front of me increases, but this time I play attention. Jimmy Fallon is on, and his introduction of whoever is the guest tonight cuts through the air. After a few seconds of silence that’s when I see it.

Suddenly I’ve never found a late night talk show so interesting.

“That’s yo’ friend?” I ask Rickea. And she squeals, like a schoolgirl, ignoring my question. “‘Kea?”

“Yeah, ‘Raye! Doesn’t she look so pretty?” She asks no one in particular. But I still find myself slyly nodding.

I listen intently to her voice, and how she sings the very sensual song beautifully. She was harmonizing with her background vocalists in a way that made my jaw drop. And suddenly, I’m pissed at myself for not only not having this song in my library, but also for knowing whose voice is mesmerizing me right now.

And even more than that, she’s stunning.

The lighting of the stage she sings on gives an illusion like she’s glowing. Or maybe she actually is. My eyes physically cannot leave the screen. She is in a maroon dress and just when I think I can’t be anymore enamored with the sight, the camera pans out to her entire body. 

I didn't even realize that her performance was over until a commercial cuts on. 

“Ain’t she just incredible.” Rickea cheeses at her friend like a proud mother. 

Cam agrees with her. “She’s running my playlist right now.”

“Paige?”

“Huh?”

“I said she’s good right? You like R&B, you should hop on the Maraye train.” Rickea teases and I think that she didn’t pick up on my obvious drooling for the last five minutes. “I promise not all her songs are freaky.”

I clear my throat, nodding at her. 

“No, yeah, she’s,” suddenly any possible descriptors that I could use at the moment are stuck in the back of my throat.

“She’s incredible.”

[jazjelspen]

scarlet and silver lining (part 1)

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc qwq/apologies for the pacing as well!!!! It’s 1AM LMAO—)

[chapter 1]

Sure, you didn’t actually want to redeem yourself.

Personally, you knew you were in the right place and were meant to be in this spot in the afterlife. You weren’t bloodthirsty and power hungry like the rest of the monsters down here but your sins were from your reckless decisions and you knew you couldn’t take it back.

So in turn, you didn’t truly trust the princess’s claims and theories.

But here you were, in her hotel through her doorstep. Dragging you along by your wrist being gentle but also filled with such excitement that she might’ve tugged a bit too hard for your preference.

As she led you to introduce yourself to the other residents and staff, you couldn’t help but wonder why exactly you let yourself get into this predicament.

Then again, you didn’t really have a choice.

_______________________________

Your hands stopped from fixing your hair, you had been stunned from preparing yourself for the next twenty minutes you’d be on air. Your face contorting while your eyes stared dead at your reflection at the mirror decorated with bright little light bulbs all around it’s frame as they shined their lights on you. Your hands shaking slightly and barley starting to sweat.

Why exactly were you shocked? Your boss.

“See here ____, what I need you to do is to simply get in through inside the princess’s little hotel and spy for me for a few weeks here and there! Document everything for me, whichever way you can. “

Vox, your boss, was ordering you on a new mission for you to do. He wouldn’t have you do these kinds of things regularly unless he needed some kind of spy or a pretty face for a segment of his show to get more ratings or as a distraction of sorts. Although lately he’s been sounding more aggravated, annoyed—dying to get what he wants. He was facing the set his crew were preparing as they fixed a few lights, checked if the cameras were functioning, etc.

It was good that he was facing that way and you the other, for if he saw your look of shock and slight fear spreading across your face like a disease he would probably question you like some kind of unruly detective for it.

But why wouldn’t you react this way? After all, he was asking you to spy and be around your father. The man you were ashamed of being connected to. He didn’t know this— he didn’t have to know this. For you knew Vox would simply use and wear you out as a pawn, overwork you, maybe torture you and hurt you to get specific answers.

He wasn’t afraid of doing anything to get what he wants anyway.

“Tape recorder, journal, write it on some fucking menstrual pad I don’t fucking care. I simply need to know what that fucker is thinking of doing next with Lucifer’s daughter now on his fucking shoulder.”

He snapped, static overtaking his voice at the end of his sentences. Clearly absolutely finished with this entire situation especially since for all you knew the last time someone tried to sneak in for him they were caught in the matter of a day, and if you didn’t have a direct connection to Vox he would’ve sent you first.. but now you were one of his only options until he really got frustrated.

“Oh but do this for me and you’ll get your own little studio! Your own show! Be your own boss, have your own crew.. you get the idea. All financially supported by me! Oh and you even get to live by yourself.. although—

I still own you. Get that. But you get your little artistic freedom huh sweetheart? What do you say? Do this little favor for me? If you don’t I’ll simply.. kill you.

Or throw you in the streets. Depending on how badly you fuck up you’ll get either one of the two! You’ll die either way.”

You were left a bit shocked, the immense dump of information overwhelming you so. “I—I—“

“Good.” He cut you off.. geez. “You start in two days, two days to get what you need and to at least plan how you’ll keep me updated. And remember, you give me all the information either throughout your stay there or you spit it all out when I need you to still be here on the job.” He fixed his bow tie walking towards the set to start the broadcast, a strong frown decorating his screen before hiding his stress with a cocky smile for the cameras.

You looked at your reflection with a grim look on your face, heart sinking and a shaky sigh escaped.

You didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t.. you— wouldn’t.

But you needed to do it whether you liked it or not. You knew this.

Survive, get a few more perks and bonuses that would very much make you live your afterlife a bit more comfortably.

It’s just gonna be a month right?— Fuck.. Vox didn’t specify how long simply just… a few weeks. Most likely he just wants you to be there as long as you could.

Keep your life, get a better job, better home home, stay protected. That’s what you’ve been focusing for all these years—

Why stop now.

____________________________________

Dragged by the princess you were stopped in front of a group of sinners, your other hand almost losing its grip on your suitcase but managed to catch it by the tips of your fingers. The sweat from the anxiety that was accumulating while on your way here.

It weirded you out a bit that Charlie didn’t react to your drenched hand. maybe she was too overwhelmed with emotions as well to notice?…

Charlie set you in front of a pink spider, someone you knew all too well from the constant advertisements, short interactions with him, and Valentino’s undying yapping, Angel Dust.

“Angel, meet ____, _____ meet Angel!! She’s going to stay here for a chance at redemptiooon!! How amazing!” Her excitement was pouring out like thunder and lightening, just simply uncontainable.

The pink soul darted its eyes at you with a sense of familiarity. You knew being a known figure would be a bit of a challenge but god— you really wanted that place to yourself.

“Heyy.. Angel..” you waved a little sheepishly, knowing how awkward this feels for you at least.

Angel eyed you a bit intensely, but you knew deep down he sorta understood why you’d be here as well— at least not knowing that Vox himself sent you here—maybe he thinks that your presence is due to the same reason he’s away from Valentino. Needing an escape from your abusers and bosses was something he understood all too well.

“Hiya cutie, didn’t expect to see you here of all places.” He smirked as he waved back at you but in a more confident and laid back way than you did.

Charlie paused at his words, “Oh? You two know eachother?—“

“Oh.. I know this adorable face anywhere!” Angel exclaimed proudly with one of his arms reaching over to squish one of your cheeks playfully, you laughing a bit due to the slight awkwardness of the situation but also because he was one of the very few people you never had issues with despite how much you guys never really talked much.

“She’s a real darling, hard worker and all. Although.. didn’t think your boss was that bad as to make you want to run in here of all places..”

“I was about to say— aren’t you that chick that is on TV for that one overlord’s show or somethin’…” a low and almost growly voice spoke from slightly farther away.

Looking towards that particular direction you are met with a cat-like person, a furry soul with fluffy ears and a seemingly insatiable thirst for alcohol the way he drank down a large bottle of cheap booze like water.

Your shoulders raised up a bit in embarrassment, smiling as a way to cover up your nervousness that was already slipping.

“Didn’t we also literally catch Pentious trying to work for him literally not that long ago?.. At this point they aren’t even trying to hide it by sending her here.” Spoke another, this time a more serious female voice descended from a mature woman with long silver hair and an ‘X’ over her eye that resembled those of the exorcists.. huh.

You shook your hands together a bit as you tried to defend yourself in a way, not wanting to be caught this easily “Oh nonono!.. I’m not here because my boss sent me I— I just..—“

“Yknow what Vagina,” Angel interrupted you to glare at the woman that spoke “If you knew anything about how the V’s treat their employees you wouldn’t blame her and I for wanting to be away from them and anything work related.. got it toots?”

Your heart warmed slightly but also let out a huge sigh of relief. Maybe that wasn’t the real reason why you were here but you were glad to know that Angel was someone you could relate the most due to your very similar situations.

“Yea Vaggie! Let’s give her a chance! If Angel knows her and if we make sure she’s here for reals then she’s a perfect second official resident!!”

The girl, now named Vaggie by Charlie, rolls her eyes as she lets out a sigh. “Can we at least check if she has no electronics on her. If this turns out to be another Pentious I will not hesitate this time.”

A single glare from her one eye piercing you with a sharp and merciless spike. Making you feel even more nervous and unwelcomed but.. you knew you had to just keep going..

“Oh Vaggie no need to be so rude to our new guest! We can do those checks later! Right now it’s introduction time!!” She exclaimed almost jumping up a down, a bit too joyous for your liking.

Angel noticed this and side eyed you while whispering a cheeky comment to you “Ms. Rainbow pants here may be a bit much but you’ll get used to it sweetcheeks.” He said, with a tone more sounding of an older brother of sorts.

You smiled a bit at him but then looked away to try to relax, not excited to be ‘introduced’ to someone you knew was in the far.. far corner of it all.

“Oh and this is Vaggie! My girlfriend and manager of this establishment! If you have any issues or concerns you may check in with her, she’s a-ma-zing!” Despite making her sound helpful and less.. terrifying. You couldn’t help but still feel rather intimidated.

Vaggie continued to glare at you with a clear distrust in you. You just waved at her shyly as well, trying to at least not seem as dangerous as she may think you are.

Until Charlie once again dragged you to four other figures, the fourth one a bit behind the first three. “And this is Husk the bartender, Nifty our housekeeper and cook, and Sir Pentious! Pentious being one of our first official residents!”

She spoke each name by pointing to which name belonged to who, Pentious’s name ringing a bell but it was new seeing his appearance. So this is the guy that forced Vox to drag you here instead..

Husk, the cat that spoke earlier simply looked at you and didn’t give another word, downing yet another bottle. Pentious waved at you with the same energy you gave as well but was more or less focused on his ‘eggs’ that were poking at the flesh around his eyes on his tail and Nifty.. well..

She was on top of you, more specifically— your head.

She was sniffing you, eying you like a fucking hawk, inspecting you as if you could be contaminated with a dying virus— your breath hitched as you hoped she wouldn’t smell the fear growing on you as your skin went cold.

“Fairly.. clean….” She then backed up slightly to inspect your eyes with her own giant one only to then scurry off across your body like a bug, causing you to get disgusting goosebumps.

“Pretty.. smells nice.. no dirt—“ she then stopped by suddenly standing in front of you with a big ol’ smile as if what she just did was incredibly normal.

“Hiya! I’m Nifty! Had to make sure you weren’t bringing any filth in the hotel.. I just cleaned this place…” She took out her little hand for you to shake.. being hesitant but not willing to be rude to someone this peculiar— you shook her hand with just two of your fingers and before you could pull away yourself she then immediately scurried off as fast as she came.

“And then last but not least—“

“Alastor! Quite a pleasure, a real pleasure to get to meet you young lady! Please, feel free to be welcomed into the Hazbin Hotel!” Alastor, the radio demon, dad— approached you with such enthusiasm and enticement. As if he couldn’t wait to talk to you.

Your blood ran cold, eyes widened with fear, your free hand clutched tightly at the handle of your luggage as Alastor took the other to then put it up to where his smile was, not kissing it or having your hand too near his lips but still keeping courtesy of when meeting a woman as he usually would.

Even in death, he stays a gentleman as per usual.

“My my.. you poor soul. To have to run away from your employer down to this place.. why he must be a terrible person, isn’t he?”

Ah right.. Vox and Alastor hated eachother. You knew this very well.. you honestly didn’t know much about why they hated eachother other than the running joke that Vox most definitely lost a fight with him.

You died years later after Alastor did so you don’t exactly have the full scoop. Him dying in your late teens and you dying in your mid to almost late 20s. You lived life yet— some would say not enough.

“Poor thing, not to worry! Let this be your safe house! Your haven, your asylum, your refuge!” He exclaimed each two sets of words by twirling you around in an exaggerated manner, in a style reminiscent of the way dancers would spin their dance partners in the 30s. You recognized this move all too well— feeling almost nostalgic.

Although you were slightly grateful for one thing he was doing right.. not being overly revealing or announcing the one big fact you two had between the both of you.

You didn’t need that fact to be running around the place like some kind of daily gossip.

Before your anxiety would make you burst in crying or throwing up right in his face you immediately tugged your hand away, his own keeping your wrist in his palm.

“Thank.. you—“ your hand holding the luggage let go to try to tug his hand from holding you any longer until you then finally managed to pull his grip away from off of your other wrist in order to create more space between him and you from the immense anxiety you were having, your lungs threatening not to quicken and burst like balloons. You immediately went back to hold onto your luggage once more.

“How.. welcoming..” you pretended as if you were dusting off your clothes and your arms as if trying to tidy yourself up instead it really meant to give you a few more seconds to collect your thoughts properly.

‘God.. everyone knowing I’m with Vox is only going to make this real fucking hard— I didn’t think this entirely fucking through..’ ah yes.. you totallyyy weren’t panicking about this now active interaction the past two days huh—

‘just act calm and cool _____, you need that money, you need that place, you need that show, you need protection.. stick to the plan..’

“Uh— how humble!.. of your Hotel staff to be so.. welcoming— your highness.” You spoke to Charlie, smiling brightly as if all of this was just casual conversation.

“A real treat seeing dear ol’ Angel Dust here, good to see a familiar face ain’t it Angie?” You turned slightly towards the pornstar, with him returning your comment by exclaiming with a “Damn right!”

Charlie smiled intensely with a nod, face full of joy and innocence. “I’m so sososo glad you like it here so far!! Your experience here won’t be disappointing! You’ll have an absolute blast!—

oh oh!! Can’t forget! We have to get you to your room! If you’d like you can stay there and rest or come down here and join us! Whichever you feel comfortable with.”

“Why thank you very much your highness, your hospitality sure is a darn nice breath of fresh air compared to the rest of hell. Bunch of cats and dogs fighting like wild animals out there.. need a real break once in awhile..” you spoke as you followed Charlie as she lead the way to your room, giving you a minor tour of the hotel before letting you rest in your new humble abode.

Your act, although part sincere and true, was full of holes. Holes not enough for the normal gaze to see but they are clear enough for him to see.

Alastor would eye you as you followed the princess, his fingers uncurling and curling around his staff slowly and menacingly. His sharp pupils narrowing while aligning with his grin as it expanded with a sense of mischief holding it up by its ends.

He saw right through you, of course he would, he knows when you lie, know when you’re honest, when you’re afraid and happy.

Why lie to him my dear? If you know that he knows you like the back of his hand.

Either way he knows he’s going to have to catch you alone at some point, he must catch up to what he’s missed throughout the years he’s been gone from the living world and even in hell.. although you made it clear the last time you met in hell that you don’t want to see him again he finds it curious how you’re even here at all.

Oh but.. gosh.. how much his little girl has grown.

_________________________________

You were a two months from turning 7 years old now, being adopted almost a year ago was the most prolific moment in your young life. Your grandmother, her real name being Adelaide but you preferred to call her Nana or Grandmama… Nana was better for your little voice to stretch out more easily and faster.

