#cause my anxiety has been higher since release than it was before it came out sdklsdk

[apostaterevolutionary]

The genuine stress I am experiencing waiting for final verdicts on veilguard is actually embarassing lmfao like pls why am I having very real anxiety over whether a video game will live up to my dreams about it or not. Why couldn't I have the math autism, what the fuck is this madness sdklsd

(This is a long personal rant about my own personal anxieties from a person who has not played the game yet and is waiting until people start finishing it cause I need to go in with the correct expectations or else I risk ruining the entire franchise for myself forever and I cannot do that)

Like okay I'm not doubting that it's commercially successful and a lot of people like it. That's great. I'm happy about that. But also. There's a lot of very successful games I personally don't like? I really disliked Hades for example. It's boring and repetitive and the combat is all just button mashing and I don't get the appeal at all. But it's a very successful game - obviously I am the outlier and that's fine. I have no problem with that. But any game that's ever compared in any way to Hades is one I won't buy cause I really, really didn't like it

I don't like soulsbournes either - unless they have difficulty settings and a strong narrative (respawn's star wars games are about the only ones I like tbh, and even then I do find the combat gets too repetitive at a certain point after completing the main story. Not too much that it's bad, but just by that point I'm avoiding enemies a lot cause I just want to get that last collectible gdi, stop spawning fucking stormtroopers all over the place lmao). But that's another genre of game that I just don't personally like even thought other people do. Elden Ring was massive and it's not that the people who like it are wrong, it's just that tastes vary and I don't enjoy that kind of experience

So when people compare veilguard to god of war (never played) or mass effect (games I like, but are a very different play experience than dragon age and I've always preferred DA by a lot for a reason) I'm like. Well okay you keep saying it's a good game, but is it a good dragon age game? Does it feel like dragon age? Am I going to open it up and go ah, yes, I'm home, or is it going to be like coming to a place I always used to go and finding everything's different and it's just a barely recognizable shadow of what I remember? Will it feel the way I want it to feel? Will it feel like the thing that defined several years of my life and fundamentally changed me as a person or will it feel like a stranger?

(Yes, I know it's "just a video game", but we don't always get to choose what matters to us and annihilation comes for us all, so let little shit matter to people okay)

And then I see people saying how bioware hasn't been an rpg studio since inquisition and anyone expecting an rpg was an idiot and like. Wait, wtf do you mean you all weren't expecting the newest released in a very well-known rpg series to be a fucking rpg??? Like yeah. Mass effect isn't but it never has been - it's always been a shooter with some rpg elements. Anthem wasn't either but anthem was a weird one off that flopped really bad. So yeah. I expected veilguard to be an rpg. If anything, my fear was they'd lean into inquisition's style a bit too much, as it was a very successful game at the time (won game of the year!) and even if a lot of us bitch about its flaws now, no one can deny it was successful. So yeah. I guess I was one of the "idiots" who can't let go of bioware's era of making amazing rpgs because that's what I started playing their games for. To wait 10 years for what sounds like is a massive genre pivot (and yes, I know it was originally an online game but I figured they'd pivot back to what they know they do well rather than entirely new territory) is... idk man, it feels bad

And like. I guess it's fine if veilguard cannot be called a dragon age game in terms of mood and feel. It's allowed to be that. But 1) ngl that is a disappointment to me and 2) like, that changes the way I approach playing it. If some of the rumours/vague hints/possible spoilers I've read are true, then I won't be able to play it like a dragon age game, I'll have to play it as a mass effect game. And like. Again, I like mass effect, but there's a reason I've played the trilogy only a few times and the DA games like over a dozen for origins and DA2. ME is just an inherently more stressful experience and that's all fine and good, but again, if it was an ME game, that would make more sense, the expectations are different for the two series'. Is it really so wrong to want a DA game to feel like DA? Or to be upset if it doesn't? Like yes, if I buy an apple I want an apple, and even if I like oranges, I don't think it's wrong to be upset if I bite into my apple and boom, it's just an orange inside, you know. It's not that oranges are bad, it's that I wanted an apple and expected an apple considering the sign said "apples"

And of course all of this might be alleviated by playing it but 1) again, these games matter to me and if I'm too disappointed, it can ruin everything for me and I don't want that - I've literally been thinking about a DA2 tattoo for the last couple years and this game suddenly coming out is the only reason I didn't get it this fall (and like, if I go in knowing it's not gonna be xyz, then I can deal with it, but I need to know first), and 2) it costs $80 of canada's own dollars lmao like. Yeah, you can get a refund on steam games if you don't like them, but you gotta play less than 2 hours and I don't think that's going to be enough to say for sure

Anyway, idk, this is a thought dump cause idk how to feel and I am just desperately waiting for some unbiased (or, rather, biased in the particular way I am biased lmao) final game opinions and in conclusion:

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[bcdwhcre]

Oml I've had this request idea for so long so I was wondering how you'd do it. How about some headcanons/little scenarios of Levi, Erwin, and Hanji getting caught making out with their fem so by someone else in the scouts? 😏 This has been in my head so LONG soooo I feel like you would portray it well

“Caught,” Levi x Erwin x Hange Headcanons

okay okaaaay cute idea🥺

Summary: getting caught making out with your s/o by another scout.

Warnings: implied smut with Erwin

Fem!Reader

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Levi:

He’s always been the type to be clingy and openly affectionate in private. He never really liked PDA or even being flirty with you in front of others. He liked to cherish you behind the closed doors and show you how much he loves you there.

It never bothered you, you were always professional when it came to your work so you agreed with him about not wanting to show too much of your relationship to the other Scouts.

One day Levi was more clingy than usual, he said it was only because he had a nightmare about losing you and it felt too real. The entire day when no one was looking, he would touch you in any way he could. Grabbing your hand, touching your lower back. He felt like he needed some slight touch of yours to be reminded you were still here.

Around the afternoon, he had forced you to stop your work and come to his office. It had bugged you but you couldn’t sit there and complain about Levi wanting to be around you for every second.

He was just a teddy bear, very hands on and loving so him having a dream about you no longer being here- it had crushed him in ways he couldn’t explain. He was deeply in love with you, he couldn’t handle losing you so the slight dream just fed into his insecurities and anxiety that he had to be around you.

As you stepped inside his office after knocking, his eyes lit up when he seen you and instantly stood up from his desk as you walked over. His arms embraced you in a tight hug, his lips kissing the side of your head and a sigh of relief slipped out of his mouth.

“Why did you call me here?” You mumbled, rubbing his back and he grunted under his breath, his eyes moving to look at you.

“Just missed you is all.” He barely said loud enough for you to hear, feeling embarassed for admitting that out loud. He felt dumb for bothering you and taking you away from your work to see him but he felt like he needed it desperately.

“Hm, because you missed me?” You teased, making him roll his eyes and his hands grabbed a hold of your cheeks firmly, staring into your eyes.

“Yes,” He quietly said, admiring you as his thumbs rubbed over your soft skin.

Time felt like it had frozen still just for a moment, his eyes burning into yours and another huff escaped his mouth as he tried to rid the insecurities he had replaying in his head.

You could tell how frustrated he really was, he hated to be deep into thought about everything- especially when it came to negative thoughts. You moved your hands to rest on his sides, gripping onto the material of his shirt and tugged him closer.

You wanted to take away his troubles, his thoughts and his anxiety. You wish you could easily take it from his hands and deal with it yourself, he deserved to be happy everyday.

As you felt his thumbs brush over your cheeks, you leaned up to press your lips on his. A gentle kiss but it definitely made him feel better, making all the stress slip off his shoulders and replaced with love and butterflies.

His hands stayed firmly on your cheeks, afraid of letting you go but also not wanting you to pull back from his lips. He just needed this a little longer. He had tilted his head, leaning more into your mouth as both of your lips moved in sync with one another.

Suddenly the door had opened up, Armin and Jean walking inside while calling for Levi before noticing the scene before them, making them freeze in the doorway and made the both of you break apart and glance back at the door.

All four of you stared at each other, the awkward tension and not really knowing what to say about what had just happened. Your relationship wasn’t a secret, no, but it wasn’t clear if everyone knew about it or not considering you two aren’t much of a pda type couple.

Armin and Jean’s eyes were wide, they had no clue about your relationship so walking in felt like they violated your privacy and saw something they weren’t supposed to see.

Levi grew frustrated, staring at the both of them and crossed his arms over his chest as he gave them a cold stare.

“You either speak on why you’re here or leave.” He simply said, causing the both of them to stumble on their words and Armin ended up just grabbing Jean and dragging him out of the office.

“We’re so sorry, we didn’t see anything. Ignore us.” Armin rushed out, grabbing the door and shut it, hearing them panic as they go down the hall,

“You scared the poor boys.” You glanced over at Levi, making him roll his eyes and meet your gaze.

“Maybe they should learn how to knock.”

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Erwin:

Erwin is the type of person who likes to have everyone know you’re his but he’s also very professional in his work and making sure that his work and your relationship don’t intertwine and ruin one another.

He’s always kept his head screwed on and he always treated you more like a colleague while working and you always done the same to him. He cared a lot about his job, it was one of his favorite things along with you.

So, it didn’t bother you to have him focus on his work during the day and come home to cherish you ten times more. It was a good mixture to keep the relationship healthy and stable.

