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apocalypticavolition · 1 year ago

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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World: Chapter 1: An Empty Road

Welcome back to my reread! As will always be the case but isn't usual yet because we're just getting started, this post has spoilers for everything ever and should not be looked at if you don't want to see those. In fact, just telling you that spoils this very post, so it's already too late!

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

A comfy paragraph that feels like home. Someone could literally plagiarize this and I wouldn't care because it's such a good way to start! More book series should try and have very consistent beginnings, it really adds a lot.

Oh, and I should probably mention chapter headers. This guy has the "Wheel and Snake" motif, which is a generic Plot kind of deal.

Note that I am skipping over a second prologue that was added to these books when they were (for some reason) trying to make a YA version of the series that cut each book in half. That prologue, "Ravens", is one I've never read (or maybe I have but only once) and features Egwene al'Vere a few years before the series begins. Maybe I'll circle around to it someday, but I'm very big on only accepting works as they initially were (barring fixing typos or outright plot holes) and not with a whole bunch of doodads attached.

...the wind blew east, out across the Sand Hills, once the shore of a great ocean, before the Breaking of the World...

Interestingly, the most likely body of water for this to be is actually the Mediterranean, not any of the oceans proper.

Gusts plastered Rand al’Thor’s cloak to his back, whipped the earth-colored wool around his legs, then streamed it out behind him.

Rand has a lot of associations with wind (Loial even notes it in-universe) and also the land, so it's appropriate that we get both here with the wind blowing through the earth-colored wool. Note as well that while the earth is protecting him (though not especially well), the wind has been turned by the Shadow into something hostile.

He felt a little foolish about wanting to reassure himself that Tam was still there, but it was that kind of day.

Considering his later thoughts about wolves and bears, it doesn't even seem that foolish. Take it from someone who just a few weeks ago was dealing with being separated from family on a Canadian highway that definitely had bears.

Without thinking he touched the nock of the arrow; it was ready to draw to his cheek in one smooth movement, the way Tam had taught him.

Tam's influence on Rand looms large over the series, which does set up the reversal in TGS and the breakdown it causes quite well.

Wolves raided the sheep pens and chewed their way into barns to get the cattle and horses. Bears had been after the sheep, too, where a bear had not been seen in years.

It's rather interesting to imagine what might have happened to Perrin if Moiraine hadn't taken him away. The wolves would likely worm their way into his head by about the time he met Elyas in canon anyway, only he'd be in such a different context it's not hard to imagine him going really off the rails. Someone who actually finishes what they started should write a fic!

With his thick chest and broad face, he was a pillar of reality in that morning, like a stone in the middle of a drifting dream.

And Tam's being a metaphorical pillar of reality is of course set up for the fact that by the end of the series Rand himself will be a literal one. It's really impressive how clearly Jordan saw the ending of the series; the Slog in my opinion is likely a product of his uncertainty in how to get there.

[Rand's mother] had been an outlander, and Rand remembered little of her aside from a smiling face, though he did put flowers on her grave every year, at Bel Tine, in the spring, and at Sunday, in the summer.

It's terrible being a mom for a protagonist, even an adoptive mother. Death is the best you can hope for.

But Tam had given his word about the brandy and cider, even if he had waited to make delivery until the day before Festival. Keeping his word was important to Tam.

"Belief and order give strength." If Tam had accompanied Rand on this journey, the whole thing would have been over in five days tops.

As Rand watched his side of the road, the feeling grew in him that he was being watched. For a while he tried to shrug it off. Nothing moved or made a sound among the trees, except the wind. But the feeling not only persisted, it grew stronger. The hairs on his arms stirred; his skin prickled as if it itched on the inside.

This is of course Rand's channeler sense for Shadowspawn. Does this mean he's already channeled at some point this winter, or do sparks like him get the various gifts before they start because it's inevitable that they will anyway? I wonder if Nynaeve (and maybe Egwene if sparks do get the spidey sense before channeling) has spent the last few days being itchy as all hell and not having a clue why. It would add another reason to her bad temper over being asked about the weather.

Not more than twenty spans back down the road a cloaked figure on horseback followed them, horse and rider alike black, dull and ungleaming.

"You're in the wrong franchise! Hobbiton's on the other side of the shelf, between Rosewater and Sounis!"

I get that Jordan had to channel a bit of Tolkien because it was the 80s and that's how you got published, but I have to say that sometimes I think he leaned a little too far into it. At least Myrdraal get weirder as we go.

There was only shadow to see in the hood

If Sanderson had been writing the series from the start, he would have rationalized that a Fade being able to step out of any shadow means it could step out of the shadow of its hood and then repeat the process to gain altitude rapidly, allowing the Shadow to orbitally bombard its enemies when the Fades stopped and fell back to Earth.

Abruptly a stone caught his heel and he stumbled, breaking his eyes away from the dark horseman.

Rand was a shy, awkward, inwardly beautiful teenage girl, just like you.

(Seriously folks, plot-convenient clumsiness is not gender specific and we should call it out in our boy protagonists too!)

Tam shook his grizzled head. “If you say so, lad. Come on, then. A horse leaves hoofprints, even on this ground.”

More proof of Tam being a good dad that even though Rand's talking nonsense, he checks it out. Of course, it wouldn't be surprising if Tam had experience with Shadowspawn somehow. Probably not though, since he was mostly involved in Illian and the Aiel War.

The wind that beat at Tam and him had not so much as shifted a fold of that black cloak.

More on the earth/air duality, with air being the masculine half tainted by the Shadow.

once he had even gone to the very foot of the Mountains of Mist, him and his closest friends, Mat Cauthon and Perrin Aybara.

Two complete nobodies who we'll never hear about again, naturally.

Today, though, the Westwood was not the place he remembered. A man who could disappear so suddenly could reappear just as suddenly, maybe even right beside them.

Maybe even fall on you from orbit!

Though I suppose the earth half of things being unfamiliar now does cut against the symbolism I'm envisioning, but I'll leave resolving that as a Freudian exercise for the reader.

Rand managed a weak smile. Of all things he might want to think about right then, the Mayor’s daughter was far down the list. He did not need any more confusion. For the past year she had been making him increasingly jittery whenever they were together.

18 seems a little late to be hitting puberty, Rand. Seriously, if it weren't for the narration earlier calling him and Tam "two men", I'd assume he was supposed to be 14-16 at this point.

“Remember the flame, lad, and the void.”

This technique actually does kind of work! I've used it a lot during painful dentistry and stuff. Sadly, I'm no good at remembering it when I'm in an emotional state, which is when it would be most useful, but maybe someday I'll learn.

(Probably not.)

Some said the land was too rocky, as if there were not rocks everywhere in the Two Rivers, and others said it was hard-luck land. A few muttered that there was no point getting any closer to the mountains than needs be.

Having recently been exposed to the "The Two Rivers is contaminated with radioactive fallout from the Trolloc Wars" theory, I have to note that this feels a bit like evidence for it even though I don't believe it in general - in particular, the cats having a weird number of toes happens all over the place in real life when they start getting too inbred.

goodwife

This is an interesting word choice! Goodwife (masculine "goodman"; abbr. "goody", from which we get "goody two-shoes") is an archaic form of address that started in the 1300s and died by the 1800s, with the English and Scots using it first and the Puritans later. It referred to women of high social status but non-gentry in Europe and in America we have no clue what exactly the Puritans meant except that it was respectful. Here in EF, the term likely either descends from the days when there were gentry to talk about, or has arisen in the Puritan sense.

Whether or not leaves had appeared on the trees, no woman would let Bel Tine come before her spring cleaning was done.

And here we come to Jordan's worldview again. The Two Rivers folk are meant to be pretty gender egalitarian, but here we see that they have the exact division of labor that the idealized American town does, with women doing interior chores and men doing exterior ones. This is treated as being inevitable, even though of course it doesn't have to be and in most real societies gendered division of labor is only ever a sunny day ideal and abandoned in part or in whole in rougher times like we're supposed to be in now, with spring a month late. Hell, even in a culture with similar gender norms to the west, ("Women care about the house, men do rough work"), you could easily see them ending up dividing things the other way, with women expected to thatch the roofs to maintain their nes- I mean homes and men beating the shit out of carpets because their big manly muscles let them get it done faster. See how easy it is to use sexist logic to justify the exact opposite of what western sexism usually does? (Fun fact: That's because sexist logic is almost completely arbitrary.)

It would be rather nice to see a generic Arcadian farming village that has radically different expectations for men and women while still being superficially similiar to the ideal homestead, really. Jordan missed an opportunity.

Tam spoke of damage from winter storms, each one worse than the one before, and stillborn lambs, of brown fields where crops should be sprouting and pastures greening, of ravens flocking in where songbirds had come in years before.

As a big corvid fan, seeing them always be associated with evil when they're really quite social and intelligent makes me sad.

[Wit] never seemed ready to start over, or to finish what he started the first time. Most of the Coplins and Congars were like that, those who were not worse.

Kind of odd to transition from "Life is hard out here and people who aren't willing to work hard can't cut it" to "Meet the Shithead and Lazyfuck Clans, the inbred hicks." It's realistic to have shittier families in communities, but usually these families in the real world at least have something going for them.

“What are we going to do about Nynaeve, al’Thor?” Congar demanded. “We can’t have a Wisdom like that for Emond’s Field.”

Wait a few days and the problem will take care of itself, Wit. Ten whatever-kind-of-coins-are-legal-tender-here says that he was probably the first to bitch about their village not having a Wisdom the second Nynaeve crested a hill and disappeared from view.

“You try meddling in Women’s Circle business, and see how you like eating your own cooking. Which you won’t do in my kitchen. And washing your own clothes and making your own bed. Which won’t be under my roof.”

Guess Daise married from outside the clan, since she seems like a relatively decent sort. Also note again the 1950s division of labor; plenty of dudes knew how to do "women's work" across history because even if you were lucky enough to always have a mommy-wife (yes that's exactly how icky 1950s-lovers are) on hand and never had to go to war or a logging camp or spend a few years in early adulthood fending for yourself, sometimes Mrs. Mommy would be bedridden from all the exhaustion of being a brood mare with unrealized aspirations and then you'd have to learn how to keep the household going anyway because hiring (or enslaving) a dark-skinned maid to do everything for you wasn't an option.

When they saw Tam, the goodwives of Emond’s Field went on point like hounds spotting a rabbit.

I feel like this is another bit of Jordan's local culture being mistaken for human nature. There's definitely gals who will try to set you up if they know you're single, but there's guys who'll pull the same stunt and neither gender has a 100% attempt rate unless compelled to by their society. Then again, for all of it being presented as the ideal, the Two Rivers community is definitely all about meddling in each other's business and assuming you're too stupid to breathe because you don't have the right kind of genitals, so I suppose it makes sense the women feel like they have to.

Worst of all were those who paused thoughtfully at about that point, then asked with elaborate casualness exactly how old he was now.

Based on later books, Egwene would have been pissed to hear about this. It's probably not canonical in later books though, since the exact details of their relationship change quite a bit in the first three.

Outsiders sometimes found it funny that the road had one name to the north and another to the south, but that was the way it had always been, as far as anyone in Emond’s Field knew, and that was that.

I struggle to think what rock these outsiders must have been living under to find the idea of a road changing names funny. It's the sort of thing that happens when two separate roads are brought together, and I know that the west is slowly decaying, but still.

No one knew when the custom began or why—it was another thing that was the way it had always been—but it was an excuse to sing and dance, and nobody in the Two Rivers needed much excuse for that.

It's a dick joke, ya hicks!

Or possibly a reference to the queen blowing herself up. That seems more dignified.

And to top everything, if the rumors could be believed, a grand display of fireworks was planned for the Green—if the first peddler of the year appeared in time, of course.

Another moment that feels a bit too Tolkien, with the book opening on a celebration graced with fireworks, but hey at least the Illuminators end up having a lot of plot relevance in this story, so it builds well.

At the south end of the inn, away from the stream, stretched the remains of a much larger stone foundation, once part of the inn—or so it was said.

I would guess that the foundation was once the local garrison in Manetheren, or at least a more prominent building for the village mayor. Maybe even a place where Andorians of import might stay, since it would have to be relatively recently ruined to have not been torn apart by the tree roots in the last few hundred years.

“An ill omen,” a scratchy voice announced, “no storks nesting on the rooftops at Bel Tine.” Cenn Buie, as gnarled and dark as an old root, marched up to Tam and Bran and leaned on his walking staff, near as tall as he was and just as gnarled.

Narrative doesn't treat Buie kindly either (and not unfairly), but he's not wrong here. Things are only going to get worse, especially here in the Two Rivers.

Ask the Wisdom when the winter will end, and she walks away. Maybe she doesn’t want to tell us what she hears on the wind. Maybe what she hears is that the winter won’t end. Maybe it’s just going to go on being winter until the Wheel turns and the Age ends. There’s your point.

It's interesting that while Cenn thinks Nynaeve is too young, his fearmongering here is based on the assumption that she is perfectly competent. This double think is quite distressingly common in certain circles.

Rand’s smile broadened; it did not sound as much like fun to him as it would have a year or two back, but Mat never seemed to grow up.

Again, this sequence feels like it works better with Rand and Mat being 14-16, with badger pranks seeming like something more fun at 12-14. I wonder if, a bit like GRRM, Jordan assumed he'd have some time skips in his story that would get Rand into his 20s from a younger age, and then abandoned the concept as the plot continued to demand immediate action.

“Funny how being scared takes you. You think strange things. I actually thought—just for a minute, mind—it might be the Dark One.”

Mat's not too far off!

“The Dark One and all of the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, beyond the Great Blight, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the end of time. The hand of the Creator shelters the world, and the Light shines on us all.”

Note that it's not quite true: not all of the Forsaken are bound, none of them were bound by the Creator (arguably not even the Dark One), and the Forsaken are all about to break free. Over the past few millennia the Forsaken have really had a glow-up.

“My mother always said the Forsaken would come for me if I didn’t mend my ways. If I ever saw anybody who looked like Ishamael, or Aginor, it was him.”

Considering that Ish is currently serving flaming looks and Aginor is decayed as all hell, this is again not all that wrong.

Now his name came up whenever a washline dropped the laundry in the dirt or a loose saddle girth deposited a farmer in the road. Mat did not even have to be anywhere around. His support might be worse than none.

While I do think Nynaeve and Egwene are too hard on the boy, it's important to remember that this is Mat's reputation at the start of the series: his own best friend doesn't want his public support on a major issue.

Rand stared wonderingly. No one traveled beyond the village by night, not these days, certainly not alone.

Why did Thom come in the dead of night? Taren Ferry should have been a perfectly good place to stop, and with things being like they are you wouldn't think him in much of a hurry to wander among the wolves even though he can take care of himself. Do we get an answer to this?

That alone is worth the expense of bringing him down from Baerlon.

Oh and Thom's been close enough that he'd know all the environmental dangers quite well, so that really just makes me all the more curious.

“You have a head on your shoulders when you choose to use it,” Bran said. “He’ll follow you on the Village Council one day, Tam. Mark my words. He couldn’t do much worse right now than someone I could name.”

We can see here that Rand really is a political thinker, though of course he's going to rise far beyond a simple village council.

“Oh, why not?” Mat said resignedly. “Like your da said, the quicker it’s in the cellar. . . .” Picking up one of the casks of cider in both arms, he hurried toward the inn in a half trot.

And we can see here that Mat really is good to his friends, even if he is a rogue.

And that's pretty much chapter one! Rand and dad walk down a road, Rand sees an incarnation of evil, dad gossips throughout the village, local crotchety old man and scheming youth spread rumors. Like the prologue, this sequence wasn't really particularly adapted by the show. We instead have:

Moiraine giving us a really awkward summary of the plot thanks to executive meddling.

And it's here I should point out how many different reasons season 1 needed to make changes from the book. There's executive meddling, there's plague, there's the inevitable changes from page to screen, there's stuff that is clearly about appealing to the director, there's stuff that seems to be about keeping Rosamund Pike onboard, there's... a lot. And Rafe gets the blame for all of it which is really unfair because properly speaking we should only blame him for the stuff that's about appealing to himself. Blame Jeff Bezos for this one, folks. Anyway then we get:

Liandrin (who isn't even in this book!) and her posse of Rad Red Bad Bitches hunting down... let's pretend it's Gorin Rogad even though the timeline doesn't line up at all, and also Gorin's imaginary best friend. Moiraine and Lan watch from above and decide to go to Two Rivers.

Lots of people who want to make everything about culture wars complain about Obviously Evil Witch Liandrin being Horribly Misandrist In Ways That Sexism Has Never Been Done Before in this scene and I don't have patience for that kind of nonsense either. The scene's kinda rushed I think, and I am even more flummoxed by there being rumors of anything out of the Two Rivers, let alone four ta'veren, but whatever, plot's happening.

Egwene gets her hair braided for the first time (a practice mentioned in this chapter) and then Nynaeve tries to kill her to prep us for the saidar metaphor.

Frankly this is also rushed - a real problem in this episode because they wanted extra time for the premiere but were told to go feed their mothers to the Myrdraal while Jeff Bezos swam in a bathtub filled with 50 dollar bills - and because of all the cuts this episode had for time it feels a bit weirdly out there, but again we really needed to make surrender as literal and visual for TV watchers as possible so I know what's up.

Our closest scene to the books is Rand and Tam taking the old road to town and Rand freaking out about something that he assumes is wolves.

It's very abrupt and Rand is kinda douchey with his "I used to be a sap" line. It also used to be the first scene in the episode (I remember the outrage when people found out they were skipping the prologue) but the execs clearly forced it to be shuffled around. Probably would have been longer too.

Cut to town. People are setting up for Bel Tine and the air is generally happy instead of nervous like the books. Rand and Tam unload in the tavern and then Rand drinks with his friends, Mat, Perrin, and somebody else! She beats Mat at dice, Mat begs his friends for cash to keep carousing while bitching that Perrin is a good husband and accusing Rand of being a sheepfucker, and Egwene arrives with everyone very happy that she lived after the murder attempt.

Generally I think it's smart to trim down the parts of this chapter after the rider even in an episode that isn't desperately trying to fit into an hour, and introducing Perrin alongside Mat is something that works well for TV because it's easier to have interweaving conversations in real time. It also isn't a bad idea to age the characters up some (Rand and crew have to be about 20 now, per Moiraine's comments while watching Gorin get gentled) and abandon kiddie activities like badger pranks.

That said, the generic wholesomeness of the town is gone and that one lady who has spilled booze all over herself needs to slow down, like geez, you don't even know if Egwene is alive yet so why are you clearly already sauced? Hell, why is Rand carousing if he should be worrying whether or not his girlfriend was dashed against the rocks? Why is the mayor just chatting with Tam like nothing is up? That river initiation ceremony cannot possibly have a 100% survival rate and I suspect very strongly that its initial placement in the script was very different and only patched together like this because they didn't have time because seriously.

Oh and this is as good a place as any to talk about the elephant in the room to clear out the wrong sort of people before they get any ideas: no, the Two Rivers is not the bastion of Racial Purity it is in the books (we'll discuss that more in the reread when it starts coming up beyond a single acknowledgement that Rand doesn't look like most other folk here), and fuck no that is not remotely a problem. Even ignoring the sheer difficulty of getting enough extras of any ethnic group (and guess what people, "white" is too broad a group in this context and does not constitute a distinct "look" like the Two Rivers people have, you'd have to do "Polish" or "Irish" or something and then you're still making casting everything else a pain in the arse), the simple fact of the matter is that Zoë Robins is perfect as Nynaeve, Madeleine Madden is perfect as Egwene, Barney Harris was perfect as Mat, and maybe someday Marcus Rutherford will grow on me as an actor or at least get a subplot that isn't stupid or both! Together they cover a very broad range of human ethnicity and getting rid of any of them (let alone *most* of them) for racial reasons would be pathetic and would hobble the show even more than Amazon and COVID already managed to do. Shame on you for suggesting it and good day - good here being a word meaning "I hope you achieve some semblance of enlightenment about how wrong you are, which would be very good indeed, now begone!".

And on that note, I really want to go and play video games now, so I'm off as well. See you next time with chapter two: Strangers!

#wheel of time #robert jordan #let's read #rand al'thor #tam al'thor #mat cauthon #wot spoilers #wheel of time spoilers #wot on prime #racism is stupid and you should feel bad

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yanderes-galore · 3 years ago

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One of my favorite FNAF games, ngl- Animatronic or Android, does not matter.

Yandere Behavior For FNAF Sister Location

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warning: Gender-Neutral Darling, Yandere behavior, Possessive behavior, Deceptive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Obsessive behavior, Sadistic behavior, Blood mention, Stalking, Implied trauma, Kidnapping, Implied murder, Illegal activity, Non-con picture taking.

Circus Baby

- Baby is a sinister yet childish clingy Yandere towards you. She's rather playful but manipulative and refers to you as a dear friend.

- Baby has always loved to entertain for kids despite what she's done in the past. When she's then forced into storage in the Rental Facility she gets antsy and nervous.

- This causes her to hate isolation and cling to whoever manages to make contact with her. Which in this case is you.

- She draws you to her with her soft spoken voice to lull you into a false sense of security all so she can trap you in this place with her. She's learned to get her way she has to be good at acting.

- Meeting you makes her feel less lonely and she's willing to do whatever she can to keep you. She isn't sadistic like her Scrapped counterpart, just selfish.

- But sometimes you've got to play pretend to get what you want~

- "Just come a little closer, I won't hurt you, I promise! I just want to play a little more...."

- General Yandere Type: Clingy, Manipulative, Delusional, Forceful, Childish, Playful, Deceptive.

Ballora

- Ballora's more calm, collected, and mature than the other bots. She isn't childish, loud, or deathly sadistic and prefers to dance in the dark while observing you.

- While she isn't as bad as the others, she still can get to be a bit to handle. Normally she likes to sit back and listen for you while using the minireenas to keep track of you. Yet soon she'll get impatient and want you closer.

- Her way of addressing you is rather formal compared to the others, using the term 'dear' for you instead of the more childish terms the others use. She doesn't give into such games like the others but rather tries to drag you into dance.

- She's rarely jealous like the others but instead her behavior is more calm and deceptive like an assassin. Her music box warns you she's closing in before you're restrained by the minireenas.

- Then it's Ballora's time for sadistic desires. Consisting of dances and her form of bonding. She's patient and knows just when she should strike when it comes to you.

- The music box being the soundtrack to your misery.

- "I believe this is a dance for two, dear...."

- General Yandere Behavior: Calm, Obsessive, Observant, Sadistic

Funtime Foxy

- Funtime Foxy can be written in two different ways. A boisterous performer or a quiet and more reserved robot.

- Using UCN Funtime Foxy he's rather attention-seeking with you and only wants to have your eyes one him.

- Don't let your attention stray too long! He wants you to be his biggest fan, to shower him in praises while he performs his acts!

- If he doesn't get such attention he'll have to force it, won't he?

- Using SL Funtime Foxy he's much more quiet and reserved around you. Often opting to hide in the darkness to watch and stalk you rather than grab your attention like in UCN.

- He's much more shy in this persona but also quite dangerous. You never know what direction he's coming unless you have a light by your side.

- Both versions have similar abilities, however, such as voice recording and manipulation to lure you towards him.

- No matter which he is, attention is what he craves from you.

- "The show is about to begin! I hope you won't be late...."

- General Yandere Behavior: Clingy, Attention seeking, Manipulative, Obsessive, Possessive, Deceptive, Observant

Funtime Freddy

- Sadistic is most of what he is. Funtime Freddy could care less about your well being as long as he's satisfying his sick curiosity and urges.

- He doesn't feel he's trapped in this storage building, no, you're trapped with him ever since you entered.

- Funtime Freddy treats you like a toy he can use and break whenever he feels like it. He wants to see you bleed by his hands, to see you weep by his actions. He's selfish with his desires and hates sharing.

- There's a good chance he would kill you, on purpose or accident, which is why Bon Bon is there to act as a fail safe. Freddy would be so sad if Bon Bon let his precious plaything die, right?

- When the 'fun' is over for the night he loves to store you in his chest compartment. Just try not to struggle too much, okay? He may get a little unstable....

- With Funtime Freddy, he and his cupcake will have deadly fun~

- "Where are you, cupcake~?"

- General Yandere Behavior: Very sadistic, Possessive, Selfish, Observant, Deceptive, Unstable.

Ennard

- Ennard is a strange case, not really having a personality of their own. This is because they're an amalgamation of Baby, Ballora, Freddy, and Foxy. Meaning the bot shows several different personas towards their darling.