She was always such a darling to you, treating you as if you were one of her own. She told you true most amazing and beautiful stories, shared and sang the most wonderful lullabies and songs that sometimes Alastor would join in on, would make delicious food that you adored throughout your childhood, love you unconditionally the way a grandmother would.

And technically you were hers through papers but sometimes it felt as if it was inconsistent in certain areas.. mostly with Alastor.

Alastor was a peculiar man, as famous and passionate as he was he certainly didn’t have a heart of gold, only open to those he truly cares for like his mother and his radio show. It was as if his heart was surrounded from the sky to the depth of the ground with rusty fences and sharped barbed wire that only allowed very few people and things being let into his life.

You tried to get close to him around this time, bringing him little gifts you made and trinkets you’d find that reminded you of him as a way to get closer.

But he always just smiled at you, gave you a pat, and either said ‘good job’, ‘oh how cute, leave it at my study now won’t you?’ ‘I’m sure your Nana would love it.’ And go right back to what he was doing..

You didn’t understand why that happened— but it seems as if he didn’t bother to get close to you simply because you were a gift to his mother, a granddaughter she wanted to have but he couldn’t give unless through legal assistance,

you were for her to love— not for him to raise.

At least that was the case at this point in time.

It was weird.. you never truly has any terrible or bad interactions but— yet it made you disappointed each time, made you crave for his attention. After all— he’s supposed to be your father. Why wasn’t he paying attention?..

You were currently in your room sitting at your desk, papers scattered with different colored wax and pencils messily thrown around on the surface.

You were drawing something, a gift as a last chance to get him to notice you properly. You even had a special gift that your Nana helped you pick out for him! Surely, your dear dad would notice you now right?

Scribbling the last few finishing touches you then dropped the pen on the table as you exclaimed a little “Aha!” And raising the drawing up high, feeling proud of your masterpiece!

You quickly set the drawing down as you then hopped off your chair to a cower through a little playbox full of toys you had, only to search for one single thing. Once your tiny finally felt the touch of wood and slight metal, you grabbed it and pulled it out with yet again another delightful glee.

It was a small radio shaped wooden charm, the metal being the small little ‘hand’ that moved whenever the radio was operating and transmitting audio frequencies. The perfect gift for papa!

You then quickly grabbed the drawing off your desk, both your gifts in hand your little feet went pitter patter as you ran to the dining room where Alastor was having lunch freshly made by his mother.

Your Nana having recently left the home to get a few emergency groceries, made this a good time for just him and you to connect.

“Papa! papa!” You squealed, Alastor’s brows furrowing at several elements in his surroundings annoying him slightly..

“_____, no running in the house remember? Cant have too much noise disturbing our home.” Despite his scolding you couldn’t help but to just giggle and almost jump in excitement in what you’re planning to give him. He continued “Besides as I have mentioned many times before, call me Al—“

“But papa! Papa!— look!—“ you interrupted him, your voice projecting a bit more into a yell as to have him look at what you have.

“_____, no yelling please dear. I can hear you quite well. I’m not a mile away..”

“Yes papa— b—but!.. look..! I made you something..” you then gently set the drawing up at the table first beside his food. Alastor’s attention finally set on the paper and even stopped eating to look at it. He picked it up.. his eyes inspecting it.

It was a drawing of you and him in a sunny flower meadow in a forest both you and his mother had a picnic in recently, except it was just the both of you here.

The drawing was definitely not the most perfect but it was definitely the cutest. Your scribbles somehow managing to immediately the shape of his hair perfectly, his glasses were visible and his red suit was very on parr with what he would wear on the daily, then there was you— your hair a bit more messily drawn than his and seemed more rushed.. as if you couldn’t yet wait to finish the piece. To top it all off it even had small scribbled words in pencil that said ‘papa’ and ‘me’ and an arrow pointing at each individual figure that fit that description.

Oh how cute.

You stared up at him closely, even for a young kid as yourself you were able to notice the way his usually dark and cold eyes had a twinkle in them, a sort of softness diluting his everyday smile ever so slightly.

It took him a second before you then set the trinket on the table where he picked up the paper from “And this is also for you papa.. nana helped me pick it out for you since I said I wanted to give you a present…”

His eyes darted towards the trinket and even picked it up, inspecting the work and its shapes along with the design of it as a whole. Admiring it almost.

His eyes darted back to the drawing, both hands with both gifts.

“Darling…”

Your little heart ran faster, your hopes were rising up to the heavens. Is he gonna say he was proud?.. he loves it? Adores it?.. hates it?—

“This is cute and all, but don’t forget to draw Nana in next time! She was at that picnic with us too remember!” He exclaimed as he smiled at you in an almost bittersweet way, his softness almost being wiped off entirely.

You frowned, “but.. I made it for you papa.. I’m always with nana so.. I wanted to make something for you!” You smiled fondly at him, trying to still hope for a ‘I’m proud’ from him.

“Aww is that so dear?” He spoke as he then set the gifts on the table on the opposite side of where you were, all while hiding behind a smile.

“Well just don’t forget to add Nana in next time, thank you darling for the lovely gifts.” And just like that he began eating.

Ah.. still the same— reaction. It was a bit better.. it wasn’t just a short and quick sentence at least so that made you smile a bit but.. you expected much more.. a hug, a proud smile.

“Yes, papa…” you then slowly walked off back into your room. A bit down but you weren’t going to let that ruin your smile, Nana always told you and papa to always smile no matter what. So that’s what you’ll keep doing. Even if— your expectations were dearly hurt today.

What you didn’t see was Alastor yet again inspecting the gifts you gave him after you left, a hand tilting it a bit to see it clearly and to have the trinket closer to the figures of the both of you.

His permanent smile’s ends stretched a bit, a ‘hm’ escaping his throat as he took another sip from his black coffee.

He never truly saw himself as your father, never fully taking care of you unless his mother asked him to.

Ah but, it was nice to think that way huh?

(HAIIII THABK YOU FOR READING THISSSS I had lots of fun writing this and omfg I have so many idea for Vox and reader interactions, especially when the plot thickens. But thank you so much for the wait on chapter 1 of this story!! I know the prologue has been awhile but I reallyyyy want to continue this since this is my very first original alastor and daughter fanfic that I’ve written years ago and want to revamp into this!!)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Well, seeing as we are nearing the end of book 7 (Please?), I've been reflecting over the dreams and my thoughts about them, and it can basically be summed up as, "This could've been an email." Like don't get me wrong, I'm freaking out about Malleus but at the same time I'm so ready for book 7 to be over and to move on with the story. Even saying my criticisms (chaotic dream pacing cough cough Lilia, explanations that are too vague, etc.) Feels like beating a dead horse at this point. I wish they had added some sense of urgency to the story to hurry it along too. Maybe add a time limit to how long they can spend in a dream, or maybe they could include a deadline of a week before things go to shit, idk.

I'm remaining optimistic as always because I love twst so much and always will, but man. If we have another 100 parts of untrimmed fat to go through I may pass away from old age.

I think there's nobility in trying to keep optimistic about a hobby/interest, but I also think that there shouldn't be anything wrong with critiquing what you enjoy. It comes from a place of love and wanting that hobby/interest to be better because you care about it so much! So really, I encourage everyone to critique as they wish.

I kept track and did the math because I'm silly:

Yuu/Grim's dream spans 7-40 to 7-43 and 7-51 (5 parts)

Sebek's dream spans 7-51 to 7-54 (4 parts; 1 part has overlap with Yuu/Grim)

Lilia's dream spans 7-55 to 7-100 (46 parts, but feels much longer due to this segment having multiple battle maps)

Idia's dream includes 7-38, 7-39, and 7-109 to 7-116 (10 parts)

Epel's dream spans 7-120 to 7-123 (4 parts)

Rook's dream spans 7-124 to 7-130 (7 parts)

Vil's dream spans 7-131 to 7-139 (9 parts)

Kalim's dream spans 7-140 to 7-146 (7 parts)

Jamil's dream spans 7-147 to 7-157 (11 parts)

Floyd's dream spans 7-158 to 7-165 (8 parts)

Jade's dream spans 7-166 to 7-173 (8 parts)

Azul's dream spans 7-174 to 7-191 (18 parts)

Jack's dream spans 7-192 to 7-202 (11 parts)

Ruggie's dream spans 7-203 to 7-211 (9 parts)

Leona's dream spans 7-212 to 7-226 (15 parts)

Deuce's dream spans 7-227 to 7-235 (9 parts)

Cater's dream spans 7-236 to 8-244 (9 parts)

Ace's dream spans 7-245 to 7-256 (12 parts)

Trey's dream spans 7-257 to 7-268 (12 parts)

Riddle's dream spans 7-269 to 7-280 and 7-283 to 7-294 (24 parts, but 7-286 has 12 portions and not 1 portion so the true number is closer to 35)

Averaging that out, that means a character's dream to waking segment takes ~12 parts (rounded down from 12.4) 💀 but of course we have outliers like Sebek and Epel, who only have only 4 parts and Riddle (that glory hog/j) taking up an ABSURD 35 parts, which is almost triple the average. (Lilia has over five times the average, but I’ll excuse him since this is the Diasomnia chapter.)

I think the dreams were definitely novelties around the time they initially come out. We get fanservice and the high of speculating what the dreams could mean for each dreamer. But then as more time passes and that excitement wears off, we start to scrutinize these segments a lot more. We start to realize how the pacing is extremely uneven, how they keep overcomplicating or reexplaining how the dreams operate, and/or how Malleus has not been present since 7-112. Lilia hasn’t been present since even further back, in 7-100. The devs should have cut back to Malleus and Lilia’s brawl to catch up with them between dream hopping from one dorm to the next. The repeating patterns (like how each boy uses their UM once, how the boys from the previous dorm stay behind to let the OB boy jump into the next dorm's dreams, etc.) quickly become repetitive and predictable. We become annoyed with how none of the characters seem to be acting with urgency; they often stand around talking about funny experiences or their families or whatever when they should be investigating seriously because they don't know how much time they have left before Malleus's magic shrouds all of Twisted Wonderland. They really should have added a cap to how long they can spend in each dream or how long they have until it's Too Late for the world. It feels like there are no stakes when the characters are wasting time watching Rook's Vil and Neige fancams or eating a bunch of cakes in Cater's courtroom. The devs only started to change up these formulas WAY too late (around like Savanaclaw???), like having the freshly woken dreamer attack us (Jack), having a very depressing dream (Leona), Malleus becoming relevant again (Riddle), NPCs helping us instead of harming us (Leona and Riddle), etc. They should have taken more creative liberties with each dream instead of following the same pattern for most of them.

At this point, I'm SO tired and I just want book 7 to be done and over with (good luck to EN only players experiencing this for the first time) OTL Here's to hoping we don't have to sit through another useless 100 parts of Nothing... The end of the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 (yeesh, that's a mouthful) update gives me some hope at least; it looks like there's going to be actual danger moving forward!

[12triceratops]

Where the rubber meets the road.

These two didn't just have a relationship, they had a (soul)utionship. "The Prophecy" Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle...

What these two had was magical. There is no debate that Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift were electric: (I am using past tense for the moment, I will refer to them in present tense a bit later in the post)

Fast forward a decade later to Fortnight. This record did not hit me immediately the way "Folklore" and "Evermore" did, It has almost been a week since its release and I hadn't been fully onboard with TTPD. I was expecting something different, something not familiar and I had quite literally thought maybe Jack Antinoff and Taylor Swift had reached their limit together as collaborators. The music produced by Aaron Dressner had flavors and connections to "Folklore" and "Evermore," while parts of the album was reminiscent of "1989." My next thought that maybe the three of them had done all they could do.

And then the Matty Healy conversation exploded across the net (le sigh), and I just about gave up on the record.

I damn near had a sanguinary struggle within myself over The Tortured Poets Department (I know, that is very dramatic lol), and then I finally got it. The brilliance of this woman is unmatched.

The last song "The Manuscript." Now and then she rereads the manuscript Of the entire torrid affair

"The entire torrid affair" meaning the last decade (probably longer, but I am sticking with 2014-2024). The title isn't lost on me and many others - The Man-U-Script.

The last segment of the song

The only thing that's left is the manuscript One last souvenir from my trip to your shores Now and then I reread the manuscript But the story isn't mine anymore

She is closing the chapter on all of it. It's over, the countless theories, the stories we all have created about her. They're our stories now, we built them into a formidable, monstrous entity that took on a life of its own. "The last souvenir" are her words to us on this album. From the Swifities, to the Gaylors/Kaylors, to the haters, critics, industry, fans, media. She won't play this game anymore. Taylor gave enough clues on this album to make EVERYONE'S theory plausible (Karlie, Joe, Matty, Travis, Harry, Kim etc). She connected threads to come full circle, which brings us back to "1989," that 1980s syth-pop (hello! "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart"). This is why she and Jack Antonoff brought us back to where it all began, Karlie Kloss and #Kissgate (Dianna Agron, too, who can forget "Wonderland). Aaron Dressner summons moments within this records of the two albums that fractured my soul, F & E. That folky-pop melody that gets into your skin to change the DNA. No joke, I sobbed listening to "Folklore" and "Evermore."

With TTPD, Taylor comes in like a thrashing, tumultuous storm; at times seething and others admonishing. She is singing to herself, for herself and without need of approval from the mainstream radio (or anyone else). TTPD is messy, too much, not enough, vulnerable, real, relatable and she is tired of our collective shit.

Back to "The Manuscript" This Era has come to an end and she is leaving us with the ruins, the aftermath of what she went through: being forced to hide who she really is, having to placate the rabid fans who believe the stories of every boy she has ever dated. She has had zero privacy and the only safe place Taylor has ever had was her music, she is the ONLY one who knows to whom she sings. Does she love her fans, of course, but Mother is tired and done. She is ready to come clean and live the life she has crafted to keep in secret in order to protect the innocent.

The beards, NDAs, slight of hand, she is smashing all that we know. It's not her reflection she seeks to shatter, it's the illusions. In "Fortnight" the nurse, a woman (cannot convince me that it's not Karlie. A doorframe is 6'8" and that nurse is about 5" shorter that frame, which would make that person 6'3" :), comes to save her, gives her the key to set her free. The men in the video are the ones who are torturing her. Like the last 10 years, The poet has been tortured by the department of men: Joe, John, Conner, Jake, Harry, Calvin, Tom, Joe, Matty, Travis, Scooter, Scott, and the list goes on.

It's "Robin" that has got a choke-hold on me.

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness

She is singing to a child, a kid, and I am going to say a little boy. Is this song about Levi? I am going to say yes. Hands down the gem of the album, and our cue to realize she is telling us what is next, her family, the loves of her life: Karlie and the kids. That is what she wants and that will be her next chapter. We struggle to interpret the Taylor that is always ten steps ahead of us. Her Eras Tour, this will be the last one for a while. Once it has wrapped, I wouldn't be surprised if she disappeared for a spell. Will she produce more work, sure. Perform, probably, but this last decade has taken a toll, and this tour has been a herculean effort. Hence, its wild success. Could she retire (FLORIDA)? It's possible, but she would never tell us, we would have to figure that out for ourselves.

I have more to say, but it's late and I am sleepy. As I get lost in the piano of "The Manuscript" I am reminded of the book "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo"

Not sure if anyone is going to see or read this, but I needed a place to write my thoughts about this extraordinary album that I almost let slip through my fingers. Good night and sleep well everyone <3

[kamiversee]

𓆩 Crown of Sin 𓆪

Segment I Chapter: Four

❀ ~ Synopsis > In which you’re a princess who's given a total of six months to converge & inaugurate a solid plan secure enough to rid you of your fated marriage arrangements to Naoya Zenin. 

❀ ~ Content > language, dry humping, thigh riding, dirty talk, pet names, sexual tension, flirting, (slight) fluff, etc.