But one particular day, you found yourself a bit more needier and trying to go about your work as if nothing is wrong was bugging you. You couldn’t help but think of Erwin repeatedly, the other night replaying in your head of him touching you in all the right places.

It was really starting to annoy you, sure this has happened before but the other times it was easy to manage and ignore. This time it just was on the tip of your brain, repeating like a broken record and it was starting to make you go crazy as you keep catching yourself zoning out and daydreaming about it

You were stationed on the opposite side of the base, trying to concentrate on the plan for the expedition coming up and as you sat there trying to listen, it was getting more evident that you were dozing off into thought.

After a while there was a meeting that had to be held with most of the Scouts, mainly the higher ups, to discuss the next expedition but you were too lost in your train of thought to even realize what they were saying.

“Y/N.” Levi snapped his fingers in your face and your eyes shot up to meet his, the scary plain look on his face and you could automatically tell he was irritated.

Erwin had looked across the room, noticing you zoning out and he tried not to think too hard about it, you two were at work- not at home but he felt like there was something wrong, maybe you were upset or too in a depressing mood to work.

As the meeting went on, it had finished up and Erwin had asked for you to come to his office and at first you thought that he had caught on and it had actually excited you a bit but the both of your thoughts were far from similar.

Once you stepped inside, you turn to face him as he shut his door and you reached out to grab a hold of his hands. He had looked at you with concern and before he could ask you what’s going on, you had smashed your lips onto his.

He was a bit taken back but he couldn’t deny that he liked the sudden kiss from you and he wasn’t too phased since it was inside his office. Your hands had moved up to cup his cheeks and eventually sliding them back to tangle in his hair, both of your lips molded together.

Suddenly the door had creaked open and someone had grunted loud enough for the both of you to hear. Erwin had ripped away from you, both of your eyes moving to meet with Levi’s as he shot you both a disgusting look.

“Please, there’s a lock on the door for a reason.” He rolled his eyes, walking inside and slamming the papers on Erwin’s desk before returning to the door.

“My apologies.” Erwin spoke, making you hold back a laugh at how red his face was from embarrassment.

“Tch, save it. Just lock the fucking door.” Levi shut the door behind him and that’s when a laugh had slipped past your lips.

Erwin was completely flustered, his cheeks heated up and the look of fear knowing Levi had caught the both of you making out. You didn’t find it that much of a big deal, it was Erwin’s office after all- not his fault that Levi didn’t know how to knock.

“Whats so funny?” He raised his eyebrows in amusement at your small fit of giggles as you shook your head.

“It’s funny how flustered you are.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“Hun, your face is more red than a tomato.” You pointed out and he huffed out a breath, moving to sit down at his desk trying to rid of the thoughts of being walked in on.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad. We were just kissing.” You teased, leaning over his desk to place another kiss on his lips and he looked up at you, the small smile edging in his lips.

Erwin remained silent, his large hand reaching up and caressing one of your cheeks as his thumb brushed over you skin slowly. He released another breath, the sight of you instantly making his nerves calm down and the embarrassment slip away.

“Still humiliating.” He said sacrastically, a gentle chuckle leaving his lips and you rolled your eyes.

“Better get over that thought because I’m not finished with you yet.” You mumbled, grabbing a hold of his chin and he had looked at you surprised.

You couldn’t care less about Levi walking in, your main thoughts were still on your boyfriend and the previous thoughts you’ve been having all day and being seen making out wasnt going to stop you from getting what you wanted.

“Oh?” He simply said, collecting his thoughts and finally realizing what you had been talking about and it made him realize why you’ve been zoning out all day. It made sense.

“This time, lock the door.”

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Hange:

Now, Hange never cared what anyone thought whether it was about her or her work so she wasn’t ashamed or phased in the slightest when she got into a relationship and she sure wasn’t embarrassed to show it off and to show you off.

But you, on the other hand, were the opposite. You were really shy and awkward when it came to opening up and you were always flustered when it came to the Scouts teasing you about your relationship.

You weren’t embarrassed or ashamed to be with her, you were more than in love with her but you weren’t used to this sort of attention, you’ll admit that she’s actually your first relationship so you were still getting used to it.

You worked under her, being apart of her team and helping her with a lot of research studies she was obsessed with, that was the main reason why you two gotten so close.

As you stood inside her little lab, sitting on a stool and reading over papers while she mumbled to herself about some theory she was testing out. You glanced over at her when her mumbling got louder. Hange is always unaware when she starts talking to herself when working, you thought it was cute.

All of a sudden a loud excited scream left her lips, almost startling you and she jumped up.

“I figured it out!” She laughed more to herself, completely forgetting you were in the room as she grabbed her pen and began to scribble down on her journal.

“Figured what out?” You spoke, your eyes turning back to the paper before you and her eyes shot towards you.

“Something about Eren’s titan form.” She couldn’t hold back the excitement running through her veins as the adrenaline was pumping through, making her more hyper than ever.

She went over to where you were, her arms wrapping around you from behind and she glanced over your shoulder to see what you were reading before sliding it away from your vision.

You turned your head, raising a eyebrow all while the butterflies swarmed your stomach when her grip around you tightened, her lips planting a gentle kiss on your cheek, making your cheeks grow red.

“What?” You asked, noticing how concentrated she was on you and you were almost convinced you had something on your face.

“Nothing nothing, I’m just happy is all.” Her voice was low, making a small smile come across your lips.

Hange couldn’t help the overwhelming amount of love she had for you. She was deeply in love, more than she can explain out loud and it was never her intention to fall for one of her cadets or anyone in the Scouts period.

But the day you came in after the training corps, set on being under her team and wanting to work with her little experiments and loving her theories just as much as she did- she suddenly fell right into that deep hole with you.

She always thought that she would only be in love with her work and her job. She never seen herself with anyone before you only because everyone thought she was crazy for being so obsessive over the Titans and wanting to learn their way of thinking and behavior.

But you, pushed her in the right direction and always gave her good advice and made her feel more confident in her work, even though she was pretty confident before but having you was like a big bonus.

You could tell she had gotten lost in her train of thought again, she always zoned out and thought about you and it was always cute to see. Soon she had snapped out of her, her attention back onto you and she leaned down to press her lips on yours.

It was a soft kiss, definitely meaningful to the both of you. Your hand moved up to cup her cheek to keep her in place, tilting your head and leaning more into her. The small make out session was starting to get heated pretty fast but it ended abruptly when the door had opened, both of your eyes shooting over to the door to see Eren.

“Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t- I didn’t see anything.” He stuttered, quickly walking out and shutting the door behind him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid!” Hange shouted as Eren’s face turned bright red, quickly walking down the hallway and away from the room, trying to rid the scene he just witnessed.

She turned to look back at you, your face completely flustered and bright red again. The embarrassment lingered over your head like a rainy cloud and she couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“So humiliating.” You mumbled, shaking your head as you looked down to hide your face considering how hot your skin was.

She quickly grabbed your chin and tilted your head up to look at her, the small smirk on her face had made you almost melt beneath her fingertips. Her lips kissed your red cheek a few times, trying to hold back her laugh.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s his fault he barged in here.”

“I’m still embarrassed.”

“Don’t be!”

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Anywhooooo, been a long few days. 🥺

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[hongism]

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

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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!

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[aching-tummies]

if i was your partner... I'd take you on a date to the county fair. I know you have a sweet tooth, and I promise to buy you whatever you want. When we get there, we haven't had dinner yet so we get a big meal of hamburgers and hot dogs, and some fried dough and cotton candy for you. I tell you I want to take a lap around the fair to see what rides there are, and get you as many treats as you want. Ice cream, churros, sodas and milkshakes all end up in your belly... 1/?

I’ve never been to a fair/amusement park or anything so when my beloved suggests we go I’m excited. Since I was a child, I’ve always wanted to go to these things because friends that have gone always have such cool stories about the rides or cute ones about laughing and having fun with their dates. Also…the occasional fair food item sounds delicious.

At the same time, I’m wary of the food because I’ve eaten stuff like ice cream, churros, milkshakes, and hot dogs before. Not at a fair setting and definitely not all in the same day. Past experience tells me that these are the kinds of foods that give me a queasy tummy ache individually. The idea of eating them all in the same day has me apprehensive. Absentmindedly, I press my hands to my tummy as though guarding it from the thought of such a nasty ache.

The day of the fair arrives and excitement has given way to nerves and those nerves have gone straight to my stomach. As we get out of the car and approach the fair grounds my stomach clenches and does flips. An empty growl splits the air but peters off into an inaudible, nauseous burble. I haven’t eaten much since you told me about our visit to the fair. The thought of fair-food filled me with dread since I knew we were coming and I guess I subconsciously lost my appetite in preparation…to try to give the fair-food a blank slate as though in hopes it’ll hurt less if it’s just the fair-food bouncing around in my gut. I rub my tummy with both hands, squeezing my eyes shut against the sensations rolling within it. I want to bolt. I want to go home. It’s like my tummy knows exactly where we are going and knows it’s in for something nasty.

I toy with the idea of asking that we just go on rides. I try to formulate the words, to make up a reason why I won’t be eating anything at the fair. Variations of “my tummy’s upset” or “I ate earlier and I’m full” come to mind. The latter wouldn’t be something I could fool you with. We’ve been together the whole day and you know naught but water has passed my lips all day. If my stomach weren’t sickeningly empty, I would definitely have thrown up by now. The anxiety of the impending situation twists in my gut, and I feel like a solid mass is forming inside my hollow gut…an imagined mass that sends urgent “puke” signals to my brain. I feel my stomach muscles convulse and I squeeze my eyes shut as it snarls again.