- Some moments Ennard is rather calm and collected while being rather childish and playful towards you like Ballora and Baby.

- Other times Ennard is rather clingy yet sadistic towards you, not caring if you bleed by their hands like Foxy and Freddy.

- Usually after such... hiccups, the bot will quickly patch you up, not wanting their dear friend to bleed out on them. Ennard is probably even worse if all the bots liked you in some way beforehand.

- Due to technically being four different bots, Ennard becomes hard to predict. If I had to say which personas would make Ennard better to be around it would probably be Baby and Ballora maybe even Foxy.

- Sooner or later Ennard will pull themselves together, however, spelling trouble for you.

- "We only wish to play with you~!"

- General Yandere Behavior: Obsessive, Protective, Childish, Sadistic, Clingy, Playful, Possessive, Delusional, Unstable, Deceptive, Observant, Manipulative.

Lolbit

- Lolbit is also an interesting case as you could write them in several ways. In this case I will write them as an AI/Virus created by William Afton.

- Lolbit is so curious of knowledge which caused them to be restrained in code to not cause too much trouble. They can connect to everything including computers, phones, tablets, robots....

- They're normally rather clingy and playful towards their darling. They are also rather clever and observant, too.

- It's not too much trouble for them to hack into a couple networks and give you money, or redirect some spare parts to make a physical body for themselves.

- While watching you from a screen is cool and all, helping you with little digital things, being able to physically touch you would be great!

- Pictures and video clips only do so much....

- If they make a body for themselves then they're rather protective and possessive about you. Lolbit wants you to rely on them for everything.

- Food? Money? Entertainment? Sure! They'll easily search for some to give you.

- They're a powerful AI, they couldn't care less if what they're doing is legal!

- "[PLEASE STAND BY] while I find the materials needed to help you!"

- General Yandere Behavior: Clingy, Possessive, Protective, Obsessive, Selfish, Observant, Playful.

#yandere x reader #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf sister location #yandere circus baby #yandere ballora #yandere funtime freddy #yandere funtime foxy #yandere ennard #yandere lolbit

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saturnrevolution · 3 years ago

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☆Stellium through the houses☆

please credit my instagram page with the same name if you repost outside of tumblr!!

I got a lot of stellium related messages, so here it is. I have a 6 planets 1st house stellium, so I have a lot to say.

☆ Stelliums are a very controversial topic, as each astrologer has their own way of interpreting it. However, essentially a stellium is a focus on a certain sign or house in a chart. Some astrologers believe that 3 or more planets makes a stellium, whilst some believe 4 or more planets. I tend to go with the 3 or more planets stellium interpretation. However, I personally do not interpret asteroids or angles (asc,dc,mc,ic) as being part of a stellium and mostly focus on planets, but it really does depend on the dynamic of each chart.

☆ A stellium is much stronger if it happens between personal planets (sun-mars) or if it's a combination of personal planets and generational planets (saturn-pluto) and if the planets are in strong conjunctions. The closer to each other and the more planets, the more focused and rare the chart is.

☆ Any planet or sign that is part of this stellium will be a significant one in this person's journey. So if someone has a 2nd house stellium involving the sun, moon and mercury - then houses in which they have leo, cancer and gemini/virgo will have a focus for them as well.

☆ If not cared for enough, a stellium can turn into an obsession of a person on that particular sign's energy or house energy. That is why, it's important to find ways in which you balance the energy of your stellium and this usually works through implementing more of the opposite house's and sign's energy into your life.

Each house ⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇

☆ 1st house stellium

A first house stellium means that there is a focus on self expression and developing this person's identity, as well as outwardly expressing their personality. These people might have strong personalities and really take pride in it, especially if the sun is involved. I find that 1st house stellium people have multiple layers to their personality. This is not to say that they are two faced, but when it comes to their identity, there is never a moment when you get bored of getting to know them as there are endless new things you can find out about them. First house stelliums embody the energy of all the planets that are found in there. The more planets, the more blend out the energy is and it might be harder to pinpoint exactly the ways in which a certain planet is coming off as. These people might have the ability to adapt to the environment they are in and portray a certain personality depending on the situation, while still appearing as their ascendant. The ascendant is the one that dictates the flavors of those energies in the house. The downside of having a first house stellium is that they can be rather individualistic to the point where they do focus way too much on themselves and live in a bubble. Also, there might be a lack of cooperation and they might find it difficult to work in a team or ask for help (not really if you have 7th house planets as well). It's always a great idea to balance with the opposite house, so spending time with your loved ones or investing in your romantic relationships or engaging in teamwork activities will help. In terms of appearance, these people are rather going to turn heads with their aura and have a sort of intriguing vibe to them. These people are straightforward and really shine whenever they are in their confidence and have so much of themselves to share with the world, they are meant to put it all out there and be appreciated for it.

☆ 2nd house stellium

Having a second house stellium means that there is a focus on the material world and possessions and depending on the sign the planets are in, you can tell a lot about what possessions actually mean for this person - this can mean that they either value money or they value spirituality and life experiences over the material. However it may be, these people have a lot of inner strength. Whenever they feel down, they do get back up and they always fight to make it on their own. There might be an issue here with wanting to keep things for themselves too much or with putting too much pressure on themselves to the point where it affects their self worth and they get insecure. They need to be careful to not rely too much on the idea that there is just one clear path for them to go on and that if they do not reach a certain status, things won't work out for them. Career is also quite important for these people, but more as a way to reach security, they are always prioritizing comfort and are quite consistent with their decisions. They might have strong values and really continuously work on their self worth. For these people, it's important to balance the energy with the 8th house, so engaging in things that have to do with shared experiences, shared finances, opening up, being vulnerable and building deep connections where they can let their guard down and relax. Also, there might be a tendency to be a bit stuck in their comfort zone and fear change, so leaning towards the 8th house and finding ways in which they can embrace change and dive deeper into the darker side of things will be really beneficial. They might own a lot of things that represent their personality - even if this means a car or a collection of stickers with spiritual meaning, they have few things that they own that have sentimental value. They are very practical and calculated people and their consistency is usually what gets them to be successful eventually and be appreciated for their integrity.

☆ 3rd house stellium

A third house stellium shows that there is an emphasis on communication or things of the mind for this person. As the 3rd house also rules the years when we are in school or our hometown, it's likely that these people either got a lot of attention in school or had some traumatic experience when they were younger, depending on the planets or signs involved. However, the purpose of a 3rd house stellium is to use their voice in order to express the things that maybe were once repressed or that they feel a deep need to talk about. These people have a lot to say and they have powerful opinions, without necessarily judging others. They can, however, get in heated arguments and sometimes get stuck into their ideas or their thoughts. 3rd house stellium people have a great eye for details and a way with words - they might be good at writing or singing or anything that involves communication, even small talk. They need to be careful not to be too keen on the details that they forget the bigger picture and should balance their 3rd house energy with the 9th house - so engage in more spiritual activities or find metaphor in their daily life and not always seek to analyze and understand the things around them, including emotions. These people can be prone to mental health issues and need to snap out of this by simply taking action. Their country of origin or their immediate and familiar surroundings will likely be an area where they will thrive and they might become well known in a very specific field or niche that they are so good at cause they are great at assimilating information and research. One of their purposes is to use their unique voice and point of view in order to speak up for those that are not able to do it themselves and so make them feel seen and understood, while they also share their potential with the world and often do that through their amazing storytelling gifts - they could even write a book or have a start-up!

☆ 4th house stellium

A fourth house stellium means that there is an emphasis on feeling secure in this life. These people might have went through an impactful childhood - either in a good way or a negative way and they usually base their decisions on the things they learned in the past. They might have a numerous family or some trouble in this area, however there is a focus on family for them. Their motivation comes from feeling safe and knowing that those around them are well. Also, they are likely to learn a lot from building a family on their own, weather this means getting married or simply owning a pet. These people are warm and caring and have this innate mother instinct that shines through. They are also quite intuitive and empathetic, however this is mostly a private area for them which they keep to themselves. The place they live in can influence their mood so much. The trouble here comes when they focus too much on being in a safe and comfortable environment or being surrounded by people they care about that they do not prioritize their growth or they tend to be a bit codependent. They need to balance the energy with the 10th house, so focus on their career and their future goals and use these really beautiful qualities they inherited from their family as an asset into putting themselves out there. Depending on the planets or sign they have here, they might not have moved a lot and when they do, it likely feels like they are out of their comfort zone, they need to build a space that encourages their growth and that's rather luxurious even. They might own a beautiful home later on in life and build their own kind of world there. These people are likely here to break family patterns that were felt for lots of generations before them and share their stories with the world or use the wisdom they gain to inspire and heal others in very profound ways.

☆ 5th house stellium

A fifth house stellium shows a person that is naturally talented or gifted. This can mean that they were basically born with a talent for drawing, singing, being really good at multiple things that enhances their personality and puts them in the spotlight. They came here to showcase these talents and they need to be careful to not to take them for granted and instead use them as a way to find meaning and pleasure in life. They can sometimes lean too much onto the idea of finding pleasure and adopt this careless attitude that focuses on prioritizing themselves before their friends - which can be both good or bad depending on the situation. These people are likely naturally good with children or they are meant to have children of their own and so keep their talents alive, they are also likely to have artists in their family or people that have, again, some really natural skill. Creativity might shine through for these people, depending on the sign and they can also be quite lucky romance wise or be natural flirts. They should be careful not to get too emerged or too obsessed with their pursuits that they forget about the world, so balancing this energy with the 11th house - with being with friends, finding a community that has the same interests as them or involving themselves in fighting for a bigger cause through their skills would help, even building an online persona. If more difficult planets are involved in this stellium, they might have difficulty with their self worth or went through some experience which made them lack the confidence they need to show their talents. Once they find that fire inside, these people are the bright stars that have a lot of admirers of their work and can be amazing leaders if they follow their passion and do not let fear lead the way, as well as really good teachers that people talk about for generations to come.

☆ 6th house stellium

A six house stellium shows someone whose focus in this lifetime is in perfecting their daily tasks in such a way that they match their future goals and get them closer to their aim. These people are action oriented perfectionists, this is why sometimes their wish to do everything in a perfect manner can stand in their way of their action-taking. It's great for these people to find balance in their life by investing in their opposing house, so engaging in spirituality, journaling, going to therapy in order to understand their subconscious mind, invest in their art, write or focus on healing their mind before their body from time to time. A six house stellium is going to be concerned with their body - the way they show up into the world, but also the way they care for their body, the things they eat, how much exercise they make, their skincare routine and how present they are with these tasks. They can sometimes get so stuck into daily things that they forget the bigger picture and they are prone to being workaholics or to burnout. It's important to take things as they come and reduce the expectations they have on themselves. Another trait of a 6th house stellium is their ability to be of service to others - depending on the sign they have in this house, they know how to be of help and really hate feeling useless, they are great at giving advice and observing the details. They are most likely to see something you are not seeing and they have a sharp mind and critical thinking. Also, having coworkers that match their values is a very important trait to them and if they cannot find that, they'd rather work alone or open their own business. As long as they do not overly engage with their daily routine and know that their discipline does not define them, that's when they can achieve the most perfectly imperfect things in life by showcasing their daily tasks that got them to the success they achieved.

☆ 7th house stellium

Having a seventh house stellium shows a lot of emphasis on relationships, socializing and discovering oneself through interactions to the other. These people are likely social, they love discovering and getting to know others and they feed on conversation. They are rational, but also extremely sensitive and can feel very deeply for those that they love, sometimes even in a psychic way. As there is a focus on the other, the problem here arrives when these people overidentify with their partner, their best friend, their family - they rely their whole being on them and they forget about their own needs and wants, they ask everyone about what they should do and they do not make decisions that are in tune with their own authenticity, they might be people pleasers during their darkest times and completely get lost in making people like them. This is why, they need to get themselves out of their comfort zone once in a while and focus on first house themes - take decisions on impulse and trust their intuition, speak up on what is bothering them and even spend time alone to self reflect or invest in some personal activity. This will help them find balance and the harmony that they are always looking for in relationships. These people could even become known for their successful love story. Their potential won't be the same without someone being there to watch them as well, so they are the perfect example of harmonized work, relationships and personal life in time, great multitaskers and storytellers too! Just need to tap into their shadow side, not be afraid to ask around and explore what they are capable of. They came into this life in order to search for people that match their values and to learn to set boundaries and say no to those that don't, they came here to inspire others and lead them with their soft skills, they came here to make others feel loved and in turn, get to know their own potential, which is huge.

☆ 8th house stellium

Having an eight house stellium shows that this person's emphasis is on things that are rather taboo, dark or private. This person is likely to be someone that does not enjoy being in the spotlight (especially if they have personal planets here), but they are amazing when it comes to behind the scenes. What this means is that these people have the ability to read and understand others in a really deep way, so much so that they do not need things explained in words, as they just feel the vibe. This is why, they would be really great in jobs that require them to use their intuition or jobs that require them to do the secret, insider type of behind-the-scenes work, no matter the industry they work in. However, they would do perfect psychologists, psychics or even undercover workers of some sort. These people are passionate and can dive really deep into the subject they are interested in an completely get immersed into that. The problem here is that stellium energy is very obsessive and 8th house energy is the same, so putting these together can get a person to become obsessed with a subject, a situation, another person even to the point where they might stalk this area or to the point where they do not care for their basic needs, such as food, just to spend time observing and investigating this subject. Another challenge for an 8th house stellium is the fact that they are able to feel so much what others are feeling makes them really sensitive and can get easily hurt if they do not separate the bad things that happen into the world from them. It's important for them to balance this energy with the 2nd house energy, so to spend time focusing on the material, on making sure they spend time showcasing their skills through work, but also searching for stability and going away from change and chaos from time to time. These people can also have a sexual energy to them and are likely always in an ongoing personal transformation, even due to the things they had to go through in the past. These people are meant to help others heal, as they are open to the dark like no one else and they have the potential to discover hidden truths, while also discovering themselves.

☆ 9th house stellium

Having a 9th house stellium means that there is a focus on wisdom, beliefs and constantly looking for meaning. These people hold a lot of inner wisdom that just seems to come out of nowhere, as if they were born with it. They are the ones that are not afraid to make mistakes and that take every experience as one to be learned from. You see these people chasing their impulses and the fire within. It's likely that they will move a lot in this lifetime or travel - these are things that help them see the world differently and fuels their wisdom. They might have a culturally diverse background or they might be interested in foreign cultures or foreign languages. If this is not them, then they are the readers, the mind travelers, the spiritualists or religious people that search for eternal questions of the mind. They usually find themselves asking how the world was created and what's wrong or what is right, what's moral and what's not and they have really well thought beliefs. The problem with a 9th house stellium comes when they need to go a bit deeper than life philosophies, when they need to not base all their decision on experience, but rather on facts or on emotions. These people might feel as if darker things in life make them want to run away, in their endless search for spirit, they might shy away from anything that involves emotion or face to face communication, as they do not like getting caught by and being stuck in details. This is why, an advice for them is to invest more time in the 3rd house - to try to listen to what people actually have to say and not what they believe in, to try to see a person besides their spiritual beliefs and music taste - but instead to look at their life struggles and their emotions. What's challenging for a 9th house stellium is to have confrontational conversations that make them feel uncomfortable. As a paradox, the 9th house is all about getting out of their comfort zone, but for them getting out of their comfort zone is staying in their immediate comfort and not trying to escape, they might be surprised how good it feels. The purpose of these people is to go forward with ideas and belief systems that have been studied and felt for generations and to ask the right questions at the right time, so much so that they change people's lives with their positive way of living.

☆ 10th house stellium

A 10th house stellium person is likely going to have an amazing work ethic and find pleasure through investing time in their career. These people are likely to achieve great success in their career and even be recognized as a public persona. The place where they most shine is the moment when they spend their time being productive, organized and working on their goals. The sign can influence the energy a lot, so you don't have to be a super organized person if you have this placement, but you likely have your own personalized way of organization that works for you. They are motivated and sometimes overly critical of themselves, as they always want to reach and do more than they can even take on honestly. This is why they push themselves beyond their limit every time and it's important to stop and asses their process and praise themselves before they move on, they often don't know how much they have done. A good way to do this is for them to focus on the opposite house energy, which is their 4th house - take time to rest, spend time with family, be lazy and allow people around them to slow them down. It's all right to be behind with schedule and it's all right to be human and not feel like a robot 24/7. The problem can come when they have some personal issue that interferes with their daily work. Usually, if they find themselves being more productive than usual, it's a sign that there is something in their personal life that they are trying to avoid by diving deep into their most safe space - work. These people could sometimes get sick because of overworking, so please listen to your body and slow down if you do not feel very good. Overall, they are the ones that help everyone else organize, but the ones that can also do the small tasks - so they would be amazing managers or most likely find success in any area they are going for, as they actually do the work, put in the effort and get so much pay off in time.

☆ 11th house stellium

An eleventh house stellium person will have their focus on matters of the future, groups of people and environments. These people are the ones that are great when it comes to coming up with innovative ideas in order to revolutionize a generation. In today's world, an 11th house stellium can be seen either vouching for a good cause at a protest or creating their own non-governmental organization or being an internet star. People that have more planets in this house are likely naturally good at technology or at least the internet or they are very skilled when it comes to some unique niche interest of their and they often lead people onto the right direction with their minds. These people are selfless and unfortunately can sometimes care too much about their environment and not enough about their own needs, so it's important for them to balance this energy with the 5th house energy and try engage into creative, artistic outlets or simply just do any activity such as going out or even watching movies just for their own pleasure - without needing to share it with anyone and without needing to make a purpose or a cause out of it. However, they do not necessarily have to be internet stars to be seen, they could even go the other route of being against social media and engaging in a very hippie, healthy way of living or simply choose a traditional route when everyone goes for the modern - anything that makes them stand out. They can also feel misunderstood sometimes because of this and alone, but finding the right community that shares the same interests as them or just the right small group of friends with the same values will do wonders. These people can also be rather controversial, as they are most likely the first ones to start a trend, a movement or be bold enough to take a chance to think and express themselves differently compared to the environment they grew up in.

☆ 12th house stellium

A 12th house stellium has their focus on the outer reality, but not necessarily a material one. These people are extremely selfless and would give a lot just to simply help someone. As the 12th house can also represent karma, these people might have had some lessons in their early life and even later on that felt karmic - it made them feel as if they did not do anything to deserve such experience and since they have been there, they have such a deep ability to be compassionate and understand where everyone is coming from. However, their past experiences made them feel small and helpless and this is the reason why they believe that making themselves small in the first place and being there for others more than their own is going to bring them good karma in return (this belief is at a subconscious level). When in reality, their ultimate purpose in this lifetime is to find themselves. Unless they stop giving their all to everyone in hopes to get something in return and actually take the matter in their own hands and fight for themselves, they will likely feel lost. These people have such artistic and intuitive souls, they absorb the energy around them and are very strong as they can endure things for long, but the real challenge is to go onto the journey of discovering themselves and find out how amazingly it feels to put yourself first and feel happy through balancing with the opposite 6th house and focus on the present moment, learn to prioritize their needs and focus on moving their body and taking the days step by step. These people came here to show us a lesson of how much you can heal the world by healing yourself - just do that and let the magic unfold.

#astrology #stellium #longpost #zodiac #signs #aries #taurus #gemini #scorpio #libra #sagittarius #capricorn #virgo #aquarius #pisces #leo #cancer #posted #houses

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anowamij · 2 years ago

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KIM HONGJOONG ( 7th November 1998 ) ASC Analise

A.N. :

Hongjoong's birth time is not clear, but as I wrote in my previous post, I think he is a lion ascendant. I think you can understand the reason in the specificity of the Leo Ascendant, but it can also be the Capricorn Ascendant, which one do you think I will share with you.

Characteristics of a Leo Ascendant

You are very confident in everything and think that other people always like you. In fact, you are quite ambitious about it. If people are looking at you, you may think that they can't take my beauty. In fact, you always want all the attention on you. Being admired, cared for and appreciated caresses your soul. When you feel that you are not paying attention, you lose your joy and get angry with life. You either immediately run away from that environment or do everything to attract attention. Your strong personality is very effective in persuading people. You can wear any outfit you want. You cannot lose the kingdom to anyone. There is nothing you cannot do to stay on top and achieve your goals. Your creative and artistic aspects always dominate. You can be extremely successful in any field you are interested in and love. Instead of imitating others, you act with your unique personality. It always draws you to flamboyant, majestic, vibrant colors.

It's not on you to schedule things or use other people. If you look soft and affectionate, you will make your job easier. No one can say no to a Rising Lion who doesn't have any harsh effects. You won't let go of your planned work no matter what. You can also work in very harsh conditions. With this active and hasty attitude, sometimes the atmosphere can be tense, but in the end you will definitely convince the person in front of you. it can be hard to keep up with your crazy pace This brave, frank and self-confident nature makes other people trust you as well. You never let people down. You have no patience to be scorned, criticized and criticized.

When you're angry, your eyes can't see anything, but they can only calm you down with meekness. Your life energy and joy of life are very high. You always want to live life to the fullest. Your fondness for entertainment makes you inclined towards gambling and games of chance. You cannot avoid speculation. The most generous people of the zodiac come out of you. It is not known whether it is a fault, but it is difficult for you to be satisfied with a single lover. Besides, you love nature, beautiful things, comfort and luxury very much. Those with Leo ascendant usually have a medium height, wide chest, structure. They give confidence to those around them. Although you are active like a spring in your youth. As the years pass, you start to act more slowly. Your hair is light-colored and bush. Your eyes may be blue or pale gray. Your face is limp, your hands and feet are much smaller than your body.

Characteristics of a Capricorn Ascendant He thinks very deeply, speaks little, is curious, controlled and slow-moving. It takes time to adapt to changes and adapt to new things.

His shy nature causes him to have difficulty in making decisions. Making careful calculations and weighing everything with its pluses and minuses are among its remarkable features.

Once he has made a decision, he does not back down from his decision. When a consistent attitude is added to this determined behavior, a structure that gains the trust of other people emerges.

Even if it causes trouble, he tells the events without resorting to deception, lies, and deception. In general, he appears stagnant, thoughtful and pessimistic from the outside. The reason for this cold appearance is the psychology of protection. It should add different colors and excitement to your life. Otherwise, he will continue to be accused of being boring, formal and cold around him.

He is extremely patient, strong, stubborn and cold-blooded. No matter what happens, he does not panic. He has an air of knowing what he wants out of life.

Work always comes first. It is his greatest desire to rise, manage and lead. Ascendant Capricorns are the cornerstones of the business world. The Ant in the story The Ant and the Cicada symbolizes him.

Respects laws, rules and principles. All work based on discipline is for him. Being rich, gaining fame and achieving success is his life goal.

Since he is not flexible, he does everything according to the rules and does not go beyond the basic principles. Instead of embarking on every job to be successful, he chooses the job that suits him. He may spend all his time working.

He likes to read and learn and keeps the information he learned to himself. One of the worst things for him is wasting time. He is extremely controlling and suspicious.

The need to hide his curious nature is a supported trait in this natal chart position. No one knows the storms inside him because he is tight-lipped. He never forgets the bad as well as the good deeds done. Sometimes he waits a lifetime for revenge.

His anger becomes so terrible that it can burn everything to ashes. But since it is controlled, it is in your hands to restrain it.

Money and material values are important to him. He is afraid of losing the financial gains and savings he has made with patience and hard work. For him, interests and interests are always at the forefront.

Capricorn Ascendant is short or medium in height, with a rather long and thin face. Its chin is long and its nose is straight. Its neck is long and thin. His eyes are dark brown and his hair is usually black.

Mustache and beard are sparse in men. His gait is not harmonious because his knees are dislocated. The skin is generally dark in color. Your cheeks, cheekbones are selected.

AN.;

I think the leo ascendant may have minimized the compatibility and aggression in his chart because the capricorn ascendant hongjoong more disciplined and aggresive, but I think the lion asc may have brought the harmony and peace to the chart. Leo doesn't have as much influence on hongjoong as I described, but the lion ascendant may have done the peace,creativeness and minimization, or he may have a dark capitalist side that he hides from us, after all, he is a scorpio, but again, emotions and communication. In my opinion, I think hongjoong will cant hide it very well honestly, or even if he hides it, he will reveal himself before too long, he may not be very good at acting. What you think I wanna discuss

#Ateez hongjoong #hongjoong natal chart #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #a #ateez #ateez kim hongjoong #ateez natal chart #natal chart #birthchart #leo ascendant #cap asc #capricorn #capricorn ascendant

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marvelouslytrekking · 3 years ago

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The Escaped Bride {1/?}

Ch 1: The Arrangement

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Summary: An arranged marriage to your childhood best friend isn’t exactly how you imagined it but you also couldn’t say you were too upset to be marrying James Barnes. Word Count: 1741 Warning: arranged marriage, maybe a swear word? A/N: Alrighty folks so I got this idea in like December and have been working on it since. I have quite a bit of it written and am not longer capable of keeping it to myself. Updates on this probably won’t be very consistent but I have most of it plotted so that might help. Please let me know what you think!! Feedback fuels my soul!