❀ ~ Word Count > 5.6k

❀ ~ Pairings > jjk men & women x f!reader.

{ chapters m!list }

——Spending seven days in a carriage is not for the weak. It’s a bumpy journey to the northern nation and takes quite a toll on all those traveling. It brings about stress and even a faint sense of dread after a while. At some point, you’d find yourself staring out the carriage window for what seemed like hours, merely watching as you passed by similar-looking trees over and over and over again.

Nightfall didn’t fare much better for you either. Or at least, it didn’t for the first few days. You’d gone on long trips like this before in your lifetime but this still felt different in some ways. So, on about the fifth night of your travels, you wanted to relieve yourself of the stress the road had brought you.

It was late and the carriages were still on a steady roll toward your destination, having taken a decent break earlier in the day. Nothing much had changed since your original departure. You still rode with Higuruma, occupying the same carriage as you whilst Yuki and the driver remained outside. Or at least, that’s what you did on most nights—not this one though.

No, instead, Higuruma ended up sharing a carriage with Utahime for the night per your request since you wanted Yuki to ride inside with you. Only two days of travel remained before you would set your eyes on that world-renowned blue-eyed prince again. But before you could even make it near the damn castle, you just had to rub one out.

Every day of travel was far too stuffy and cramped inside the carriage, despite it being rather roomy—it was more of a metaphorical kinda stuffy. Every day you found yourself near boredom just from watching the moving and ever-changing terrain outside the window, a boredom which only worsened at night given the dim lighting.

Combining that with the one or two wheel mishaps your crew ran into during the journey, you were definitely feeling anxious. Typically, when such anxieties settle upon you, you make sure to find time for yourself but when you’re traveling, it’s rather difficult to do so. Hell, everyone basically told you no straight up when you asked to ride alone for a while.

Which is more or less how you ended up with Yuki inside the carriage now. Someone just had to have their eyes on you so… have her eyes on you she did. But it wasn’t only her eyes that were on you currently. Those gorgeous hands of hers were latched to your hips as you moderately began indulging in your ‘harem duties’.

Yuki’s entire expression was focused upon you, a mix of anxiousness and lust dripping from her eyes alone. “This is… torture, princess.” Her voice left her throat in a mere whisper given your predicament. 

With a hand on her shoulder, your lips parted by her ear, thighs spread out over one of her own, and panty-clad cunt grinding in a delicious friction over her tensed leg—perhaps you truly were torturing the poor woman. “Just a few more minutes, please?” You uttered against her skin, voice sweet enough to make yet another chill sliver down her spine, “I’m… close.”

The hands hoisted onto your hips tightened in grip and Yuki found her teeth gritting slightly, “You could’ve finished by now if you’d let me—”

A jerk of your heat against her thigh causes her sentence to fall short. “We can’t,” You practically whine to the woman.

Yuki rolls her eyes and she can feel the tips of her fingers just itching to move against you. She knows she could make you feel so good if you’d just let her. “Who would know?” She asks you, angling her head toward you so that her gaze can fall on yours.

As you two meet one another in a mutual low-lidded stare, a small frown tugs at your lower lip and you sigh. “I would. The first night is—”

“Important, yes yes I know,” She cuts off in a huffed exhale, “We can’t have sex because that may make other (future) members of your harem feel bad or whatever.”

Your hips slow to a stop and you find your lashes bat at the woman before you. “It’s more than that. The person that I spend the first night with is important. Choosing this person is something I’ll do once I return home with the full harem.”

Yuki’s face tenses slightly, her brow twitching upward in faint irritation, “You already chose me first to join your harem, so what’s the difference?”

“I chose you first out of convenience more than anything.” You tell her. She flashes you a pointed look and you’re quick to make up for what you’d just said. “N-Not to say I wouldn’t have asked you to join if you lived far from me but… well, you are always quite close to me. It was only natural that I chose you first.”

She nods off, her head turning elsewhere, “So, does my being your first member mean almost nothing?”

You shrug a little and debate telling her a white lie but the truth leaves you before anything else, “Essentially, yes.” 

“I see—”

“Though,” You cut off as you lean toward her line of vision again, “It doesn’t make you any less special to me. Whether you were my first or last, I would desire you all the same.”

At that, you can feel the way the muscles in her thigh tense up and it makes your breath hitch. Pressing right up against your slick folds, you’re suddenly aware of the situation you’re in with the woman all over again. 

Her hands shift up to hold your waist and her hips roll slightly as she adjusts herself against the carriage seating, leaning her torso towards you and tilting her head as if she were about to kiss you. “If what you say is true then let me reciprocate this desire of yours,” Yuki whispers.

Everything about this woman makes it so very difficult for you to restrain yourself. Your eyes can’t help but fall down onto those pretty pinkened lips of hers. One push forward is all it would take for you to melt into her entirely and yet, you lean yourself back.

Whispering, “Yuki,” As she tightens her grip on your waist and tugs you toward her once more.

“One kiss won’t kill you.” She practically grits out as she eyes down each pant and every gasp that’s elicited from your throat.

It takes you a moment of self-deprecation not to give in to her right then and there. The tension that lies between what little space remains between her body and your own is thick and heavy with lust. Yuki looks like a second longer without having her head in between your legs and your taste dripping off her chin will be the death of her. You don’t think your body has ever felt so hot beneath someone else’s gaze before.

You can feel every ounce of pure want that exudes from her, the desperation lying in her fingertips to get them soaked with you, and the restrain on her body she holds not to flip you over against these damn seats and—

“It isn’t fair to the others.” You eventually whisper out, your voice carrying an unnoticeable waver to it.

“How so?” Yuki asks immediately without giving you time to even answer. Instead, her tongue swipes over her lips and she sighs, “Does that mean the harem member you kiss first will be of greater importance than the rest?”

Your thighs involuntarily squeeze around her, “No.”

“Then what is it?” She presses, flicking her sights up to your greedy gaze. 

You take a deep breath. “I am not good at… holding myself back. If I let you kiss me,” You pause again and your eyes dance back and forth between her left and right. Even amid the dark of the night, you’ll never figure out what it is about those deep pools of chocolate brown that cause your head to spin in the way it does, “I will only long for more.”

“So long for more,” She sears. Yuki narrows her eyes at you and her lips brush up against your own, “Long for all of me in the same way the rest of your body is right now.”

A whine exits the back of your throat, “We cannot.”

Yuki groans. “You say that but I know how badly you want to,” She then pushes up on her toes a bit, causing her leg to grind up against your cunt, “...I can feel you throbbing every time I open my mouth.”

All in one breath, “Then stop talking.” You practically choke out as your fingertips dig into her shoulders.

Yuki merely pouts to mock you, “Oh, but she does the same thing when I look at you too.” Teasingly, her head then weighs down a bit and she kisses the tip of your chin, gaze still locked onto you.

This time you groan a little and your head falls back, “Avert your eyes.”

She seizes the opportunity right then to latch her lips onto the center of your throat, kissing you in a hungered manner whilst her teeth graze over your sensitive skin. “Or touch you..” She continues, talking right against you.

The kiss alone not only sends a spiral of chills down your spine but it also earns a grind of your hips and an unintentional moan of her name, “Yuki..”

“Fuck,” She smiles against your neck, trailing down with her hot kisses, “Don’t say my name like that.”

A hand of yours leaves her shoulder and sinks up into her hair as you too crack a smile, “I can’t help it.”

You hear this throaty noise leave her lips just as she meets your collarbones and her hands begin to snake around your waist, gliding down, “I know, I know—slips off your tongue so easily, doesn’t it?”

She shouldn’t be touching you in the way that she is but all thoughts of protesting against it nearly fly out the window as she grabs a greedy handful of your ass. To which your body arches against her touch and your steady dry humping picks up in pace. 

Lost in it, and just barely finding it in you to respond to that question of hers, you end up murmuring to the woman so faintly that it almost misses her ears, “M-Mhm..”

Her breathy chuckle can be felt slipping down along the exposure of your skin, tickling you in indescribable ways. Trying to hide the sudden cockiness that just gave her, she snickers, “Aw, what’s this? We’re mumbling now?”

You try to snap back into yourself but when her hands return to your hips and she begins to guide them against her thigh, all hope is lost. “No, I-I just…”

Yuki lifts her head and watches as your eyes flicker due to the addictive friction her guidance is stimulating you with, “Just what?”

Your words fall so heavily from your mouth, as if unintentional. “I didn’t know you could say such crude things.”

“Princess,” She purrs, clearly mocking your title now in contrast to her usual tone of respect. “If you thought that was crude then you should allow me to have a long ‘n deep conversation with this sweet thing down here,” Every breath she takes is softer than the last but it slaps against your already fiery skin and only has your mind dizzying more and more by the second. 

To emphasize that little comment of hers, Yuki angles her hand elsewhere, resulting in a firm press of her thumb against your clothed clit. Your entire body reacts all at once and your head drops forward as a restrained moan exits your lips, just barely, “Hah… Yuki, please.”

She grins and her thumb rolls over your sensitive bud, causing your legs to clench around her again, “Oh? You like this, huh?” Her voice hits your ear this time and it feels as though that entire side of your face, along with the rest of your body, was burning up in a flustered array of heat.

You don’t dare to part your lips and even attempt to speak as her gentle touch continues. So, instead, you give her a hum and a lazy nod, “Mhmm..”

“Mumbling again? C’mon, don’t get all shy on me,” Yuki scoffs. She then takes her other hand and redirects it to your face, forcing your head up so that she can see your expression again. It’s almost in slow motion the way she presses the pad of her thumb against your bottom lip, staring right into your mouth and then whispering, “Here, open f’me.” 

You’re inclined to follow her every command, almost as if the roles between the two of you had changed. Your eyes have the sheerest gloss of pleasure husking over them and you appear way more desperate than you realize. Just as you obediently comply with her request and find your mouth opened into a small ‘o’ shape, Yuki flashes you a proud smile.

“Thereee we go,” She praises lightly, “Now don’t hold back. If you’re gonna moan then moan, I wanna hear you.”

Just then, your hips can’t help but rut further against her leg, your knee steadily drawing closer and closer to her crotch. It makes you wonder if she’s just as aroused by this as you are right now, especially considering you’re busy leaving quite the slick mess on her thigh. 

Batting your lashes as the sound she’s listening so intently for nearly escapes your throat, you whisper, “I can’t be loud, what if Shiu hears?”

The corner of her lips twitched smugly, “I’m sure he wouldn’t complain.”

“But—”

“Don’t think about him right now though, only me.” She cuts off, swiping that thumb still latched to your clit downwards a bit as you roll your hips forward. You again suppress the sound that tries to leave you, despite your mouth being open, and she frowns. “When I tell you to moan, I’m telling you to do so for me. If you’re gonna get off on my thigh like this then it’s the least you can do, no?”

Whining instead, you just pout. “Y-You’re cruel.”

Yuki’s eyes dilate at the sound of that, knowing she could be so much ‘crueler’ to you right now if she really wanted to. “Aww, now you’re just sayin’ things.” She teases.

“Shut up,” You fire back with quickness.

To your surprise, she actually does. You’re not sure if that helps you right now though, given the situation you’re in… Her silence only works to her benefit because the fewer words she spouts, the more attention she can give to that twitching clit of yours that her thumb soon only stimulates more and more and more.

One finger and you’re a sopping mess against her within minutes. From all those bratty complaints of yours to burying your head into the crook of her neck as you moan her name against her skin, Yuki finds that it’s in her lack of speech that she can truly do what she’d wished to from the very beginning. 

When you earlier first proposed the idea of getting yourself off, she immediately offered herself to you—all of her, right then and there without stutter. Of course, you turned that down and told her something about first nights being important blah blah blah… yeah, none of that seems to matter much now when you’re humping her thigh and blindly sucking on her neck out of desperation to reciprocate the pleasure you’re feeling.

That first suck catches her entirely off guard and your ears don’t fail to catch the heightened gasp she lets out. To which you only grow greedier and greedier. You let Yuki continue using that thumb of hers as your body melts entirely into her own, pussy leaving a slicked mess against the fabric of her uniform, and before you even realize what you’re doing—there are hickies forming all along that surprisingly sensitive neck of hers.

The first moan she lets out is when you kiss the area where her neck and shoulder meet, the sensation another surprise to her. Then, another leaves her lips when your body presses up against hers and your knee meets her crotch fully and firmly. Her thumb stammers in its roll against you and the moan she chokes out is loud enough for you to lift your head and look at her face.

Now she’s flushed. Her cheeks are the reddest you’ve ever seen and yet, that dominating look in her eyes has yet to soften. The sound of pleasure she let out was embarrassing, sure, but that didn’t stop her from keeping the rest of her composure (for the most part, anyway).

You’d never wanted to kiss someone more in that moment. Your orgasm was approaching and Yuki was right there, less than a hair’s length away from her lips being mashed into yours. And then came the eye contact. Bold and unwavering, as if she were silently telling you to go ahead and let go—to which you do a mere few seconds later. 

Yuki smiles at you and coaxes you through your orgasm as cries of sweet sweet pleasure fly out your throat. You won’t let her kiss you and she knows it but she leans in and trails kisses from the corner of your mouth to the tip of your ear just to whisper, “That’s my girl,” You think your eyes cross a little with how much that drives you farther off the edge. “You look so pretty when you cum, did y’know that?”

A hand of yours meets somewhere near her chest as you clench onto her uniform, unable to form words at the moment.

She lets out a gentle giggle. “Too vulgar for you?”

Your head shakes. Truth be told, you’ve heard words of filth before, you’re no stranger to it. But hearing it from Yuki is… it’s so wildly different and new for you. Her voice is usually so stern and protective around you but this side of hers is a whole new world.

Not that any of that is meant to be a complaint or anything, you quite like this side of her. It truly excites you to think of the day you return home with her and the rest of your harem, hopefully, and you’ll be able to experience all of which that mouth of hers has to offer. 

So, with all that said and done, the two of you eventually work around the carriage to clean yourselves up. Yuki ends up having to ask Shiu to stop so she can visit another carriage for a change of clothes but, luckily for her and all else involved, no one questioned anything.

And thus, that fifth night of traveling ended both smoothly and satisfactorily—leaving you on cloud nine and you grew closer and closer to the Northern Kingdom.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Less than a day later each view you took of the scenery outside your classy carriage window consisted only of snowy plains that stretched on for miles and miles beyond the oath the carriages rode through. The weather had changed so much within only a few days. The temperature had been steadily declining as you’d traveled but despite the few layers of extra clothing you had to put on every now and then, you were truly surprised to see snow.

By now it was your seventh day of being in a carriage and you were so ready to get out of it for longer than a few hours of rest. Your crew was escorted throughout the city and another thing that caught you off guard was the crowds of people you saw gathered outside their homes and shops, all pointing at the royal vehicle you occupied.

You made sure to flash a few smiles and waves from your curtain-parted window, cheers and excited chatter heard even from the warm interior you rode so highly by in. You also took a mental note of how different the towns you rode through in the Northern kingdom were in comparison to the towns you not-so-sneakily visit so often back at home. 

Mixes of gray and brown mesh in with the clumps of snow gathered on each side of the paved road ahead, something so small yet so different in comparison to where you live. You don’t get snow so it’s truly a natural phenomenon you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from. 

In the towns, the snow was a mushy mess seemingly discarded to the roadsides. While up in the mountains or even deep into the forests, the snow remained mostly untouched by the hands of man—laying so sparklingly perfect in between tall trees completely void of leaves. 

When you finally started to approach the massive palace of destination, your eyes nearly tripled in size. Maybe it was because you’d been on the road for so long, or perhaps it was how long it’d been since you’d laid your eyes on a castle that’s not your own but… The Gojo Palace was absolutely massive. It had to be twice the size of your own, constructed into just a glorious piece of architecture that your eyes can hardly figure out where to focus.