Your hand comes to my stomach and jolts me out of my thoughts.

“Aww…hungry?” You say as you pat my stomach through my clothes. You heard the hunger part of the growl and you took my hands on my tummy as a sign of a hunger pang. Or so I think.

“Uhm…n-not exac—"

“They sell food in there. Let’s grab some hotdogs before we check out the rides.” You pat your own stomach, triggering a growl that has no hint of nausea in it. “I’m hungry too.”

My stomach burbles as you all but push me forward, walking us to the entrance of the grounds. Each step brings the thought, “dead man (stomach) walking”. I had opted to eat less/not at all in preparation for this day because I didn’t want to come to the grounds with an upset tummy. My own stupid anxiety over what this kind of food does to me foiled that plan. If I had known my stomach would be upset entering the grounds regardless of whether or not I had eaten anything I would have just eaten something rather than endure hunger for so long.

“Uhm…d-darling? Hotdogs…uhm…y-you know what hot dogs do to my stom—”

“Ooh! Chilli-dogs! Yeah, those beat hot-dogs any day. We’re getting some!” It’s like you didn’t hear me. Tears prickle my lashes as I realize you’ve cut off all my attempts at telling you something is wrong. I open my mouth again but the glint in your eye shuts me up.

You know. The way your hand is snaked around my waist and how your palm is pressed up against my tummy is a new clue. The gentle, subtle rubs you’re giving me, that I haven’t noticed until now—you’ve done similar motions before. When I lost a dear family member you made those same motions on the back of my neck and on my shoulder when you put your arm around me. It’s your go to ‘comforting’ move. You know what’s on my mind. You know how upset my tummy is. You know I’m anxious about the impending stomach ache. And I know about your fascination with my stomach; we aren’t just here for the fair.

“Let’s walk and eat. Fair grounds are huge and I don’t know exactly what rides they have this year. Let’s do a lap, or two, and fill our tummies with all the different food as we narrow down which ones we want to go on.”

You’re still rubbing lazy circles on my tummy. Your voice and the gentle rubs slowly bring me out of my own head and the tight vice-like coil of anxiety in my gut unclenches just a little. The anxiety lessens just enough for a hungry growl to squeeze out. You know exactly what rides are offered. You studied the pamphlet thoroughly and I know for a fact you have a ranking order of your favorite rides. You love the fair and are a seasoned fair-goer. The walk is for my benefit. Suggesting two laps and suggesting that we slowly fill our bellies is entirely for the sake of my tummy. Starting at the fair with an already upset tummy wasn’t in the plan. You don’t just want to deal with an anxious tummy or a sickly one…the food and the fair-experience are part of your script for tonight. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. If I let myself throw up it’s all over—that’ll be the end of the night. I don’t want to rob you of your opportunity to enjoy the fair. It only happens once a year. I don’t want to imagine having to deal with an entire year of an anxiety-induced stomach ache—knowing that you’ll try again next year.

“O-Okay…uhm…c-could we just split the food? I-I just want a bite or two of everything.” I pat my tummy. “You know my capacity is garbage.” You grin.

“Sure! One large chili-dog it is. Wanna choose what flavor milkshake we get? Oh, and the churros at one particular truck are to die for—you gotta try ‘em!”

And…we’re off. Your hand slides away from my waist and takes my hand instead as you pull me into the fair. I slide a reassuring hand on my tummy, hidden behind my messenger-bag. I rub my tummy gently, trying to quell the upset.

2/? ... and by the time we're ready to ride a ride, I can hear your tummy grumbling noisily. I ask if you're okay, and you insist, though you look a bit nauseous. We end up on the Tilt-A-Whirl, and afterwards, your stomach is louder than ever. I ask if you're hungry, if maybe that'll help your loud, bloated aching belly, and you say yes. More treats end up in your tummy, until its aching so bad you can barely stand...

A large chili-dog, a sub-par burger, and a churro have disappeared between both our guts and I’m currently polishing off the large choco-banana milkshake we ordered. Sure, you had most of the chili-dog and the burger was because you were still hungry—I’ve let you have the lion’s share of the solid foods. I meant to let you have most of the milkshake too, but you’ve been sneakily finding ways to have it end up in my hands and to my lips.

My stomach is comfortable right now. There’s a barely-there queasiness in it but it’s slight enough to be ignored. It’s quite noisy though, churning away as it tries to break down what’s gone into it. You’ve been rubbing my tummy as we’ve been walking for the last ten minutes or so and I’m sure your rubs are the only reason my stomach is comfortable right now. Without the rubs, a normal fast-food combo has been enough to give me a twisting ache in my gut, enough to get me to cry and dash off to a bathroom to be rid of the mess.

“Oh, hey! Let’s go on that!” You gesture to the roller-coaster we’ve arrived at. I’ve never been on one. “Oh…damn…no drinks allowed on it.”

I raise my eyebrow quizzically as I rattle the empty milkshake cup. You offer a sheepish smile and hold up a full cup of cola you’ve been clutching in your other hand. “Came with the burger. Could’ja help? My tummy’s gettin’ kinda full.” You place a hand on your slightly rounded tummy.

Sure, it’s only cola…but neither of us is in the habit of wasting food. Steeling my nerves, I grab the cola and begin to suck at the straw, taking it down in gulps and thanking the heavens that it’s small as far as beverage containers go.

You pat my grumbling tummy as I finish the cola, forcing a sharp belch to pass my lips. “You didn’t have to chug it, we could have come back.” You coo as you continue to pat and rub my tummy. I groan, realizing my stupidity. My stomach sloshes sickeningly and rumbles violently at the sudden addition.

“Nah. We’ve already done two laps around the grounds. If we’re going to ride anything now’s the time.” A part of me just wants this night to be over. That cola pushed the discomfort meter in my gut higher. There’s a tight pressure inside of me right now and I want to believe it’s just the carbonation from the cola.

We share a car in the roller coaster. I grip the bar. Do not throw up. Do not throw up. Do not throw up. Repeats like a mantra in my head. Just as the coaster starts rolling, you release the bar and put both hands on my gut. You knead into my tummy, forcing burps out as I grip the rail tightly for the both of us. We have seatbelts and all that…the bar is just there for an extra level of safety. You’re experienced, you know we won’t fall even if we aren’t white-knuckling it so you put your hands to a different use. Each loop and sharp turn of the coaster causes your grip on my tummy to tighten. A particularly sharp turn sends your entire form slamming against me and your elbow meets my stomach and has me feeling something wet surge up my esophagus but I fight it down. You’ve managed to get most of the gas out of my tummy before the big loop of the coaster, at which point you offer one last pat to my tummy and turn to face forward properly. My stomach churns as we slow and watch the looming loop seeming to creep up on us. As we crawl up the loop my own hands clutch my tummy and I begin to squeeze, short and small burps burble out of me. You raise an eyebrow but are more fixated on the coaster. I want the gas out. I don’t want the inversion to cause a burp to bring up something else when we’re completely upside-down.

As we climb out of the coaster all that is left in my gut is a dense mass of thick sludge swirling around in a lake of cola. Some of the milk from the shake most definitely curdled in the acid bath of the cola. I let out a few moans as I walk and my hands have not left my tummy since we got off. I cradle my churning gut as I make my way to a miraculously empty bench.

“Babe, you okay?” Concern colors your voice as you skip after me. I need a few minutes for my stomach to re-orient itself. I can feel the thick sludge swimming in my gut and it is not a pleasant feeling. The squeals and whines from my gut betray that it doesn’t like the sensations either.

You’ve disappeared and I’m too absorbed in the activity in my tummy to care. Bathroom break, maybe. I press into my tummy cautiously, wincing at the churning grumble that is pushed forth from it. I can’t help but groan under my breath. My stomach really sick. I feel like it’s a sack of vomit churning violently rather than a stomach at this point.

I hear the crinkle of paper and I open my eyes. Something crisp and golden is shoved into my face as though you are presenting me with a bouquet of flowers.

“Is that?” My eyes widen.

“Yup! A Bloomin’ Onion! I saw a stall selling ‘em while we were on the coaster.” You announce proudly as you plop yourself down next to me.

Eagerly, I reach to tear off a piece of the treat, my nauseous tummy forgotten.

“I thought you’d need something to settle your stomach and maybe absorb some of the mess in there.” You pat my noisily churning tummy. “A-also…you’ve always wanted to try this thing, right? ‘cuz you love onion rings.”

“Mmph.” I give you an affirmative grunt as my mouth is full of the treat. You giggle and tear off some for yourself.

Once the onion has disappeared between the two of us my stomach is feeling moderately better. I’ve eaten most of it. I’ll definitely come to regret putting something so oily down the hatch, but I take your hand and suggest more rides before it has time to bloom into a full-blown sickly ache. I’m resigned to it now. We’ve got precious few minutes before my stomach begins to literally belly-ache about what’s gone into it.

We arrive at your favorite, the Tilt-a-Whirl. Nothing will stop me from letting you enjoy this ride tonight. I hope my stomach gets the memo. As I hear the screams from the ride, I notice someone off to the side of it, hurling into a convenient trash bin. I grimace, willing that not to be me.

“Babe, you sure you’re up for this?” You’re worried. I take your hand as we get in the (thankfully) short line.