Series Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

“There is no getting out of this.” Your mother told you sternly. She was not having your fits about the marriage.

“I don’t understand why I can’t choose someone to marry myself!” You huffed.

“This was set up while you were just young. You cannot back out of it now.” Your mother told you, “You two have been inseparable. I don’t know why you are fighting this so much. You aren’t going to find anyone better than James.”

“I want to have a say in my life!”

“Enough of this.” You heard your fathers voice boom from the doorway. It caused you to cringe. “You will marry James, and I will not hear another complaint from you about it.”

“Yes father,” You sighed.

“Now, James is here to see you. You will go, and be civil with him.” He informed you.

You just nodded, walking past your father to go meet James. While you were mad about this marriage, you were excited to see James. Your mother wasn’t wrong, you and James were inseparable. You truly loved James, but you couldn’t stand the idea of having to marry him, and him to not love you. You couldn’t stand the idea that he may one day resent you.

“Hello James,” You smiled, “It’s good to see you.”

“My dear,” He smiled as he saw you walking up to him. “Care to go on a walk?”

“I would love to.” You were relieved at the idea of getting out of your house and away from your parents.

You followed him down a path that the two of you had taken many times. There was an awkward silence that had settled between you. This was the first time you had seen each other since your parents told you the news of what was to happen.

“I have been made aware that you are not exactly happy about this arrangement,” James was finally the one to break the silence and you could hear a small amount of hurt in his voice at the statement.

“I am not thrilled with the idea that my whole life was planned out by someone else,” You told him, “But if I was to be promised to anyone, I guess I am glad it is you.”

James sighed at that. As teens you had spent many days talking of your futures, there was a point where you even talked of marrying each other, but one thing that was always consistent was your anger at watching friends and the older girls in your social circle getting married off without their say.

“I wish it wasn’t being forced on you either,” Bucky admitted, “But I do not care about the fact this was arranged by our parents, I want to marry you. I love you and wouldn’t want to be with anyone but you. If it hadn’t already been in the works, I would be proposing to you myself”

You stopped in place hearing him admit that to you. He stopped as well, turning to you with a look of hope in his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since we were children,” You told him truthfully, “I just couldn’t bear the thought of marrying you if you did not share those feelings. It would have broken my heart.”

“I would never break your heart,” James said with a seriousness in his voice, reaching out and cupping your face in his hands. You place your hands over his, trying to ground yourself so you don’t get lost into the love in his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

He already leaned down, inches away from your lips but he paused, waiting for your answer. When you nodded, he closed the distance quickly, kissing you slowly.

While it may not be the first time you had shared a kiss, this was different, it was slow, meant to translate the love felt between you two. You pulled away with a smile, finding yourself suddenly very excited about being able to get married. Your marriage was now the freedom you craved and not the prison you feared it to be.

“You know the only problem I have with this?” You asked as you continued to walk, now hand in hand.

“What’s that?” James asked you curiously.

“I have to go back there and admit to both mother and father that they were right.” You groaned. You could already see the smug look your mother would have when you suddenly became happy about the ideal marriage. James laughed at your admission. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry love,” He raised his hands in surrender but still had a smile on his face, “I just thought you’d have a critique about me going back to sea or the church or something. I should have known it was just you being as stubborn as ever.

“You’re going back to sea soon?” You asked, suddenly worried he was going to be gone for a while again. You hated that he had joined the Navy, but you had not been able to convince him not to.

“Not until we’re married.” He told you.

“And then you will leave your new wife alone in a big house by herself?” You gave him a frown.

“I am sure she’ll find plenty of things to occupy her time.” He rolled his eyes at you, “I have been working very hard to complete a library for her.”

Your eyes lit up at that. James was always gifting you with books and the idea that he was creating a library for you had your heart swelling. “I guess she’ll survive the time without him.”

You had unfortunately made it back to your house. “See I told you, look at that smug look.” You whispered to James as you saw your mother watching you reenter the house with him.

That was the last you were able to talk to him as you were quickly whisked away after entering the house. Your mother and his were already starting to plan things and they wanted your opinion. It was all very overwhelming but you were at least now wanting this wedding, so you were able to give your opinion much more freely.

This was how the next few weeks went. You would barely be able to sneak a few moments with James before you were swept away for a fitting, or to pick flowers, or to decide on bridesmaid’s dresses. Everything was a whirlwind but you were just happy to know that in only a short time you would be Mrs. Barnes.

You were currently at your final dress fitting. The wedding was just a week away and you couldn’t be more excited to finally be marrying your childhood best friend.

“Excuse me ma’am,” One of the handmaids interrupted, “James is here and he requested to speak with you, he says it’s urgent.”

You frowned at that. You had no idea what he would deem as urgent to interrupt your last fitting.

“We are basically done here.” You told her, “Tell him I just need a moment to change and I will meet him in the drawing room in a moment.”

You took one final look at the dress before quickly signaling for everyone to help you get undressed. You got back into your normal clothes as quickly as you possibly could.

“James, what is it?” You asked as you finally entered the drawing room. He was pacing around the room which only made you more nervous.

“I am so sorry, my love,” James sighed as he walked up to you, “We must postpone the wedding.”

“Why on earth?” Your frown deepened.

“I have to go back out to sea,” He told you.

“You promised you weren’t leaving until after the wedding, James.”

“I know, and I wish I had a choice, I truly do.” The look in his eyes told you he was sincere, “There are pirates threatening a major port that we cannot lose, they need all the help they can get.”

“How long?” You asked.

“Shouldn’t be long at all,” He told you, “I will be back before you know it, and we will then get married and finally be together, I promise.”

“You better come back to me,” You said softly. The idea that he was leaving to fight off pirates left you terrified for his safety.

“I will, I could never leave you.” He leaned down and gave you a brief kiss.

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips.

“I love you too,” He replied “I can’t wait to get back to you and get married.”

“Be safe,” You told him as he broke away from you to leave.

You hated the pit you felt in your stomach as you watched him leave. You felt it every time he left to go to sea. He assured you that he knew what he was doing and he would always make it back, and so far he had but it didn’t make it any easier.

You didn’t sleep well in the nights that followed. Your mother and father had to deal with getting everything delayed but make sure it would be ready when he returned. Not only were they antsy to marry you off, they knew that is what you wanted.

You were relaxing under a tree, reading a book, trying to distract yourself when you noticed a carriage in your driveway. You watched as a man in a uniform stepped out, and you felt your stomach drop. You knew that James’ parents were over visiting with yours and discussing more wedding arrangements. You had a feeling that whatever the man was saying it was not going to be good.

You were quick to get up and rush to the door as well. Whatever news he was going to give you wanted to be in the room to hear it.

You made it into the house quickly and made your way to the study.

“I am sorry to inform you, but James Barnes was killed in action by Pirate Roberts.”

You couldn’t help the sob that slipped past your lips. You could barely comprehend the thought that James was gone. You had even been able to start your life with him and he was just dead? You felt yourself collapse but were caught by your handmaid before you hit the ground.

“No, he can’t” You sob into her side, “He promised me he would come home,”

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poguestvff · 3 years ago

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LIKE A BIG SISTER SHOULD — WHEEZIE CAMERON

in which wheezie cameron finds that blood doesn’t make you family, love and affection does.

taglist | masterlist | 2.5k words | @pogueslandia ,

warning(s): food, she/her pronouns, ward slander, a little sarah slander but that’d include reading between the lines. why’d this make me want to make a series of reader and Wheezie being best friends.

There's always been a heavy feeling of loneliness that rested upon the youngest cameron's shoulders, weighing her down as it seemed to pile over the years. Her siblings were always older, an age gap between them that even if it was shortened by a few years, their worlds would still be two different things. All three of them were in three different stages of life yet somehow it felt like Wheezie wasn't even there at times.

Throughout the entirety of her schooling career so far, everything had somehow been about Rafe and Sarah. Sarah was the perfect one; the paragon who could do no wrong. Even if Sarah tried to disobey, it'd be turned around to be made out as a minute mistake. She'd probably be able to get away with it a second time if she did it a different way. Maybe the same way.

Rafe was quite the opposite. The bastard child who needed a plentiful amount of attention in hopes he can be more like the paragon. With all this attention, his head only grew. It never gave him the space for growth. It minimized the space to stay exactly where he was for years on end.

This left Wheezie to be the ostracized sibling. She wasn't a social butterfly or a poster child like Sarah and she definitely wasn't a loner or the 'damaged goods' child like Rafe. She was just... average. With average grades and an average personality. Just average old Wheezie. She told herself this consistently, watching her father balance his attention between making sure Rafe stayed between the lines he'd drawn for him in a radius such as a dart board and allowing Sarah step out of them, even erasing some of the lines so she could walk on by them without a second thought.

But Wheezie was stuck in that tiny little circle in the middle, the bullseye as if scared to move out of those lines. The one place that was the hardest to pinpoint specifically by her father. But there was one thing Ward Cameron always said correct about his younger daughter. That he wouldn't be able to pin point his little dart of control into the middle of the board because she was misunderstood and misunderstood she was.

Though one person had been able to pick up on every single one of Wheezie's emotions.

Y/n Y/L/N was a pogue who had done tutoring on the side for a little extra money and when John B had recommended Y/n for help with Wheezie's homework, Ward was quick to say okay. He hardly even asked a thing about Y/n, just telling her to help Wheezie pass eighth grade and that was all. It was made very apparent to Y/n that was Wheezie was not as much of a priority to Ward as other things were.

Their first tutoring session, Wheezie was awfully dismissive. She didn't care for any of Y/n's efforts as they sat within the comfort of Wheezie's bedroom. She just wanted the entire hour to be over with the second she'd entered her room but Y/n was insistent, knowing that by the end of the school year she would have something instilled in Wheezie's brain. She just didn't know what that something was yet.

The second time they met, Y/n was more passive aggressive in hopes of breaking down the brick walls Wheezie had stored between her and everyone else in hopes of not disappointing them like the way she thought she'd disappointed her father. Y/n sat her down in her desk chair, swiveling her chair to her as she rested her hands on the younger girls shoulders. "You are going to have a really awkward couple of weeks if you and i don't become friends so no work today. We're playing 20 questions."

That night, Y/n learned a lot about Wheezie Cameron that she never thought she'd learned. Wheezie hated the color purple, she just painted her room that color because Sarah liked that color. Wheezie loved to paint and to draw, it was her favorite activity, she just rarely showed it bevause she hadn't believed in herself. Though, when she showed Y/n the canvas' that were shoved at the back of the closet, Y/n marveled at them. But Y/n's favorite fact, and the same one that almost made her hug Wheezie on the spot, was that she was never taught to swim and Y/n made her a promise that she would teach her.

As the weeks went by, Wheezie waiting anticipatingly for Y/n's beaten down, green ford bronco to pull up on the driveway and she'd leave the house with a giant smile on her face. It’d be early in the morning, a little less than an hour until school started, just like how Wheezie liked. She'd jump in the driver seat, embracing the smell of vanilla from the scented item hanging from the rear view mirror. She’d toss her bag to the back as Y/n would ruffle her hair, just like she had every morning. "And beloved was set in... late 1856!" Wheezie answered excitedly as Y/n drove down the final street towards her school after the two had gotten breakfast together.

"Perfect! You're gonna do so good on your test, Wheeze, I promise." Y/n told her ecstatically as she pulled into a parking space. Just before Wheezie could get out, Y/n held her upper arm just to gain her attention before she got out. "Tell Rose she doesn't have to get you after school. I'll leave school early and you and I are having a girls day. No studying, just me, you and a shit ton of sweets."

Wheezie smiled, she could feel the muscles in her jaw begin to hurt from how wide she had. She tilted her head to the side out of curiosity, eyeing the look of excitement on Y/n's face. "But why?"

Y/n shrugged, adjusting in her seat and fixing her rear view mirror. "Cause, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you, Little W." She told her, looking back towards the girl and seeing her smile slightly drop. "You okay?"

Wheezie couldn't remember a time where she was genuinely told that. Yeah, sure, Ward said it a few times but it'd be in a lousy tone before he'd wave her off, saying he was busy with whatever office work he had to attend to. Sarah may have said it a few times but it was rushed before she'd run after her friends with a quick goodbye to Wheeze, leaving her alone in the sand. It was never sincere. Not in the way Y/n had said it.

She rubbed her hands against her jean clad thighs with a sharp breath before nodding. “Yeah. I've just never really been told that before. Like—Like genuinely." She said, lowly, in hopes Y/n would understand and wouldn't push it.

Y/n had known Wheezie long enough to know her tells and avoiding eye contact was one of the biggest ones. So she didn't indulge further in the conversation, brushing it under the rug but knowing she'd have to go diving back in for that little tidbit later on. Instead she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from over the console. "I'll tell you i'm proud of you everyday if i have to." Y/n muttered before kissing the top of her head. "Now go, if you're late to first period, your dad will kill me." And Wheezie was able to leave the car with a smile on her face, already looking forward to the day planned later on.

Y/n was overall consistent, it was one thing Wheezie enjoyed knowing that when she made promises she tried to keep them as best as she could. Sometimes things slipped her mind but Wheezie could recognize that Y/n didn't forget a thing when it came to Wheezie. Like she made sure to engrave bits and pieces of her into her mind like a data chart. But it showed she cared and that was enough for Wheezie.

Y/n cared enough that when she entered her car after school, the smell of her favorite cinnabon's filled the car that made her look in the backseat, seeing a picnic basket. There wasn't a chance, right? You could only get them on the mainland. She turned her body swiftly towards the elder girl who sat with a smirk on her face. "You didn't?"

"I did. Second I left fourth period, got on a ferry just for you to have those overly sweet treats." Y/n said, tapping her nose with a 'boop'! "And I almost got stuck on the mainland because of it so you better enjoy the hell out of them."

"I will, I promise." Wheezie said dramatically as Y/n smiled, pulling out of the parking space to head down to the beach. Wheezie had said she didn't have a bathing suit, not prepared for the outing, though Y/n already said she had ransacked her room for clothes for after. Y/n was the only person allowed in Wheezie Cameron's room without Wheezie being there and the elder girl took pride in it.

As Y/n set up their small area for the few hours, she noticed Wheezie standing just where the water and the sand met. She kicked around the water with clear disinterest causing Y/n to huff, hands on her hips, before tossing off her hoodie to get in. The splash she'd made by pushing herself into the water made Wheezie jump, a laugh falling from the two's lips. "Come on." Y/n said, standing and holding her hands out to Wheezie.

"Y/n/n, I can't swim."

"Y/n/n I can't swim, well, obvi, i know that, little W. But, you have your amazing best friend to keep you afloat. I won't let you go, i swear." Y/n said, holding up her pinky.

"Swear?"

"On my life." She reassured with a trusting smile before Wheezie walked further in. When the water had gotten to her above her waist, it'd freaked her out a bit though Y/n talked her through it, coaxing her further in slowly. Wheezie was kept above the water as Y/n held her hands as the buoyancy was used to their advantage. "See, not as bad as you thought?"

Wheezie shook her head though still nervous. "Not as bad, not my thing though."

"Why don't we try actually swimming? I won't force you if you don't want to and we can get back to shore right now but maybe just try?" She asked as Wheezie had to think about it for a moment. She almost felt guilty, remembing just a few months ago when Sarah had asked her if she could teach her but she refused. Though maybe, just maybe, it was because of Y/n being a bit more trust worthy that Wheezie said yes this time.

It took a while, Wheezie was frightened by letting go even as Y/n would say she was okay. Wheezie would tighten her grip on her shoulders before trying again and again until she eventually got it. She finally was able to keep herself above the water without flailing, recognizing that she was okay. Y/n cheered as she watched, not caring for the stares of others around them. "See, dude? You just have to start applying yourself! You did it!"

"I did it!" Wheezie said as Y/n hugged her, the two laughing before Wheezie screamed making Y/n's laughter die fast. "Something touched me!"

"Wheeze, it was seaweed." Y/n said softly before turning and letting her place her hands on her shoulders. "Yeah let's get you out of here before a jellyfish gets you."

Wheezie widened her eyes. "Jellyfish?"

As the sun had began to set and people had packed up their things and left, Y/n and Wheezie stayed. Wheezie was on her fourth doughy treat, even though Y/n told her to slow down two treats ago. Towels were wrapped around each of their shoulders as they watched the pretty colors fade in to one another, a mixture of pink, blue and orange array of colors combining to make a cotton candy sky. Wheezie watched as Y/n got up, accepting a phone call from Ward, the only phone call she hadn't silenced since they'd left the car.

In the time she'd left, Wheezie took advantage of it to recognize how appreciative she was of all that Y/n was doing for her. She came in as a tutor and, to Wheezie, was to stay as a friend. As family. Wheezie was more then ecstatic to have someone who would be there to rant and rave about the other Cameron's, someone she could trust with her secrets and the contents of her always running brain. Someone who was just there.

"Hey, your father would like us back in thirty so we should leave in ten." She said coming back and sitting beside Wheezie as she caught sight of her face, the lack of the smile that was there previously concerning her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just... I really enjoyed today, Y/n. It really lets me know you're not just here for like... like the money or something."

Y/n let out a scoff. "Are you kidding? I enjoy nothing more than watching you freak out over the existence of jellyfish." She joked as Wheezie pushed her to the side with a laugh. Y/n recovered, letting out a content sigh as she tossed an arm over Wheezie's shoulders. "You're stuck with me now, Wheezes. Can't wait to record you falling at your next soccer game."

Wheezie couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, leaning into Y/n's embrace as her head rested against her clavicle. "And I'll be looking for you in the stands, Y/n/n."

Y/n and Wheezie had both found out something about the other that night. Wheezie found that she didn't want to be like Sarah and she was glad she wasn't like Rafe. She was content with her own little circle on the dart board but maybe she could take a bit after her newest role model. And Y/n found that she was able to instill several things into the youngers mind including To Kill a Mockingbird, Inca Civilizations, and that she now had a true and present big sister to look up to.

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #wheezie cameron #wheezie cameron x reader #rafe cameron #sarah cameron

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seriouslysnape · 4 years ago

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Morning Challenge

Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Language.

Word Count: 1,682

A/N: This is the second time I’ve reposted this. I cannot get the format right lolz.

“Do you need a hand, baby?”

“Five more minutes?” You begged.

“Baby, I’ve got to go.” Remus replied.

“Please?” You pressed on.

“I can’t, sweetheart.”

He looked down at your pouting face, his heart melting at the way your lower lip stuck out ever so slightly as you looked back at him through pleading eyes. It was early in the morning, around 6:00 or so. Remus usually didn’t get his day started until around 7:30, but today he had some things he wanted to get a head start on.

And you weren’t happy about it.

“Remus,” You whined; “I want you to stay.”

You refused to let him out of your death cling, which consisted of you wrapping yourself around him in a way that meant he’d have to quite literally peel you off of him. He had to admit, you were making it awfully hard to get up and go to work.

“You have work too, you know.” Remus pointed out.

“Never this early. The sun hasn’t even come up yet.” You argued back, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“It’ll start to in a few minutes.” He announced.

You grumbled, your fingers dancing along his exposed core.

“Can’t you put your grading off for at least today? Isn’t a weekend called a weekend for a reason?” You questioned.

A chuckle escaped his chest, as he peppered kisses along your neck.

“Yeah, something like that,” Remus answered; “I’ve been waiting for a special occasion to take a free Saturday.”

“Today’s a special occasion.” You claimed, shifting a little under the feeling of Remus’ facial hair scratching at your skin.

“Is it?” He acquired.

His lips nipped at certain areas on your neck, smirking at the sounds of your giggles and squirms.

“How often do we get mornings alone together where we don’t really have to be in a hurry to get anywhere?” You wondered.

“Not often. You’re not wrong about that,” Remus replied; “Are you saying I should take today off?”

You shrugged.

“It’d be nice. You and I could stay here all day...” You whispered out, taking your turn kissing his neck and jawline.

He was hesitant to give you a promise if he couldn’t afford a day off from work, even if it WAS a Saturday. Although, staying in bed all day really was tempting. You moved to crawl over on top of him, straddling his waist and continuing to layer him with kisses. Your hips grinded down against his crotch, eliciting a groan from the man. Your fingers wrapped around the waistband on his boxers, yanking them down his legs.

“Angel...don’t start something you can’t finish.” He warned, arousal beginning to flush over him as you removed your shirt from your body exposing your fully naked body to him.

You hummed out seductively, grinning at how he had gotten so hot and bothered by just a few kisses and showing your nakedness to him.

“How about this...” You purred, glancing over out the window and then looking back to Remus being sprawled out underneath you; “If I can make you cum before the sun fully comes up, then you have to take the day off.”

Remus’ hands gripped your waist to keep you from going anywhere, his brown eyes blown with lust.

“You’ve got a deal.” He murmured.

The sun had just started to peek over the horizon, so you didn’t have long before it was fully risen. You rocked your hips, dragging your sex over his dick and teasing your clit with his tip to build up your own arousal. It usually took some foreplay to get you wet and ready for him, but now you were having to put in a little effort to get where you needed to be.

You had to admit, Remus usually had your walls slick and cunt dripping with arousal within no time at all. It had been quite some time since you had to do it yourself. He watched in amusement, your desperate whimpers made his heart flutter as you tried your hardest to get yourself turned on. You were a bit out of practice when it came to self-satisfaction.

“Do you need a hand, baby?” He smirked, a snicker bubbling out of his throat.

You nodded vigorously, your hip rocking beginning to slow.

“Please.” You whined.

He obliged, wasting no time finding your clit with his fingers. You almost jolted off of him in waves of shocking pleasure if it hadn’t been for his hand holding you down. He cycled between different speeds and motions that he knew would have you pooling within only a few seconds. Your eyelashes batted as you rocked into his fingers, his deep voice sounding out.

“Such a pretty girl...” He groaned; “I’m not helping you after this, doll. If you want me to take my day off, you’re going to have to earn it.”

His words resonated with you that the goal was for you to get him to cum. Not the other way around. Although, you had a feeling you might get as lucky. You pulled his hand away just as the ecstasy fog began to cloud your head, letting you know you were good to go.

You lined yourself up and sank down onto him, drawing moans out of both of you. You had fucked him enough that you never really needed to adjust to him, but you always started out rather slow. You rolled pelvis in a slow ride, soaking his cock with your hot arousal and slickness. Remus’ head fell back onto the pillows, his hands trailing over your warm skin. He kneaded and your breasts, playing with your stimulated nipples in a way that sent sparks down your spine.

He reveled in the feeling of you slow riding him. It was secretly his favorite way to have you, despite popular belief. There was a time and place for rough, hard sex. Whereas something more sensual and slower like this was always in order. While he usually enjoyed a long, glacial fuck at the END of the day, he was preferring something a little faster to get the BEGINNING of his day started off right.

“Darling...” He implored, his tone letting you know that he wanted you to speed it up; “You’re not gonna get what you want if you keep that up.”

You nodded, shifting your movements into more of a bounce, and your speed increasing. He stretched and filled your walls perfectly, his tip hitting your g-spot every time you slammed back down onto his lap. The room was getting brighter as the sun crept higher and higher. Your skin was glowing in the warm colors of the sunrise, making you look so beautiful that it almost looked fake. He somewhat kept his original statement, keeping one hand above his head and one strictly on your waist to avoid giving you any assistance.

That didn’t stop him from verbally praising you.

“So fucking good, baby,” He mewled; “You’re such a good girl.”

Your brain couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence. The only noises coming out of you were breathy pitches and moans each time you bounced back down onto him. You were totally focused, having one goal in mind.

You were going to give him the best orgasm of his life.

He was using all of his body force to keep his hips planted on the mattress. He was fighting the urge to fuck up into you with rutted, hard thrusts. You wanted to do this on your own, and by God he was going to let you. He LOVED the feeling of being buried deep inside of you when you sank onto him. He adored filling you and making noises that he didn’t even know were possible come out of you. He didn’t think it was possible, but you started moving even faster, sending blood rushing to his head.

“You’re going to be the death of me, [Y/N].” He said, his voice strained.