Oh, and just in case it wasn’t obvious by now, yes, this was your first time visiting the Gojo Estate. Even though you’ve done your research on just about every other nation out there and know the palace was built many many years ago, it damn there shines and glimmers beneath the distant glow of the sun that casts its warmth down on it.

You feel like a kid in a candy store as the carriage pulls along past the absurdly large gates, parted open just for your arrival. Oh, it was so beautiful. If the palace itself paired with the clean spreads of snow wasn’t enough for you, then surely it was the arrangement of blue roses laid out along the courtyard path that caused your heart to thump in an even purer excitement.

As the wheels below and the hooves of horses ahead finally came to a stop, you were shuffling out of your seat faster than ever to race to the door. Luckily to you, your carriageman was popping your door wide open for you just as you readied to do so yourself. A gust of frosty cold air came bristling into the warm confines of the vehicle and you shivered a bit before taking Shiu’s offered hand and stepping out.

Yuki had been riding inside with you ever since that… night. But, she exited shortly after you, given how ecstatic you were to breathe some fresh air for the first time in hours. By the time she steps out and gets a chance to look at you, you’re rushing toward the nearest bed of roses available to you and inspecting them up close.

Your knight shudders beneath the cold air but warmth finds her internally as she, along with just about everyone else, watches you joyously run your fingers over the vibrant blue petals laid below. The ends of your dress and the short cloak-like jacket you have on are furred in white softness that keeps your body protected from the blaring cold that surrounds you.

But then again, you were too distracted with roses in a shade you’d never seen them in to notice the wind gusting over your face. The petals of each flower were as smooth as velvet to the touch and slipped so elegantly over your gloved fingers. 

Consumed by your admiration, you hardly notice as a pair of feet approach you until shoes meet your line of vision and you chuckle. “I suppose this is rather unladylike of me, huh?” You utter to who you assume is Higuruma based on the footwear.

“Unladylike isn’t the word I would use for it, Your Highness.” The man responds. Then the feet shift against the floor and you begin to lift your head to meet eyes with this person because that voice didn’t sound quite like Higuruma at all.

With your head lifted slightly, the man beside you comes to a crouch, mirroring how close you are to the ground. “Surprising, perhaps,” He continues, not quite yet placing his eyes on yours but instead looking down to the same plant you’d most recently touched. “But unladylike? Nah.”

When your gaze is met with a head of frosty-white hair, a side profile gorgeous enough to lead any woman to swoon on the spot, a tailored darkened navy-colored suit that’s embroidered with mixes of golds and light pastel blues, and the overwhelmingly familiar presence of Satoru Gojo, you nearly fall over.

Your jaw falls open as you rush to speak but he cuts you off with a curt turn of his head, dazzling azure eyes settling onto your features and leaving you completely speechless. “If I’d known you traveled all this way just to get distracted by some pretty flowers, I would’ve had them removed,” Gojo says to you lightly.

Batting your lashes at him, words still failing to leave your lips, you find yourself in awe. He has the face of an angel, every feature sculpted to perfection. Each and every detail was so clear—eyes deeper than any ocean you’ve ever seen, decorated by lashes prettier than any flower, delicate too, and the rest of his face was just…

You exhale so heavily that perspiration forms in the air. Gojo doesn’t fail to look down at your steadily parted lips and he smiles before averting his eyes. “That was a joke, by the way.” He hums, the tips of his ears a faint shade of pink. “I’m actually quite pleased to see you adore these roses so.”

“They’re gorgeous,” You manage out, earning his sharp gaze on you. “The roses, I mean. They are a delicacy to the eye, I haven’t been this twitterpated by flowers in a while.”

The corners of his lips curve and before you know it, he’s smiling at you. Gojo then nods his head to you slightly and his arm jerks a bit. You look down and notice he’s plucked the rose that bloomed the most, its petals laid out in pristine fashion. He then breaks a bit of the stem off and tucks it back into the bed below and then lifts his hand to you.

Your head pulls away as he nears you, “Are you seriously…”

“If you’ll allow me to,” Gojo hushes before sinking what's left of the rose’s stem into your hair. “I know it’s cliche but please, this shade of blue looks absolutely stunning on you.”

When his hand leaves your hair, you grin. “Does it?”

The prince in front of your scoffs, cocking his head back a bit, “Have you ever known me to lie?”

“A lot can change in two years, Satoru.” As soon as his name leaves you, you notice his entire expression shift.

Gojo hums to acknowledge your spoken words and then he pushes himself to stand up straight. His hand shoots down seconds later to help you to your feet, to which you accept and allow yourself to be tugged upright. Still holding your hand, he tips his head to the side and narrows his eyes at you.

“Damn right,” He murmurs beneath his breath. You feel it before you notice it but his gaze rakes over all of you. From your cloaked head to the ends of your fur-brimmed gown, Gojo takes in every bit of you just as you had him. Once finished, he leans forward and lifts your hand to his face.

Your eyes light up in a mix of surprise and amusement—watching as he pinches the fabric of your glove between two fingers and slips it right off of you just to press his chilly lips onto your bare skin. 

What’s one peck becomes two or three dangerous kisses that trail to your wrist before he shoots his eyes up to you and smirks, “You’ve changed quite a bit since I last saw you.”

A lighthearted scoff escapes you. “Is it safe to assume you mean that kindly?”

He straightens himself up and pulls your hand along with himself, causing your body to lull in closer to him. “Why of course, my lady.” Gojo winks, “I only mean to say that you’ve…”

You weigh nearer, “I’ve…?”

Shaking himself out of his stupor, “Grown even more stunning than I uh, remember.” Gojo finishes off,

Your brows shoot up questionably and a sly smirk preys upon your face, “Oh. Were my looks not memorable before—“

“No, no,” Gojo interjects, his eyes widening, “Y’know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what—“

“Sweetheart,” He sighs, “Can we just drop our formalities for a moment and will you please embrace me like you used to?”

You snort at how long it took him to ask you that. “You desire a hug?”

The prince nods, “I do.”

“Then initiate it—“ Before any more smugness can leave your mouth, he’s pulling you into his arms and his staggering frame is engulfing you. 

Toned arms wrap around your waist and his head pretty much buries itself into your neck as your arms wrap up around his and you both share a hug that has man onlookers gasping. Your relationship with Gojo has always treaded so very carefully along the borders of something scandalous and something completely harmless—something of which many, including yourselves, struggle to identify the truth beneath it all.

“I’ve quite missed this,” Gojo murmurs in between the most sensitive crevices of your neck, causing you to be a bit jumpy within his arms.

In an honest attempt to distract him from your sensitivity, you squeeze him a bit tighter, “‘Missed what? Hugging me or simply me?”

He inhales strongly and exhales through his mouth, “Both.” Gojo whispers in a dream-like sigh. “Has anyone ever told you that you smell like heaven on earth?” The man asks while prying his face away from your skin.

Both of you continue to hold one another as you get lost in casual conversation. “Something of the sort, yes. You,” Your hands slip from around his neck and down to his chest. Peering forward, you smile radiantly in the face of your old-time friend, “Prince Satoru, smell like the beach. Which is so peculiar considering…” You look around, “Where you live.”

Gojo picks up on the playfulness you display and instantly matches your energy, “You think we don’t have beaches?” He replies with a dramatic gasp.

As he does so, his hands leave your waist and return to your gloveless hand, motioning to glide the accessory back onto you.

Your eyes fall to his actions and something about this conversation is making your smile refuse to fade, “Do you?”

He’s quiet for a moment while working your glove back on and you can’t help but cling onto every lingering touch of his fingertips to your bare skin. Something so subtle and yet… It was like ever since that night with Yuki, you’ve been overly aware of every touch upon your skin. Or, hey, perhaps it was just him. 

You’ve always known Gojo to be quite touchy, after all. 

“...No.” He eventually mumbles out in response to your question prior.

Your smile widens in triumph, “I didn’t think so.”

“Whatever,” He keeps your hand cupped in his own and scoffs. Then, he lifts your fingers to his lips again and kisses your clothed knuckles, “But seriously, I did miss you.”

You eye down his kiss and unintentionally soften your gaze, “It wouldn’t have hurt to send a letter or two, y’know.”

Running his thumb across the curves of your knuckles, Gojo gives you a toothy smile along with another wink, “True but uh, that goes both ways, beautiful.”

Now, while your banter with Gojo carries on in ways concerning to few, your knight and royal advisor stood idly by—merely watching the scene unfold in front of them.

They find themselves standing at a distance, having backed away from you the moment they saw Gojo rushing out to be the first to greet you. Even his guards and knights stood at a distance, giving the two of you nothing but your own little bubble of security and privacy for as long as either of you willed it so. 

“Have they always been this close?” Yuki asks the man standing to her left.

Higuruma shrugs. “I am not sure. I know little about their relationship, believe it or not.”

Yuki scoffs, “Can’t you advise against all that uh…” Her eyes narrow in on the way Gojo’s yet to remove his hand from you—seemingly always having this need to touch you. “Contact.”

“It is not my place to do so, Lady Tsukumo.” Higuruma huffs casually, turning to her shortly after, “Though, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound rather jealo—”

“They’re walking away.” She cuts off.

Higuruma, along with a nearby and also idle Utahime, looks over to you and Gojo only to spot your arm looped and locked with one of his as he talks your ear off and walks with you toward the palace.

Utahime is the first to start pacing toward them, “Seems like someone forgot about us rather quickly…” She frowns to herself whilst carrying a few of your necessary items in her arms.

Yuki and Higuruma are frozen where they stand for reasons unknown but after you and Gojo are about halfway to the palace entry doors, their feet remember how to operate and they move to follow.

The sound of you laughing at something inaudible from Gojo can be heard and Higuruma’s shoulders slump, “This is going to be a loong day, Lady Tsukumo.”

“Tell me about it.” She scoffs.

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[sentientcave]

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Chapter 4 - Left Hand Woman

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Read on AO3

Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, No Y/N, Gryphon time, A spot of magic, No one knows how to communicate, I've given up on any semblance of reader neutrality, sorry, Sweetpea is her own woman and you are just along for the ride, Farah is here now! We love Farah

~7.2k words - MDNI

Someone sends a young woman from the staff to help you dress the next morning. She’s shy and mousy-haired, and you have to ask her what her name is twice before she haltingly tells you that it’s Tiphanie. She goes entirely pink when you tell her that you think it’s a very pretty name, and that you hope you’re not pulling her away from anything more important.

“I’ve been tidyin’ your room, highness,” she says turning even pinker. “Or, um, tryin’ to. You leave things so neat there’s been nothin’ for me to be doin’.”

“I’m used to living on my own,” you explain. “I’ve been in charge of keeping my own space tidy for years now.”

“On your own?” Tiphanie asks, aghast. “But your wicked father sold you away to the giants in the mountains so they’d help him in the war, and they kept you in a cage and made you sing to them like a songbird, until Sir Ghost came flyin’ in on his gryphon and rescued you.”

Is that how they’ve explained your absence? You unwrap your hair, laughing. “Oh goodness, no. I was living in a town not all that far from here. Out in the country. Not sold off or captured by anyone.”

“Well, then what was sir Ghost gone so long for, if he wasn’t travellin’ through the wastes and fightin’ monsters lookin’ for you?” she asks, blinking at the cloud of tightly curled hair you’ve let down, like she’s not entirely sure if she should be doing something about it. “He’s been gone three years, and then he came back with you— If you’re tryin’ to put on a brave face about it, I understand, highness, but what you’re sayin’ don’t make any sense. You wouldn’t’ve stayed away so long if you was just a few towns away.”

It’s a bit funny that she’s so insistent that it makes more sense that you’d been held captive in the distant mountains than simply living your life peacefully close by, but you have to admit, it’s certainly the more compelling story. “Well, the giants made me keep my own room tidy,” you say, splitting your hair into three segments so you can braid it down your back in one thick plait. “I only had to sit in the birdcage when they were entertaining guests.”

“I knew—” she cuts herself off with a little yelp, catching sight of movement at the window.

You glance over, and it’s just Nox, landed on the balcony, shaking her wings out. “Thank you for your help, Tiphanie,” you say, smiling at her reassuringly. “I should say hello to Nox.”

She nods, wide-eyed, and gives you a wobbly curtsy as you step out to the balcony.

“Hello, my darling,” you croon to Nox, holding your arms out. She presses herself against your chest, making a strange, warbling purr as you scratch behind her tufted ears. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you yesterday, pretty girl.”

If she's offended by your negligence, she doesn’t hold a grudge. She hops backward and gently tugs at one of the loose curls around your face, cawing happily at the way it bounces back into shape when she lets go, wiggling her wings a little playfully.

“Sweetpea, we’re down ‘ere, whenever you’re ready,” Ghost calls up from the courtyard. When you look over the edge, you can see that all four of them are down there, sitting around a table you hadn’t noticed before. “Nox’ll ‘op down with you.”

“One second,” you tell Nox, giving her one last scratch under the chin before you dash back inside for the book Kyle lent you. When you return to the balcony, she kneels down enough that you can climb onto her back carefully, and straightens up once you’re settled in place. Inky black wings spread out on either side of you, and she jumps into the air, headed upwards rather than down like you expected, her strong legs landing lightly and launching off the low roof on the other side of the courtyard, wings catching the wind. Your stomach plummets on her first leap, and you grip the saddle tightly, terror closing your throat tightly against the scream that builds up inside your chest.

Wind rushes in your ears, the sound of your heartbeat the next loudest thing. You take a steadying breath and open your eyes to a picture of the castle, and the city beyond, laid out below you, towers as small as a child’s toy blocks, the river coiled around the eastern bank of the city, glittering like a serpent in the morning light. Nox’s wings are huge fully spread out, and when you twist in the saddle, you see that her back legs are stretched out behind, her big paws tilting one way or the other, adjusting her flight the way a true raven’s tail feathers would. She tips her whole body slightly to the side, starting a slow, circling descent, calling out joyfully, her rough croaks echoing eerily back to you, the sound bouncing off of the stone below. For a moment, it sounds like there’s a whole flock of gryphons, rather than just Nox.

You wonder if she’s lonely, being the only one here.

Nox settles back in the courtyard and sticks her beak in the fountain while you try to dismount. Your legs don’t fully cooperate, and you slide sideways out of the saddle, the returned grasp of gravity unkind and unrelenting. Solid arms catch you before you hit the ground, scooping you out of the air with one arm behind your back and the other under your knees.

“There you are,” John says soothingly. “You want some tea, love?”

You nod, still too frozen to insist on him putting you down. You’re not certain your legs will hold you.

“Nox, you naughty girl, you were just supposed to ‘op down! What if you’d dropped ‘er, eh? You’d be feelin’ pretty sorry about it now, wouldn’t you?” Ghost scolds the gryphon, standing next to her at the fountain, his hands on his hips. She just uses her beak to splash water at him in response, which earns her a pointed finger. “Oi! Don’t you sass me, you daft bird, she wun’t even buckled in.”

Nox deftly snatches the glove off of his hand and launches herself up to the roof, where she settles in on the tiles and pretends to gnaw on the leather, her cat’s eyes wide as saucers, tail twitching back and forth.

Kyle offers you a cup of tea and a smile that's on the shy side. You thank him, realizing a little too late that John has taken his seat with you still in his lap, his arms looped around you securely. “John,” you say sternly, twisting to look at him. “Did we not talk about this?”

“I don’t believe this was on your list of complaints, actually.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, whiskers twitching as he smiles. "Besides, you're trembling. I know I behaved terribly yesterday, but all I want is to take care of you. Are you so afraid that you'll like it?"