“Yeah. You love this ride. It’s fine.” My tummy grumbles deeply, sounding like a dying lawn mower or something.

You slide your hands around my waist, rubbing and patting at the upset vat that is my stomach. Your hands are magic. By the time we’re at the front of the line my stomach is still churning, and aching, but not as violently as it was before. There’s a very present ache in my guts but it’s just under the threshold between a full-blown stomach ache and something that could just be classified as discomfort.

The seatbelt is tight against my tummy and I have doubts, almost caving and telling the staff I’ve changed my mind and to let me off before the ride has even begun. As the cup spins the centrifugal force causes the belt to cut into my stomach jostling it every which way. I grow steadily more and more nauseous as the ride goes on. I don’t have your miracle hands on my tummy and that thought is enough to make me want to cry. Seeking some escapism, I let my mind wander as I try to focus on anything but the violent churning in my tummy. This ride has accomplished in thirty seconds what it took your hands thirty minutes to fix.

I imagine how this ride looks from above. It must look pretty cool—my thoughts are interrupted by a new one: how this ride looks from above is how my stomach feels right now. Uneven, unpredictable churning with little bits seeming to churn within the mess. Yeah, the inventor of this thing must have seen some cruel irony in fabricating a ride that was an external representation of what it was causing internally.

When the ride ends I practically stumble into you. You laugh, dizzy yourself, and we move together. I’m leaning on you, whimpering and clutching at my distressed tummy. I can feel it. I want to throw up. The vomit signals are very strong but it feels like one of the chunks of curdled whatever has blocked the path to my esophagus. My stomach convulses and I whine as it grumbles angrily.

Your hand comes to my tummy. “Aww…baby…you hungry? The most of a solid thing you’ve eaten today has been that onion. Maybe something more solid in your tummy will calm it down?”

I can no longer tell if you’re sticking to your kink-script or if you genuinely believe my sickly tummy is in need of some proper sustenance. My stomach feels too awful to care so I let you lead me by the hand wherever it is you want us to go.

I don’t protest when something is shoved into my hands. You tell me to eat and I mechanically bring it to my mouth and take bites. I don’t even know what it is you’re making me eat, but many different treats disappear into my tummy. I think there was a burrito of some sort at one point. At least two different churros have made an appearance too. A slice of pizza, dripping with grease, is definitely one of the items if the layer of grease floating in my gut is any indication.

“Ergh…ugh…” I curl, bringing my knees up and sandwiching my arms over my belly. You led me to a sort of hidden bench. We’re kind of behind one of the tents for some carnival game and there’s tree-coverage around us. You wanted some privacy while you fed me and I’m grateful for it because I’m certain my stomach is about to spill out of my mouth and I do not want an audience. Upset doesn’t even begin to cover how bad it feels. I feel like I’ve swallowed lava and the molten mass is burning away my digestive organs. The lingering ‘discomfort’ of an ache threatening to bloom finally explodes and I curl up tightly, the added pressure not doing any favors for my poor, achy tummy. “Ugh…urp…n-no more…please? Ugh…babe…it hurts. My tummy hurts so, so much…” My stomach protests just vocally as I do.

I end up flopping over onto my side on the bench, knees still curled up to press my arms into my sickly belly. You guide me to make sure my head is on your lap. You try to get me to uncurl, to grant you access to my tummy, but my limbs refuse to budge so you settle on rubbing my side and back.

“Aww…baby…maybe a walk would settle your tummy?” Your voice is sickly sweet and I groan as it goes straight to my stomach, feeling like I just guzzled another cola.

“Umph…nuh-uh—nope. Not gunna.” I curl up, my tears soaking into the fabric on your lap as I whimper a little. I try to bring up a burp, desperately trying to relieve some of the pressure in my gut. Nothing comes up. I know there’s some in there—there has to be—but each time I clench my abdomen it feels like there’s something sickly blocking the path of the gas. If I were to really push it I could maybe clear the blockage…but I’d almost definitely end up vomiting all over your lap.

“Babe…how about that walk?” You suggest again and this time I glare at you from your lap. I glare at you and uncurl just a little. You can see the pain lancing through my eyes for a split second. I watch as your gaze travels to my gut and then I jab at it with a hand. I bite back the groan of pain so that you can hear the resulting rumble. The turbulent sounds from the jab continue for a few moments even as I curl up again.

“A walk? You kiddin’ me? My tummy hurts, babe. Hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it. I can’t even stand up straight ‘cuz my tummy is imploding; and you want me to walk?!”

I’m being curt with you. I know I am and I regret it even as the words spill from my mouth. It’s the stomach ache. I haven’t had such a nasty one in a very long time.

3/3 I feel terribly you're not feeling so well, and offer to help you to the car. You lean on me heavily, and I rub your aching belly as we make our way back to the car. I have to help you in, and the seatbelt barely fits over your round tummy. I rub it as we drive home, and carry you into our house where I'll nurse your tummy back to health... or maybe give you more snacks ;)

“Oh, baby…I’m sorry.” You’re genuinely sorry and that makes me feel even worse about snapping at you. I pull a hand out from its position on my tummy, reaching over to brush against your face, to apologize in some way.

A sharp cramp shoots through my unhappy tummy and I let out an exclamation of pain. It felt like I got punched, from the inside. I whimper and close my eyes, breaths labored as I clutch at my tummy again. My stomach convulses violently and you can tell that I’m trying very hard both to vomit and to keep it in me. The struggle exhausts me and it breaks your heart to see it go down.

The fit dies down after a while and I eventually lie still on your lap. My stomach continues to churn within me and you can hear the sickly burbling. You’ve taken to carding a hand through my hair and using your other hand to rub at whatever you can reach—arm, side, back. The shooting cramps die down somewhat and I manage to uncurl. I find your hand and guide it to my stomach and you rub it gently. I’m still biting back grunts with each breath but you can tell that your massage is slowly doing something for my sickly tummy.

“Do you think you can get to the car? I think we’re done here.”

I whimper, shaking my head and guiding your hand back to my tummy. “Not yet. Ugh…please?” I look at you, silently begging for more rubs. “If I get up now I’m gonna hurl.” You continue rubbing my tummy and we continue in our positions for a while.

My stomach is fairly distended. I usually don’t eat much in a single day and you managed to cram a whole lot of stuff I usually wouldn’t touch into me today. Sugar, fried foods, salt, milkshakes. This is stuff I only allow myself to indulge in a couple of times a year…and only one at a time, usually. Like…before meeting you I was the type to see a can of cola as a treat. That was my dessert quota for the day or week. After we got together the occasional scoop of ice-cream became another dessert option—but always only one scoop. This is our first time at the fair as a couple and you really let me have it. You gave me the ‘full’ experience in more ways than one and my tummy is suffering for it.

“Urp…ugh…nachos? When did I eat nachos?” You laugh at my observation, a sign that I’m doing a bit better.

“I think it was between the second burrito and the banana split.” You inform me as I sit up.

“Second? Banana…split?” I’m surprised. I know I was out of it when you were feeding me, too caught up in the agony swirling in my tummy, but I didn’t think I was that out of it. “Wait…when was the pizza?” You laugh at my dumbfounded expression.

“I only gave you a few bites of the banana split ‘cuz I wanted it…and ‘cuz it looked like you were going to be sick at that point. You ate a whole slice of that pizza before the ice-cream.” My stomach burbles as it’s reminded and I put a hand on it.

“I don’t think that qualified as pizza. It feels like it was grease with a side of dough and cheese.” I groan, patting my tummy gently and rubbing up and down slightly. I still feel sick but the crippling ache has subsided…for now.

I take your hand and get up off the bench. You’re up immediately and drag one of my arms over to rest around your shoulders. We stumble our way toward the exit with your hands resting on my waist. My other hand on my belly is more to support the extra weight while yours provide some much-needed rubs. It’s a team effort to get to the car in my state.

You help me into the passenger seat as I moan. The cramps are building in intensity. You fasten my seatbelt and I almost push you off when you put too much pressure leaning over me to get the thing buckled. Now that I am sitting up my belly is really prominently distended. As you back up I immediately recline the seat, giving my belly some much needed room.

“Do not throw up in the car.” You admonish.

“Urgh…urp…ulp…ugh…no promises.” I whimper. You close the door and the impact jostles my belly. I clutch at it with a groan, swallowing back something thick and wet.

It’s a long drive back home. I’m reclined as far as the seat will go. You have one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing absentmindedly over the crest of my tummy when it’s not needed to steer or shift gears or whatever.

A part of you feels horrible for what we have done tonight. While both of us are into tummies, this is the first time we’ve ever done something like this. We’ve done some minor stuffings before. We’ve done other things in the realm of tummy kink before. This is a first where you stuffed me with foods that would normally cause me great distress all on their own and you decided to cram them all into me in the span of six hours.

I’m lost to the pain as we pull up to our place. I’m in the same incoherent state I was in when you fed me all those things I didn’t register. Gently, you unbuckle the seatbelt, guiding it home so that it doesn’t have a chance to upset my belly further. I groan and nearly lose my gorge as you slide your arms under my back and my knees and lift me out of the car with a massive heave.

The vertigo goes right to my tummy and I’m a groaning mess as you whisper reassurances at me. We’re almost home. Don’t throw up on you. Etc.

You set me on the couch. The bedroom is too far a walk and you don’t want to risk dropping me. The extra weight of all that indigestion is more than you anticipated.