“I love you so much,” You huffed, your lungs breathless; “I want to spend every morning like this...”

Remus grunted in agreement, his mind too thick with fog to verbally respond. Truth be told, Remus was trying his hardest not to cum, putting off his release until after your goal time. It wasn’t that he DIDN’T want to cum, but he thought he could tantalize you from work if he caused you to fail at your challenge.

But the way you were rocking, rotating, and wonderfully fucking him, he realized he couldn’t help himself.

His dick twitched inside your throbbing cunt, signaling that he was only a few more moments away from spilling inside of you. A throaty groan erupted from his chest as he came inside of you, filling you with every drop of his release.

Your climax hit you in a flash of white, a strangled cry falling from your lips. You came around him, your movements coming to a stop as your body went limp. You placed your hands on his lower abdomen to steady yourself, your legs trembling from the strenuous movement.

His grip on your waist loosened, and now both of his hands were caressing softly. You took a few moments to regain yourself, before Remus’ gentle laugh brought you back to reality. You followed his gaze outside the window to see that the sun had just fully appeared above the skyline.

Perfect timing.

“A promise is a promise.” Remus grinned, his chest still heaving.

Your smile was blinding as you popped off of him, falling next to him on the mattress. You had worked him rather hard, and you were sure to give him some loving care. You littered his chest and face with kisses, happy that he was staying in with you today.

“Since you’ll be here all day, we could do that again...and again and again.” You hinted.

Remus’ dark eyes were trained on you, his cheeks flushed at the thought.

“Promise?” He asked.

You caught his lips in a searing kiss before spending all day wrapped up in his presence.

“Promise.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x female reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x professor #remus lupin oneshot #Harry Potter #harry potter lupin #harry potter remus lupin #seriouslysnape

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hongism · 4 years ago

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mists of celeste ➻ 38

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 17.1k (._.) ➻ rating: m ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: blood, fighting, violence, weapons, choking (not the sexy kind sorry), self-inflicted injury, some psychological torture, graphic depictions of death, drowning but not really? someone being held underwater, implied suicide (but no graphic depiction) ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act five ➻ part five

Stepping onto the bridge with Wooyoung in tow is an experience to say the very least. Mostly because it is eerily quiet when you arrive, so startlingly empty that you pause the second you step into the room. Hongjoong sits still as a statue in his usual place even though he has truly no need to be in the captain’s chair since you aren’t going anywhere quite yet. The only movements he makes are to cross one leg over the other back and forth every few seconds like he can’t stay put for too long. Other than that, he makes no effort to acknowledge your presence at the edge of the bridge, which would be expected if not for the crucial nature of your mission.

The effects of Soojin’s little concoction are still weighing heavily on your muscles and bones, but you are at least able to keep your eyes open now. Jongho refuses to let go of your waist, and you might complain if you didn’t think you would crumble to a useless heap on the floor once he let you go. You don’t trust your muscles to cooperate that much.

“I see you’re bringing good news,” Hongjoong states as you draw closer to where he’s seated. One quick glance at the observation window tells you he’s carefully watching your every move, including the pair behind you that consists of Yeosang and Wooyoung.

“Aye, Captain,” Jongho says through a smile. Hongjoong finally shifts to look your way, eyes hesitating on your slumped form for a moment before moving to where Wooyoung stands.

“Glad to see you back on board, Wooyoung.” His tone won’t commit to showing how he truly feels, but there is a certain light in Hongjoong’s eyes that he cannot hide, and you find relief in his features as he looks over Wooyoung. It’s brief and temporary, but the obvious warmth that his countenance holds as he and Wooyoung make eye contact is enough to show you how heavily this has been weighing on the young captain as well.

“Glad to be back, Captain,” Wooyoung answers in haste. You can hear the smile in his voice even if you cannot see it.

“Were there any issues with the mission?”

“No, just… a small hiccup.” Jongho glances down at you, and the slight shift has Hongjoong redirecting his focus to you as well. You steel yourself for some sort of lecture, a backhanded comment about staying focused on the task at hand, or maybe even just a comment about you being a weak link. Hongjoong’s gaze never hardens though. Instead, he offers a small nod then —

“I see. Be sure to check in with Yunho in that case.”

Something else nags at the edge of your thoughts then, mostly due to the absence of one certain person on the bridge at the moment.

“Where is Jisung?”

Hands squeezing hard around your throat, shoving you under bloody waters.

Cold, cold, cold. Red in your vision, hands on your throat, and everything is cold.

“In the brig. We — I decided it would be best to keep him there until the situation changes.” Hongjoong’s answer is spoken through a stiff and uncomfortable tone, and you expect that he was met with some resistance when it came to such a decision. But of course, that begs another question about the other person who is not on the bridge or by Hongjoong’s side like he typically would be.

“And Seonghwa?”

“Also in the brig.” Hongjoong presses his lips together, and he shifts to glare holes into the floor. The shift in his demeanor is slight but unsettling nonetheless, especially as he forces a tight grin onto his lips a second later. “Wooyoung, after you’ve settled and taken some time to recover, I’d like to chat. I won’t ask anything too invasive, but I need to know a little bit about the places you were held and where San and Mingi could possibly be. And Yeosang, a mission debriefing is needed as well.”

“We can talk now, Captain. I’ve got some news that should be helpful anyway!” Wooyoung steps around you to talk more directly to Hongjoong, Yeosang lingering at his side the whole time, and you pull back to give them more space. “I’ll go see our dear doctor after we chat. He’ll talk my ear off anyway.”

“Do you need to see Yunho?” Jongho asks, stepping back with you.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Right now I… I think I just need to see Jisung,” you murmur. How are you going to stomach looking at him without thinking of his hands around your throat and trying to kill you?

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“If he’s in the brig being watched by Seonghwa, how much damage can he do?”

Jongho falls silent at that, mostly because your point holds strong, but he still stays by your side during the walk down there. And arguably yes it is your first time heading down to that part of the ship; the only times you’ve wandered in that vague direction are when you went to the cargo bay with Jongho. There is a different kind of tension in your muscles now though, one that feels much more like walking to your inevitable doom than anything else. That feeling intensifies with each step closer to the small hatch leading down to the brig, a ladder with metal rungs taking you to a place you aren’t sure you want to be. A quick glance over your shoulder shows you a minor portion of the brig, only enough to see three cells lined up on the left then a sharp corner that no doubt leads to more cells in a narrow hallway. Typical of a ship of this caliber. They aren’t built to house prisoners, and any slave trades made with such a vessel would only carry that precious cargo in the cargo hold. They would only need roughly twenty of these cells — five by five squares with just enough space for the average person to stand up comfortably but nothing more than that.

Yet when your feet hit the cold paneled floor and echo a hollow noise, your gaze falls upon Jisung and only Jisung. He is safely tucked away in the middle cell, walls of bars surrounding him and separating your body from his, but that’s hardly noticeable compared to Seonghwa’s absence near his cell. Hongjoong had claimed that Seonghwa was down here with Jisung, and the initial lack of his presence immediately sends your brain into danger mode.

“What did you do with Seonghwa?” You inquire without hesitation, leveling the man you used to admire so fucking much with a glare full of heat you didn’t even know you were capable of. Jisung laughs from the spot where he is curled up on the floor. He has his back pressed to the only solid wall in the cell, knees pulled up to his chest and elbows draped overtop them so that his hands hang loosely down in the space before him. The huff of air that passes through his lips almost sounds like a laugh. It does nothing to quell your nerves — if anything it makes your anxiety spike a bit higher, causing Jongho to lay a hand down on the small of your back in attempts to calm you some no doubt.

“Shouldn’t you be asking your dearest captain that?” Comes Jisung’s scathing reply, complete with a sneer and curled lip. The disdain in his tone isn’t hard to miss at all. His chin tilts. Eyes blaze with some fury. Then he presses his tongue against his bottom lip and forces the skin there to stretch under the pressure. “To think you escaped my cruel clutches just to fall into the filthy hands of a scourge who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. A beautiful irony, don’t you think?”

You don’t give him the pleasure of hearing any response from you.

“Don’t worry, doll. You’ll be safe in my hands soon enough,” he says, tone almost bordering on teasing rather than being serious with the threat. “What’s it? Got one back, no? Not the one you care about though, am I right?” Jisung brings his head forward again, staring down the line of empty cells before him like he’s taunting something nonexistent there. “Poor, poor lieutenant. Denied by both the people he loves. How much bending can an Elitist take until he breaks? I’ve always wondered that… never did get to see Hyunwoo snap after all. Perhaps now I’ll get to witness it with my own two eyes.”

“Don’t speak on things you know nothing about.”

That stops you dead in your tracks, your whole body lurching as you are midway to stepping closer to Jisung’s cell. The words don’t come from your lips, nor do they come from Jongho’s, but the tiny voice in the back of your head tells you that no one snuck down behind you and Jongho. And that Jisung’s staring isn’t coincidental or meaningless at all. A cruel smile curls the corners of his mouth. He prods at one side with the tip of his tongue and releases a laugh that is more hollow than anything else.

You force your legs into action and push yourself forward, although this time you don’t head for Jisung’s cell like you originally intended to do. Instead, you round the sharp corner leading to the remaining cells in the brig with bated breath and a growing sense of dread in your gut.

As it turns out, that dread is not misplaced in the slightest.

Because the moment you stare down the row of metal cages perpendicular to Jisung’s own holding cell, your gaze falls on something heart-wrenching and horrid to see. And Jongho might be confused — a bit beyond merely confused, you’ll admit — but you? You recognize this to be the cruel picture your mind conjured up the day Hongjoong told you that you would be going on the rescue mission for Wooyoung.

“I don’t know how much or what exactly you saw in Seonghwa’s memories. I do not need to know either. But something you need to know is that we have been back to Lynder exactly once since I met Seonghwa there. And that one single time, two years ago, we had to lock Seonghwa in the brig for six days straight to keep him from breaking out to kill his mother. Seonghwa tore cuts into his arms and shoulders so deep that Yunho had to come to stitch him every night until we finally chained him to a wall to get him to stop. When he finally gave up on trying to break out, I went in and took the cuffs off, only for Seonghwa to choke me hard enough to fracture my neck and leave bruises that lasted for several weeks.”

It’s Seonghwa who sits far in the back of the brig, curled in on himself in the very last cell in the block with what feels like leagues stretching between you and where he is. Chains cuffing his wrists together and a shackle hanging so heavy on his neck that he can barely lift his head. You’ve never seen a man look so small and insignificant in your life; the knowledge and realization that it’s none other than Seonghwa under those chains burn so deep in your chest that you forget how to breathe properly until Jongho shatters the weighty silence by joining you in front of the row of cells.

“Lieutenant?”

“The mission, Jongho. Did you recover him?”

How dare Seonghwa look so gentle and confident even while being chained and held in the brig of his own ship?

“I — yes, Lieutenant, we recovered him but — but you—”

“Good,” Seonghwa interjects. He gives a heavy nod that makes the iron hanging from his neck rattle. “Then there is no reason for you to be down here currently. I’m sure our captain would have much better use for you now than I do.” Seonghwa’s dark eyes remain fixated on you as he speaks, but you’re too far away to even try to discern the emotion concealed in them.

Jongho turns back to the ladder leading out of the cellblock. He doesn’t put up a fight or argue about the matter; merely looks the other way and follows the order like nothing is possibly wrong with the scene unfolding before him.

You, on the other hand, hardly consider yourself the kind of person who gives in so easily.

Thus, against better judgment no doubt, you step around the wall of cells separating you and Seonghwa, then take the steely walk over to that far corner of the brig.

And against better judgment, with Hongjoong’s words of warning ringing in your ears of how dangerous Seonghwa was the last time he was in such a position, you get as close to the cell as humanly possible. You curl your fingers around the bars as you sink to your knees in front of him, eyes unable to find a comfortable resting place anywhere on his body and instead finding purchase on the sliver of the floor still exposed under his knees. He, like Jisung, has his back pressed to the cage, bars digging harshly into his typical billowing black coat. He can’t extend his legs all the way in the cell and is thus forced to keep his knees bent at an awkward angle that will surely hurt after some time has passed. Hands are held together by that short chain and stretched as far as possible over his knees. You would never go so far as to say Seonghwa could ever look pitiful, but this brings you pretty damn close.

“I do not wish for you to see me in this position, Y/N,” Seonghwa whispers without looking over at you. He maintains the same honed stare on Jisung, and now that you’re closer to him you can see that flames of anger that lick at his dark eyes. Despite his words, you can’t bring yourself to move. The weight of your bones suddenly feels heavier than ever and even if you wanted to get up and leave, you don’t think you could. “It was shameful enough to ask Hongjoong to put me here.”

“You… you asked him to do this?” You inquire through a whisper of your own.

“He didn’t want to, of course, but—” Seonghwa cuts himself short and you watch his chest heave as he inhales sharply “—I’m ashamed to admit that I know how to get what I want from him. And thus… I made him put me here.”

“Seonghwa, I — you — why?” If only eloquence could be your strong suit.

“I cannot trust myself. I am not needed for these missions. I am a liability. Anything I do must be under careful watch and instruction, otherwise, I could risk the safety of the crew and the success of our missions.” Seonghwa swallows around nothing and drops his chin to his chest. His mop of black hair falls forward to cover his eyes. You hadn’t realized how long it had gotten in recent days as he pressed it back constantly, but now you can see how the ends caress his eyelashes and near the bottom of his temples. “I pose more of a threat than anything else in this state.”

“Says who?” You insist, pressing your face so far forward that your cheek squishes against the bars. Seonghwa seems startled by your sudden fervor. His eyes go wide and dart over to your face, but they linger for only a second before turning back to his lap. “Was it Jisung? Did he say something? Before he was locked up? Or maybe after? He’s — Seonghwa, you can’t believe anything he says. He wants to cause discord and issues in the crew, he wants trouble because he’s an enemy.”

“He has nothing to do with this, Y/N. Absolutely nothing.” The skin around his eyes crinkles as he squeezes his eyes shut, almost as though he’s in pain. “Please leave. I do not trust myself in this state, and if I hurt you on top of — on top of what I’ve already done, Y/N, please. I won’t forgive myself if I ever lay a harmful hand on you even in the slightest.”

“What did you do? No, what happened while we were gone?”

The chains around Seonghwa’s wrist rattle so suddenly that it startles you, and his abrupt movements send you back from the cage in a rush without thinking twice. You merely acted out of self-preservation and instinct, and yet —

And yet the damage is already done.

Your eyes dart up to look into Seonghwa’s. He looks more lost and confused than anything else, like a child who can’t find his way home. From the way his lip trembles to the wobble in his gaze and how his hands clench and unclench as though in an unknown ceremony of their own. The man seems — is harmless.

“Go, Y/N, before I truly hurt you.”

This time, you don’t fight him on the matter. You force your legs into action and push yourself up from the floor where you just unceremoniously sprawled in an effort to get away from Seonghwa’s cell. The walk away from him hurts something awful in your chest, like each step you take to get away from him causes a new piece of your heart to break off, but still, you walk until you reach the end of the hauntingly short hall. You can’t keep yourself from staring down that corridor to look at Seonghwa’s crumpled form one more time.

In that moment that couldn’t have lasted more than half a second, you believed that Seonghwa would hurt you, and he believed the same. It only took that much time for the line of trust you thought could be unbreakable to shatter and give out under you. Was it not only recently that you told him you were willing to place your heart in his hands and trust him with it?

“Are you content with yourself yet, Spectre?” Seonghwa’s voice rings clear in the room, echoing off the metal walls with more venom than before. You don’t think that venom is directed at anyone other than himself right now.

“Not even in the slightest, Lieutenant,” Jisung laughs in response. You don’t intend to make eye contact with him, but it happens nonetheless and once it does, you are transfixed on each of his movements. He drags his tongue over his lips before tucking it between his teeth and biting down hard on the tip. “I know plenty about making people break. And I can guarantee that by the time your dearest captain loses his will and decides to let you out, I will have broken you in ways you fear to even imagine. Let’s see how well you can play my game, Lieutenant of Death.”

The urge to reach a hand between the bars and strangle Jisung where he sits is so overwhelming that you see red. Somehow you find it in you to turn away, using some shred of reason and logic because you know you need Jisung as much as you wish you didn’t — until San and Mingi are safely back on the ship, you cannot risk killing him.

And to your surprise, Jongho is not waiting outside the hatch when you surface in the corridor again. It falls shut with a loud bang, trapping Jisung and Seonghwa both in their little prison once more.

The pressure around your head is mounting and becoming hard to ignore, even through the lingering effects of Soojin’s concoction. It seems the drowsiness wishes to win out, however, seeing as you pull yourself to your bedroom without much thought and more like it’s some form of muscle memory instead. Between all the things happening around you at the moment, it’s hard to pinpoint just one thing and focus on it.

San is still missing.

Seonghwa locked himself in the brig.

Han Jisung is terrorizing you and your crew out of some odd desire to claim you.

Mingi is still missing as well and at risk of being reprogrammed back into the Brute of Kebos.

Wooyoung, in the very least, is safely back but no doubt suffered new and awful traumas that he’ll have to deal with in the coming months.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa fought for what feels like the hundredth time.

You found Soojin in a brothel then promptly got confirmation that your memories were indeed wiped a second time without you knowing. Delightful, truly.

All that swirling back to the mounting headache that pierces the left side of your head so hard you see little flashes in your vision. And despite the need to most likely think through things, weigh your options, try to do something other than just sitting around and waiting for someone else to plan, you merely curl up under your sheets in the darkness after wiping away your leftover black lipstick and changing into some more comfortable clothes.

Alone again. It’s odd how you went from being on your own almost constantly for three years to now being so dependent on having someone by your side. Maybe it was the knowledge that you had no one back then that kept you sane. Now, however, you know there are people around you, close to you, people you would almost dare to say you can rely on for safety and trust. An image of Jisung’s cruel smile flickers in your mind before you close your eyes to sleep.

Trust got you nowhere before.

Would it be foolish to make the same mistakes again?

…

There’s a cold hand wrapped tight around your own, but even as you look down at it you can’t figure out who it belongs to. Another hand is folded over your eyes, blocking every ounce of your vision and leaving you shrouded in darkness. You have no idea where you are or where you are heading, and though your first instinct is to fight, you feel somewhat safe under the hand that holds yours.

“Kan han ceso, Umiko. Nu an nadu. Un cu nu, Umiko, un nukon.” The words grate against your ears, a soft-spoken voice whispering the foreign language to you through the darkness, and you blink hard against the hand covering your eyes.

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper back, only to be answered with more confusion and unknown words.

“Nadu, nadu. Sosun hen.”

The hand around your head slips away only to shove hard at your back. You don’t have time to turn to face your companion before a door is slammed shut on your back. You whip around to face the wall of metal, seeing nothing beyond the dark.

“Wait! Don’t — don’t leave me here!”

“Kidehon u Nurun, Umiko.”

Despite not knowing what any of the words mean, a chill rushes down your spine and leaves goosebumps all across your skin. Then a shrill scream tears you away from the door and back to the reality swirling together behind you. It’s moreso the contents of the scream that catch your attention because through the sudden swarm of yells and shouts, you catch one recognizable word.

“Yeosang!”

It’s like a veil is torn away from your eyes and you can suddenly see the world around you with so much clarity and brightness it hurts. And the first thing your gaze lands on is the sight of Wooyoung being dragged by the waist back into what seems to be a spitting image of the House of Lilies. His captors are hooded figures, unimportant and insignificant compared to Wooyoung who flails around desperately in their arms to get out. And across from him, running and running but never once catching up because a massive crowd of people blocks his path, is none other than Yeosang. You push your way forward as well in attempts to reach the Elitist. Each step is harder than the last with the way faceless figures shove your shoulders and force you back until his blond head of hair is out of sight. You can’t see Wooyoung’s face any longer either; all you can hear are a few distant shouts and screams that are unintelligible by now.

You have no choice but to let the crowd guide you to an unknown destination, shifting to follow their hasty steps before you get trampled to the ground. They’re too tall for you to see past their shoulders, all shrouded in black coats and suits with masks covering their faces as well, and you are only left with confusion the more you try to get a closer look at them. That confusion lingers for a while, and as you walk, the shouts and yells around you morph into cheering. It’s deafening, growing louder with each second, but the hoards simply continue into what seems to be the source of the sounds.

Once you finally reach that destination, your heart drops through your stomach because it’s tall colosseum walls that rise up around you. They are painfully recognizable, and you can almost guess what you’re about to witness given what you just saw transpire with Wooyoung and Yeosang.

The confirmation, albeit unneeded, hurts worse than you thought. As the crowd ushers you into the arena, you stumble up familiar stairs and come to a halt at the railing looking over the heart of the colosseum.

Mingi stands at the center of it all, donned in leather and copper armor like a gladiator of olden times that have long since become mere myths for children’s stories. Red streaks down his cheeks and covers him in a bloody glow under the sun. You watch him as though in a daze. Each movement he makes is like a dance between the way he swings a longsword in one hand and an ax in the other. The beauty of Mingi’s swings dissipates into a cloud of panic and horror when his opponent comes into sight across from his tall form.

“Jongho, Jongho, no!” You scream through the din ringing into your ears. A hand stretched down to the pit below in vain because there is no way for you to even attempt reaching them.

There’s a flash of red again, this time one that reaches across Mingi’s blade and spreads onto the sand below their feet. You clasp a hand over your mouth to silence the blood-curdling scream that tears through your lips.

“It’s not real, Y/N, it’s not real,” you murmur to yourself, not daring to look back down even as the cheers continue to swell around you. “It’s just a dream, you need to wake up. It’s not real.”

The most obvious clue that this is not real is the fact that you see Jongho — another Jongho — stepping out of the gates into the arena just seconds after Mingi cut him down. The body hasn’t even dissipated into thin air; it still sits at Mingi’s feet, a lifeless corpse that will continue to haunt you for god knows how long. The second Jongho comes forward to replace the last, standing completely still before Mingi like he’s nothing more than a training dummy for Mingi to kill over and over.

That is exactly what you are forced to witness too because the tall figures surrounding you refuse to let you budge or turn. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut each time Mingi lifts his arm. This hell is almost worst than the last. Seeing Yeosang and Wooyoung being torn apart burned deep in your chest but this?

Mingi killing the person who cares about him perhaps more than anyone else? Like it’s only a game or a sport to be played for entertainment?

That leaves a different pain in your chest. One that cuts deep and tries to sever your heart from your body.

You lose count of the bodies down in the area, and counting them would only hurt more so it’s a foolish plight to even imagine right now. Your limit comes soon enough, however, and in a fit of desperation, you shove so hard at the figures behind you that they topple over like dominos.

The mantra of reminders of how this isn’t real still runs on repeat in your head, but even forcing your way out of the crowds grants you no reprieve.

You can still hear the cheering, the way the crowd shouts for more blood then delights in another kill. And now that you know it’s Jongho being cut down by none other than Mingi, it makes matters much worse. You don’t make it three steps out of the arena before you’re stumbling to the ground on your hands and knees. A dry heave wracks your form, forcing up nothing but air. The contents of your stomach are nonexistent in this hellscape yet your body continues to convulse until bile drips from your lips.

“Please make it stop, make it stop, please, please, please,” you beg to the sand under your form.

“Y/N?”

Normally the voice would fill you with a sense of relief, but given what you’ve seen thus far, it only fills you with incredible dread.

You lift your chin to look Yunho in the eye nonetheless. He stands several feet away from you, unmoving and nearly statuesque with his pose. That peace lasts all of four seconds. He chokes out a cough. It sounds far too thick and wet for it to be merely a normal cough. Your fears turn to reality when blood coats his bottom lip after the next cough.

“Y-Yunho, no, n-no, not you too, please.”

Another cough and Yunho is on his knees like you are.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I… I wasn’t good enough to keep this from happening.”

“No, no, no, p-please, no, Yun—”

“This was the only thing I could get right.”

Your chin drops to your chest.

“You’ll be okay, won’t you? Our little Ghost…”

“No more. Please, Daichi, if this is your doing, then end it! End it please, please stop this!”

The response to your pleas is a hand clasping hard at the back of your neck. It shoves you to the ground with little effort until you are sprawled out on your stomach. You release a weak cry into the dirt, thrashing hard under the stranger’s grip. Another hand closes around your ankle. You aren’t given any time to prepare as it yanks you forward, dragging your body over the scratchy ground. You can feel your skin splitting under the impact yet as much as you twist to get out of it, the best you can do is flip onto your back and let the abuse continue there. Your new position allows you to at least see your attacker, a tall and lanky figure with sweeping black hair. You can barely see the outline of her face, but she looks strikingly familiar, like a person you’ve seen once in your dreams. It isn’t until you have been pulled all the way to a new destination that you realize exactly who she is.