"That's not what I'm afraid of. I think people are getting the wrong idea about what my presence here means, and cozying up to you will not help matters." You hold the cup and saucer a little bit apart, so that the rattle of dishes doesn't draw attention to the fact that you really are shaking, and would have spilled all over yourself if the cup was filled all the way up. Not that there would be any disguising the fact from John, the way he wraps around you. "You know that this will only complicate things."

“Did someone say something to you?” John asks.

You take a sip of tea, eyes tracking Ghost as he took the last seat at the table. Typical of them to invite you to a table with only four chairs. “Tiphanie, the girl that was sent to help me this morning? She didn’t say anything outright, but it certainly sounded like she expects that I’ll be staying. And something about me being held captive by giants. And that Ghost was gone for three years? What on earth were you doing all that time?”

Ghost shrugged. “Told you already. Was keepin’ an eye on you.”

“For three years?”

“Started off just droppin’ by, but figured it’d be better to stick around. Was.” He sits back in his chair and folds his hands together. “Din’t ‘ave nothin’ better to be doin’.”

“You did, actually,” John says tiredly. “You were supposed to be the commander of my knights. Had to train Keller up for it instead.”

“An’ ‘e’s a sight better at the job than I’d’ve been,” Ghost replies. “Did you a favour, din’t I?”

“Wouldn’t’ve found Sweetpea without him either,” Kyle points out. “And Alex is much better with people than Ghost has ever been. It probably was for the best.”

You glance at Johnny, uncharacteristically quiet across the the table. He meets your eyes only for a moment, and then looks down at his hands, frowning. You're not sure if this is because of yesterday, or if something else is bothering him. He sneaks another look up, and drops his eyes again immediately when he finds you still watching him.

If it is about yesterday, you're glad that at least one of them has the decency to be ashamed of themselves. Price isn't acting the least bit concerned. His fingers are dug into the top of your thigh firmly, and his thumb keeps tapping a rhythmless pattern against your hip, distracting and wholly inappropriate. Kyle won't quite meet your eyes, but he seems hopeful that you'll let it slide and forgive him if he’s careful to make no further waves.

You'll forgive all three of them from a distance once you go home. You want your life back. You’ll do a better job of seizing that freedom this time— you think you might finally work up the nerve to talk to the blacksmith's tall apprentice, with those coal dark eyes that always soften when he looks at you. You’ve thought him handsome for a long while, despite, or perhaps because of, the scars that ripple over his skin, and now that you know that he hasn't spoken to you because of Ghost's interference, you feel hopeful that he might— Oh. Of course.

It's choking, how tight a leash these men have put on you.

“Was there something that you all needed from me?” you ask stiffly. “Or can I go?”

“You need to eat something, first off,” John says, squeezing your hip lightly. “Then down to the city to have that dress fitted, and to meet with Farah.”

“When I requested a woman to accompany me, I was anticipating a longer stay,” you point out. “I’m sure I’ll be fine without a chaperone for the rest of the day, don’t you?”

“I’d allow that, if you’ll stick close to me.” John’s voice is practically a purr, his lips too close to your ear.

You imagine tossing your cooling tea into his face, which is almost as satisfying as actually doing it would be, and freer from consequence. “I will not.”

He laughs. “Then Farah it is. You’re angry with three of us, and I don’t trust Ghost alone with you.”

“What did I do?” Ghost asked, clearly offended by the notion.

You sigh, and resign yourself to being watched. Even if this Farah person answers to John, you’ll be glad for a few moments away from these unbearably pushy men.

“We can move our little lesson to this afternoon,” Kyle offers, brown eyes hopeful. “And I’d like to join you this morning too. It’s been a while since I popped down to visit Rosie.”

“Why not head there now?” John asks. “Get a visit in, make sure things are in order, and Ghost can bring Sweetpea on Nox in a bit, if she’s up for a proper flight.”

Kyle gets up without objection. “Yes sir. I’ll see you there, Sweetpea.” His eyes linger on yours for a long moment before he turns to go.

You lean forward to set your tea on the table, and push John’s arms away roughly, taking Kyle’s abandoned seat rather than remain in John’s lap for another moment. He smiles serenely when you glare at him from your new perch, as unaffected by your ire as a mountain would be by a single drop of rain.

You regret kissing him. You hate that he’s handsome and smug and insufferable. It frustrates you to end that there’s so much of you that wants to melt under his touch, that there’s a glacial, undeniable give to your resolve. Warmth spreads through you every time he puts his hands on you, every time he gives you that cheeky grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

He gives you one of those smiles as he picks up your abandoned tea cup and sips from it, his mouth where yours had been, watching you so that you know it’s no accident. Yet more heat curls in your belly, like the press of his lips against the rim of the cup can still reach you.

Hateful man.

You feel a little better once you’re sitting in Nox’s saddle again, pretending not to notice the way both Johns stare when you shift your dress out of the way and buckle your legs into the waiting straps. And when you wrap yourself extra securely around Ghost, pressing your whole body against his back, it’s certainly not because you want either of them to feel any kind of jealousy.

This time you’re better prepared for the leap skyward, and your stomach doesn’t remain somewhere on the ground below. With Ghost to cling to, you feel safer looking down, even if it does still send a jolt through you.

The world spreads out below, distant and beautiful, like a painting with minute brushstrokes. You can even see a glimpse of green fields beyond the spread of forest, a near glimpse of home. It seems so close from here, but still far out of reach. Nox begins her descent only a moment later, and the glimpse of the far countryside dips out of view again. She didn’t have to climb so high, but you appreciate that she did, that the gryphon is so keen to show you the world from her perspective.

Simon touches the back of your hands, where they’re clasped tight around his middle, thumb running across your knuckles. Your heart aches curiously. You want to pull his mask off and see if you’re right, if he really has been living in your town as Simon the blacksmith’s quiet apprentice, if he’s the owner of the brown eyes that sparked warmth in your belly whenever he looked at you.

Maybe, if he is (and you’re nearly certain of it), he’ll come with you, when you leave once more. You’re afraid to ask such a thing, to test the weight of his oath to protect you against his loyalty to John. And John… Well, that was never going to go anywhere, no matter how much his kiss shook you to the core. There’s no sense mourning a choice you never had. He would find a queen elsewhere, and you would all be happier for it.

Just one more day. You’ll be glad to leave this behind, won’t you? It’s not as though it feels like any kind of homecoming, to return to this cursed place.

There are a few shrieks from the street below as Nox swoops down and lands on the cobblestone, onlookers ducking behind carts and into alleyways, although all of the terrified faces relax somewhat when they recognize you and Ghost, and then fear is replaced with wide-eyed excitement, whispered conversations springing up around you as you lean down to unbuckle your straps. Ghost is faster with his, and hops down to help you with the straps on your other leg while you’re still working on the first.

He lifts you clear of Nox’s saddle, and the closest shop door opens. “Princess!” Kyle’s sister, Rosie, rushes out of the shop and embraces you. She’s as pretty as Kyle is handsome, with a beaming smile that creases her face in just the same way. “Goodness, it’s been years. How have you been?”

“Well,” you say. “Life outside the city has been good to me.”

“I see that. I was so glad to see that you’d gained weight, when Kate sent your measurements. We always worried about you when you were younger. No appetite.” She pulls back and cups your face fondly. “You really are a sight for sore eyes, my lady. It will be good for the people to see you again, to know that you’re well.”

Her enthusiasm surprises you. You had always rather liked Rosie, when she worked at the castle, but you hadn’t expected a greeting like this, after so long. “I hadn’t realized— I mean, my father—”

Rosie laughs, the movement of her head making the pile of coily curls on top of her head bounce slightly. “Did you think we counted you party to your father’s crimes? No, princess. You’ve always been loved. There isn’t a soul in this city, perhaps not even in the whole of the country, who isn’t glad to know you’re safe and hale.”

Your heart twists. You had expected indifference, that no one would care one way or the other if you were here or gone. You hadn’t even considered that the people would be disappointed that you aren’t planning to stay. It’s one thing, to say you wish to leave to Price, but another to say so to Rosie, and a heavy thought indeed, knowing you’ll make a speech over it tomorrow.

“Come on, in we go,” Ghost says firmly, motioning for you and Rosie to get inside. “Keep a look out, hey Nox?” The Gryphon makes a low, gurgling sound in response and sits on her haunches beside the door.

There's a prickle of magic in the air, but perhaps it's just Kyle, the energy that crackles around him wherever he goes. He stands next to a dress form with a beautiful dark green gown hanging off of it. It's off the shoulder, with pearly beads and clusters of embroidered leaves and flowers in a pale cream colour all around the neckline and the cuffs of the sleeves, giving way to beautiful lace. You think that maybe the colour difference is too stark— You would have chosen a more subtle accent— but you politely say nothing of it. Perhaps this is what's fashionable these days. You certainly won't ask Rosie to make a serious alteration like that with less than a day of lead time. You only have to wear the dress for a few hours anyway.

Rosie and one of her assistants shoo Kyle away, and start taking the dress off the form. Ghost joins Kyle on a bench on the other side of the room, his bulky frame taking up most of the available space. Another assistant ushers you into another room and begins helping you take off your dress and settle a few extra layers of petticoats over the ones you're already wearing.

The shop bell rings, and you hear Nox make a churring sound. "Hello," a woman says, her pretty, accented voice carrying through the space without growing too loud, like she naturally knows how to command attention. "Sir Garrick, Sir Ghost. Good to see you."

"Always good to see you, Farah," Kyle says pleasantly. “It’s been too long.”

“Hardly. We never see each other when times are good, Garrick.”

“Times are good now,” Kyle replies.

“Hm.”

You twist to look behind you, thinking about going back into the other room to introduce yourself, and Rosie accidentally stabs you with a pin. “Hold still, my lady,” she chides. “We’ll just be another moment.”

Farah pushes past the curtain and stalks into the room. She’s small, even shorter than you are, but she has a hunter’s lean to her stride, and a sword strapped to her back. She’s dressed practically, leather pauldron on her left arm pieced together with her bracer with a jack chain, nearly balanced on the other arm, but without the heavier pauldron, to keep her sword arm freer. Her leather breastplate is scarred from battle, but well-maintained, and a small hand-crossbow that glitters with magic hangs from her thick belt, along with a knife and a quiver of bolts. Her hair is braided back from her strong-boned face, and although her expression is serious, thick brows drawn into straight, unimpressed lines, her dark eyes have a curious glint in them. “Princess,” she says as you turn, earning yourself another pin-prick. “I am Farah Karim. I’ve been told you have need of me.”

“John insists that I’m not safe without a sword-wielding escort,” you say wryly. “I disagree, but his knights will hardly let me out of their sight as it is.”

“Could be assassins lurking about, my lady,” Rosie says, warm brown eyes wide and worried. “We would hate to lose you so quickly, after just getting you back.”

You glance at Farah, and spot the slightest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You see what I’m dealing with?” you ask. “Everyone thinks I’m in terrible danger.”

“The danger likely comes tonight. With their envoy.”

You tip your head to the side. “No love for our neighbours, Commander?”

Farah huffs, crossing her arms and widening her stance reflexively. “No. My father’s lands are close to the border. I’ve seen the worst of them. While you were locked away in the palace, I saw villages burned, people slaughtered, foul magics leeching life from the very soil. You would be wise to be wary.”

“I suppose it’s naivete to think the peace can last.”

“No. It is hopeful. But you must project strength, or they will see that hope as weakness. Your cousin has given them leverage to oust John. So it falls to you to correct the course. We cannot fight another war amongst ourselves, or the wolves will be at our throats.” The challenge in her eyes is immistakable. Her perspective is valuable, and she offers it without pretense, as both warning an a test. Are you willing to listen? Or are you like so many others of your station, in your country and without, that only hear what they wish to hear?

“You don’t see minding me as beneath you?” you ask. “You lead a company of soldiers.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “My fighters are in good hands. Besides, I’m curious about you, princess. We might have been friends, had our paths not diverged. Perhaps we still can be.”

“I’d like that,” you admit.

Farah walks back out to speak with Ghost and Kyle while Rosie finishes marking adjustments. When you’re finally freed from the dress and get dressed again, Kyle and Ghost are both gone, and Farah is inspecting some spools of ribbon idly.

"I sent them home," she explains. "I suspect Ghost will be nearby and watching, but Gaz has gone back to his tower. He says he will be there all afternoon if you still wish to learn magic tricks from him." She wiggles her fingers vaguely, eyes creased with a smile.

"I think I should. It can't hurt to try."

"No. And it will give me a chance to go over castle wards and security."

Nodding, you bid farewell to Rosie and her assistants, and step out onto the street with Farah by your side. Nox is still waiting outside, basking in a block of sunshine. She stirs, getting up and stretching like a house cat, her feather-tufted tail lashing lazily behind her. You smile when Nox settles into her stride behind you and Farah, sticking her beak over your shoulder. You hook your fingers over the smooth black beak. “Just us girls, hey Nox?” you croon.

She churrs in response.

“The beast likes you,” Farah says approvingly. “Gryphons tend to be disagreeable, unless they’re hand-reared. Nox has famously bitten more than a few fingers.”

“Yours too?” you ask.

Farah laughs, shaking her head. “I know how to keep my hands to myself.”

“At least someone around here does,” you grouse.

“Price?” she asks, raising her thick brows. “Do you want me to speak with him?”

“I don’t think there’s much point. This will all be over soon enough.”

Farah frowns at that, her dark eyes studying you sidelong. “It doesn’t give him the right, no matter who he is to you. If he cannot behave, I will gladly remove a finger or two to remind him.”

“Really? I thought you were one of John’s people.”

“He may be the king, but I am not one of his sworn knights, nor am I a member of the army. He cannot command me, he can only ask if he wants something done,” Farah says, and there’s something in her tone that tells you that she’s had to remind John of this fact more than once. “If I am to be loyal to anyone in court, it will be you, and you alone.”

“Just like that?”

“I have a good feeling about you, princess. I think your people need you, and you will need allies of your own.”

Your stomach twists again. You’re beginning to doubt your resolution to leave. Maybe you really are needed here. Maybe you bring something vital that’s been missing for too long. Maybe things aren’t going as well as you had thought— You have to admit, your perspective is still limited, for all that you were living among ordinary citizens all this time. Your town is a prosperous one, along a good trade route, too far from any borders to face any significant dangers. There has been little strife, no awful storms, no disasters. This can’t be the case for the whole kingdom.

Maybe you should stay a few extra days, and go through the accounts and reports from the last few years, at least. If there’s something that’s been missed, you might have better eyes to find it. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, to stay on just a few days more. Especially once you’d made your speech and no one was labouring under the idea that you’d be staying forever. It would be easier to speak to people if you really were no longer a princess.

On to better things, as John had said.

Maybe there’s a place here for you. Not as a queen, but an advisor. Something to speak to John about later, perhaps. You’re sure he’d be happy for an excuse to keep you close.

But then again, maybe not. It’s a bitter thought, but his interest in you is very likely just based in your lineage, your claim to the throne. He has no need to keep you close once you’ve pledged your support to him. Better to send you away, lest you rescind that support when you have a large enough disagreement.

John is nothing if not pragmatic. You’ll be no use to him by the end of the day tomorrow.

And that’s good. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To go home, to be left alone, to take upon yourself a destiny of your own, that has nothing to do with where you’re from, and everything to do with where you’re going next?

“How did you become a mercenary?” you ask. Better to think about something other than yourself before you drive yourself mad with what-ifs and maybes.

“My father arranged a marriage for me, and I wanted to be a knight, like my brother Hadir was in training to be. It was an argument. In the end, I saw only two paths. I could do what was expected, but I knew even as a girl that would not be tolerable. I was too proud of my skills, eager to fight and defend people that needed me. So I took the second path, and left my home. I started off as a sell-sword, mostly caravan work until Hadir left his knight-master to come work with me, and the two of us started making a name.” She gives you a wry smile. “My parents were none too pleased with Hadir either. But they still speak to him.”