I can’t move. My tummy is pinning me down and the threat of vomiting is extreme. I feel like a thermometer or something with the sludge going up and down my esophagus.

You set a bin within reach of me before disappearing to the kitchen. I whimper, wishing I could call out. I need your hands on my belly. I feel so sick.

I hear clattering in the kitchen. The tell-tale signs of something being microwaved. I hope it’s a heat pack or something even if the added pressure of it is sure to make me vomit. You return with a plate of pizza bites and my stomach pulls a move where it feels like it’s trying to drop out of me and run. I can’t move. I’m too full, too sick, and in too much pain. I only hope you have a night of rubs planned and that you’ve got a hair-tie somewhere ‘cuz there is no way this night ends without me throwing up.

[solarwonux]

24H || Seuncheol 

mechanic!seungcheol x reader

soulmate!au

w.c: 6.5k

warnings: talks of death, angst, self doubt

note: hello everyone I am not completely back yet, I am still on hiatus. I have been writing this one shot since the release of 24H. I have rewritten it many many many times and have a abandoned it many times as well. Anyway, this is the finished product and I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts. And thank you @sunlightwoo​ for literally witnessing it all lol.

Also maybe one day I’ll post the original draft of this one if anyone is interested. 

P.S. this is a part of a soulmate universe in which all the members are going to have a story, but that’s gonna take a little while lol, but I hope you all stick around until them

masterlist

Hour 1 - 17:00

Seungcheol threw the wrench on the pile of tools next to him before rolling himself out from underneath the car he was working on. “I don’t see the point in it, Shua.” He sat up, grabbing the towel he had next to him, and tried his best to wipe the black smudges of his fingers. “I’m already a disappointment to my parents, why not add one more to their list?” He shrugged, eyeing his best friend who had decided to come and visit him at the car shop he worked at. 

“I think Shua has a point; you can’t brush this off. You don’t want to end up forgotten in a ditch somewhere.” Jeonghan said, pointedly resting his forearms on top of the hood of the car he had been working on. 

“I’m not going to end up in a ditch and forgotten. The higher-ups--” Seungcheol stuck a pointer finger out and pointed at the cement ceiling, “are just going to set me up with someone.” He stood up and brushed off his whitewashed jeans, the only ones he seemed to wear as they had various oil stains etched into the creases of the fabric. In actuality, he had many of the same pair, and each of them had their own unique patterns of different oil stains. 

“But wouldn’t it be better if you married your soulmate, your other half, your partner in crime, the person the Stars destined you to be with,” Joshua spoke in rushed sentences as he ran a frustrated hand through his jet black hair. His wedding ring shining in the light of the sun, glowing in all its glory. A reminder that he had chosen the path that he and Jeonghan were trying to get Seungcheol to take. 

Sometimes curiosity would seep in s when he saw how happy his best friends were with their soulmates, or when the ticking of the clock scarred into the skin of his wrist, and got too loud to ignore. Seungcheol knew he didn’t belong on that path. He was never one to follow the crowd, and the proof was in his parent’s disappointment when he decided to study music instead of medicine. 

“Nope.” He stood up and closed the hood of the car. He could feel their glares burning holes into his scalp as he strode over and opened the driver’s door. “I’m a firm believer that soulmates are made not found.” Seungcheol grinned before getting behind the wheel and inserting the keys into the ignition. He had spent all morning working on a minor problem in the engine; he was hoping that after many failed attempts, he would finally be able to get the car to start again. 

With a deep sigh, he turned the key listening as the engine sputtered a few times. The hope and confidence he had gained diminishing with each hiccup until, finally, the car roared back to life. A sigh of relief leaving his chapped lips along with a light laugh. He rested his forearms against the old battered steering wheel, peering through the windshield, catching Joshua’s nod of disapproval. He turned on his heels and walked out of the large garage door of the shop.

Seungcheol knew his friend’s meant well, and he knew they didn’t want him to end up unhappy with someone that wasn’t his other half. But how was he supposed to be sure that happiness was a given? When at the end of the day, everyone’s given soulmate was chosen at birth by a group of old white dudes calling themselves Stars.

Hour 2 - 18:00

“What are you going to do then?” Jeonghan closed the hood of the car and dusted his hands. His blonde hair grasped the light of the afternoon sun. Seungcheol placed down the paper bag that contained his and Jeonghan’s lunch on top of the aluminum table they kept in the far corner of the shop.  “I don’t know...eat lunch.” He stated, shrugging and started taking the contents out of the paper bag. “Shua leave?” 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the hood of the car. He strode over to where Seungcheol was and took the burrito he had held out to him. “Said he doesn’t want to stay and watch you ruin his life.”

“I’m not ruining my life,” Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head and sat on top of the table, unwrapping his burrito. “I’m choosing the road not taken.” He finished before taking a decent bite out of his burrito. 

“That’s ruining your life in my book.” Jeonghan gave him a pointed look and unwrapped the foil of his burrito, cursing when he noticed some its contents start to fall out of its confinement. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious about how they look?” He dug inside the paper bag and took out a napkin to clean off the salsa stain of his grey graphic tee. Jeonghan rarely dressed down, unless he was working. Though, sometimes he’d show up in outfits Seungcheol always deemed to clean for the oil splatters he would obtain throughout the day. 

“If looks were the all end tell-all, you’d be an actor instead of the owner of your father’s car shop.” 

“Are you calling me sexy, Choi Seungcheol?” Jeonghan gasped, making the other boy scoff in annoyance. Seungcheol took another bite of his burrito, the salsa running down the stubble of his chin and sighed. “Cause may I remind you I am happily married.” Jeonghan jokes, raising his hand, wiggling his ring finger. 

Seungcheol squinted as the ring got caught in the crossfire between the heat and summer sun. The churning at the pit of his stomach started up again, along with the little voice annoying voice that lived in the back of his head. The red block of numbers on the inside of his wrist laughing at him as he tried his best to push the thought to the back of his head. Like he had done his entire life.

“Sure...but that would just be an excuse, and it wouldn’t be fair towards the other person.” He shrugged, finally cleaning his chin the rest of his mouth. He crumpled up the foil in his hands before throwing the ball he had formed into the paper bag. “It wouldn’t matter soon anyway; I don’t have much time left.” He jumped off the table and made his way to shelves where they kept most of the tools along with small spare car parts they might need some time in the future.

“How much time do you have left?” Jeonghan asked a little too exasperatedly than he would’ve liked, but Seungcheol had managed to catch his tone, and it was starting to make him feel uneasy. He closed a drawer he had mindlessly opened and dropped his head. Seungcheol hated looking at his timer because it never brought a good reaction out of him. He hated the way the anxiety would filter in through his veins as he let his mind wander to the what-ifs. 

For as long as he could remember, he only allowed himself to stare at the number scar before bed but never enough to dwell on it. Last night he had twenty-four hours left; now he was positive the timer had reached the single-digit zone, and to be frank, he was afraid. He didn’t want to feel the pressure against his chest and the shortness of his breath. He didn’t want to feel the shaking in his hands and sweat that formed against his brow bone. Seungcheol had already chosen, but he knew that the second he glanced over at the timer, his doubt would start to run free. And he hated that feeling more than anything, but he also hated Jeonghan’s burning gaze staring him down as if he were doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. So he caved. 

He turned his wrist and pushed the bracelets he used to hide his soulmate mark with his other hand. His breath caught itself in the back of his throat, his lungs closing in like two crushing walls as he saw the numbers ticking down. For a split second, he wondered if he had chosen the right path if his parent’s and his friends had been right all along. But he had been so sure just like he was confident that his name was Choi Seungcheol, that he had chosen right, so why was he letting his thoughts take over. 

Maybe it was the teachings of the Stars he grew up reading at home and at school, or the guilt has finally started to consume him. Whatever it was, he decided to push it aside, bury it deep inside the archives of his mind. He had chosen right, and he wasn’t going to let any false pretenses change his mind.

“Five hours.” 

Hour 3 - 19:00

Seungcheol moved the straw of his bubble, creating soft caramel tidal waves in the cup. He had already picked out all the tapioca pearls leaving him to deal with the unpleasant honeydew tea he had ordered. The soft melodies of an old pop song played in the background, drowning out the flirting going on between the lovers in front of him. He kept his eyes trained on his cup; it had started to accumulate the condensation that came with the humidity of the summertime. His index finger traced over the water droplets that had fallen onto the table, creating a small picture of nothing. 

Jeonghan had dragged him to their usual boba shop after closing up the shop for the night. He had given Joshua a frantic phone call, claiming it was a 911 type of emergency. Seungcheol wasn’t sure how they weren’t tired at having the same conversation, and why they couldn’t let him live with the consequences in peace? If he ended up unhappy, that was his problem, and he would eventually deal with it, but he couldn’t stand the way everyone around him always seemed to have an opinion on how he should live his life. 

It had started the day he was born, scarred with a mark against his own will. It carried out onto his childhood, his parents and teachers telling him how to sit, how to dress, how to speak, and how to breathe. When he left for college the same day his parents decided to disown him, he had finally felt free. He thought for himself, walked for himself and lived for himself. But now his best friend’s the ones he thought he could always count on and he felt knew him better than anyone in the world. Where the ones were trying to guilt-trip him into making a choice, he had made years ago, and frankly, he was getting really tired of it. 