“Mother.”

Seonghwa stands in the center of this barely lit room you’ve been dragged into, gun in hand and shrouded in a black cloak.

This is Seonghwa’s mother. Of course it is. This nightmare is not only yours but both Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s as well, the thing that has been so glaringly present for a while now. And in your inability to stop thinking about it, it has landed you here to live out this unending nightmare.

Seonghwa lifts the gun to aim it at his mother’s skull. He doesn’t spare you even the slightest glance, so dead-set on this mission that nothing else exists in his mind. You don’t have time to react before the gun goes off and echoes through the room. You scramble back on shaky legs when the woman in front of you crumples to the ground. Scarlet ebbs from her skull in mere seconds.

You think that’s it — hope would be a better word actually. You wish for the nightmare to end here with Seonghwa killing his mother, but it gets worse as Seonghwa turns the gun to his own skull and places the barrel against his temple. Despite already knowing that nothing you do in this dream will make it stop, you rush forward practically like an animal to stop him.

Something — or someone, rather — beats you to it.

A force hits you so hard that you are sent sprawling to the floor again, landing somewhere near Seonghwa’s mother, and upon looking up to see your sudden attacker, you find Hongjoong standing before Seonghwa instead. He’s in the middle of trying to wrestle the gun from Seonghwa’s hand, aiming it high at the ceiling before Seonghwa can hurt himself.

“Stop it, Seonghwa, I won’t let you do this!”

“Let me die, damn it, you were supposed to keep me from doing this!”

All you can do is watch as the fight unfolds before you with a growing sense of horror because you know where this is going to end. It will end the same way it has for everyone else in this nightmare. The thought of watching Seonghwa die and not being able to do anything to stop it is almost too much of a burden to bear.

If that was the worst scenario your mind could come up with, what actually happens minutes later is far far worse. You don’t see where it comes from but you don’t need to either; all you see is Seonghwa barreling into Hongjoong’s smaller form with all his strength until both are them are pressed to the nearest wall. The silence that overtakes the room is deafening. You don’t realize that there is anything wrong until you see hear the soft pitter-patter of blood dropping to the ground.

There’s a pointed metal spike sticking out of Seonghwa’s back, dripping blood from not only Seonghwa’s body but also Hongjoong’s.

“I’m sorry, my beloved.”

In a cruel twist of fate, you see the metal joining their bodies together, watch the way their chests rise and fall in shaky patterns that show their diminishing strengths. Hongjoong’s chin is the first to fall, dipping down to his chest as his eyes fight to stay open. Seonghwa is crying — no, sobbing with all the effort he can muster and pressing his lips to the edge of Hongjoong’s hairline through muttered apologies.

You know your limits, and you know you are not nearly strong enough to witness them die like this, even if it’s together and at Seonghwa’s own hand.

Thus, you push yourself up onto shaky legs and stumble out of the dark room as best you can with Seonghwa’s shaky cries ringing so loud in your ears that you fear you will never escape it for a second. There is a lingering sense of dread curling in your gut at the moment, however, because you have witnesses horrors happening to every single one of the crew except for one. And arguably, it is the one you fear the most, the one you wish to avoid the most, yet every attempt to force yourself awake before you can come across him fails miserably. The next room you stumble into is another familiar one, much like the distant memories you have of being strapped to a cold metal chair, but in this room, the chair is occupied by a man with jet black hair and a tuft of white at the front. You can’t manage more than a pained whimper as you step close to the chair.

Rounding the metal brings you face to face with him, although his eyes are shut as though he is asleep. For a fraction of a second, you think the worst has happened and throw your hands down on his chest to lean over San’s reclining body. He jolts at the contact, a sharp gasp tearing through his dry and cracked lips when he comes back to the land of the living.

“San, oh S-San, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, you’re safe, I promise,” you babble like a woman possessed. Your hands come up to cradle his face and brush a few long strands of hair away from his eyes. It takes too long for him to fully come to his senses, eyes blinking against the harsh light that filters down from the ceiling, and you wait with bated breath for him to say something as he registers your face. “Hi.” You’re too lost in the moment to remember this is a nightmare, too enamored with the mere sight of San’s face. When the reverie is torn away from you, it hurts worse than you could ever have imagined it would.

“H-How do you know my name? Who are you?”

Your chest tightens to the point where it hurts to breathe.

“It’s Y/N, San, don’t you remember me?”

“I don’t know who you are,” he whispers back, pulling his face away from your hands as best he can in his current position. You withdraw your hands as though burned and fall back onto your ass so hard you bounce a little. It should hurt, but the pain in your chest outweighs that by far. San sits up and slings a leg over the side of the chair, the other following shortly after. He steps down off the metal to come closer to you. His head is tilted in question, and his eyes search your face like he’s attempting to recognize you.

You hardly realize what’s happening before he’s bending over you and latching his hands around your neck. When he shoves you down to the ground, you aren’t met with the cold floor but rather a splash of water. It’s murky and an almost copper shade, like someone has doused you in blood and water. San’s grip on your neck tightens until you’re forced to choke up a few air bubbles.

“Did you think you were someone worthy of remembering?” San speaks to you through the water, voice coming to your ears in a muted tone. His features fall into a blur, and he squeezes at your skin so hard you see spots dance across your vision. You cry out in the water even though you know it won’t do you any good. “Did you think you earned that right? What use are you to me? Someone who couldn’t even do the bare minimum and protect me when I needed it… useless.”

San huffs out a loud laugh that echoes around you.

“You are completely and utterly useless to me.”

Sleep might have come easy to you but it does not claim you for long. Rarely are you ever awoken by nightmares; your body tends to just continue on with sleeping until the morning, but tonight is one of those oddities where the nightmares wake you up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. With the end of dream San’s cruel monologue, you startle awake, gasping for breath like you had been holding it the entire time you were asleep. A quick glance at the clock on your bedside table shows that it’s nearing one o’clock in the morning, so you were hardly asleep more than four hours.

You almost wish that Jongho stayed by your side through the night, if only to provide the comfort you want so desperately from someone who isn’t here. It wasn’t even an offer he posed or one that you asked for, but you find yourself wondering if it would have been better to seek out that comfort. And maybe it’s selfish of you to crave that peace that Jongho claims to have brought him for so long, but the appeal of not waking up alone is too tempting. Being able to have that with Seonghwa — the ability to go to bed at night and wake up in the morning with the knowledge that someone was there if anything went wrong — is something you took for granted. On nights like these, it’s all you could ever ask for. And while you and Seonghwa made the mutual decision to sever the more intimates parts of your relationship, it’s become glaringly obvious to you that you don’t have anyone to rely on for physical comfort anymore, even just the smallest action of holding a hand or sleeping beside you. Did you dream of him? Jongho might ask, hand outstretched to offer some sort of relief from the anxiety tugging at your heart. Either that or to try to take it away as best he can.

Yes, and it was wretchedly awful and horrible, you think. Something wet slips down the side of your temples before you can stop it. I feel I might lose my mind if I cannot bring him back safely soon.

Why, why, why did this happen?

Surely you’ve been through worse in the past, but this feels so much more potent than those times, either because those memories are tucked away or because you’ve never felt this strongly about needing to protect someone before.

You roll onto your side and let the stray tears slide across the bridge of your nose now.

Staring at the bed does absolutely nothing (even though you knew it wouldn’t); neither does reaching out to put a hand over the cold sheets there.

These days you keep finding your mind slipping back to the memories of Echidna. They’ve become so much more vivid since the entire kidnapping situation, yet oddly enough you cannot bring yourself to recall the actual torture you and San suffered together at the hands of Cara. Rather, you keep coming back to a monotone hotel room with a creaky bed and fluffed pillows.

“I won’t leave this time,” you mutter. You can feel heat radiating from San’s cheeks even though you can’t see the flush to his skin.

“I’ll hold you all night to make sure you don’t,” San whispers back. Hot breath fans over your lips. You aren’t sure what comes over you but you lift the hand resting against San’s chest to trace over the outline of his lips with two fingers. He smiles into the touch.

It brings a startling realization to your bones when you find yourself reaching out to the nothingness before you like he will be there because how could he be gone, why is he gone, he isn’t supposed to be gone.

“I’m scared to let you in,” you admit, bring your gaze back up to San’s eyes. He’s looking back at you with a gentleness in his eyes that catches you off-guard.

“You don’t have to let me in yet. Just try to trust me.”

“Okay… okay. I can do that.”

“Then that’s more than enough.”

You should have never let go of the hand he outstretched towards you. It’s a hefty realization, one that weighs down on your body so much you struggle to breathe because you would do anything to have him back. And perhaps you didn’t appreciate him enough while you had him, perhaps you took that time where he was safe for granted and didn’t think it could happen again. Because even though you had told Yunho back around the time of the incident that you would never be able to look at him without worrying something bad would happen once more, you let your guard down and believed him to be entirely safe.

A huff of air passes through your lips, then you sit up in bed to throw your legs over the side of the mattress. Your gaze lingers on the bedside table for a moment, only to recall what’s been hidden inside there since you returned from Echidna. You haven’t forgotten about the pardon papers per se; your mind has understandably been elsewhere and things took a turn during that mission with San. Before then you were so dead set on leaving without a word.

It wasn’t Hongjoong who convinced you to stay back then even though you left you with several pretty threats and propositions.

It wasn’t Seonghwa with his comforting words and touches that burned your skin.

Nor was it any other member of the crew outside of San. It was always Choi San, the Spectre with a cat-like grin and pretty eyes, and he wormed his way into your heart with such little effort that it still scares you quite a bit. If you had absolute certainty that what you remember from your time in the military was true and real, you might say that the only time you felt this way towards another person was with Jisung, but you doubt that now with recent revelations.

How much easier would life be if you could simply roll back into bed and find San there waiting at your side, all warm smiles and gentle gazes as he urges you to sleep once more?

Unfortunately for you, life is far from easy and that is not an option, so you do the only other logical thing that comes to mind and that is to stand up and leave your bedroom without looking back at that cursed bedside table. If you can’t have San or anyone else to calm you down at the moment, perhaps a short walk around the ship will do you some good.

It is that very thought that lands you on the bridge and in front of the observation window. Despite the late hour, some workers are milling about in the hangar bay Hongjoong has landed you all in, doing their duties without cease. Some are cleaning and sweeping at the floor even though it looks spotless to you, others are polishing other ships in the bay, and you’re sure that if you could see near the bottom of The Horizon, you would find them doing the same there. There are a few others who don’t quite look like the workers do — perhaps people from the other ships — who sit on boxes and offer each other seemingly menial chatter based on the way their gestures remain casual. They seem so calm and at peace compared to what you have been experiencing with this crew where trouble seems to be around every corner and you can’t get a breath of peace for more than a day.

Briefly, you picture yourself in their shoes one day. It’s something you can only wonder about because you aren’t sure whether that’s even a possibility for you, but the image of sitting on one of those boxes with Jongho sitting on one side and Wooyoung on the other floats to mind. And maybe Yeosang would be wedged between Wooyoung’s legs with hands held tightly together like even a breath of air could separate them. You imagine Mingi would be lingering near Jongho rather than anywhere else, draped over the other Berserker and pressed as close to him as possible because it grounds him and keeps him in one piece for the time being. Yunho would probably be doing something like reading a medical article or book and muttering to himself about the contents of the writing, nearby but never too far from the rest of you. In that daydream, Hongjoong and Seonghwa would come around the corner of the ship side by side, and the captain would have a hand pressed to the small of his lieutenant’s back because he can’t bear to be any further than that. Then San — darling San — would rush around them with a smile on his lips and dimples flashing to barrel straight into your chest with a resounding laugh. You dare to let yourself imagine the peace and serenity of the scene, dare to picture San pressing his forehead to yours as he exhales a laugh over your lips, but every image your mind conjures up hurts worse than the last.

You may want that desperately, but it’s not something you can achieve.

The daydream ends with hands around your neck and bloody waters clouding your vision. And thus, you startle yourself back to reality and tear your gaze away from the hangar bay below as not to let the images come back.

The peace you wish for is not one you can ever hold in the palm of your hand the way you wish. The crew cannot have it either so long as you are present in their lives. The next sound to tear through your consciousness nearly makes you believe that they wouldn’t be able to have that peace even if you weren’t around to mess it up. There’s a resounding shout of frustration followed by something loud thumping against the wall off to your left and behind you a bit. You whip around to stare at the door to Hongjoong’s quarters, the source of the sound, and wait with bated breath for something else to happen. You aren’t sure what exactly you’re waiting for — perhaps for the captain to step out in a huff of anger or something like that — but nothing happens for the next thirty seconds, which is what causes you to pull closer to the door. It’s hardly your place to eavesdrop on whatever is happening inside, although that doesn’t stop you from doing so anyway.

“I shouldn’t have had to put him in that fucking brig in the first place!” That clearly comes from Hongjoong; you can tell just from his voice, but he must not be alone in there as it sounds like his rant is directed at someone. “This isn’t the same situation as last time! He knows that the mission is our priority, that the goal is to get San and Mingi back, he wouldn’t let himself lose sight of that. The Seonghwa I know wouldn’t do that!”

“Then you shouldn’t have listened to him when he asked you to put him in there, Hongjoong! You were the one who bent over backward for him yet again.” It’s Yunho’s voice that rises through the door next, and that is equal parts shocking and unsurprising because you aren’t sure who else would possibly be in there with Hongjoong at this hour. “Your only two options are to either leave Seonghwa where he is or let him out to do as he wishes. If he chooses to go out there and kill his mother, then so be it!”

“That’s not what he wants, Yunho,” Hongjoong refutes without missing a beat. “And it’s not what I want either — I don’t care for either of those options. I want to let Seonghwa out and have that be that, nor for him to go off and murder someone! He hardly wants to kill her, it’s just what he thinks he ought to do as an Elitist but — you… you wouldn’t understand it, Yunho. You wouldn’t understand what goes through Seonghwa’s head or what he wants.”

The next sound to fall from Yunho’s lips is a scoff, and you can almost picture the way his eyes roll with the noise.

“You can’t pretend like you understand what all Seonghwa wants either, Hongjoong.”

There’s another clatter and something smacks into the wall again.

“I’m trying my fucking best! I am trying my best to know what he wants right now. All I know for certain is what he is afraid of, and I know that he fears turning into the kind of person his father was and he fears losing himself. This would—”

“You can’t know whether this would make that happen, Hongjoong, that’s the point I’m trying to make here.”

“Are you encouraging murder all of a sudden? When have you gone a minute without chastising me for taking an innocent’s life?”

“And when have you ever hesitated to let your precious Lieutenant of Death kill someone? How many people have you killed yourself? How many have you asked Seonghwa to kill? How many innocents have bled under your hands, Hongjoong?” Yunho fires back, seeming to grow louder with each question he poses. “Is his mother innocent of all crimes? Does she not deserve to die? Because Seonghwa sure talks about her like she deserves a fate worse than death!”

“And if she deserves death then I will bring it upon her myself!” Hongjoong accentuates his words by slapping his hands down on his desk, letting the sound echo after he speaks, and Yunho doesn’t respond for a bit.

“How angry would Seonghwa be if he found out then?” Yunho inquires, tone so low you can barely pick up on the words.

“He wouldn’t need to, Yunho. He wouldn’t need to find out. He could just hear that she passed away in her sleep a long time ago because of age or illness.”

“You’re so ready to base your relationship with him on lies when doing so was what caused things to go to shit between you in the first place. I can’t fix you a second time, Hongjoong. I can’t do shit if you are the one making things intentionally worse. You need to sit your ass down in that fucking brig like a god damn man would and take responsibility for your mistakes. Then you need to ask Seonghwa what he wants and hear it from his own damn mouth rather than assuming what Seonghwa wants and hoping for the best. Fucking listen to him and trust him for once instead of making every decision in his life for him. Why do you think he ran off to Y/N in the first place?” That causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and you seize up as though both men inside know you’re standing outside the door as they speak. “He at least got to choose her.”

“He chose to join my crew, he asked to join my crew, he chose a fuckton of things in his life, Yunho! You want me to be a man? I am his captain. Is that not enough for you?”

“No, it’s not, Hongjoong. You being captain doesn’t mean shit to me unless you have the balls to back it up, and from where I’m standing, you aren’t going to step up anytime soon. There are only two people on this ship who can put you in your place. That includes both me and Seonghwa, but Seonghwa stopped doing it a long time ago because you changed the dynamic of the relationship without stopping to ask him how he felt.”

“Are you trying to act like you’re in control now?” Hongjoong counters, but his voice has lost a bit of the edge in it.

“Act?” Yunho releases a tiny hum. You can almost feel the way the mood inside the room shifts despite not being inside yourself. “Now you’re just trying to rile me up so you get what you want and I forget about this conversation.”

“That would only be the case if it works, Yunho.”

You pull back from the door, having a slight sense of where this conversation is headed and realizing that you probably shouldn’t stay any longer. As you move to exit the bridge, however, you can’t help but wonder how much of what Yunho said is accurate.

Would — could Seonghwa really want to kill his mother? Maybe for a sense of closure and peace? To put that part of his life behind him for good perhaps?

If Hongjoong truly were to kill the woman behind Seonghwa’s back, then you don’t doubt that Seonghwa would be enraged, to put it mildly. Everything you have seen from him thus far since meeting him has shown you that he prefers to do things himself than to rely on others to do it for him. Yet… even if his mother passed of natural causes, you are not sure that Seonghwa could have his closure unless he saw her body with his own two eyes. So maybe that is why his inner voice is as desperate as it is for him to kill her.

You cannot speak for Seonghwa himself, but you do know a fraction about such closure. Not seeing Hyunwoo’s body after the execution and having to dig an empty grave was one of the most painful experiences of your life, even if you cannot remember much of it or if it was completely fabricated, the pain you were left with from said memory is still sore to the touch. You would have given anything to have his body to bury but instead, you were left with absolutely nothing, not even something small and of value to him in life. You were denied closure then. It causes you to think back to those pardon papers again. If you had been granted that closure, would you have even sought the pardon papers in the first place? Would you have gone off and settled down somewhere no one could find you?

Seonghwa has mentioned craving peace before. You know you will never have yours because of your lack of closure, so perhaps if he were to achieve his, then things would end better for him.

That thought stops you dead in your tracks, midway down the corridor leading away from the bridge.

Although… Seonghwa mentioned begging to be put in the brig. If he truly wanted this, then why the hell would he ask for such a thing?

“Please leave. I do not trust myself in this state, and if I hurt you on top of — on top of what I’ve already done, Y/N, please. I won’t forgive myself if I ever lay a harmful hand on you even in the slightest.”

You make a spur of the moment decision right then and there, spinning on your heel in the middle of the corridor and inhaling sharply as you head back to the bridge with a new thought in mind. You wish to hear from Hongjoong himself what transpired before Seonghwa was put in the brig and the reasoning as to why Hongjoong agreed to such a thing. Sure, now might not be the opportune time for such a discussion, but you have already made up your mind and it’s unlikely you would be able to sleep with this plaguing your thoughts anyway.

Less than a minute passes before you are back at Hongjoong’s door, this time rapping your knuckles as hard and loud as you can on the metal. You hear nothing more of a conversation inside — neither his nor Yunho’s voices filter through the door until after your knocking ceases. Then a bit of shuffling resounds followed by some mutterings that vaguely sound like complaints of some sort. That could not have prepared you in the slightest for the sight that greets you when the door finally slides open.

First of all, it is not Hongjoong who stands before you, but rather Yunho.

And not only that little shocking tidbit because Yunho is very much standing half-naked with pants hung low around his hips and absolutely no shame or insecurity in the way he leans against the doorframe to greet you.

The inherent shock from the sight causes you to sputter and choke on air, gaze darting off to the side and away from the healer as quick as humanly possible. You truly do your best to ignore the very obvious trail of bruises along the column of his neck and collarbone, along with the ones traveling lower.

“Oh? Looking to join us, Y/N?” He asks. An amused grin paints his lips, you can see that much out the corner of your eye.

“Abs-Absolutely not, Yunho, are you mad?” You refute through a stutter and dare to focus back on his face (and his face only). Yunho arches an eyebrow, not at all shy in the way he drags his gaze over your body from head to toe. You ignore him with a scoff then ready to duck around his stupidly tall form. He seems to catch that before you can though because he darts a hand out across the doorway and effectively blocks your path inside.

“You certain about that? You seem a bit eager to come in.” Your only reply is a pointed glare. Thankfully, Yunho picks up on the hint in that look after a second and shifts his tone. “Is it an emergency?”

“I need to ask Hongjoong something, it’s important. About Seonghwa.” You see movement just past Yunho’s shoulder and glance beyond him. Hongjoong stands back at the other edge of the room in the doorframe to what must be his bedroom. You nearly don’t recognize him right them because of how… incredibly fragile he appears to be. A blanket wraps around his shoulders and torso, dwarfing his already small figure and making him almost come across as something delicate. If someone asked you to point out the horrifying and menacing pirate captain in the room, you would glance over Hongjoong without a thought.

“I take it you’ve been down to the brig then?” Hongjoong pipes up. His voice bounces off the walls to reach your ears, confident and knowing.

“I have.”

Hongjoong ducks his chin to his chest, and the way his breathing shakes his form almost makes him seem like he’s laughing at your response. Then he comes closer to join you and Yunho where you stand. You hardly miss the way one of the captain’s hands darts out to touch Yunho’s bare waist before he brushes a soft kiss over the back of Yunho’s shoulder. It’s a rare — no, more than simply rare, it’s frankly a sight you have never seen from Hongjoong before in that you have never witnessed him be so openly intimate with anyone in the crew in such a way. Perhaps the closest he has gotten was when you were left in the medbay with him and Seonghwa, but even that was not as… openly blatant as the way he touches Yunho before you now. Yet it does not seem to be meant to tease you in any way; you moreso get the sense that it’s almost a threat in a way. After all, you are still the newest on the crew and you aren’t sure you have fully gained Hongjoong’s trust. If this is a challenge, you aren’t sure how it is meant to test you.

“Go back to the bedroom. I’ll be there shortly,” Hongjoong murmurs against Yunho’s slightly flushed skin. The healer steps away with nothing more than a nod. Hongjoong waits until the taller man disappears into that room he just emerged from before turning back to face you. He still seems smaller in your eyes like this even though he is closer; the two of you are more evenly matched when he’s not wearing his typical heeled boots. The blanket around his body strains as he pulls it tighter. He, like Yunho, is very clearly not wearing much in the way of clothes underneath, but at least he covered himself mildly even if you can see a deep v exposing his chest through the folds of the fabric. It is enough for you to see numerous bumps and ridges along that strip of skin, all discolored and mismatched lines that mar an otherwise perfect canvas of tanned skin. Even if expected, it’s an alarming amount of scars for such a small expanse of skin. And if you look past the points where scars are, you can make out the barest hint of black ink accompanying the marks — it spreads over him like a constellation, connected by lines and threads of varying thickness to meet each other in other corners.

You tear your gaze away with great effort, clearing your throat as you blink up to look the captain in the eye.

“Seonghwa mentioned that something happened while we were gone on the mission. He asked me to leave before I had the chance to ask further about it but…” Your voice dies in your throat then, and nerves suddenly curl in your stomach. When you speak again, it’s in nothing more than a whisper. “What happened?”

Hongjoong hums.

It’s the only sound he makes for quite a while too, and you think he has no intention of continuing the conversation until he shifts his blanket all of a sudden and exposes the lower half of his body. Just as before with Yunho, you are swift to look in the opposite direction before you spot anything you do not wish to see.

“That’s hardly appropriate, Captain,” you grit out, finding a newfound interest in the wall to your left. Hongjoong exhales a laugh that’s so soft it sounds more like a sigh.

“Seonghwa stabbed me.”

Now that has your head jerking back to examine him, and thankfully, your eyes settle on pants around his hips rather than nothing at all. One of his hands slips down to tap what looks to be a bandage. He peels it back as gently as possible and reveals a narrow yet long slice along his abdomen, almost parallel to his side. All in all, it doesn’t appear to be too gruesome or gnarly, no doubt held together by liquid stitches of some sort.

“We had a small argument after putting Han in the brig,” Hongjoong continues. As usual, his tone is near impossible to read with no clues as to what he is feeling as he recalls the memory.

“Did it involve discussions of Seonghwa’s mother?”