“You don’t talk to them at all?”

“Once in a while they send me a letter to remind me that the man who wished to marry me still hasn’t found another. That he’s still open to the match.” She rolls her eyes. “I think if he hasn’t been able to find a wife in all this time, there’s a reason for it.”

You laugh lightly. She has a good point.

By the time the two of you meander back to the palace, you do feel like you’re fast friends. Farah has a way of opening up without having to say much at all, her dark, pretty eyes sincere. Maybe it's something shared between you, not words exchanged, but who you both expected to become, how you both were raised to be something you wanted no part of. Farah is bolder than you, decisive and candle-quick, and you are a slow trickle of water, always taking the path of least resistance, but somehow you were both born of the same stuff. You understand each other.

Nox flies off when you reach the castle gates, and Farah and you split at the foot of Gaz's tower, her off to meet with the knight commander, and you to see if there's anything that you can learn. The book that Gaz had lent to you had been easy reading, especially with the annotations in his neat, scratchy writing, and the first two chapters had been more reminder of what you already knew. The third was about disrupting and dispelling magic, which seemed like it would be a useful place to start your lessons. Even if you expect that greater magics will be beyond your grasp, you can protect yourself by disrupting spells used against you.

By the time you reach the workshop door, you’re a bit warm and out of breath, the countless spiraling steps more effort than you’d like to admit, especially after a walk through the city. Why Kyle liked it was apparent just from looking at him, but you have a softer physique, and you’ve become quite unused to stairs over the years away from the castle. There are very few buildings taller than two stories back in town. You halt outside the door to catch your breath, glancing out the narrow window, through the slight warping of uneven glass panes.

“Isna right, Gaz, and even ye know it!” Soap’s heated voice seeps through the door. Kyle’s response is too low to make out, but Soap’s next words are clear. “She deserves better! Been nothin’ but kind to us.”

“She’ll get over it, Soap. You know it’s for the best.”

“The best for himself, sure, but I dinnae ken if it’s best for her.”

You sigh, torn between the impulse to eavesdrop and knowing that it’s wrong to do so. It’s not difficult to surmise that they’re talking about you. It would explain the look on Johnny’s face this morning and the feeling that things are not quite right that has been worrying at you all day. Perhaps John does intend to make you stay on in some capacity, to prop up his rule, which would be contrary to everything you’ve said you want. It wouldn’t be all that difficult to get the truth of the matter out of Soap later however— He seems uncomfortable with any level of duplicity.

The knock on the door silences the low, indecipherable sound of Kyle’s response. You rub your knuckles idly as the door opens, the tingle of magic clinging to your skin like cobwebs.

“Hello, Sweetpea.” Kyle greets you with a big smile. “I’m glad you decided to come up. Did you get through the reading I gave you?” He throws a look over his shoulder at Soap that cleary says go away.

“I did. I read through the first three chapters— I was wondering if we could focus on dispelling magic? I’m familiar enough with the bare basics, and if I’m only going to have time for one lesson, this seems like a good place to focus.” You reach out to brush Soap’s shoulder as he moves past you. “Can we talk later?”

“Of course, bonnie,” Soap says. “I’m always at yer service.”

“If you go find Farah, she might appreciate any insights you have on castle security. I think she went to speak with the knight commander.”

“Aye, could be helpful there. Go’ a nose for these things.” He taps his nose, his grin tinged with relief that you don’t seem angry with him for yesterday. “We’ll talk later, then.”

You step into the workshop and he steps out, and Kyle closes the door between you. “Dispelling magic could be a good place to start… How are you at sensing magic? If you have a natural affinity for it we can breeze past the first half of the lesson.” He takes your hand and gently pulls you over to the circle of iridescent stone.

“I think I might— I get this prickle when there’s magic around. I can’t say I always notice it, but I haven’t always thought to pay attention.” You sit on the ground inside the circle, noticing the way the buzz of the workshop fades away once you’re fully inside it. “I’ve been paying more attention here. More magic to notice, I suppose.”

“And a new environment.” Kyle says. “It’s easy to get used to the ambient magic in familiar spaces. You’ll get more attuned to the castle the longer you stay.”

“I hope so. I get all tingly whenever we’re in a room together,” you say, laughing lightly.

He settles down across from you, close enough that his knees nearly touch yours. “You sure that’s just the magic?” he asks, flashing his pretty smile at you. “It could be something else.”

“Could it?” You give him a smile in return, but yours is sharp around the edges, reminding him to mind himself. You’ve gotten a little weary of the flirting— It’s more John’s fault than it is his, admittedly, but you’re just tired of all the attention. You don’t want to flirt, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, and even if you really do like him plenty. You just want to learn a bit of magic, and it would be nice if he could focus. “Or do you think that maybe being handsome has skewed your perspective to think that every young man and woman you meet is attracted to you?”

“Could be that,” he agrees, unperturbed. “But no matter. Lets get to work.”

He runs through some breathing exercises, half-familiar ones that you remember the old wizard making you do for hours on end. Luckily Gaz seems satisfied with your control, and moves on quickly.

He asks you to keep your eyes closed while he sketches runes in the air, asking you to identify them. “It will help you sense when someone is sending a spell your way, or using magic in your vicinity,” he explains. “Knowing what’s going on is the first step to knowing how to dispel it.”

The first rune feels warm, and tastes oddly of smoke. “Fire,” you say easily. Kyle hums with approval, and sketches a new one. It’s cool, and drips down your spine. “Water?”

“Good. This one should be a bit trickier.”

It’s not. You’re familiar with light spells, you come across them more often than almost anything else. “Light.”

He runs through a few more. Earth, ice, moon, sun, shadow, music, metal, lock, key. All components of spells, and not spells on their own, each one leaving impressions on your skin, tastes on your tongue. Kyle seems more and more impressed as he works through his list, and you’re both laughing before long, enjoying a lesson that feels more like a game. “You have a knack for this. Figures the old wizard couldn’t see your talent— I had to fight him to get him to take me seriously too.” He clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “Let’s see… We can try an actual spell now. You can open your eyes, if you like.”

You open your eyes to look at him, pleased that he thinks you’re doing well. He smiles so prettily at you that at first you don’t notice the way magic curls around you, sliding up your neck like warm hands. You’re too distracted by the way Kyle smells, cedar and spice and ink and paper, the little scar just below his cheekbone, his wide hazel eyes fringed by thick lashes, the soft curve of his lips… You’ve always thought him handsome of course, you have eyes after all, but you’ve never wanted to kiss him so badly before.

It’s a charm spell. Something harmless for you to practice shredding apart. It makes sense for him to throw something innocuous at you, but he’s misjudged how much you already like him, and the charm is throwing you well past friendly suggestibility to wanting so badly that your hands tremble.

Knowing what it is, it’s easy to see how to unravel it, but you don’t really care to. It gives you an excuse to do something you want to do anyway. You pitch onto your knees and lean forward, bracing your hands on his thighs. His sweet, forest brown eyes widen with surprise, and he catches your face between his pretty, long-fingered hands, holding you back before you can kiss him.

“Wait,” he says quickly, his voice a quiet, anxious rasp. “It’s a charm spell, Sweetpea, I didn’t mean— You don’t really want to kiss me.” His fingers curl around your neck, like he’s fighting every instinct in him to hold you away and not draw you closer.

“Yes I do,” you say. “I just want to blame it on the spell.”

“Prove it,” he says.

It’s as simple as pulling a loose thread from knitting, unraveling magic that tastes sweet as fine white sugar on your tongue. Your cheeks burn, embarrassment settling in your stomach heavily. You should probably still be angry with him, you shouldn’t be thinking about how plush his mouth looks, or about how his pretty eyes fix on yours intently, the fire that he hides so neatly behind his quick-wit and natural charm rising to the surface. But you don’t move, and neither does he.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you say softly.

“Probably not,” he agrees.

And still, neither one of you tries to move away. He wets his lips, his gaze settling on your mouth. You swallow nervously. “Kyle—”

“Hells,” he says, angling his head slightly and closing the distance, slow enough that you could pull away, but quickly enough that he won’t lose his nerve halfway. His mouth is as soft as you anticipated, lips sliding over yours slow and sweet.

You move closer, and Kyle shifts his legs to either side of your knees to give you enough room, hands sliding down to your waist. You hum against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his solid shoulders. He kisses you for a long while before his tongue slips between your lips. He licks into your mouth, moaning, and the sound is just as pretty as he is, sending honey-sweet arousal through your veins to pool deep in your belly.

It would be easy to kiss Kyle forever— He makes no demands, keeps his hands on your waist or curled around your back, toying with, but making no attempt to undo, the buttons that march up your spine. He feels safe, and you know that he won’t push you for more, the way John would. Kyle keeps himself in check, holds himself back. It makes you all the more ready to melt for him.

It’s several long moments before he pulls back, lips swollen and eyes hot and hazy like a summer afternoon. “Princess,” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw. “I need to tell you something.”

There’s a soft chime from his desk, and John’s voice speaks into the workroom, as clear as if he were right there with you both. Kyle freezes, a hound caught with his nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been, hands tightening on your hips.

“Gaz? Is Sweetpea still with you?”

Kyle clears his throat. He looks at you so guiltily, you almost feel like you’re the one that’s done something wrong. “Um. Yes sir.”

“Good. The Lyudireki ambassador is here, and Kate too, if you’d like to speak with her before you join us, Sweetpea. I believe she’s gone to your room to wait for you.”John’s voice sounds amused. It makes Kyle nervous, if his grip is anything to go by. “Gaz, I’d like you to find Soap, and bring him to the green parlour. He can be a wolf, if he likes. It’s up to him.”

“Yes sir. We’ll be down in a minute.” The chime sounds a second time, and Kyle relaxes slightly. “Old man has terrible timing. Come on, Sweetpea. We’d better get to it.”

He stands and pulls you up along with him. "You didn't do anything wrong," you remind him gently. "I kissed you."

"No, I kissed you, Sweetpea. And it's my fault you wanted to. You wouldn't have if I hadn't charmed you." He sighed. "Price is going to—"

"Kyle, I can kiss anyone I want," you say stiffly. You resent the implication that a Price owns you, that he has any say in who you kiss or what you do.

"Well. I suppose so," he says doubtfully. "But we should go. You'll want to speak with Kate, yeah?"

Your stomach churns slightly. Kate has been notably absent for all this time, conveniently unavailable to explain. She knew. She knew everything, and didn't give you so much as a heads up. "Yes. I have some questions I'd like answered."

"Don't be too hard on her," Kyle said. "John didn't give her a choice."

"Everyone always has choices, Kyle. She should have told me what was going on."

"Would you have done things differently if she had?"

"What could be done differently? I'm not the foolish little girl everyone seems to think I am. I understand my position in all this better than anyone."

Kyle seems to have to response to that. He’s quiet all the way down the stairs, lost in his thoughts. You let him stay there.

It would be nice if everyone wasn't too afraid of what John might do or say to be honest with you. Although you do know that loyalty like he demands from his men isn't born from fear alone, or your father would never have been deposed. There’s love there too, and real trust.

Kyle leaves you at your door with a lingering kiss. You try not to blame him for the way his eyes dart down the hall before he does so, even if it makes you want to shove him away. You offer him a small smile instead, and step into your room.

Thanks for your patience everyone! I know it took me a hot minute to get this chapter out, but we're back, baby! And we're kissing Kyle about it.

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 -

Divider by CafeKitsune - Flower Divider by Saradika-Graphics

[hannahbarberra162]

Heat Transfer, Ch.3 (Platonic Yandere WBP X Naga Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

The other chapters

Note: I had a lot of time these past few days, but things are going to be picking up again at work.

Ace POV

Ace dragged his feet as he walked down the hall to your cell with a platter of food. He knew he should move quickly, that you were waiting for him, but he didn’t want to see the look in your eyes. He had to leave you bound and gagged for quite some time as he worked on your crate, which wasn’t even complete yet. You were probably so confused and scared, maybe thought they were going to kill you. You hadn’t done anything wrong, you were just trying to survive under your new circumstances. It was warmer now that it was the afternoon, but still not the temperature that Ace would like you to be in. 

Arriving in front of your bars, he saw that you’d fallen asleep curled into a ball, chest rising and falling slowly. He wasn’t sure what the normal heart rate for a Naga was, but he hoped you were OK. Unlocking and opening the door, Ace let himself in. He was going to gently wake you, but the sounds of the clinking chains startled you awake. You looked at him wildly, curling yourself into an impossibly smaller ball than before. Ace stayed on the far side of the cell, sitting down, and giving you some space.

You hissed at him weakly, the muzzle preventing you from making any loud sounds. He set the tray down and brought  the key to the muzzle from his pocket, showing it to you. You looked at it and at the food, hissing again. Ace wanted to soothe you, he knew hissing was your only defense mechanism left, you didn’t need to be afraid. 

“Hey, hey, it’s OK Baby. Look, I brought more food,” Ace said, speaking quietly and gesturing to the meat. You didn’t stop hissing but he had your attention, he could tell. Ace pantomimed biting his forearm with his hand and giving his head a shake. “No biting, ok?” He repeated the gesture and phrase “no biting,” several times. You watched him warily, you probably couldn’t verbalize anything at all with the muzzle. Ace stood up and slowly walked over to you, key in hand. He was pretty sure he could burn off the venom if you did bite him, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way.

“No biting,” Ace said one last time, crouching down to reach for your head slowly. You jerked back but didn’t fight him as he turned your head, and unlocked the muzzle. Taking it off your face, you still didn’t say anything to him, just looked up at him with wide eyes. You stretched your jaw and rubbed it with your clawed fingers. It looked like some segments had rubbed your jaw bloody. Wincing to himself, he thought he would…well, no he wouldn’t ask Marco for help. He’d have to figure out a way to tell you Marco wasn’t going to hurt or eat you, maybe he could convince Deuce to clean the wounds instead. You didn’t lunge to bite him, but you were still chained to the wall. Ace stood back up, taking the muzzle with him. Bringing the meat closer, he set the platter before you and sat down again.

“Meat,” he said, grabbing a hank of meat on the bone and pointing to the food. “Meat,” he repeated, handing it to you.

“Mee-et” you replied while taking the food. You were being rather meek and he wondered if maybe it was the prolonged captivity that did it. He was sure you’d never been bound before since you lived alone. You were probably the apex predator of your island so you were unused to being weaker than others. Once you were done with your piece, you didn’t reach for more, just waited. Two steps forward, one step back , Ace thought to himself.

“Eat,” Ace said, pushing the food towards you. “Eat,” he repeated, handing you more. You took it again, eating with more restraint than he’d ever seen before. You didn’t unhinge your jaw, just ate like a human would, with small bites and chewing until you swallowed. Now Ace felt worse, maybe the muzzle injured your jaw and you weren’t able to unhinge it right now. Your countenance was dour and grim, watching him with a wary gaze as you ate your fill. It was rather depressing, seeing your spirit crushed like that. But Ace knew that once you understood what was happening, you’d be happy, it would just take a little time.

Your POV

The muzzle had hurt you in so many ways, you were glad you had the food for distraction. The food tasted as incredible as always and you couldn’t get enough. Your jaw ached from where it was restricted and you knew you’d tasted your own blood from where the harsh materials had rubbed your skin raw. You probably could unhinge it, but you were afraid it was injured from the angle the muzzle held your jaw and wanted to check it out in private.