“Are you even listening to us Seungcheol, this is your future you're putting at risk,” Joshua whispered angrily, his grip on his cup grew tight enough his knuckles had started turning white. 

“Why does it matter?” Seungcheol lightly flicked the straw of his drink before pushing it away and crossing his arms. Jeonghan and Joshua both looked at him as if he was growing a third head, annoying him even more. He wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal to them, it wasn’t their life getting ruined. 

“It matters because we don’t want to see you dead.” 

Hour 4 - 20:00

“Are you serious? Do you guys actually believe that kind of stuff?” Seungcheol shook his head and looked out the restaurant window. The sun had finished going down for it’s deep slumber and in return awakened the night life of the city. He took in the people smiling and laughing as they joked and clinged onto one another. He saw limbs start to give out as the alcohol they had previously consumed started to replace their blood. Seungcheol found himself wishing he was one of those people, where the one controlling his body wasn’t the one that gave up on their dreams but instead still held onto that small sliver of hope. It would at least be an escape for a little and most importantly it would be an escape from the painful talk his best friend’s were giving him. 

“Fuck you Seungcheol.” Joshua spat out, quickly he stood up grabbing his coat and shrugged it on. “I’m not going to stay with you and watch the clock count down until you die.” He stuffed his hands in his pocket and took out his wallet before throwing some money onto the table. “Are you coming with me?” He said before facing Jeonghan who was biting his bottom lip in contemplation. Seungcheol saw the gears turn in his head as he thought over his options, his eyes traveling between the furious looking Joshua and himself. 

“Joshua calm down, look there have been some cases in the news lately of mysterious deaths and the only thing they have in common is that their timers went out before they got to meet their soulmate. I don’t know if it's all connected but it can’t just be coincidence Seungcheol.” Jeonghan stated, he tapped his forefinger against the wooden table as Joshua eyed him down waiting impatiently. 

“And what if it is, what if I do find this person and then they turn out to be horrible? You guys got lucky but my life has never been a series of unfortunate events since the beginning of time so who's to say this is any different?” 

“If you keep sitting here and mopping and feeling sorry for yourself, you’ll never find out.” Jeonghan nodded before taking out his wallet and throwing money onto the table. He hated the pity he saw behind his eyes. It only frustrated him because to him it felt like they had given up on him already. That they were planning his funeral without him leaving the world yet. Seungcheol wasn’t entirely convinced that death was at the end of this unfortunate journey, he sadly hoped it was. That way his friend’s would actually have something to pity, but he was alive and healthy (for the most part) so their pity in Seungcheol’s eyes was uncalled for. 

“Then let me find out. Everyone is always telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, I didn’t need you guys to also be one of those people too. You’re supposed to be my friends but here you are nagging me like you’re my parents. If I’m not worthy of hanging with you guys anymore because I’m not married and I have no interest in ever getting married then just leave me alone. I’m better off by myself anyway.” 

Seungcheol knew that as soon as the words left his mouth they had been a mistake, but mistake or not he would never take them back. No matter how the luck of hurt flashing in their handsome features affected him more than it should’ve. These few hours could be the last of his life and instead of living it to his fullest with his closest friends he was pushing them away. Just like he always did whenever he felt too comfortable or afraid. 

“Jeonghan let’s just go, he’s already made up his mind. He’s not going to listen to us.” Joshua sighed, the exhaustion was evident on his face. It was clear he had given up long before the events of tonight. He knew how stubborn Seungcheol was, he knew that once he sets his mind to something there’s no way to turn it back. Seungcheol suspected that’s why he hadn’t tried as hard as Jeonghan to convince him to change his mind. 

“Cheol, just think about it okay. You don’t have to go out and actively look for that person but just keep an open mind and they might just appear right before you. I know you think that we’re trying to do this to change you or to get you to settle down, but we don’t want to turn on the news tomorrow and have your names be part of one of the victims. If you can’t do this for us or yourself at least do it for you mom.” Jeonghan nodded one last time before scooting himself out of the booth. He stood sending a glare to Joshua that wasn’t missed by Seungcheol and somehow it made him feel uneasy inside. He didn’t want to be the one to cause a rift between him and Joshua’s friendship, they had known each other longer than they had known Seungcheol. For half of their life’s Seungcheol was simply an outsider between the threesome. He didn’t know at what moment they became inseparable, but now he wished they hadn’t. 

At least they wouldn’t be involved in the webs of Seungcheol’s complicated life, and they certainly wouldn’t be here showing the utmost care for him when he himself felt like he was unworthy of it. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow” Jeonghan mumbled before dragging Joshua out of the restaurant, mumbling angrily underneath his breath. Seungcheol knew the small comment was Jeonghan’s way of holding onto the little amount of hope he had for his friend. The hope that he would walk into the car shop tomorrow morning and see Seungcheol passed out drunk, his drool stain embedded into the checkered pattern of the old battered couch in the office, because he couldn’t remember how to unlock his front door.

Though, it was a phrase full of hope, it wasn’t a promise, and it felt more like a goodbye to Seungcheol. It made him uneasy and Seungcheol hated feeling uneasy because it only made the ticking sound of the clock tattooed onto his skin louder. 

The front door bell to the restaurant sounded, signaling that someone had walked in or out. He turned to face out the window again and saw Jeonghan and Joshua in a heated argument before Jeonghan kept dragging him away by the ear this time. The scene could’ve been comical to him at some point, but now he just wondered if they were all going to be okay by the time the night ended and morning came again. 

Either way it was clear to him that they had walked out of his life, maybe not for good but they also wouldn’t be the first ones either. 

Hour 5 -21:00

Seungcheol paid the bill and exited the restaurant quietly, his best attempt to remain invisible. It would be a lie if didn’t admit how scared he was after Jeonghan and Joshua left him alone with his thoughts for the first time since he awoke that morning. 

Would his faith really be death?

Or where they using their evil tactics against him to convince him to do the right thing. Needless to say he was scared, more scared than he ever was whenever he thought about falling in love. 

He had once, a long time ago, back when he was still studying music production in college, before he dropped out and took up a job at Mr. Yoon’s carshop. During the three years he was there, all the songs he had composed resembled something about her. Whether it was a phrase she had said or the way the color blue seemed to make her honey doe eyes pop. He was in love, head over heels, ready to give it all up, his friends, his pride, his dream, his life, everything under the sun, for her. He had his bags packed long before she had agreed to run away with him. 

In fact, he almost did, but the morning as he stood underneath the winter sun, waiting at the bus stop with two overprized one way tickets, with his fingers threatening to fall off from the cool. Everything became clear to him, she had abandoned him and their plan. She had given up on him, just like his parents had when he first told him he was going to follow his dream, instead of theirs. 

Seungcheol was angry, it boiled inside of him like an overflowing calderon, and the closer he got to the university and his dorm, the more it spilled over. In a frenzy he had entered his home and destroyed everything he owned. His studio setup, his computer, his many notebooks that were filled with lyrics, because everything had been touched by her and he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Not after she had lied boldly to his face the night before when they shared the most intimate moment with each other. 

And just like he promised to her underneath the moonlight, he gave it all up, but this time because she had broken him. 

There was a letter she had left for him to find. It didn’t come into his possession after he had stopped attending classes and was living on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch. The university had called him to pick up his belongings from his dorm after he dropped all his classes on whim one Saturday afternoon. When he did, when he opened the front door of the wretched dorm room, the room that once held so many beautiful memories turned sour. The toe of his shoe was met with a brown paper envelope, his name scribbled neatly on the back. Instantly he knew who it was from. 

Seungcheol had once prided himself in memorizing the way her letters curved with one another. A useless talent he now wished he could forget entirely. With a hesitant he opened it and skimmed through, not wanting to linger long enough on every single one of her words so it would hurt less. 

In the end it did.

It hurt more than her leaving him stranded on the bus stop that morning. It hurt more than finding out that the little things she had strategically left at his place had mysteriously disappeared when he came back home that morning. It hurt more than giving up entirely on a dream so pure that it ended up tainted. It hurt more than dying, or so he assumed because now he finally knew the truth. A truth he had been blinded to the entire three years they spent lost in each other’s thoughts and arms. 

She didn’t love, and she never did. She had a passion that consumed her to the point of greed and when she realized she wasn’t going to achieve her dream with Seungcheol at her side. 

She left and he had given up love for good. 

Which is why Seungcheol was so against the entire soulmate phenomenon. If death was the outcome then so be it, even though the thought of his mom finding him out he was dead scared him to the point it welcomed chills to his body. He was stubborn though, and his father always hated that about him because it reminded him of his younger self. But Seungcheol was never going to give in, no matter how loud the click on his wrist was ticking and how fast he found himself walking.

There was a little bit of hope. It was reserved for special occasions and those had been a rarity in Seungcheol’s life for longer than he liked to admit. But it was still there, buried deep inside, behind his walls and his pride. And it was threatening to burst out into the open, because as much as Seuncheol was scared of falling in love again, this time with a complete stranger, terrified him. The thought of not knowing if his life was really at stake was far scarier. He was gambling with his life line and that was a risk he found himself not willing to take. Though he would never admit to himself and especially not to Jeonghan or Joshua. 

He was in complete denial at least for a slight second. Yet, he had started to walk with fever and hastily. He was desperate, he didn’t know where to start or how to start or if he should even start. He just walked, until his body was running on autopilot. He didn’t know where he was going or where  he was going to end up, but the only thing on his mind was that the timer was blaring inside of his eardrums at an alarming rate, and the hope he kept at bay spilling out of his pores. 