“Yes, yes, of course, it did.” Hongjoong returns the bandage to its original placement then tugs the blanket back around his body. He brings a hand up to run through his mess of fading blue hair. “It didn’t start that way though. He accused me of caring more about him appearing to be an Elitist than anything else. Threatened to tell Jisung that he is a Siren along with the rest of the crew. I doubt Jisung even cares about Sirens in the slightest given the way he is hyperfocused on you instead, but Seonghwa has always been so adamant about being wanted by others because of what he is. And I know that we were both acting rashly and out of fear rather than reason, but it doesn’t — that does not excuse what we said to each other. I told Seonghwa that perhaps he might feel better killing me rather than his mother, and that obviously did not go over very well. That’s when he stabbed me, well, it was more a glancing blow than a stab. Hardly even deep enough to cause significant damage, but Seonghwa damn near acted as though I was fucking bleeding to death though. He called for Yunho to get me patched up them begged that I put him in the brig. As much as I wanted to deny him that, I complied.”

“I can talk to him,” you offer without a second thought.

“Talk to him? What is it you think to do, Y/N?”

“I was denied my closure, Captain, and that has haunted me every day for the past several years. You… you are a person who achieved that already; I don’t need to know the details of your backstory to understand that because it is more than clear in the way you handle yourself and matters around you. But Seonghwa? He hasn’t gotten his closure either. At least allow me to talk with him and see if this is what he truly wants before you rule anything out.” Hongjoong regards you with nothing more than a lingering stare for a bit. You take it as a cue to excuse yourself and leave, yet the second you turn to do so, he catches hold of your wrist and pulls you back to be face to face with him. The jerk of his arm sends you propelling forward more than you expect because it tugs you close enough to nearly smack foreheads with the captain.

“I am willing to trust you with this and with Seonghwa, at least for now. Take care to remember that, especially when it comes to Seonghwa’s heart. For if you mislead him in the slightest, there will be hell to pay.” Your subconsciousness has you straightening your back at those words, reading the thinly veiled threat with ease.

“I won’t do anything to influence his decisions. They should all be his own anyway, so I won’t try to change that for him. You have my word. Besides, you no doubt plan to talk with him again soon, right?” Hongjoong’s gaze falls into a pointed glare at that comment, and you catch yourself a little too late. “At least, I’m sure he would appreciate that either way.” That soothes the captain enough for him to release his grip on your arm, and he lets you step away from the door after that.

“I pray for both our sakes that his mind is kind enough to have a reasonable discussion with you. But… don’t — don’t get too close just in case the worst happens.”

“Understood, Captain,” you whisper back. The warning is a bit haunting albeit necessary; it’s moreso unfortunate that Hongjoong has to even usher the warning in the first place because the Seonghwa you know would never willingly harm someone he cares about. Especially not Hongjoong.

As you walk away from Hongjoong’s quarters and off the bridge for a second time tonight, you have to remind yourself that it is still Seonghwa down there. He isn’t a different person, he’s not some monster even if there is a bit of fear curling through your gut as you walk down to the brig. He remains the same Seonghwa that you know and care about so much. Perhaps you have just been blessed enough to only witness the pretty sides to his character in the time you’ve known him. Thinking all the way back to the way you met — how you knocked him out cold in front of an airlock — he was not cruel or heartless then either. In fact, every ounce of evidence up until recently made you wonder how such a compassionate soul could possibly be such a deadly and fearsome pirate.

“Perhaps it’s time for me to go home and face my demons after all,” Seonghwa whispers, letting his smile stretch a bit wider. It falls away a second later, and something dark takes over, something you decide you don’t want to see cross Seonghwa’s features again. Because in that moment, you see something sinister and cruel, and all the legends you heard about the man come to life before you. The stories of a man in a black cloak bearing a silver scythe in one hand with a gun in the other, the fearless killer who stands beside the Scourge of the Black Sea rearing death in his wake. When Seonghwa turns on his heel and leaves the room, you see it. The dark shadows billowing behind him curl outwards and sweep across the floor, crude shapes built by the light in the hallway, and that cloak of darkness sits on Seonghwa’s shoulders. It’s like the Lieutenant of Death has crawled his way out of the dark abyss of hell that Seonghwa kept him buried in, and the face he rears horrifies you.

That thought keeps you occupied the whole way down to the brig, and it continues when you climb down the ladder with hesitant steps. As before, Jisung is the first thing you see when you reach the bottom, although this time he is curled on his side and facing the wall. He must be asleep given his position, yet you’re hesitant to write him off as so without knowing for certain. You don’t dare stop to find out, however, and instead just move past his cell as quietly as you can.

You find Seonghwa still sitting upright in his own tiny prison. He has shifted to put his back to Jisung now though, and his head hangs at an angle that is uncomfortable to look at. Whether he was already awake or merely sensed your presence, you have no way of knowing. Nonetheless, he shifts to glance back at you when you approach, chains jingling and rattling in the silence of the room.

“I asked you not to return,” he murmurs once you are close enough to hear him. You don’t kneel before his cell in the same way you did last time. There’s a bit more distance between you and the bars now, enough to be just out of harm’s way but near enough for you to reach out if you so desired.

“You know I’m no good at following orders,” you reply with a melancholy smile. Seonghwa’s gaze softens a bit at that. He tilts his head back to rest on the bars, still staring at you out the corner of his eye. He seems exhausted beyond belief — muscles lax and with no strength to them, eyelids drooping every time he blinks, breath huffing out in deep sighs rather than even exhales. Despite that, you don’t get the sense he wants to rest at all.

“Why aren’t you resting? I’m sure you’re tired from the mission.”

“I rested enough earlier.” But couldn’t stay asleep because of the nightmares. Nightmares in which you killed both yourself and Hongjoong. Ones where San took the serum and forgot me. “I’m okay.” That seems to be more for your own ears than for Seonghwa’s. He hums a bit anyway, acknowledging your words as his eyelids flutter some.

“You don’t need to come keep me company, you know.”

“I can’t just see you because I want to?”

“Y/N…” Seonghwa faces forward before finishing the thought. Something seems to overcome him, if the sudden spike of distress that rolls off his shoulders is any indication at least, and he curls in on himself some more. Your first instinct is to move closer to him and offer some sort of physical comfort, but Seonghwa only pushes further into the corner of his cell when you move. “Don’t.”

“I trust you, Seonghwa,” you utter back. You heed his words though and stop dead in your tracks.

“That would be your first mistake.”

“Why?”

“What?” Seonghwa’s counterattack sounds nearly incredulous.

“Why would it be a mistake to trust you?”

“You are at a greater risk than Hongjoong, yet I still hurt him. Just like last time.”

“How am I at a greater risk, Seonghwa?”

“I don’t — I fear… I fear my mind mistaking you for someone who should die simply because you are a woman.”

“Ah…” you exhale. The implication is there: he’s afraid of mistaking you for his mother in the craze that his head is putting him through. You hadn’t even thought that to be a risk before honestly. From the memories you saw of her, you don’t think you look anything like said woman, but you also have no idea of what Seonghwa’s demons are capable of convincing him to believe. If they’re strong enough to make him harm Hongjoong, then no doubt they would be capable of that too. Seonghwa reaches down to rub at the skin around his ankles, where the flesh has already turned red and bruised from repeated abuse.

“I can’t stay here, Y/N. I’ll lose my mind. I almost wish that fool behind me would do more to antagonize me, but it’s my own head that refuses to let me come up for air.” The chains rattle once more as he reaches up to massage his hairline. The thin black strands of hair cling to his skin like he’s sweating buckets, and under the little bit of light in the brig, you can see a sheen of sweat on his body.

The room is deathly cold.

“Hongjoong mentioned… he said you believe he is forcing you to masquerade as an Elitist.” The words are spoken quiet enough to where you don’t think Jisung could pick up on them even if he were awake.

“I don’t. That’s the thing — I don’t believe that. I know he’s not. I don’t know what came over me when I said such a thing. It isn’t his fault that I-I am like this, and he shouldn’t even have to b-blame himself for it. I’m the one who chose this and demanded the masquerade before he even knew my true identity.”

“But—”

You stop the thought in your throat, cutting off with a small grimace and sigh of air. Seonghwa jerks to look at you anyway. He waits and waits for you to finish the thought, and under his intense gaze, you have lost much of the confidence you had in saying such a thing.

“From what I saw of your memories, and what you told me of your childhood, you were not the one to decide that,” you say after some deliberation. “It was her.” Admittedly, part of you fears the reaction you might garner from Seonghwa in mentioning his mother directly, so you try to keep it as vague as possible. “You never asked to be kept a secret.”

“My worst crime then was being born,” Seonghwa murmurs more to himself than to you. “Now what is it? A son who wants nothing more than to kill the woman who brought him into this world? The more time goes on, the more I… I-I lose myself. I don’t know where my line of morality is, nor do I know how to adhere to it. Y/N, I’m—” Seonghwa falls silent, tongue caught between his teeth, and when he looks to you, there are tears shining in the corners of his eyes. “I’m so afraid.”

You don’t think you have ever heard Seonghwa utter such words, at least not with the raw conviction he says them with or the wrecked pain that radiates off his body.

“Are you afraid of what might happen if you do kill her or what might happen if you don’t?”

Seonghwa doesn’t answer right away; instead, he hangs his head between his knees and you can only watch helplessly as the man’s shoulders tremble under an invisible weight.

“The right answer… what a good person would say is that I fear killing her. But I’m more terrified of what happens if I don’t. How much longer do I suffer if I don’t take this opportunity now? Can I justify risking your safety, Hongjoong’s safety, the crew’s safety for being a good person? I know the blood on my hands is already immeasurable, the infamous Lieutenant of Death shouldn’t fear one more life ended, and I don’t. I just can’t figure out if the Seonghwa who isn’t an Elitist believes that or if it’s the Seonghwa I’ve pretended to be most of my life. Maybe part of me fears how you all might view me if I do kill her.”

“I can’t say it wouldn’t change anything, but I don’t know if anyone would view you as a bad or evil person because of it.”

Seonghwa huffs out a weak laugh and pushes his hair back with the hand he’s not keeping clenching into a tight fist.

“I think Hongjoong is convinced I’ll turn into some sort of monster.”

“He believes that you don’t want to do it,” you counter. “He thinks that your definition of losing yourself lies in killing your mother.”

“I thought it did too.” Hopeless. That’s the word you would use to describe Seonghwa’s current tone, and it burns you from the inside out to hear such desperation on his lips. “If I keep pulling away simply because I’m afraid to hurt any of you, then what right do I have to call myself a lieutenant? To work as Hongjoong’s right-hand? I-I should have some semblance of self-control rather than continuing to distance myself. I thought back then that my mind was crying for her blood bec-because it wanted me to go insane, but now it sounds more and more like a cry for help. When this is all said and done, when it’s time for me to rest, I don’t want to have lost any of you along the way. And I certainly don’t want to be the cause of it either.”

To you, that sounds like a decision. And so, you echo his words back to him with a resolute tone.

“If you tell Hongjoong that, he would take you there, Seonghwa.” You aren’t strong enough to push the full meaning into your words, but it lingers between you. He knows what you mean. “He’s adamant that the decision be yours, as am I. Even Yunho wants you to do what you think is the best course of action. And should you get there and not be able to carry it out, no one would force you to, and no one would do it for you unless you asked that of them.”

“I could never ask anyone to take that burden for me, Y/N.”

“Then you have your answer.” You muster up the courage to slide closer to Seonghwa’s cage and slip a hand between the bars. You don’t push your luck and touch him quite yet, merely letting your hand rest on the bed of metal for Seonghwa to regard with a terrified stare. Although it’s slow progress, he inches his hand down to rest a little ways away from your own. “I promised Hongjoong that I would do nothing to influence your decision, and I plan to uphold that promise. I just… want you to know you are loved today just as you were yesterday, and you’ll be loved tomorrow as well. Whatever kind of that love is, it’s love nonetheless. These people — the family you have built and chosen yourself — will continue to love you even if you get a little lost along the way.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so certain of something before.”

It’s your turn to exhale a little laugh, although yours is merely one of faux amusement.

“I wish you could see the way they look at you, Seonghwa. The respect they hold in their eyes when they see you, the admiration and love and affection — I don’t need to feel what they feel to know how much they care. It’s not a matter of thinking you are strong because they know you are. You don’t have to force yourself to show restraint or continue to be the thing your mother wanted you to be for them to know you are strong. You have already been with them through some of the toughest moments of their lives, you have been at Hongjoong’s side and you have led just as much as he has. I firmly believe that is not a bond that could be so easily severed.”

Seonghwa’s fingers are so close to yours, so close to curling around your palm and holding you at last, taking that last step of the fickle little thing called trust. At this point, you are throwing yourself headfirst into it with reckless abandon. While there might be some hesitance hiding away in your bones, you would rather see Seonghwa take this step forward in trusting himself.

In the next second, that precious thread of peace snaps and frays at the edges.

“Bravo, Y/N, bravo.” You withdraw your hand from Seonghwa’s cell with a start, lips pressing into a thin line as you turn to regard the man who spoke with a glare. Jisung smiles back at you. It’s all poison and menace. His chains ring to an inaudible song as he claps his hands together. “Oh, you must be so proud of yourself for that one, little lady. Absolutely riveting and… encouraging and… inadequate, don’t you think?”

“Don’t you ever tire of hearing yourself speak?” You hiss back without answering the question.

“I don’t think I do. Because every time I speak, I just dig my way under your skin a little more, and that? That amuses me to no end.”

“Don’t humor him, Y/N,” Seonghwa mutters. His hands are now withdrawn to rest in his lap again and curled into tight balls as he stares down at the floor. “I’ve found he wears himself out if you ignore him.” You can hardly imagine being trapped here for more than five minutes with Jisung, but Seonghwa has been in here for hours. Unfortunately, you don’t hold the same resilience that Seonghwa does.

You push up to your feet and stalk towards Jisung’s cell with no clear intent in your mind.

It feeds right into what he said though, it’s proof that he has gotten under your skin and bothered you to some extent, yet you don’t stop even with that knowledge.

“Don’t you have what you want? Haven’t you wreaked enough havoc in your stay here?”

“Oh? And what is it I want exactly, Y/N? Let me hear it from your pretty lips instead of my own.”

“You want me,” you spit back, leaning over the bars like it will intimidate the man behind them.

“And? Do I have what I want?”

“And you fucking have me. I made the deal, I did what you wanted, can’t you quit now?”

“Such foul language from my little lady’s mouth. A shame, truly.”

“I’m not yours to be clai—”

“Incorrect! You said it yourself: I have you. As far as I’m concerned that makes you mine. I really wanted us to find a nice peaceful place to settle down after all this, but you… you are so violent. Angry. I really would rather not be forced to deal with such behaviors, but if you continue to do so, then maybe we can try that method they’re using on the Spectre. What was it? Regression… therapy? I hear it’s quite effective in breaking someone’s spirit. Shall we try?”

You know better than to fall into that trap again. It’s all for show; Jisung is merely saying and doing these things to bother you because he knows how best to do so. He hasn’t yet even proven that he has the balls to follow through with anything he’s threatened, but he also understands that he doesn’t need to. Whether he proves it or not, he wins merely by garnering a reaction from you. It was a tactic you learned about years ago, something they taught your unit before you engage in high-risk intelligence-gathering missions.

“You don’t get to talk about San,” you fire back, right into the trap Jisung laid before you.

“San, is it? He’s the one you worry about most, no?” The smile painted on Jisung’s lips nearly seems genuine. It probably would be if not for the gleam in his eyes. “You always got too attached too quickly. I suppose that hasn’t changed.”

Jisung sits up on his heels and traces a finger over the bars separating you. Whatever the reason in doing so is a mystery to you, but you stand transfixed by the gentle movements.

“I bet you haven’t even told him how you feel. That’s the scary part, isn’t it? The part where they leave? Die? Or worse… forget everything about you? When the doctors go in to reset his brain, they won’t even think to keep those memories of you. If it makes you feel any better, I can take your memories of him away too.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

The laugh that tears through Jisung’s lips echoes off the walls and bounces off your ears.

“Is this so amusing to you?” Seonghwa is the one to pose the question, voiced raised a bit so it carries over to where you and Jisung are.

“I haven’t even begun to have my fun yet. I do so adore seeing relationships crack under the slightest bit of pressure though. I suppose that’s one thing dearest Y/N and I have in common. I’m not sure she’s let you glimpse into the cruelest parts of her yet.” His smile drops with such haste that it causes you to visibly flinch. “I’ve seen them all, Lieutenant. Oh, the fun we’ll have once together again, doll~”

“Fuck you, Han,” you spit through the curling fear in your gut. Your words have no effect and offer no respite, however; all it does is bring the smile back to Jisung’s lips and another laugh from his throat.

“You should be grateful that Hyunwoo spared you from living with the weight of your worst crimes. I wanted to let you live with them but he said you would be too guilty and too much of a liability if we left you with them. He had to be the one to take the weight of those crimes after all. I wonder how many of those broken memories will still be intact when I go back into that pretty little brain of yours again. Since Hyunwoo won’t be around to keep me from playing this time, that is. Which ones should I release first, Y/N?”

“Shut up.”

“You saw our lovely whore in Lynder didn’t you? Don’t tell me she forgave you for what you did… perhaps we should start there.”

“Shut the hell up, Han Jisung, if you want to keep your life.”

“Oh?” Jisung presses forward and gets to his feet without batting an eye. You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to his cell until he comes face to face with you behind the bars, so close that the heat from his body radiates onto your skin. “I would be careful, Y/N. I’ve spent years learning how best to toy with brains using the military’s serum. If you want to keep your sanity, then I suggest you play nice like the good little doll you are. You wouldn’t want to be left with any horribly traumatic memories, now would you?”

Jisung’s lips fall into a faux pout, and you take a hasty step back from the bars in disgust.

“I told you: I know plenty about making people break. All I have to do is tell you the smallest white lie for seeds of doubt to take root. I can make you believe that you killed thousands of people without even taking a single step into your head. Take that into account before you attempt to threaten me.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but we… we’re merely two halves of a whole crazy, Y/N. You need me to survive because if you didn’t, you would have forgotten all about me a long time ago, wouldn’t you? Isn’t it funny how someone who doesn’t even have any true and real memories of her past clings to it so desperately?”

“You know, from where I’m standing, you aren’t doing shit to help us find the others, so I have no reason to uphold my end of the bargain,” you deflect, turning the conversation on its head to escape his pointless scrutiny of your reasoning. It works to your advantage perfectly because Jisung huffs air through his teeth and rolls his eyes.

“We’re on Dorado, no? Your Berserker is in the Lower Echelon of Lynder near the Smokehouses. Large warehouse preparing for reprogramming no doubt. You won’t be able to get him out. Your best hope is to wait until after the reprogramming as my crew will take him back to our ship, then we can play tradesies and bring him back while you come with me.”

“Or you can go to that warehouse and tell them the deal is off and there’s been a change in plans.”

You squat down beside Jisung’s cell, hand slipping over your waistband and dipping underneath it to pull the sheathed knife you keep there out. It glints under the low yellow lights above your head.

“Scourge was right in saying that it’s hard to threaten a man like you. But one thing fucks your plans up, Jisung. If I’m dead, then what do you get out of this?”

The playful gleam in Jisung’s eyes fades like a candle being snuffed out. His smirk falls, expression growing grave in mere seconds, and you crank up the heat a little further as you dance the knife over the inside of your wrist.

“If it means ruining your plans, I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my crew. You should know that by now.”

“You haven’t fucking changed in all these years.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You fucking wish, you harlot. Do you really think—”

You cut him short by digging the knife harder into your skin, just enough to break through and cause a stream of red to slip out. He falls silent with a sharp inhale of air.

“I hope you agree before I run dry, Jisung. You want me to be a psychopath so badly? Let’s fucking play. Ten seconds until I cut again, and this time it’ll be vertical, so I sure hope you realize the stakes now.”

“You think your boy toy in the corner over there will sit still as you kill yourself to prove a point?”

“From where I’m standing, it seems like neither of you is in any sort of position to stop me. Five seconds, Jisung.” A drop of scarlet falls from the tip of the knife to the floor. Jisung watches it splatter, eyes calculating and careful as it moves, then he blinks back up to look you in the eye.

“I’ll tell them to cancel the reprogramming and send your Berserker back to my ship.”

“That’s not good enough,” you reply without missing a beat. The knife careens back towards your arm, and Jisung lunges forward in his cell as you shift, a desperate attempt to stop you from continuing the damage. He can’t fit a hand through the bars with the shackles around his wrists though, and he’s left to hiss out a complaint when the knife penetrates your skin again. It’s closer to your elbow this time, a deceptively shallow slice the runs parallel to the bone. Red blossoms over the line immediately. “You go in there, get them to cancel the reprogramming, then bring him out yourself to deliver him to this ship and this ship only.”

Jisung doesn’t respond right away, prompting you to lift the knife again in threat, and he snaps into action at that. Scarlet trails down the blade.

“Fine! You can even send some fucking lackeys with me to make sure I get the job done.”

“I’ll save you the trouble of trying to fuck it up while out there; I will go with you, along with our Berserker Jongho just so you don’t forget what you’re supposed to do out there.” It’s hardly your place to make such decisions or plans in place of Hongjoong, but since he’s otherwise preoccupied at the moment and you have this chance before you right now, you are going to do the most with it. And if Hongjoong has any issue with that? You’re willing to take the consequences of your actions later.

“If that’s what will make you happy, then so be it. My intention has always been to help you recover your lost crewmates.”

“Even though you were the one who kidnapped and sold them in the first place?”

“Did you think I would make things easy for you, Y/N? Come now… don’t let my kindness fool you. You haven’t even thought to ask about the other one — the Spectre, was it? Here I thought he mattered to you. You were oh so concerned when I spoke of him before.”

“I’m fucking getting there, Han. You’re in no position to be impatient,” you hiss out through gritted teeth. Jisung merely laughs at the fire in your tone.

“I’m hardly impatient, doll. In fact, I have all the time in the world. However—” he hesitates to lift one of his shackled hands and points a finger directly up “—that Spectre has a countdown looming over his head, does he not? Countdown to the hard reset? I wonder what stage of regression therapy they’re at by now. Or maybe he’s already given in? My men told me that he was… so responsive whenever your name was mentioned. I wonder if he’ll beg like the mutt he is when it comes time for him to break.”

That tips you over the edge you’ve been teetering on since entering the brig for a second time. You drop your knife to the ground, letting it clatter and fall away from where you’re squatted in front of Jisung, then you thrust your bleeding arm through the bars to close your fingers around his throat where the band of his collar can’t reach. The strain and pull on your skin burns and causes the wounds to split a bit further. It doesn’t stop you from squeezing Jisung’s neck until his face turns purple.

“Run that by me again, Han Jisung, and see what happens.”

It’s that slight insanity creeping back up your neck and into your mind — the same craze that overtook you when Taskmaster Cara stabbed San back on Echidna.

“What? Is this not a fun game for you? You were enjoying it so much not too long ago. Do you not enjoy it not?” You taunt as you twist the blade in her.

“Y-You’re a fucking – fucking psychopath.”

The smile returns to your lips. You pull the knife out of her leg with haste then move forward so that you can squat down in front of her.

“I’ve heard that before too,” you mutter as you twirl the knife in your grasp. The smile coating your lips dissipates. “But only by the people who deserve their fates.”

It terrified you then, made you fear who you were and what you could become. Now? Your mind fights the urge to kill Jisung as best it can, but it’s a losing battle, because no matter how hard you try, you cannot peel your hand away from his neck. It’s like a voice is playing on repeat in the back of your head, saying ‘kill kill kill’ over without cease.

Your ears ring with the blood thumping through your veins. If you squeeze just a little tighter then—

“Enough.”

Your hand pulls away from Jisung’s neck with such haste that you slam it hard against the bars as you’re trying to withdraw it from his cell. You scramble back from the cell full of a terror that can only be directed at yourself because you don’t know what came over you in that moment. The figure creeping up on your left doesn’t even register until he is in your space and squatting beside you. A hand overlays one of your trembling ones and pulls your arm out until your injured forearm is exposed.

“Reckless. What else should I expect from you?” It’s then that you finally decide to look up at the owner of the voice, finding none other than the captain standing over you like you’re nothing more than a petulant child who can’t learn a lesson. Still, his tone holds far more softness than anger, and you don’t get the sense that he’s truly enraged by your actions. “Go see Yunho and get these cleaned, hm? You’ll need to be in top condition if you’re heading out on yet another mission tomorrow. Though we’ll have to discuss your tendency to jump the gun on planning things without orders in the future as well.”