Not only were you physically hurt, but as you waited for an indeterminate amount of time, you languished in your thoughts of helplessness and anguish. If your sisters saw you now, they would disavow you, or laugh at your weakness, maybe even toss you to the Harpy themselves. The muzzle had been demeaning and degrading in a way that was so much worse than simply being held captive. At first, you had delusions that maybe you could get away, that maybe you could fight them and win. Now you saw that you were outnumbered and they were stronger than you were.

As you chewed, you wondered if they knew you could eat fish and vegetation as well. You liked all the meat they were serving and would gladly eat it daily, but you knew that as a half-human, there were some nutrients you needed to get from plants. Your sisters had figured that out when you were a child, trying to feed you all kinds of leaves before realizing only certain plants provided nutrition to humans while others made you sick. You would have to figure out a way to tell them what you needed to thrive, but then again, maybe they were only fattening you up to be a better meal. It was difficult for you to determine what they wanted from you when their behaviors were so duplicitous. For now, you’d eat to gain your strength and see what they wanted from you. You were glad to be getting so much food, the harsh winter conditions of your island had made you weaker than normal.

You finished your piece of meat and waited for further instruction. You were on your best behavior, you really wanted to show you understood you weren’t supposed to bite. Ace sighed and handed you the entire platter, telling you to eat again. You responded to his command with gusto as much as you could with your limited jaw movement. Once you were done, you restrained a yawn as your stomach signaled it was full.. Eating a large amount in a short span was your normal habit, you just wished you were under the sun or somewhere warm to lie down. You scowled at the sound of the chain jingling as you went to relax; your delicious feast ruined by the reminder of your captivity. 

“Ace,” you said, garnering his attention. He looked surprised and happy, you thought this might have been the first time you’d addressed him without prompting. You put your fingers through the collar at your neck and tugged. You hoped he understood you wanted him to take off the collar, it didn’t hurt to ask. “Ace,” you said again and pulled on it, giving him pleading eyes. He looked to the side and ran a hand through his hair. “Ace,” you said a third time, locking eyes with him. He sighed and stood up, making you bare your teeth at him like he had to you before. But instead of returning the gesture, he stared at you. You stopped baring your teeth, maybe you’d misunderstood the motion. He continued walking towards you until he crouched down in front of you.

“Stay,” he said, putting his palm down in the air above your head. You blinked, unsure what he wanted you to do. “Stay,” he said, repeating the motion. He reached for the chain attaching you to the wall, and you remained in place, waiting for him to release you. As soon as he unlatched the chain, you began to move but he moved to stand in front of you.

 “No. Stay,” he said, repeating the motion and you remained in place, unsure of what he wanted. “Good. Stay,” he repeated with the motion. Did he want you to stay in the jail cell while he left? You didn’t know why he unlatched you when you could still squeeze through the bars.  You wanted the collar off too, not just the chain, but you were happy for more movement for the time being.

Ace walked backward through the still-open jail door. He stayed in the room, just outside the bars of the cell. “Stay,” he repeated once more with the hand motion. You looked at him, unsure what to do. “Good job!” he said while smiling at you. Oh, so it was ok for him to bare his teeth but not you? Strange. Maybe it was a power dynamic thing, he was showing you he was the aggressor. He took a few steps back, and you remained in place. 

“Come,” Ace said, flipping his hand over and beckoning to you. Tilting your head, you remained where you were. Ace reached into his pocket and pulled out something unfamiliar. You smelled that it was food with a flick of your tongue, but you’d never scented something so sweet before. It was a small, round, brown biscuit studded with dark brown bits. He broke it in half, holding the smaller portion out to you. At the sight of his offering, you slithered forward and took it from his hand. Inspecting it and determining it was probably fine, you popped it into your mouth.

Holy. 

Fuck.

You’d never tasted anything like that before. Sure, you had fruit on your island during the summer season, but it didn’t taste as sweet as this. It was like all of the sweetness of the world was dancing on your tongue, making your palate sing with the dulcitude of the biscuit.  You licked your hand over and over for more crumbs and then grabbed Ace’s for the second half. It was the first time you’d initiated contact with him, he pulled back as if you were going to bite him. You weren’t, you just wanted more.  

You didn’t know how to express that you wanted more, so you emphatically pointed to the other half in his hand. Raising yourself up higher on your tail, you tried to grab it from him, making him laugh. He was faster than you expected, keeping the food away from you. “Found something you like more than meat, huh?” he said, smiling. His laugh made you feel differently than when your sisters laughed. They would laugh when recounting how they decimated some ship, or fought a sea king, or when a death was particularly funny. But it didn’t sound like Ace's did, and it made a strange emotion rise in you too. You almost wanted to make him do it again, to give you the special feeling his laugh gave you.

Ace backed away from you unhurriedly, telling you to stay with the gesticulation you were now used to, but showed you the biscuit. You stopped, waiting for him to tell you to come. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he wanted after a few times, and it would be helpful to learn some of the words and gestures the humans did for better communication. You didn’t have to wait long before Ace told you to come and held out the biscuit. Slithering quickly, you grabbed it and shoved it in your mouth with a happy hum. Ace’s hand was still out and you grabbed it, licking it for the remainder of the flavor that lingered. The tickle of your tongue made Ace laugh again, giving you that feeling before he removed his hand from your own.

“I think you got those commands down,” he said, patting your head. You swatted his hand away, annoyed that he kept touching your head like a baby. Ace didn’t seem to mind and carried on speaking, “let’s go to the deck, I have work to do but I’m gonna introduce you to some people.” It didn’t bother you that he talked and you couldn’t understand, it would help you learn faster, you thought. He picked up his hand saying, “come,” and you followed, waiting for the biscuit that followed.

There was no biscuit. 

You held out your hand expectantly when you made it to the top floor of the ship. You hadn’t seen it yet, but all you really wanted was more of the condensed sweetness. You even pulled your fingers back into a grabbing motion a few times. Ace rubbed the back of his neck and pointedly looked away from you, no treats appearing in his hands.

“Ace,” you said, pointing to your palm. Surely he knew you wanted more and you were positive he had to have another treat. Maybe he needed to see that you understood the commands he taught you.

“Ssstay,” you said, stopping in place. “Come,” you intoned, moving forward towards him. “Ace,” you repeated while pointing to your palm again and you waited patiently for your reward. 

He did not reach into his pockets as you thought he would and you narrowed your eyes at him. You did what he wanted, even said the commands he taught you, so where was your reward? Maybe he didn’t have any more? He brought you all that meat but no more biscuits? You let out as scoff as you swiveled your head around, trying to detect if there was any more sweet food around. Flicking your tongue, you could tell someone on the main wood floor had something sweet and you were going to find it. You started to slither away, but Ace called out.

“Stay,” his tone was firm as he spoke like he needed to prove something. You stopped and looked around - there were a lot of humans on the wood floor but they didn’t seem to be doing anything exceptional. They weren’t fighting or anything, just watching you and Ace interact. You waited a few moments before moving again, trying to locate the smell. Ace let you go, instead focusing his attention on some other humans standing in a semi-circle nearby. He began conversing with three men, probably about you, as he gesticulated and kept talking while you moved further away. 

You took in your surroundings as you attempted to locate that tantalizing smell. You’d never been on a boat before, so you were unsure if all boats were like this one. It looked larger than others but you’d only ever spied ships from a distance, so you weren’t sure exactly how much bigger it was. It had interesting features, a lot of towers rising from the floor with sails on them to catch the wind. There were ladders and ropes everywhere, along with  a big flag adorned with what you assumed was the leader’s face. You took in a huge breath of fresh air, thankful for the reprieve from the stuffy, putrid air below the floor.

Glancing around, you saw many humans engaged in various tasks. You didn’t know what they were all up to but they looked busy. Your sisters had told you that humans engaged in many frivolous tasks all the time, but hadn’t described exactly what that meant. Though you were happy to be outdoors, the sheer number of people and smells around started to overwhelm you. You weren’t used to being around anyone , much less hundreds and hundreds of stinky humans. They came in different sizes but mostly looked the same to you, all walking around on two legs. 

You made your way closer to the edge of the boat, trying to get more sea smells back in your lungs. Watching the boat slice through the sea was hypnotic, you’d never been moving so fast above the water. It was like the ship was a knife, cutting through the deep blue that you longed to dive into. You were so mesmerized by the movement of the ship that you didn’t notice when a very large human nearly stepped on your tail. 

“Oi, watch it, sea snake,” the human boomed at you. You squinted at him, you were fairly certain you hadn’t seen him before, but then again, most of the humans looked the same to you. You only really recognized Meatman, the Harpy, and Ace. This one had hair over his top lip, but no hair on his head. He was quite a bit taller than Ace and had a large smoking roll puffing from his mouth. He didn’t have a shirt, but neither did you or most people on board. Flicking your tongue, your eyes widened when you realized he had the sweet food. And you were going to get some. 

Ace POV

Ace was feeling pretty good about teaching you commands. You were obviously intelligent since you learned quickly and understood what he wanted from you. He hadn’t expected you to like the cookie that much, but he was glad there was another food you liked besides meat. Thatch would cook whatever you wanted but it was easier to keep cookies on hand than a hunk of meat. 

“ - don’t know, she still seems feral, look at her hair,” commented Izou, pointing out the mats in your hair. Ace hadn’t noticed before, but he conceded that you did need some grooming tips. 

“She was all alone, she might not know how to brush her hair,” Ace explained. “She might not have had a comb or anything, she’s just a baby.”

“I don’t think she’s a baby, Ace. I think she’s just small,” Curiel suggested. Ace had a niggling thought that you weren’t as young as he thought, but there was no way to tell. You weren’t developed…physically…yet, which suggested you were not mature. But then again, he didn’t know anything about Sea Naga. He really needed to check the library to search for a book about Naga. If any ship on the seas had information about Sea Naga, it would be the Moby. The library was huge and all books were shared among the crew since the ship had been made. Ace kept his thoughts to himself as the conversation continued. Ace was distracted as the door opened and Stefan zoomed through the various crew mates on board, weaving around and running in circles.

“Stephan! Come!” boomed Whitebeard, waving his hand in an upward motion. The large white dog came bounding toward the Captain, ready to receive a treat for listening to the command. Ace brought his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“Maybe. But she’s not feral, I taught her some words and commands already. She can stay, come, she knows ‘food,’ ‘meat,’ ‘eat,’ lots of things,” Ace noted. “In fact, I’ll show you, lemme go find her.” Ace quickly searched the deck for Baby, thinking that a black and white striped snake wouldn’t be hard to find. 

As his eyes roamed the deck, Ace felt himself sweating despite the devil fruit that kept his temperature stable. If he lost you again, Marco was going to make him get rid of you, Ace was sure of it. Trying to hide his rising panic, Ace walked briskly around the deck, looking for any sign of you. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Marco opening the door to the deck, reading some old book. He needed to find you immediately, he thought, or there was going to be trouble. He was starting his second lap of the deck, when Izou caught his attention. Sighing and putting his head on his palm, Izou pointed up to the crow’s nest, his facial expression showing displeasure. Ace gave a silent bow, seeing the paddle of your tail poking out of the nest….with Fossa?

Climbing up behind you, Ace heard Fossa speaking to you quietly. You weren’t hissing, and Fossa wasn’t angry or yelling, all of which were good signs. Coming up slowly, he saw Fossa throwing something at you, which you caught with ease in your mouth.

“Good job,” Fossa grunted, eating something himself. You sat down and waited, your gaze locked on Fossa with rapt attention.

“What’re you two up to?” Ace asked, climbing into the crow’s nest. Luckily, due to the average size of crew members on the Moby, there was plenty of room for all three of you on the circular platform.

“Teachin’ ‘er,” Fossa grunted. Fossa always wore the same expression, it was sometimes difficult to tell how he was feeling underneath his brusque exterior. 

“Teaching her what? She already knows -” Fossa cut Ace off with a puff of smoke aimed at Ace’s face.

“Yeah, you taught her those dog commands. She’s smarter’n that. Stand,” Fossa said in Baby’s direction. Baby stood as tall as she could on her tail, reaching higher than Ace had ever seen. When you were done, you waited patiently while Fossa reached into the inner pocket of his vest, bringing out a cookie. Breaking it in half, he tossed half to you and ate the other half himself. “She knows a lotta commands now. Stand, sit, watch me, wait, drop it. Don’t need that shitty muzzle, trained her with cookies,” he explained, tossing you another cookie which you gleefully caught in your mouth.

“Wait, how did you get so many cookies?” Ace questioned, eyes narrowing. Thatch had been blaming Ace for stealing cookies from the kitchens for years despite Ace’s protests. Yes, sometimes he did steal them, but not as often as Thatch claimed. Fossa narrowed his own eyes.

“Mind yer business, brat. Me ‘n Baby need ‘em.” You were now winding your way up Fossa’s giant body, trying to get your hands into his vest pocket. He was gently shooing your hands away while not removing you from his shoulders. It reminded Ace of when Luffy would use his grubby little hands to try and get some meat from Ace’s plate.

“I’m not sure that much sugar is good for her,” Ace said, watching Baby continually trying to get more cookies out of Fossa’s pockets.

“What’re you? The bird? Fuck off runt,” Fossa tossed out. Ace and Fossa had known each other for years, Ace knew it was just ribbing. If Fossa was mad, he would have tossed Ace out of the crow’s nest like he had done before.

“Hey! Don’t swear around her, I don’t want her to learn that,” Ace said, frowning. “Baby, come,” Ace said, using the motion. You were now half laying on Fossa’s head, with your tail draped across his shoulders. The way you turned your head to look at him confirmed that you had heard Ace’s command but you made no move to leave your perch.

“Baby, come,” Ace said in a firmer tone this time. Now you unwound yourself from Fossa and slithered down to the platform. Raising yourself up, you put your hand to your face as you yelled out.

“Ssstephan, come!” The dog came bounding towards the crow’s nest, slobbering all the way. You flashed Ace a dark look and started slithering down the ladder while Fossa laughed.

“The bitch knows what she’s doing,” Fossa said affectionately. Ace didn’t know how you wormed your way into Fossa’s good graces so quickly. It had taken years for Fossa to give Ace more than a grunt, and Ace still wasn’t sure the Commander liked him all that much. 

“Stop swearing,” Ace grumbled, following you down the ladder.

Your POV 

You nearly hissed when you saw the dog heeding the large man’s command. So that’s what Ace  thought of you? A pet to command and control? Like the idiotic beast that couldn’t keep its drool off the floor? You were so angry you wanted to bite and strangle something, but the punishment for doing so was clear. You didn’t want that muzzle anywhere near you ever again, and if that meant not biting the humans, then you wouldn’t. 

You had found the large human very agreeable in comparison to the other humans. He didn’t bare his teeth at you or try to pat your head like Ace did. He was straightforward, large, strong, and impassive. He reminded you a lot of your sisters actually. You thought they would like him if they didn’t eat him first. He ignored you at the beginning, allowing you to get closer to the sweet smell emanating from his pocket. Getting his attention, you motioned to his pocket in an attempt to communicate your desire for the sweet treat. Grunting his response, the two of you quickly found a pattern where he taught you something and rewarded you with more biscuits. He’d also let you warm yourself on top of his large shoulders, which was pleasant in the afternoon sun. You liked this  human and you hoped you’d get to spend more time with him in the future. 

Ace followed you down the ladder while mumbling to himself. Whatever, he could be mad, you thought. He wasn’t the one who was being trained like a beast. You did wait for him at the bottom of the crow’s nest, anticipating that he wanted you to do something. Picking his way down the ladder, he beckoned you once more with a verbal “come.” At least this time he didn’t do the gesture, you thought.

He brought you down the wood floor to a gigantic chair, upon which was seated the largest human you’d seen on the ship. His face had hair that matched the face on the flag, so he must be the ruler. That made sense, you thought, the largest human of the bunch was in charge. Finally, the humans had come up with a sensical rule. Stefan was rolling at the feet of the large man, who looked at you as you approached. 