He needed to find his soulmate before it was too late. 

Seungcheol didn’t want to die, he still had a dream to achieve. He will do it, he had promised himself that much. And he wasn’t going to let anyone take it away from again. 

Hour 6 - 22:00

Seungcheol was panting, bending over, with his sweaty palms against his jean clad legs as tried his best to put the air back in his lungs. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, all he could remember was bumping into a few people along the way and mumbling sorry’s underneath his breath when they had sent him glares his way. But he had ended up at the park across the street from his studio apartment, the one he rarely lived in because more often than not. The old raggedy couch at the car shop had been his home for as long as he had worked there. He had bought it last year after saving up enough money, in hopes of it becoming his new beginning, his safe space, where he could jump right back into working on his one goal in life. 

Though, the first night he had spent there, he had hated it. Occasionally he would give it a second chance. He had given it many second chances, but the outcome was always the same. He would stay awake until four in the morning, get frustrated and then end up running laps at the park until sunrise. 

This park had been his sanctuary, the one his apartment couldn’t provide, so it was no surprise his body had carried him here. He felt at home here, the hollowing of the wind chiming and wrapping around him like a blanket of safety. Here, in this park, Seungcheol felt comfortable enough to let his mind race through the thoughts he would keep hidden behind a wall. 

He straightened himself out, running his fingers through his wet sweaty hair and made his way to the park bench by the basketball court, where he would occasionally lay down in the middle and look at the sky, counting the lack of stars in the sky. He knew they were there, but because of the city's light pollution they were invisible to his eye. Those were the only stars he trusted, not the ones that used the Universe’s gifts for their own selfish desires and to control everyone. 

The stars in the night sky, the one’s he used his imagination and intuition to connect with, trusted him. They were the only one’s in his life that believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself, and it made him feel at ease knowing that at least someone out there was rooting for him to win this losing battle.

Seungcheol took a deep sigh and placed his palm over the watch on the inside of his wrist. He had only two hours left, and he would rather not witness the time ticking down. He could hear it, it was drumming loudly against his eardrums, loud enough to the point in which he couldn’t hear the wind and the tree’s surrounding him singing their natural melody. The last thing he needed was to see the visual representation of his last breath nearing him. 

He wanted to fight, but he was tired. If tonight was his last night living a life he had been so cruel to. He would at least take his last breath at the place he felt most at home. 

So, he sat back and closed his eyes tightly. He felt the wind against his cooling skin, the familiar shivers running up his spine. For the first time since he woke up that morning he felt at peace. 

Hour 7 - 23:00

The ringing of his phone startled him. He had only had his eyes closed for about five minutes. Only five minutes of peace before it was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He let out a frustrated sigh and fished out his phone from the pocket of his oil stained light washed jeans. His gaze and heart softened when he realized his mother was the one calling him. Without hesitation he unlocked his phone and placed his phone to his ear.

Silence. He was met with silence, until a choked sob broke it, his heart shattering in the process. “M-Mom, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol sat up. His eyes grew wide. The anxiety running through his body making his leg bounce. 

“Joshua called me. He was freaking out saying that you were making a mistake. What is talking about? You’re not thinking about leaving again?” His mom spoke. Seungcheol could visualize the almost heart attack Joshua had given his mother when he called. He could visualize the color draining from her face as her hands shook while she dialed his number. Seungcheol’s mother was an over thinker and she always thought about the worst possible scenarios. Especially when it came to Seungcheol and his brother. Joshua knew what he was doing when he had called his mother. He knew that his mother was his weakness. Despite the differences they argued about over the years, Seungcheol loved his mother and knowing she was in such distress because of him, scared him more than what he already was. 

“Nothing mom, he’s over exaggerating. Jeonghan, him and I had a small argument earlier but it’s nothing mom. I’m okay.” He spoke into the receiver lying through his teeth. He wasn’t fine, although he was in his sanctuary and at peace. His timer finally reached the fifty-nine minute mark and his heart was racing to the point he was scared it would literally squeeze through the spaces between his ribs and rip through the safety of his skin, onto the concrete pavement beneath his feet. 

“Are you sure? He sounded really scared and worried, what did you guys fight about?” The words came rushing out of her mouth at lighting speed. He knew that question was coming and although he tried scouring through the files in his mind to come up with a concrete answer that would make his mother worry less. He couldn’t. There was no answer he could give her. If she lied she would know, but if he told the truth, his mother would certainly never be able to recover. 

He knew he could prevent her heartbreak. All he had to do was get up and start walking again, let his feet carry him as his intuition and the Universe led him to where he needed to be, but he stayed seated. His hand closing into a fist taking the roughness of his jeans between them, the frustration, fear and anxiety coursing through his veins faster than before. Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward, maybe if he didn’t let his own selfishness consume him to the point it clouded his judgment, he could’ve let himself do what he needed to do. What he wanted to do. 

“It’s not a big deal, Jeonghan asked him to be his best man and I got a little upset. Tomorrow we’ll be fine and laugh about it.” He said letting out the breath he had been holding in. He knew he sounded like he had just ran a few miles rather than sitting down in complete silence and stillness. 

“I know you’re lying but I have been able to get the truth out of you, so I’ll drop it. At least I know you’re okay and you’re still here.” Seungcheol’s mother stopped speaking for a second, he could hear his father whispering something to her and his mother answering in agreement. “Visit us tomorrow, your brother is coming over tomorrow for dinner. Your dad wants to see you.” She half whispered the last part and it brought a slight smile to his face. For years Seungcheol and his father had not been on good terms, whenever they saw each other, his future always became the topic of conversation. His father always shared his disapproval and disappointment on how Seungcheol’s life had turned out. His father expected too much from both him and his brother, he had dreams in which he had tried to instill in them. It wasn’t enough that one of his sons had achieved his dream, his pride was attached to the two of them. And knowing that Seungcheol always refused, always followed the beat of his own drum, wounded his pride. 

His mother and brother always tried their best to bridge the gap between them that had only grown deeper over the years. 

Seungcheol admired their commitment, but just being in his father’s presence fully aware of how he felt towards him was only a simple reminder of what he did not want to become, and it only made him resent him even more. 

“I don’t know mom, I work until late tomorrow and I wouldn’t have enough time to go home shower and change. Maybe some other time.” Seungcheol whispered. The wind blew causing a single leaf to escape its perspective branch. Seungcheol watched it closely as it flew down, landing on his lap. He picked it up in between his forefinger and thumb, twirling the steam as he listened to his mother sigh out. 

“Just come after work...it’s important.” 

Seungcheol wanted to say yes. The simple three letter word was one of the hardest ones to say. With the urgency in his mother’s voice, he knew that she wasn’t lying and that whatever his father had to tell him. It was important. But Seungcheol didn’t want to make a promise he could not keep. For he didn’t know if his tomorrow would ever come. If the last thirty minutes (indicated by the timer on his wrist) would be the last thirty minutes of his life. 

He wondered if it was possible for time to run faster than before, and the quick ticking sound in his head proved that he was right. It was now drowning out the sound of his mother’s low and desperate pleas. 

“M-Mom I’ll see what I can do, maybe if Jeonghan is in a good mood I can convince him to let me off early, I’ll try to be there by dinner time.” The almost empty promise escaped his throat, running past his teeth and perfect lips faster than he could stop himself.

“Perfect. We’ll see you tomorrow.” His mother cheered. He could hear and sense her happiness through the receiver of his phone and it shattered his heart. When tomorrow came and what Jeonghan and Joshua both claimed to be true would happen. What would be his mother’s reaction?

“I’ll try mom, you know I’m not good at keeping promises.” He half joked, the tears had started to pool in the corner of his eyes. He looked up at the night sky, making eye contact with the moon. They had once been intimate, but over the last few months they had been disconnected, the stars surrounding her protecting her from his own selfish needs and acts. He missed her, he wished he could feel her light upon his skin, caressing him and holding him in ways he wanted to be held. Ways in which he needed to be held. Though, he could feel her reluctance as he took in her beauty. She was there with him, keeping him company as the last twenty minutes of his life counted down. 

“You always find a way to keep them Seungcheol. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.” 

“I love you too mom.” He whispered before the line went dead. Seungcheol sighed, bringing down his phone from his ear. He stared at his mother’s contact name, trying to decide if he should call her back again. Tell her that he wasn’t fine that he was scared and that he wanted to be in her arms, singing the song she always sang to him whenever his imagination betrayed him, plaguing his dreams with nightmares. But he didn’t again, his own pride and reluctance, the one he gets from his father and the reason why they clash so much kept him calling her back. 

Instead he looked at his timer one last time, noted that there were ten minutes left and placed his phone down next to him on the bench. He took in his surroundings one last time before leaning his back and closing his tired soft eyes. 

Hour 8: 24:00

“Excuse me?”

Seungcheol opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of the soft voice behind him and the light tap on his shoulder. He sat up quickly looking around frantically. He only had five minutes left and his peace had been disturbed. He turned around his gaze falling upon someone he had only seen in his dreams. 

“You dropped your phone.” You said shakingly, handing him his phone. He assumed that it had fallen through the cracks of the bench; he had been so deep in his thoughts he didn’t hear the thud of it hitting the ground. 