Ah, so he’s been present for a while if he overheard that bit as well. Then he had every opportunity to stop you from harming yourself or making any propositions with Jisung the entire time. It’s almost touching in a way knowing that Hongjoong allowed you to have that moment of control — a moment to take matters into your own hands — even if he’s all but told you that there will be consequences for said moment.

You offer a hesitant nod in response, glancing over at Jisung one last time before Hongjoong helps you to your feet. You are about to step past the captain when he yanks you back by the elbow in a similar fashion to your earlier stand-off with him outside his quarters. He presses so close to you that you smell the distinct musk of a fresh shower on his skin.

“Yunho’s still upstairs so don’t bother dropping by his room.”

You don’t understand why he had to whisper that fact to you like it was a closely guarded secret, but you are not going to point that out either. Instead, you murmur a quiet thank you and turn to climb the ladder out of the brig. Just before you reach the top, you dare to cast one more glance down to Hongjoong. He has moved to assume your previous position in front of Jisung’s cell, squatted low enough to be eye level with the man, and he holds your forgotten knife between two fingers. The scene is telling enough, but you can’t help but wonder what Hongjoong saw when you had your hand wrapped around Jisung’s neck. If he saw the way you started to pull apart at the seams and become slightly unhinged, that is. An even larger part of you wonders if perhaps what he saw was frightening enough to cause him to step in when he did.

The thought does not dwell for long; you put the brig behind you and leave Hongjoong to his own devices in there, deciding it better to not think about whatever he plans to do or say until he inevitably mentions it later to the crew. And even if he deems it unnecessary for the crew to know, you would accept that as well. Either way, you wish to leave what just happened behind you, bury it in the recesses of your mind like it’s a memory that does not belong because you wish it didn’t.

Your hands continue to tremble by your sides for the entirety of the walk back to the Hongjoong’s quarters.

I fear I will lose my mind if I cannot bring him back safely soon.

✧✧✧ a/n: here we are again i really played myself and said yeah this will be under 10k so i LIED to mYSELF um yeah wow okay i never know what to say after finishing a chapter i just go brrr i have a lot of energy tho feeling good about this chapter bringing back the survey bc it’s been a minute and i’d love to hear how we’re feeling nowadays and as always let me know how you feel in the comments replies whatever you wish just bring it on let’s GO hit me with the theories and thoughts!

if you would like to, you can take the survey here! if you would like to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

Text

To bargain for immortality pt.2

Finally, she felt well enough to leave the infirmary room for good. Her internal organs were at peace for the most part and she could keep some food down without the risk of seeing it for a second time. Her sinuses still seemed to refuse to recover though. Occasional nosebleeds would have her head spinning and the scent of blood so often present within the castle was somehow too offensive to her senses. Nicole couldn't help but wonder how exactly she got it this screwed up, but then again the first few days of the infection were a painful blur that she'd rather not remember.

For now she was content to sit in front of the fireplace with the rest of her family. They decided to have a movie night to break her out of the mopey state she had been in and, for the most part, it was quite the success. She wasn't paying much attention to the projector screen, some sappy scene from a movie chosen by Daniela playing at the moment. Instead, she was simply enjoying the close proximity to Cassandra that she so dearly missed in the last few weeks. Nicole was in the brunette's lap, with hands loosely around her waist and leaning against her shoulder. She was vaguely aware of Laura complaining about the poor life choices of one of the characters only to be unceremoniously shushed by the youngest sister. It made her chuckle.

Bela was passing the popcorn to her mothers when a knock on the main entrance reached their ears faintly. Lady Dimitrescu narrowed her eyes in the general direction of the sound, and listened. Soon enough the rapid steps of Alexandria, their Steward, reached them.

"My Ladies, Mother Miranda's assistant is here."

The whole family got up hesitantly and tried to look as presentable as possible, given their "lazy day outfits". For some like Bela that was a baggy shirt and shorts, while for the Lady it was one of her trademark white dresses. They made their way to the main entrance of the castle, where the assistant, a woman in her late thirties and the air of an annoyed teacher, was waiting. It was Alcina the one to ask why she was there.

"Mother Miranda wants to see um… Nicole was it? Yes, to take a look at the regenerative abilities."

"Why not do it here like last time?"

"Mother Miranda's laboratory is far better equipped for whatever she may want to test. Unless you have something to say against her wishes." She finished that with a raised eyebrow that would've gained her a talon through the skull were she not there as per Miranda's wishes.

Who's talons exactly was debatable.

"I'll come too," Cassandra spoke up from just behind Nicole.

That only got her a dismissive wave. "No, I was told specifically to only bring her. Come now, we don't want to make Mother Miranda wait."

With that, the woman turned around and started walking towards a carriage that would take them away. Nicole looked briefly at her family. They all had either confusion or mild concern in their eyes. All but Alcina who looked as if she'd like to protest and snap at the woman but was holding her tongue.

She reassured Cassandra that she'd be fine and started jogging after the assistant.

---

Needless to say, that was Nicole's first time stepping foot inside the underground network of tunnels. Not that she complained. Few people went there willingly and probably fewer left the same way they came in.

The ancient looking hallways were in such stark contrast with the occasional medical equipment and the pristine looking labs with doors left slightly ajar that Nicole had to wonder if the woman had no taste for a consistent aesthetic. At least Lady Dimitrescu kept all wiring and modern devices carefully hidden or blended in with the castle's decor. Here, the harsh neon lights illuminated worn out stone so dark it was almost black. Not to mention the smell of… old that seemed to ooze off the very walls she was walking by.

She was led inside a spacious lab, the bluish lights above being too bothersome for someone who got used to the warm or natural light in the castle. The room was rather long, numerous hospital beds lined up against a wall, some separated by white curtains and some left visible. An almost imperceptible whiff of an all too familiar foul odor reached her nose, but it was mild enough to be easily ignored. Nicole had a suspicion that the unmoving person laying in one of the cots further away could be the source, but she sighed and hoped not to join them by the end of the day.

Mother Miranda was sat at a desk, microscope in front of her together with a small stack of documents and a laptop. She was typing in what could probably be notes on whatever she was looking at, when icy grey eyes finally shifted to Nicole.

"Get changed and lay down," she ordered, not even moving from her spot.

The assistant that had brought her here, pushed a hospital gown that had been pulled out from a cupboard in her arms. At least she was allowed the decency of changing into a bathroom as opposed to stripping then and there in the middle of the room. The gown was surprisingly comfortable, fabric folding around her body and being held closed by a loose ribbon that she tried at the side.

Once she was back in the lab, she was ushered to one of the beds where she laid down, nervously waiting for whatever Miranda had in mind.

It was quite odd to see her without her usual attire, especially without the gold talons that Nicole was now far more familiar with than she'd ever hoped. The white lab coat looked far too normal on her and, were it not for the unmistakable cold eyes and regal posture, the woman would’ve been unrecognizable.

She finally got up, a few documents in hand, and approached her. The papers were handed over to the assistant, along with a few other objects and finally, Nicole had her full attention.

Mother Miranda bent down, scalpel in hand, and grabbed one of Nicole's wrists. Just like she did back during the first examination, the blade was dragged across the length of her forearm. Despite fully expecting it, Nicole couldn't help flinching at the pain, but she kept her eyes fixated on her arm, at the blood slowly starting to flow from the wound.

Soon the same tingling as before took over the pain and before their eyes, the skin started to stitch itself back together.

"Time," Miranda asked while wiping the blood to allow for a closer inspection of the now good as new skin.

"Five seconds."

"Alcina's?"

"Three seconds."

Miranda hummed, seemingly pleased with the results. Or at least as pleased as the woman was physically capable of being.

"Hook her up to the cardiac monitor," she further instructed while moving to retrieve something from another cabinet.

The assistant, Emma, if the tag pinned to her lab coat was to be believed, stuck a series of electrodes to her chest and abdomen. Nicole bit her lip to stifle a yelp when one came uncomfortably close to the still sensitive skin of the scar.

In no time, the machine came to life, familiar beeping sounding through the otherwise silent room.

"I hope you're not afraid of needles," Miranda said while grabbing the same arm she had before, lips pulled into a faint smirk.

Nicole only shook her head as she saw the needle of a syringe attached to a transparent slim tube slide into her arm. How ironic would that be. The sting was close to imperceptible, taken over by the now familiar faint tingle. Unlike with the cut, it didn't fade away, most likely due to not being able to fully heal the small wound with the needle embedded in the skin and vein.

She looked away, in the direction of the other occupied bed in the room. It was far away enough that she couldn't make out any detail, only messy brown hair sprawled on a pillow. The face was turned towards the wall and body covered up to the neck. She grimaced and decided instead to focus on the beeping machine, mildly annoyed by Miranda's lack of properly separating her dead lab rats from the living ones. At least she hoped she'd stay living.

The numbers on the machine started out normal. With the slight uncomfortable feeling of blood being drained however, her heart rate started to slowly increase.

Alright. Normal enough. Especially when someone is clearly in a fucking blood draining mood.

Nicole decided not to look at exactly how much blood Miranda was drawing, keeping her eyes glued to the various color coded numbers. The heart rate kept increasing until Nicole could swear she could feel her heartbeat ringing in her ears. She gulped. Still relatively within the norm.

Two things were at odds however. First, the blood pressure remained constant, almost as if her body simply refused to acknowledge the fact that it was currently being drained. Secondly, the temperature rose from the normal 36 degrees to a staggering 41 in less time than it should have.

"What the fuck…" She couldn't keep her tongue at the weirdness of her situation, her brain thankfully choosing confusion and curiosity over the dread that it probably should've felt instead.

Mother Miranda didn't seem to care though as she turned to type something on the laptop that she brought over from the desk. She tapped her finger on the device for a few seconds and finally spoke up.

"The accelerated healing means the blood is being regenerated constantly, thus not decreasing in volume. Which explains the constant pressure." She narrowed her eyes at the monitor once again. "It doesn't, however, explain the heart rate and temperature. Any bright guesses?"

It took Nicole a second to realize the question was actually addressed to her. Miranda seemed in an oddly good mood. Not any less hell bent on causing her pain, mind you, but she also seemed genuinely curious. Being a biology nerd will do that to you, she couldn't help but think.

Nicole hummed and thought for a second. She tried to recall any information about the topic at hand that she had studied prior to running away.

"Heart rate could just be the normal body response that stayed even with the mutation. Like… like a reflex. It remains even though it's not needed." Then she tapped a finger on her chin trying to find a less random explanation. "Or maybe it's the body's way of making sure that even while healing all body parts remain at least decently functional. No idea about the temperature though," she shrugged.

Miranda once again typed something up and then, without warning, pulled the needle out of Nicole's arm. She flinched, barely holding in an angry protest as she turned towards the woman. Which was a mistake. She couldn't help the gag that raised in the back of her throat at the sight of the metal container full of blood.

No, no, blood did not bother her. That would've cut her career as a medical examiner short before she even stepped foot in med school. It was the knowledge that that was her blood that made her stomach churn. The container could easily fit three liters of liquid in it, and it was full to the brim. Not to mention the smell that assaulted her still messed up sinuses mixing oh so perfectly with mr. corpse over in the corner.

Miranda just chuckled at her sour expression. "Do you think your darling wife would like to have this?"

With a sneer, masked by Nicole turning once again towards the monitor, she couldn't help slipping an edge of snark in her reply. "No need, she likes it fresh."

The numbers were back to normal, all but for the temperature that was taking slightly longer to go down.

---

By this point her vocal cords were raw from screaming and each shuddering sob felt like clumps of spines in her throat. Nicole was curled in on herself, small frame trembling pathetically on top of the uncomfortable bed. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the tingling sensation feeling like needles constantly pricking at her skin around and under the wired leather cuffs wrapped around her wrists. The frantic beeping of the machine was grating to her ears.

An electric shock test.

Of course.

Mother Miranda decided to test out how the increased heart rate worked. Results? Her body vehemently refused to allow her to pass out. Even when the shocks traveled through every part of her body, causing the nervous system to short circuit. Even when damage to internal organs and muscles ripped painful sobs from her throat, that turned into gags as soon as the tingling turned to nausea. Even when she could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage so fast that she was sure the small organ would burst any second. But it didn’t.

Every muscle in her body flared up in a sensation of painful pins and needles when Miranda pushed the button to release another shock. The cardiac monitor started screaming again and Nicole brought shaky hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Her whole body was on fire while all the damaged tissue repaired itself, making her stomach turn painfully. She felt like throwing up. Not that she had eaten anything today, but bile and thick blood still coated her esophagus. It was all swallowed back with a disgusting gulp.

The nausea was oh so kindly accompanied by searing pain from her still damaged sinuses, who’s condition only worsened exponentially with the electricity. The blood that seemed to coat all the way up to the inside of her mouth felt horrible mixed with the putrid smell of death.

She swallowed again, but that proved itself a bad decision as now that same smell permeated the very inside of her nose and mouth and throat and the feeling of blood sloshing on her tongue behind clenched teeth made her head spin.

She lurched forward, a small river of dark blood flowing from her mouth and nose, into her palms that she instinctively brought to her mouth. Wet coughs made it splatter into crimson splotches on the white sheets, herself and anything else within proximity. It took surprisingly long to realize that, after the initial wave that rose up her esophagus, the rest of the blood was from her sinuses. It was cruelly invading her nose and sliding back into her throat only to come out of her mouth. Fuck fuck fuck-

“What’s wrong?” Miranda’s tone lacked any trace of sympathy.

Nicole simply coughed out the remaining fluid from her mouth and unceremoniously grabbed a piece of cloth from Emma’s hands. She pressed it to her nose, only to feel it soaked against her skin far too soon.

“Damaged sinuses, as you said,” she croaked, her voice sounding so unlike her own.

That made Miranda frown. She kept that same expression while noting down the previous results. “It should be healed by now.”

“Well they aren't,” Nicole spat. The blood and the horrid smell were clouding her mind and, as many knew, pain and holding her tongue did not mix well in her. “And did we really have to do this in the same room as a dead fucking body?!”

Nicole’s angry outburst gave the woman pause. Annoyance mixed with a hint of confusion on her face. She looked at her assistant, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“No. Just- just anestesia.” Emma answered promptly.

“What the fuck do you mean anesthesia? Anesthesia doesn’t make you smell like a goddamn decomposing corpse, do you have cotton stuck up your noses?!” Thankfully the bleeding was starting to subside, which meant there was nothing to stifle her steadily raising angry tone.

Miranda, now sporting a scowl, got up and grabbed Nicole’s chin between two fingers. It made her flinch back, but there was no escaping the iron grip.

“I can assure you that the man is not dead, simply under anesthesia and recovering from a bad infection.” She moved Nicole’s head from left to right, eyes scrutinizing as ever.

Afterwards, she turned back and wrote something down on a piece of paper and simply instructed Emma to wrap up and lead Nicole out. The sudden shift not only in demeanor, but also in her position from the bed to standing upright was mildly dizzying. She swapped the gown for her normal clothes as quickly as she physically could, not wanting to spend another unnecessary second in this underground grave.

While she was ushered out the door, Mother Miranda’s sickly sweet voice rang after her.

“I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Her stomach turned.

---

The trek home was short and silent, Nicole simply wanting to get home as soon as possible and get a damn hot shower and sleep.

She bid the young man that was accompanying her goodbye the moment the Castle’s entrance was within jogging distance, and hurried steps took her to the imposing doors. It was Alexandria to answer her knock, Nicole having left her own keys in her bedroom.

“Welcome back my la-” the polite smile was all but wiped off the woman’s face, replaced by wide eyes. “Are you injured?”

Nicole looked at her confused, then down at herself. A muttered curse escaped past her lips when she remembered the bloody mess on her skin. “I’m okay. Just-... just don’t tell anyone I’m here yet. I'll change first.”

Her plan went out the window when a set of hasty steps came booming toward them.

“Nico-”

Cassandra’s voice died in her throat when her golden eyes landed on Nicole’s small frame, dried dark blood on her face and arms and her clothes stained. An angry growl slipped from between bared teeth.

“What the fuck did she do to you?”

Nicole was quick to answer, too tired to deal with anything other than a few hours of sleep. “I’m okay. I’m just-...” she shook her head, then turned to the Steward. “Alexandria kindly ask a maid to draw me a bath.”

“At once.” And with that the woman turned and scurried away, most likely also not wanting to be in the vicinity of an angry Cassandra.

---

The hot water felt like pure bliss on her skin. It seemed to make every muscle relax and get rid of the awful tension. She leaned back, eyes closed and hands idly moving through the water.

It was just mildly difficult to fully relax with Cassandra muttering and pacing back and forth in the same room though.

"I'm-... I'm not letting you do this again."

Nicole simply sighed and started to scrub away at dried blood. The miniature red waterfall from earlier had gotten blood all over her arms and chest, some splatters even getting on her legs. Her face was also a mess, trails of blood going from her nose and mouth to the chin with smudges and splatters.

"What did she even do to you?"

Before she had a chance to reply, a knock came from the door and a maid entered with a few clean towels and a change of clothes from Nicole's own bedroom. The girl didn't linger, simply giving them both a courteous bow and exiting the room.

Looking for something to change the subject, Nicole focused on the pleasant honey smell. Honey with a slight citrus-y undertone, maybe lemon or orange.

"Did you get a new soap?"

Cassandra stopped pacing, brows furrowed. "No? It's the same one."

Confused, Nicole brought a hand that had just been scrubbed with that very soap right under her nose and took a deep inhale. It was indeed the same one. Chamomile and mint. She sighed in annoyance and leaned back against the cool porcelain while Cassandra came and bent down on one knee to be somewhat on eye level.

"Nose still not working properly or…?" She said while gingerly tilting Nicole's chin up with two fingers. She grimaced at one yet to be washed trail of dried blood that made its way to her wife's thin upper lip.

Nicole simply shook her head and grabbed Cassandra's hand. "Can you… go get ready. I'm beyond tired and just want to lay down with you."

Cassandra pursed her lips but nodded none the less. With a kiss on top of red hair, she turned and left the spacious bathroom, door shutting with a heavy thud.

Left alone, she scrubbed every inch of skin again and took a few extra minutes to enjoy the warmth of the water. It felt so incredibly odd to not feel any actual pain after the day's events. Any trace of what her body went through had been erased by her newfound ability, not leaving behind even the faintest mark of a scar, nor blackened skin caused by electric shocks.

She pushed herself out of the tub, grimacing at the slight pink tone the water had taken. Body and hair quickly dried with the towels, she put on the clothes, a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top, and finally stepped out of the bathroom too.

Cassandra was waiting for her in bed, velvety dark robes hanging loosely on her shoulders and eyes fixated on the window while her fingers were tapping furiously on the cover of a book forgotten in her lap. Book that was quickly placed on the nightstand when Nicole climbed in beside her and pushed her way into the brunette's arms. She was tired and absolutely not above demanding cuddles.

Her wife wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her and pulling the soft blanket up to cover them both. Nicole interlocked their fingers, absentmentally turning the ring on Cassandra's finger. The same ring she had, albeit in a smaller size. A golden band with intricate floral patterns engraved on it. It had no protruding gem, something they both opted for so that the rings wouldn't need to be taken off while working and wearing gloves. Instead, eight small ocre gems were lined among the minuscule curled leaves.

It took Cassandra about two minutes to take a deep inhale and open her mouth. New record.

"Are you… are you hurt?"

Nicole didn't look up at her, the concern dripping from her words alone were enough to squeeze her heart painfully.

"No. I'm all healed up, just tired." She could almost feel Cassandra's question of clarification, but not wanting to go over what had happened down in the laboratory so soon, she opted for something the brunette would hopefully be just as interested in. "We did get some odd results though."

At the lack of any interruption she went on. "Accelerated heart rate whenever I get hurt. Can't pass out." Which was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the point of view and situation. "Also for some reason my temperature gets really high."

"You get one hell of a fever?"

"Yeah."

Cassandra tapped a finger on Nicole's hand, mentally going over possibilities. "Aren't fevers used against infections? Maybe that has something to do with it."

A small hum passed her lips. Could that have something to do with it? It was possible that her healing abilities caused a fever in order to fight off any possible infection before it even became one. Maybe it was her body's way of lessening damage as much as possible since, as the day's events showed, the old replaced tissue had a tendency to get purged. She grimaced at the memory of slowly choking on blood and went for something at least slightly more pleasant.

"Oh and… I can't bleed out. Blood volume stays constant."

She looked up at Cassandra with what could only be described as a shit eating grin. Her wife blinked, realization seeming to dawn on her together with the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She coughed.

"Yeah well. I'll keep that in mind. For when you don't need to sleep."

"And deny me some fun now?" Nicole's pout was purely for dramatic effect and it gained her an eye roll.

Two slender fingers gripped her chin to keep it in place while narrowed golden eyes bored into her green ones. The pout slowly morphed into a smirk. Cassandra was not the kind of person who did not indulge in her own pleasures and that, although to a more careful extent, included drinking her lover's blood. A fact that Nicole was not only not complaining about, but also learned to use in order to push all the right buttons.

When Nicole turned her head in the uncharacteristically gentle grip to plant a small kiss on the soft palm, Cassandra finally gave in. Concern was momentarily put on hold in the name of the normalcy they both have been denied in the last few weeks. She bent down, their lips meeting into a kiss that soon turned needy with tongue slipping past sharp teeth and a hand scratching lightly at her nape. Soon Cassandra broke their kiss, but only to slowly trail her way across her jawline with kisses and small nips. She bit at the soft skin right under the jaw bone, eliciting a quiet groan right by her sensitive ear. Black painted lips took her down the neck and across collarbones, planting a kiss right in between them, at the base of Nicole's throat.

When she slowly made her way to an exposed shoulder, Nicole's hand at the back of her head guided her further up, right above where her pulse was. After an inquisitive hum against her skin, she spoke quietly.

"Since blood loss isn't exactly a problem… no need to avoid the neck really."

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to trust her wife. She placed a gentle kiss on the spot right above where blood was flowing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The same gentle kiss that was placed on the skin countless times before and that only Nicole had the privilege of experiencing.

Sharp fangs sunk into tender flesh, the warm blood invading Cassandra's mouth making her moan low in her throat. Being used to the feeling of the bite by now, Nicole simply closed her eyes with a sigh and let her body melt into Cassandra's arms. The familiar blissful ache was welcomed, even though, she noticed, it did not bring with it the lightheadedness she had grown accustomed to.

Although she wasn't aware of it, Cassandra was, in a way, a creature of habit. Every time she would drink her blood, her hand would come up to cup Nicole's cheek, thumb slowly tracing the jawline, right before she would pull her mouth away. Every time, without fail.

This time however, when that happened, Nicole kept her in place with the hand tangled in brunette hair, her voice coming out breathy when she spoke. "Go on."

Cassandra would never admit it, but her self control would always waver while feeding. Therefore, she didn't need much convincing, continuing to take mouthfuls of blood in between a satisfied groan. When she finally had her fill, she pulled back with a bashful look in her eyes. Concern quickly flashed on her face at the sight of the crimson mess on her wife's neck.

Nicole however, not wanting their moment to get ruined, took one of Cassandra's hands in her own and slowly placed a soft kiss on each knuckle. After that was done, and the downright ticklish sensation of skin patching itself subsided, she guided the fingers over the bloody skin.

"See? Healed," she whispered.

Cassandra gingerly traced her fingers over the spot, looking for no longer existing puncture marks. She smiled upon not finding them and turned to pull out a handkerchief from a small drawer of her nightstand. A ritual of sorts, one practiced more times than they cared to count over the years. Cassandra passed the white cloth over the skin, wiping away the crimson stains while her wife relaxed into the touch.

"Feeling good?" It was a remark meant to poke fun at how much Nicole seemed to enjoy herself, but the double meaning did not go unnoticed.

A smile tugged at Nicole's lips and she nodded.

In turn, Cassandra hummed. "You taste different." And, at her lover's furrowed brows and the slightest hint of alarm flashing in her eyes, she clarified. "Not bad. Just different. Slightly sweeter actually."

"Is that so," Nicole purred, the smile returning to her lips.

Cassandra discarded the cloth on the floor to be retrieved later and shifted both of them back down on the myriad of pillows.

"Yes. Now how about you get some sleep."

Nicole wasted no time in snaking an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her side. It would never cease to amaze her how Cassandra's presence could make her feel so at ease, as if nothing beyond the castle's walls existed. At that moment, she couldn't help but be grateful for her newfound ability, useful in far more ways than one.

She stretched slightly upwards, auburn hair like a small waterfall behind her.

"I love you," she whispered against cool ashy lips.

"I love you too," Cassandra replied, closing the almost nonexistent space between their mouths in a soft kiss.