“What have you found, my child?” the man spoke, talking to Ace. While they were talking, you perused the older human with your eyes. He looked powerful, and his scars indicated that he had fought and survived many battles. This alone earned him some respect in your eyes. His sword looked meritorious, something even your sisters would have found worthy. He spoke to Ace in an affable nature, clearly having some positive connection to him. 

Ace was still talking and gesturing to you as his leader listened, letting Ace yap at length. You decided to take your chances and move closer to the human. He watched your approach and let his hand dangle close to you to allow you to smell him. The large man smelled like the sea, worn leather, and something else you’d smelled once on your sister but never again. You crawled up into his hand then up his arm. This human was even warmer than the previous one, nearly as comforting as Ace. Slithering upwards, you squirmed your way under the white and red blanket draping his shoulders. Laying down, you both let Ace continue yammering as your eyes slid shut. 

Your last conscious thought was that you wanted more biscuits.

Ace POV

Ace blinked rapidly as he watched you warm yourself on the Captain’s shoulders. He shouldn’t have been surprised; babies, children, and animals always loved Whitebeard. Ace wasn’t sure what magnetism alerted them that he was a sure bet, but whatever it was always worked.

“This is the sea snake, aye?” Whitebeard asked while watching her settle and lay across his broad form from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, that’s Baby. Can she stay Pops? Please?” Ace asked, already knowing Pops would say yes. At least he hadn’t called her a Sea Bitch to her face, not that you’d understand.

“Aye, for now.” Ace knew for now really meant forever, as long as Baby didn’t keep biting. If she was able to prove her worth, she’d be good as gold.

“Thank you, Pops,” Ace said, hugging Whitebeard’s shin in gratitude. The old man hummed and patted Ace’s back. Turning his head to look at Baby, he rubbed her hair between his fingers. 

“She isn’t a baby,” Pops rumbled. 

“How do you know?” Ace asked. Pops had mentioned that he’d met a Sea Naga before, but Ace thought it had been as an adult.

“She’s got no tits but that doesn’t mean she’s not fully grown. They can go away with a harsh winter if they haven’t whelped yet,” Whitebeard explained. Ace’s face burned red, he hoped he never had to hear Whitebeard talk about your tits ever again. 

“It’s true, says so here yoi,” said Marco, closing a book. He eyed Baby sleeping on Pops’s shoulder where he would normally perch himself. “I found this in the library. It’s old, but some of the information should still be accurate,” Marco said, showing Ace the dusty tome. “It even has a recipe for an antidote to her venom,” Marco finished before tossing the book to Ace. 

Catching it, Ace flipped through the pages. He’d have to read it later, he needed to finish building -

“How’s the crate coming yoi?” Marco asked, finishing Ace’s thought. Marco leaned against Pops’s chair with one leg propped up. 

“Good, nearly done,” Ace lied easily. It was almost nearly done but it wasn’t quite there. He didn’t have all the raw materials needed, especially since he hadn’t known his need for wood when they stopped at the last island. “Should be done by tonight, if I can get time to finish it.”

“Better hurry, it’s almost dinner time now,” Marco commented with a raised eyebrow. He pushed off the chair and began walking back across the deck. Ace didn’t know what was up Marco’s ass about Baby. She’d only bit Thatch (twice) and it was just because she was scared. Ace put the book into the pocket of his cargo shorts with a sigh. Baby poked her head up now that Marco’s footsteps had receded. Slithering down Whitebeard’s body, she sat next to Ace on the deck, flicking her tongue out excitedly.

“What’s up, Baby? You smell something?” Ace asked, reaching his hand out. Baby stuck her own up, halting Ace from patting her head. Ace laughed, retracting his hand, “guess you don’t like me ruffling your hair, huh?” Baby was barely paying attention, tongue still flicking out in search of something. Slithering off, Baby searched for her target with Ace in tow.

Your POV

Someone on board wasn’t human, you were sure of it. Yes, there was Stefan and maybe another mammal, but there was someone else on board similar to you . Someone smelled like the deep, like the parts of the ocean that humans weren’t able to swim to, and you wanted to find them. Slithering around low to the ground, Ace followed as you searched through the stinky humans. Finding your target, you brought yourself upright and found yourself face to face with a sharkman. 

Racking your brains, you thought your sisters had told you about other breeds of half humans. You remembered something about half humans half fish, but you thought they told you they had tails. This man had no tail, though he did have an admirable fin on his back and gills on his neck. You sniffed all around him, under his watchful eye. He didn’t speak to you, just allowed you to inspect him as he surveyed you in return. Ace spoke to the Fishman, and they agreed to something. Ace departed, leaving you and the Fishman together. You blinked at him, wanting to talk, wanting to communicate, but coming up short as he likely only knew human. 

The Fishman gestured to the sea, making a motion of swimming. You tried baring your teeth again, flashing your toothy mouth like you’d seen so many humans do to one another. This time, it was returned with an equally sharp grin. 

You slithered towards the rail of the boat, propping yourself up with little effort. You hesitated, unsure if you’d get in trouble for leaping off the side of the boat. The fishman beside you took a step up and dove off gracefully, giving you tacit permission to do the same. You angled yourself, took your breath, and pushed off, diving into the blue deep before you. Usually you took a breath every 30 minutes or so, but you could easily go over an hour without breaking the surface of the water for another. You entered the water with barely a splash and quickly swam to where the fishman was waiting for you. He beckoned for you to follow him, seemingly as excited to swim as you were. 

You and the fishman fell into an easy rhythm swimming with one another deep beneath the waves. The two of you lazily followed the path of the ship, both able to swim much faster than the ship was able to sail. You ended up playing a game where one tried to catch and fight the other, much as your sisters did when they visited you. He was stronger and faster, but you were more agile and evasive, giving you each your own advantages. The fishman wasn’t treating you like a child, not holding back his speed or strength. You relished in the mock fighting, the warrior in you coming to the surface. It was all in fun, neither going for the kill or biting. 

After a while, you contented yourself by swimming deeper and deeper into the sea. You felt a sense of peace as you explored your surroundings, fish fleeing from you in droves. Previously, all your swimming had been close to your island, and primarily for hunting. Of course you swam for fun sometimes, but your sisters had always wanted to be there with you when you swam deep in the open ocean. It was one of the ways they showed their stifling love for you. You’d protested many times that you were strong and powerful enough to swim deep on your own, but they never relented. You’d never swam in the open ocean like this before, it was like seeing the sunrise at dawn - limitless, breathtaking, and made you feel like life was full of adventure just waiting to be found. You were made for the water, it felt like you were home.

Ace POV

Ace was grateful Namur was babysitting you while he went to finish your crate. Marco was right, night was fast approaching and it needed to be completed as soon as possible. Namur hadn’t hidden his interest in swimming with Baby, the pair quickly diving off the side of the ship before Ace had even gone below deck. If Baby was as fast underwater as Ace thought she would be, Namur would finally have a worthy swimming partner. The Commander had long complained that they needed more fishmen in the crew, that swimming with humans was boring at best. Maybe the two of you could bond, garnering you another friend on the crew.

Returning to the deck over an hour later, Ace peered over the side of the ship looking for any sign of you and Namur. Realistically, Ace knew you were water dwelling and could hold your own underwater. But a part of him worried for your safety, you’d never swam this far away from your island before and certainly not while having to follow a ship. Ace knew he was being a worrywort, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to lay eyes on you and make sure you were ok. Maybe it was all the years that he’d taken care of Luffy, but he wanted to have you back on board before the sun fell below the horizon.

Launching Striker into the sea, Ace sailed in increasingly large circles around the ship, trying to locate you. He was looking for either you or Namur, but the dwindling sunlight and depth of the water made it practically impossible. Ace tried to remain calm, reminding himself that you could hold your breath for at least fifteen minutes, if the guidebook was to be believed. His last circle had him far enough away that he could barely see the ship and he truly started to worry. He paused the flames driving his boat, bringing Striker to a halt, trying to think of a way he could call to you or Namur in the water.

The tiny boat suddenly heeled portside as you hauled yourself up on the hull, a gigantic fish in your tail’s grasp. You released the dog sized fish from your tail and grabbed it with your hands, claws digging through the scales and flesh with ease. You bit into it like it was an apple, eating with gusto. Crunching loudly, you looked at Ace, who greeted you happily. 

“Hi, Baby!” he said, smiling. He wanted to socialize you and show you were no mad monster, beginning with teaching you how and when to smile.

“Hi, Ace,” you replied, still eating. “Eat meat,” you said, Ace’s heart swelling with pride at your first two word sentences.

“Eat fish,” Ace corrected, pointing to the animal you’d already eaten half of. 

“Eat fish,” you repeated, picking a scale out of your teeth with a claw. You tilted your head to the side, considering him for a moment. Taking your forefinger, you used your sharp claw to dig out the eye of the fish. Stretching your arm out to Ace, you silently offered him the piece off the tip of your claw. Ace wasn’t one to turn down food and besides, he thought you were extending him an olive branch of sorts. Taking the eye, he turned his other hand to fire, heating the eyeball evenly. 

This time your jaw did unhinge as you stared at him with unabashed awe.  

[cheriemariii]

hi I just remembered that torichia secret scenario I got the other day that I didn't have any time to talk about. So im gonna talk about it now before I lose what little free time I have left and go back to hell (summer school) :)

But first! here is a little summary of what happens:

This secret scenario takes place during what would be chapter 4 of ycnb1 aka that one part where yoshino is sick and he reflects on what hatori did aka yoshino being so ridiculously in love with hatori and not even realizing it ("if only I was the guy tori liked... 🥺" INSANE).

So hatori is in his office reflecting on what he did in chapter 3. More specifically, he mentions how he felt angry about his feelings being made public, and how in his desperation, instead of just drawing himself away from yoshino, he ended up doing something that would destroy his relationship with him and in the end couldn't control himself (hmmmmm). He also mentions how, since he realized his feelings for yoshino back in highschool, he kept them a secret to keep his comfortable position as a childhood friend.

His thoughts get interrupted by Takano asking how yoshino is after he collapsed, according to hatori both because of the exhaustation and the shock from what happened (although takano doesn't know this second part obvi....) From this little segment we learn that Yoshino doesnt not like hospitals, that hatori wanted to go see him but didn't bc he didn't want to be a nuisance, and that he had been working a lot, to the point he starts looking pale and takano has to ask him to go home.

Going back to Hatori, he mentions that he has been working so much because it helps him not "think unnecessary things", and realizes that even if he knows he's not gonna be forgiven he still has to apologize because it's gonna get more and more depressing if time keeps passing. So he sends an email and the scenario is over :)

*****

Sooooo yeah, I feel like most of this stuff is not really new? Judging by the picture we get of this secret scenario (just like takano and hatori talking,,) I really hoped this would be the part where hatori decides to tell takano about not wanting to be yoshinos editor anymore. idk, it would've been interesting to see takano wonder what could've happened that was so bad that hatori would no longer want to work with his best friend, let alone the job he had tried so hard to pursue, and then maybe see hatori struggle to find an explanation lmao. ig I was a little disappointed to see that was not the case.

Regardless, there are still a couple of things I wanna highlight from this. First, I wanna bring out a bit of hatoris initial reflection, which I feel is key to understand why tf hatori did what he did. and I'm actually gonna include screenshots of this bc this is important:

...... We already knew from hynb1 that hatori acted out of desperation, but we don't really get further explanation about it. Based on this, I think it's safe to assume that hatoris train of thought when he kissed yoshino was that if he was going to lose him ("destroy" his relationship with him if you will), he might as well be egoistic for once and get as close to yoshino as he has always wanted... But then, once he had yoshino where he wanted him, his already cloudy judgement got even more clouded by both the desire he had been harboring inside him for so long and the desperation of not being able to be this near yoshino ever again once this was over.... and so the lust got the better of him and he "loses control" and whatever happened happens (crap excuse but ok whatever).

Not only was that the most sensate option, but he had actively tried to do that in the past. And he knows that it's a slow tortuous process that at least on his end doesn't actually work, as he never really stopped thinking about yoshino; but he would've been willing to give it another try for yoshinos sake..... until he didn't because, again, the desperation was so strong that he didn't even care anymore.

And if you've paid any sort of attention to his character, you realize just how out of character this decision is for him (fuck, this is something even hatori antis seem to agree with kfhsjdhsj). There is just no way a person so careful, perfectionist and obsessed with saving face would risk the work he has so painstakingly done over the years, all over the very impulses he has so desperately been trying to fight, specially not when there is a safe bet out of his situation, AND EVEN MORE SO when he can't even be a 100% sure yoshino does know anything unless he explicitly states it. Is this an indication of bad writing? not perse (I mean, the means by which fujisaki tries to convey this fucking sucks for a myriad of reasons, but this message in itself is not one of them).

The way I see it, this break of hatoris character, this one show of egoism after years of being so selfless (in his own selfish way lmao), is no other that the raw manifestation of hatoris life just not making any sense anymore. Again, hatori has based so much of his life around being close to yoshino as a childhood friend no matter the cost; but if he loses that so out of nowhere,, what does he have anymore? WHO tf is hatori after this? leaving the very questionable writing aside,, can he really be blamed for losing his mind when the one thing that has kept him going this whole time is gone for good?

I was a little horrified the first time I read this line bc what the fuck do you mean "deliberately"???????? Was he actively trying to hurt yoshino??????? As, what, an incelese revenge of sorts?????? Doesn't that contradict everything I just said????

And then I remembered google translate is not the most trustworthy source out there, so I decided to put the original line through a different translator. The line in question is "なのに, 敢えて吉野を傷つけるような真似をしてしまった"; and the part that we're interested in is "敢えて" (aete). According to this other translator, followed by the google search I just did, it means "to dare"; and while some sites do define it as "purposely doing something", the key element here is that the something in question is a thing the subject knows is bad or pointless.

So what this line actually implies is that, amidst this mental breakdown of sorts he is suffering after having all his way of life turn out meaningless (something chill you know....), hatori is no longer in a mental state to follow his reason (as somewhat explicitly stated in ycnb3, actually) and so he dares to do the one thing he has always wanted to (you know, the whole feeling close to yoshino via physical contact), and it's now that he is thinking about it that he realizes how badly he has hurt yoshino and that the only thing he has left now regret that he gave in to his impulses.

***

Ok, so believe it or not that entire bible you just read is only one of the two things I wanted to highlight. The other thing that called my attention is the use hatori gives to his job as a way to "not think unnecessary things". Which is not really new either? Its kind of implied in the new years party episode,,

Remember when I said that yoshino was the one thing hatoris life revolved around? well, it is true mostly, but there is actually a second thing: his job. Its a common conflict throughout the yoshino novels, really: how hatori is so focused on being productive that he accidentally lets it affect his relationship with yoshino, and even to the point it goes against his very own dignity as a person (right ichinoseeee???) And it is rather ironic that even this part of hatori is so dependant on yoshino xd (who did hatori choose his job for again???)

So hatori working even more than he usually does, even to the point it physically affects him, might as well be a way for him to cling to the only thing he still has left... until he has to give up that too. We know that hatoris way of apologizing was pretty much trying to cut himself out of yoshinos life for good. but letting go of his work (yeah, the scene poses it as yoshino and hatori just not working together anymore. but given yoshinos resistance to let go of hatori, it would not be surprising if hatori decided to separate himself from marukawa altogether) would officially mean letting go of EVERYTHING he has lived for up to this point.

Let me say that again: hatori was willing to let go of HIS WHOLE SENSE OF SELF to make it up to yoshino after hurting him... and so knowing this, is it really that insane that hatori views yoshino forgiving him, hence letting him keep everything that gave his life any meaning, as a show of ~divine mercy~?