It left behind a slight coppery taste on Nicole's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to care, instead readjusting her legs to tangle comfortably around her wife's thigh.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #fanfic #lady dimitrescu #mother miranda #tw torture #to bargain for immortality

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twdbegins · 4 years ago

Text

Morning Challenges

Simon x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut. Language.

Word Count: 1,669

“You’re not gonna get what you want if you keep that up.”

“Five more minutes?” You begged.

“Baby, I’ve got to go.” Simon replied.

“Please?” You pressed on.

“I can’t, sweetheart.”

He looked down at your pouting face, his heart melting at the way your lower lip stuck out ever so slightly as you looked back at him through pleading eyes. It was early in the morning, around 6:00 or so. Simon usually didn’t get his day started until around 7:30, but today he had some things he wanted to get a head start on.

And you weren’t happy about it.

“Simon,” You whined; “I want you to stay.”

“You have work too, you know.” Simon pointed out.

“Never this early. The sun hasn’t even come up yet.” You argued back, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“It’ll start to in a few minutes.” He announced.

You grumbled, your fingers dancing along his toned core.

“Don’t you have a pass for a day off or something?” You questioned.

A chuckle escaped his chest, as he peppered kisses along your neck.

“Yeah, something like that. I’ve been holding off on using it,” Simon answered; “Been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Today’s a special occasion.” You claimed, shifting a little under the feeling of Simon’s facial hair scratching at your skin.

“Is it?” He acquired.

His lips nipped at certain areas on your neck, smirking at the sounds of your giggles and squirms.

“How often do we get mornings alone together where we don’t really have to be in a hurry to get anywhere?” You wondered.

“Not often. You’re not wrong about that,” Simon replied; “Are you saying I should take today off?”

You shrugged.

“It’d be nice. You and I could stay here all day...” You whispered out, taking your turn kissing his neck and jawline.

He was hesitant to give you a promise if he couldn’t afford a day off from work. Although, staying in bed all day was tempting. You moved to crawl over on top of him, straddling his waist and continuing to layer him with kisses. Your hips grinded down against his crotch, eliciting a groan from the man. Your fingers wrapped around the waistband on his boxers, yanking them down his legs.

“Angel...don’t start something you can’t finish.” He warned, arousal beginning to flush over him as you removed your t-shirt from your body exposing your fully naked body to him.

You hummed out seductively, grinning at how he had gotten so hot and bothered by just a few kisses and showing your nakedness to him.

“How about this...” You purred, glancing over out the window and then looking back to Simon being sprawled out underneath you; “If I can make you cum before the sun fully comes up, then you have to take the day off.”

Simon’s hands gripped your waist to keep you from going anywhere, his brown eyes blown with lust.

“You’ve got a deal.” He murmured.

You had to admit, Simon usually had your walls slick and cunt dripping with arousal within no time at all. It had been quite some time since you had to do it yourself. He watched in amusement, your desperate whimpers made his heart flutter as you tried your hardest to get yourself turned on. You were a bit out of practice when it came to self-satisfaction.

“Do you need a hand, baby?” He smirked, a snicker bubbling out of his throat.

You nodded vigorously, your hip rocking beginning to slow.

“Please.” You whined.

“Such a pretty girl...” He groaned; “I’m not helping you after this, doll. If you want me to take my day off, you’re going to have to earn it.”

You lined yourself up and sank down onto him, drawing moans out of both of you. You had fucked him enough that you never really needed to adjust to him, but you always started out rather slow. You rolled pelvis in a slow ride, soaking his cock with your hot arousal and slickness. Simon’s head fell back onto the pillows, his hands trailing over your warm skin. He kneaded and your breasts, playing with your stimulated nipples in a way that sent sparks down your spine.

“Darlin’...” He implored, his tone letting you know that he wanted you to speed it up; “You’re not gonna get what you want if you keep that up.”

That didn’t stop him from verbally praising you.

“So fucking good, baby,” He mewled; “You’re such a good girl.”

You were going to give him the best orgasm of his life.

“You’re going to be the death of me, [Y/N].” He said, his voice strained.

“I love you so much,” You huffed, your lungs breathless; “I want to spend every morning like this...”

Simon grunted in agreement, his mind too thick with fog to verbally respond. Truth be told, Simon was trying his hardest not to cum, putting off his release until after your goal time. It wasn’t that he DIDN’T want to cum, but he thought he could tantalize you from work if he caused you to fail at your challenge.

But the way you were rocking, rotating, and wonderfully fucking him, he realized he couldn’t help himself.

His grip on your waist loosened, and now both of his hands were caressing softly. You took a few moments to regain yourself, before Simon’s gentle laugh brought you back to reality. You followed his gaze outside the window to see that the sun had just fully appeared above the skyline.

Perfect timing.

“A promise is a promise.” Simon grinned, his chest still heaving.

“Since you’ll be here all day, we could do that again...and again and again.” You hinted.

Simon’s dark eyes were trained on you, his cheeks flushed at the thought.

“Promise?” He asked.

You caught his lips in a searing kiss before spending all day wrapped up in his presence.

“Promise.”

#simon #the walking dead simon #simon twd #simon the walking dead #simon x reader #simon twd x reader #simon twd fanfic #simon twd imagines #twd #twd simon #simon twd smut #simon twd x female reader #steven ogg #twdbegins

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harryspet · 4 years ago

Text

good girl. bad habits. [1] peter parker

[Warnings] alpha!peter parker x omega!reader, omegaverse, boarding school au, dystopian au, soultmate au, spanking, teacher/student, physical abuse, misogyny, plot now/porn later

A/N: warnings should be explanation enough! this is probably going to have two parts :)

POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD

In which you’re forced to attend a school for Omegas and you meet an Alpha that’s destined to shake up your world.

word count: 4.2k

main masterlist

taglist: @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @yanderepeterparker @ttqueen05 @belleknows @write-from-the-heart @sad-ed-noise @quaksonhehe

Wanda grabbed your hand, examining your nails with wide eyes, “Where did you get nail polish?” She whisper-shouted, trying not to draw attention to the two of you in the large auditorium. There were rows of girls surrounding you, all of them lacking any sort of individuality because of the stupid dress code.

“I traded for it,” Wanda raised an eyebrow and you sighed, “I’m doing her homework for Mr. Rogers for the next week. Worth it, right? Red looks good on me.”

Wanda gave you a disapproving look but you were quite used to it, “Trading?” Wanda scoffed, “You make it sound like we’re in prison.”

You only frowned, folding your hands in front of you, “That’s the only word I would use to describe it.”

Before Wanda could argue, the deafening sound of a microphone blasted through the auditorium, signalling that the assembly was about to begin. Mistress Romanoff stepped onto the platform, wearing her usual striking red hair and a black pencil skirt that hugged her curves. All the male teachers lusted for the Beta woman but you only felt jealousy. You wished your uniform skirt hugged your curves rather than dropping to your knees.

She carried the mic with her, clipboard in hand that held the contents of the meeting. It was the crack of dawn and you were running on little sleep but that wasn’t anything special for you. If you wanted anytime to yourself, you had to utilize the time after midnight which meant you often forgoed sleep.

“Good morning, ladies,” She addressed you all, her face lacking a smile or compassion, “You’ve already completed two months of the semester. A majority of you are passing your classes with flying colors. I hope you finish the semester just as strong as you started it ….”

That two months felt like a year to you. You’d spent the summer in a detention center and you were apparently “lucky” to be sitting here instead of there. In reality, you preferred the girls at the detention center over this school because they at least had spines. The girls here were mindless followers just hoping to please whatever men they had in their lives.

“As you all know, at the Stark School, our most popular event is the Halloween Ball. You know, a select few girls are chosen to attend based on merit as a reward for a job well done. This year, I have spectacular news concerning the event that I think all of you ladies will be glad to hear,” There were impatient, excited whispers that roamed over the crowd. You witnessed Wanda whispering something into the ear of the girl beside her. You only yawned, waiting for the assembly to be over, “This year, a select few males from the Asgard School for Alphas will be in attendance-”

Mistress Romanoff was interrupted by an overwhelming reaction from the crowd which consisted of loud squealing and gasps, “Ladies, please calm down. I know you’re all excited but don’t be too rash. There are still several weeks until the Ball. I would advise you all to be on your best behavior and to get your grades up if you want to be considered.”

You wanted to vomit in your mouth. The male teachers were worse enough. Being around young, Alpha males sounded like a complete nightmare. Wanda was freaking out beside you but you had tuned her out. With your current grades and disciplinary record, you’d end up at that Ball when hell freezes over.

You should’ve known that the Halloween Ball would consume everyone’s conversation for the rest of the day. It seemed you were the only one in the entire world that didn’t care. Except for Wanda, you didn’t really have any friends here and today was only adding to that isolation you always felt.

“Let’s go off script today and talk about our goals and aspirations. I often get a lot of questions from you all about advice on the plans for your future. This isn’t exactly Omega history but I figured we could use history in order to help guide us …”

As you sat in class, your eyes weren’t on the board in front of the class but out the window. The school consisted of long corridors, tall ceilings and tall windows. The ancient building sat in the middle of a forest in an area that you did not know. After the judge decided where you’d spend your senior year, they drugged you and brought you here.

You were only half listening to Mr. Rogers as he gave today’s lecture. The paint on your nails was far more interesting. Besides that, you hated how people only raised their hands to agree with him. Looking across the room at Wanda, you could see how in love she was with him.

“Throughout history, we see Omegas taking on a softer and more gentle role in our society, especially in females. Omega females are natural nurturers as well as natural followers. Can someone tell me why this is unlikely to change?”

You rolled your eyes as someone raised their hand, “It’s because it’s in our nature. It’s how the Goddess created us.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Rogers agreed with a smile, “There are leaders in our world and then there are followers. Both positions are equally as important. You can’t have one without the other,” You’d heard this type of lecture a million times and most of the girls at your school gobble it up, “There are a lot of options for omega females. After you meet your mates, the possibilities essentially become endless. There are many nurturing and low stress jobs. I know many Omegas who are secretaries, florists, and even preschool teachers. Most become homemakers and motherhood is the absolute most important job an Omega can have.”

You couldn’t hold in your scoff but, as soon as it left your lips, everyone’s head turned towards you, “What?” You asked no one in particular but to show that you didn’t want to be stared at.

“Miss Y/L/N, is there something you would like to add to the discussion?” Mr. Rogers asked and, although he was beginning to make your heart race, you only crossed your arms.

“No, thank you,” You spoke simply.

“I apologize if I’m boring you but this is a pretty important topic. Why don’t you tell the class your aspirations for the future,” You expected for him to move on but the Alpha seemed to focus in on you. You hated the feeling that crawled under your skin when you looked into his eyes. It was a force, a wall between the two of you to remind you that you were not equal.

“I’d like to be mate free, far away from this school, and on a beach somewhere rolling in cash,” Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, eyes widened, and the tension grew thick, “Consider it a five year plan.”

“And you expect to make money how?” Mr. Rogers began to pace in front of his desk, an annoyance in his glare towards you.

“I don’t know but hopefully I’ll make more than a teacher,” You grinned.

Steve stiffened and you saw Wanda look over her shoulder to you. “Stop it,” She mouthed to you.

“I’ll just move somewhere else. Somewhere they don’t treat Omegas like second class citizens.”

The class erupted in gasps and, for a moment, you felt quite powerful, “Stand up, right now,” Mr. Rogers snarled. You did as he said, knowing you wouldn’t be able to disobey a command.

You reached down to grab your backpack, “I know, I know … to the Head Mistress’s office,” You rolled your eyes.

“No, leave your things,” That made you pause and you looked up to see a smirk on his face, “Come up to the front of the class, Miss Y/L/N.”

You let your bag drop to your side with a thud. Everyone around you was still whispering and staring. You felt that power drifting away as you made your way down the aisle and towards the front of the classroom. Skirt too high on your thighs, nail polish on your hands, and an attitude on your face that you were struggling to maintain.

You stopped a few feet in front of your teacher before he said, “Hands on the desk,” He ordered you. You huffed out a sigh, every bone in your body telling you to obey. You walked past him, putting your hands down on his desk which left you slightly bent over with your backside exposed to the room of forty girls. “This, young ladies, is important for all of you to see. There will always be some who resist their true nature and who cause disruption.”

You heard the sound of him removing his belt from the waistband of his pants and your body cringed.

You’d heard that things like this happened often here. You heard the head mistress had a secret closet of tools she used on disobedient omegas. You’d never heard of a Professor disciplining a student in front of an entire class.

You wanted to scream and shout but decided that remaining stoic would save you the most embarrassment. Even as he lifted your skirt, you didn’t say a word, only shut your eyes tightly, “Whatever career path you choose, your mate will have to approve. This is not because you are second class citizens but because your mate will know what’s best for you. Ranks are ingrained within us and, no matter how much we fight it, we still end up in positions like you. If we only stayed in our lanes, others wouldn’t have to enforce their rank.”

The first slap of the belt burned badly. You couldn’t help but cry out as your knees buckled together and you tightly gripped the wood of the desk.

He kept going, forcing the class to count along as he completely bruised your bottom. He stopped at fifteen but, by that time, tears were already streaming and you were silently weeping.

The next few weeks passed in a blur with your usual routine of going through your classes like a zombie and listening to Wanda’s ramblings. Like a lot of girls, Wanda already had an Alpha with his eyes set on her. Bucky Barnes, an older man and well respected Alpha had already staked his claim. Wanda’s current mission was to have as much fun and attention that she could before being forced to settle down.

You started to notice how Wanda’s usual group of friends was dwindling as she continued to sit with you. Although she often disagreed with your mentality, she still stayed which was more than anyone had ever done for you.

“Are you really going to run? Escape?” She asked in a whisper as she discussed the forbidden topic.

“Why would I stay? No Alpha will want me. Not even a Beta would,” You only shrugged, stirring your spoon around your bowl of soup.

“That’s not true,” Wanda insisted, “You just …. you just have to adjust a little more. I think you could be happy eventually if you just played the part for a little while. An Alpha could offer you security.”

You shook your head, “I don’t like the cost. I think I’d rather scrub toilets for the rest of my life.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at your words, “I don’t think you would, Y/N. There’s got to be a part of you, deep down, that wants the stability.”

You didn’t answer the question and you didn’t allow the thought to stay on your mind, “Don’t worry about me, just enjoy your dance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find another Alpha and you can watch them fight over you.”

Wanda smiled, a dreamy look in her eyes, “That does sound wonderful, doesn’t it?” Not long into your conversation, you felt a tapping on your shoulder and a woman telling you that you’re needed in the head mistress’s office, “What did you do now?”

“Nothing,” You said immediately, grabbing your things, “You can have my pudding cup. I’ll see you after last period.” Wanda only nodded, a look of worry on her face as you were escorted away.

The woman, who you assumed was some type of secretary, advised you to fix your appearance. The Stark School was like an old castle with vast hallways and tall ceilings of stained glass. Mr. Rogers told the class one time that it had been used as a fort in a war hundreds of years ago. People thought it was an interesting fact but the antiqueness of everything left you feeling creeped out most of the time.

You arrived at her office after climbing the winding stairs of the tallest tower. Mrs. Potts was waiting by the window when you entered. You kept your hands folded, hiding the nail polish on your fingers as you waited for her to address you. She stared out of the window, out to wear P.E. classes were being held, and your eyes wandered to the large wardrobe in the corner.

You gulped as you realized that was probably where she kept her weapons of discipline, “How are your studies going, dear?” You turned your head to find her staring intently at you, “Come, sit down.”

You moved forward, obeying the Alpha Females commands, and taking a seat in front of her desk, “Well, I’m not failing anything,” You spoke tersely.

“I heard,” She nodded, taking a seat behind her desk. She straightened the jacket of her black suit as she folded her hands over the desk, “That’s a big improvement, Y/N. That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “To talk about my improvement?” You put the word “improvement” in quotes.

“Exactly, when you first arrived you started with at least one infraction a day. Now you’re down to one a week. I can tell you’re learning and that you’re adjusting well.”

“Are you letting me out of here earlier then?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

Pepper only chuckled, “Here’s what I’m offering you - a chance to go to the Halloween Ball.”

“Why would I want that?” You asked.

“When the school year is over, you won’t have many options. If you get back on suppressants, you’ll be caught and end up back in the Council’s bad graces. It’s my job to help you and I don’t want to see that happen,” You could tell that she was being sincere but there was still the ulterior motive of simply getting you out of her hair, “You’ll go to the ball, maybe you’ll meet someone willing to take you in and give you something better than what you can give yourself.”

You frowned, “I’m assuming you’re not giving me a choice.”

Pepper sighed, “You have over fifty infractions, Y/N. Any other student would have been kicked out by now. Just take this chance.”

It was quite amusing to you watching the group of boys and girls meet each other. They both seemed to be an inexperienced group of teenagers awkwardly trying to figure things out. The girls stood on one side and the boys stood on the other for the first ten minutes of the dance before a brave boy walked over to ask a girl to dance. Now, the dance was in full swing and you were sitting by the snack table, easing your anxiety with cookies.

Wanda loaned you a long white dress and allowed you to cut it into something off-shouldered with a slit down the side to expose your thigh. You watched Wanda who was dancing happily in a champagne pink, ruffled dress.

The Alphas that passed you only stared, probably wondering why you weren’t bashfully batting your eyelids at them. Another thing that added to your anxiety was the energy they gave off. You could handle class with Mr. Rogers but being in the ballroom was putting you on edge.

You sat through a few more loud pop songs before finally standing up and heading for the exit. As you made it to the door, you heard an out of breath Wanda calling for you. You turned to see her pulling a boy along with her, a look of lust in his eyes as he gazed at her. He wasn’t what made your breath hitch in your throat, it was who was behind him.

“Y/N, this is Brad,” She gestured to the boy whose hand was interlaced with hers, “And this is his friend Peter.”

Peter.

Something made you do a double take. You didn’t recognize him but you felt your world shift at the sight of him. You felt your heart rate increase as she felt something foreign … attraction. A kind face that didn’t match those brown eyes that screamed danger. In those few seconds where your eyes lingered on his, you questioned every feeling you’d ever had.

“I’m going … on a walk,” You told Wanda, not addressing them.

“Take us with you to get some fresh air,” She winked at you, knowing what you were hinting at.

Your shoulders slumped but you nodded, “You’re lucky there’s enough in my stash.”

You turned around and pushed open the gymnasium door and led the three of them into the hallway. The four of you did your best to avoid any chaperones, dipping into a custodian's closet when you heard the tapping of heels coming your way. Like you had planned it, you switched on the light and ran your eyes over the many shelves.

“How did you even get it?” Wanda whispered.

They did bed checks often and a lot of the administrators were fond of combing through your dorm room thoroughly.

“I’m cool with the janitor,” You answered simply, shrugging. As you found the empty container for disinfecting wipes, you reached in to find what you were looking for. You felt the young Alphas eyes burning into you as you presented it to the group.

A flask.

You tilted the silver container back, swallowing quickly in an attempt to not taste the vile liquid. Not meeting his eyes, you held the flask out to the side for him to take. The four of you were making your way to the lake. Wanda and Brad, stuck in their own world, had wandered ahead which left the two of you to awkwardly walk beside each other down the dirt path.

When he didn’t take it, you glanced at him, “I don’t think that’s going to get me drunk,” He said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck and the first few buttons of his white shirt were undone. You couldn’t help that your eyes lingered on the skin of his chest and he seemed to notice. He flashed you a curious look but you turned your head again.

“Suit yourself,” You took another sip, scowling as you pulled it from your lips.

The four of you arrived at the lake and it seemed Brad and Wanda couldn’t keep their hands off of each other any longer. After taking a big swig out of the flask, she told you that she and Brad were going to go “check out” the storage cabin where the school kept lake gear. She giggled as he pulled her away, leaving the two of you along on a picnic bench, staring out onto the eerie, dark water.

“What’s your last name?” He asked and a part of you was frustrated that he was trying to make small talk with you.

“You wouldn’t know my family,” You said simply.

“Try me,” He challenged you like the cocky Alpha you assumed he was.

“They’re dead, it’s not like it matters.”

“How?” He continued, “How did they die?”

You gave him an incredulous look, “Do you always ask girls about traumatic topics when you first meet them?”

“You don’t seem like most girls I’ve met.”

“And I guess that’s an excuse?” You scoffed but his expression didn’t change. He seriously wanted to know, “They were rogues and they died like everyone else who defies the Council. Happy?”

“I’m sorry,” Was his curt response.

An Alpha apologizing? You never thought you’d see the day.

“What’s your last name?”

“Parker,” Your eyes widened as the name left his lips.

“You’re … you’re Tony Stark’s nephew?” He only nodded, “And you’re saying sorry when your uncle is on the council. When he’s the reason they’re dead. That’s rich.”

“I’m not my uncle,” He stated more firmly than you expected. It took you back for a moment and the two of you stared intensely for a long moment.

“I don’t care,” His eyebrows tightened and his lips pressed into a rectangle at your reaction, “Even if you don’t want to end up like him, you probably will. It’s a part of your nature,” You spoke, mocking the words you heard all day long in class.

“It’s not a part of my nature to kill those who disagree with me,” Your eyebrows furrowed at his words.

“How else will you assert your dominance, oh wise Alpha?”

He breathed deeply, sensing how you were toying with him, “A good alpha doesn’t need to kill or rely only on their strength. Alphas who lack the respect of their followers do.”

It deeply confused you that someone like him could think this way. You were quiet for a moment as you thought it over, “Are you saying Tony Stark lacks the respect of his people?”

“They only fear him,” Peter’s eyes seemed to darken even in the moonlight shining down on the two of you.

Pete watched as it clicked within your mind, “And you don’t want to be feared?” As he leaned in closer, you surprised yourself by not pulling away. You felt that same magnetism pulling you towards him, promising you pleasure, but frightening you at the same time.

His fingers brushed against yours and a shiver went down your spine, causing your lips to part and your eyes to widen, “Control feels much better when it’s instinct. When it’s wanted and desired. That’s real control,” His voice was warm, and surprisingly calm. It made you forget for a moment and drop the walls. Your eyes roamed over his every feature, ever line of his jaw, and ever curl of his hair.

His eyes wandered down to your lips and you suddenly snapped out of the spell. You stood up from the bench with a start, realizing how deeply you were just staring at him, “I don’t believe in those bullshit rankings,” You stated firmly and he stood up with you, trying to close the distance between the two of you, “They’re all fucking lies.”

You were about to turn away when he grabbed your upper arm. You gritted your teeth as he pulled you into him, “Believe this then. I want you, Y/N.”

“Let go of me,” Your voice was lower than you expected as you stared into those eyes. Why was your voice so weak? “You don't even know me.”

“It’s instinct,” He said, holding your firmly although his grip was tight, “And I can tell that you feel it too. Deep down, you’re searching for someone to take care of you. You want reassurance like they all do.” You tried to look away from him but you just couldn’t. “Someone hurt you badly, didn’t they?” You shook your head, tears starting to sting your eyes. “A girl like you needs someone gentle. Someone to ease you into submission rather than force it.”

You felt like you were melting into him and as his head dipped down to place his lips on yours, that voice in the back of your head was screaming to kiss him back. Your wrist pinned together between you, Peter stole your first kiss and it was a wonderfully terrifying feeling.

You felt warmth in your core and you tightened your legs together as he began to kiss along your jaw and then your neck, surely leaving marks on your skin, “Peter …”

“Tell me to stop,” He said against your skin.

The words were on your tongue but it was like your body had switched to autopilot. It wanted his touch and that’s all your body wanted to focus on. When he finally did pull his lips from your skin, your body was still craving that foreign touch.

Before his hands could roam over the rest of your body, a bright light blinded the two of you and footsteps approached. Peter let go of your skin but you still felt his touch, as Mr. Rogers appeared. You only crossed your arms, looking down at your feet as the two of you were caught.

“What are you doing out here, son?” Of course, Steve didn’t address you.

“We wanted to look at the Full Moon,” Peter lied, “My apologies, sir.”

“Where’s Maximoff?”

“We haven’t seen her,” Peter shrugged casually.

“I’d stay away from this one if I were you. There’s plenty of good girls worthy of your time,” Steve gestured to you but him disliking you was the least of your worries at the moment, “You can head back to the dance, Mr. Parker. I’ll be escorting this one back to the dorms.”

Peter stepped forward, walking past Steve, but he looked back to mouth something to you.

Clear as day, you could read his lips say, “You’re mine.”

No matter the cost, you decided then that you’d run. Run from this place and from the feeling Peter gave you that made you so weak in the knees.

part two

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