“Oh um, thank you.” He spoke quickly, taking his phone. His fingers accidentally brushed over the soft skin of your wrist, the familiar digital clock appearing before him and the ticking sound became loud enough to the point he couldn’t hear the nagging voice that had stayed with him for the last twenty five years of his life. Quickly he glanced down to his wrist and then at yours, he could feel the fear radiating out of your pores as the seconds counted down faster than the speed of light. 

Seungcheol almost laughed. In fact he felt the laugh suppressing itself in the back of his throat. But as the timer finally reached the infamous zero’s, his last breath didn’t come, and neither did yours. He watched as you looked around frantically before your eyes found his. You let out the sob you had been suppressing for the entirety of the day. Your knees gave up on you and you leaned down hugging your calves, burying your face into your thighs, the sobs came quickly and Seungcheol sat there not knowing what to do. 

It was like his body was acting on his and he stood up, rounding the corner of the bench and crouched down. His shaking arms wrapped around you tightly, running a soothing hand down your back, smoothing out the wrinkles of your navy blue sweatshirt. 

The next words we muttered, were words he never thought he would say again. But again it felt like he wasn’t in control of his body. It felt like after the timer hit the long awaited double zero’s his body belonged to someone else, almost as if he had been reborn again after twenty five years. 

“It’s okay, I am here.” 

[mourntheantagonist]

#HarringroveApril Day 7: Daisychain

***

“Mr. Harrington? Who’s your favorite student?”

The question came about at least once every year without fail, and he’d always answer in the same, textbook way.

“I don’t have favorites. I love all my kids equally.”

And, deservedly so, the whole class would grunt and moan because they knew just as well as he did that it was a load of bullshit. Steve loved every one of his kids, that part wasn’t a lie, but… he also definitely had his favorites.

For the graduating class of ‘90 when he was only a teaching assistant his name was Daniel. He was the youngest in his class because he started early, and he was incredibly bright. He could count higher, he could read quicker, and his mind just worked in ways that no adult could possibly understand. But it wasn’t the textbook intelligence that made Steve fall for this kid. It was his emotional intelligence. He was funny and he was kind and five year olds were cruel, but he never let that get to him. He had an outlook on life that Steve was jealous of, so when the other kids would turn him down for a game of checkers, Steve would happily join him, because Steve saw it as his job to keep that kid kind.

For the class of ‘91 it was Christopher. He was nothing like Daniel. He was held back and was repeating kindergarten, and that was evident in the way he walked through life. He was quiet and would voluntarily remove himself from the rest of the class. He’d sit by himself and read a book and get frustrated when he didn’t understand one of the words, he would swing by himself and he always tried to sneak off with the first graders when it was time to line up. And Steve perfectly resonated with that feeling of watching all of your friends move on without you. He was left in the dust too. When all his classmates moved on to college or hightailed it out of Hawkins, Steve was left there by himself, working at Family Video with his only friend in the grade below him, and it took her leaving him as well for Steve to finally get his shit together, haul his ass west of the Mississippi, and enroll in a community college and work towards his teaching degree.

And he did it, against all odds and obstacles in his way, he did it. It took extra work and the support of his best friend who he followed, and he did it. He saw himself in Christopher, and he wasn’t going to make that kid wait as long as he did to realize that setbacks don’t define his future.

Steve usually took a liking to the quiet kids, and that only changed in ‘93 with the girl named Amy and the familiar last name. She was loud, vibrant, and everyone loved her. Her smile was contagious and she could be the sweetest little girl at times, but she also wore her heart on her sleeve. She cried quite a bit, just the littlest thing could set her off. A boy accidentally knocking over her blocks, not knowing how to spell a certain word, accidentally coloring outside the lines. She didn’t throw tantrums like he saw in the other kids. She would just bow her head and cry and it would break Steve’s heart every time.

But other than those few moments, she was bright and charismatic and with the last name, the blonde curly hair, and the big personality, Steve really should have put it all together much sooner than he did.

He didn’t put it all together until he saw Billy Hargrove in the soup aisle at the local grocery store wearing a chain of little daisies on his head like a crown, and he knew exactly where it was from.

It was from the little girl named Amy Hargrove who frolicked in the field instead of playing on the playground, collecting flowers that she meticulously made into bracelets and crowns and anything else she put her mind to. She gave them to friends, she even gave one to Steve, and of course she would give one to her dad too.

He looked so different, and yet exactly the same. He still had the damn mullet, just dragging the eighties with him as far as he could, he was a little more cleaned up but still had a similar style to what it was in highschool. Still with the same denim jacket, denim jeans, Canadian tuxedo type deal. In a side by side picture situation you wouldn’t really be able to tell the difference. It wasn’t his dress or his hair or anything physical about him that made him look so different, it was the way that he carried himself. It was the relaxation and the eyes that didn’t droop and the smile lines that didn’t used to be there that made him almost entirely unrecognizable from the Billy Hargrove who pushed freshman against lockers and drove his car too loud and too fast and had cigarettes for three meals a day. Not the kid who ran off to California as soon as the hospital released him with only his Camaro and a small suitcase and a large sum of money the government used to keep his mouth shut, leaving just a note for Max on the fridge that didn’t get any more specific than that about where he was going, not even leaving a phone number for her to contact him with. He also didn’t look like the kid they all pictured in their heads after basically the whole town found out about exactly what Neil Hargrove did to his son behind closed doors.

Steve wanted to go up to him in the store, but he stopped himself. Because Billy left. Without a trace or a word, and who was Steve to think that Billy having to be reminded of something he voluntarily abandoned without a second thought would have any sort of positive outcome?

So he turned down the aisle and kept his distance from the man in the flower crown because he was scared. He wasn’t scared that Billy would see him and turn back to his old ways and hurt him again, he was scared that he’d turn back to his old ways and hurt himself again.

Because he’d been hurt enough already.

Steve successfully avoided Billy until parent teacher conferences had rolled around, and instead of seeing Amy’s mom on the list of names he’d be seeing that day, it was Billy’s.

Steve would be lying if he didn’t think about calling in sick and sending his TA in his place. But he still had to be her teacher for another six months, he just had to get the interaction over with.

Many of the parents that came before Billy had to have known he was on edge about something considering he excessively tapped the table with the eraser of his pencil and stuttered his way through conversations. His organized folders and notes of talking points had been entirely thrown out the window and he was an absolute nervous wreck. And he could only anticipate it being ten times worse when the cause of said anxiety walked through his door with the long hair and the leather jacket. It was only with the help of the little girl in the sunflower dress and daisies in her hair skipping from the entrance to the chair in front of him that calmed his nerves just a bit.

But Billy had just stayed at the door, no movement, and any hope that Steve had that perhaps his new haircut and the glasses on his face would be enough to keep Billy from noticing the obvious vanished when Billy snapped his fingers like the lightbulb in his head finally flickered on.

“I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.”

Steve just held out his hand to shake like he did with any other parent, unsure how to gage the situation because Billy’s words could go either way and his facial expressions didn’t give him anything to go off of. It would be weird to introduce himself, he didn’t know what to say.

“Hi, I’m Amy’s teacher. Should we start?”

Billy looked a little confused, but he sat down in the little kindergartener chairs anyway. This meeting was almost more organized than the ones prior, likely because he was trying to go as quickly as possible and get it over with. Steve showed Billy some of her artwork and commented on how her reading comprehension was great but she could work on her spelling a little more. He didn’t want to bring it up, but he brought up the crying and it hurt to see how him bringing it up set her off again. The same bowing of the head and quiet sniffles into her sleeve.

But Steve thinks he just fell in love a little watching Billy comfort her. With one hand rubbing circles into her back and the other holding her small hand. Steve feels like shit watching her cry because of him and is also semi-fearful for his life because he already knows he can’t take Billy in a fight.

“Baby, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with crying. It’s okay.”

“You’re dad’s right Amy. I think it’s very healthy. Crying is good for you.”

She looks up at Steve with those big blue eyes and tear stained cheeks when he says that.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah! I’d say it even makes you more mature. Even some adults I know don’t let themselves cry and it’s not good.”

“My daddy cries a lot too.”

Steve looks at Billy who’s eyes widen when she says it, then tries to laugh it off like she didn’t just say that.

“Hey Amy, you wanna go and play while your daddy and I talk for a minute?”

She just nods her head and wipes away her remaining tears and quickly hauls the bucket of Lincoln Logs off the shelf.

“So. It’s been a while. Hasn’t it?” Steve starts.

“Yeah it has. So, you’re a teacher now.”

“And you’re a father. That’s crazy.” Steve was fiddling with his hands, trying to make the conversation less awkward. “She’s wonderful by the way.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t get it from me.”

Steve just shakes his head. “No. I don’t think that’s true. She has your charisma, and it appears you found a better way of channeling your emotions since last we saw each other. She’s a lot like you.”

“Thanks.” Billy blushed. He actually blushed. “I don’t know if this is allowed considering you’re her teacher, but would you want to catch up sometime? Maybe dinner or something?”

There it was. That was the olive branch. And Steve would be an absolute fool not to take it.

“I’d love to.”

Before they could come up with a time or a place, Amy was running over to the table with loudly stomping feet.

“I almost forgot! Daddy! show Mr. Harrington what I brought him!”

Billy reached into his pocket upon her demand and pulled out a little bracelet made out of little daisies and honeysuckle and handed it over to Steve.

“Thank you Amy! It’s lovely.”

“Daddy show him yours!”

Steve looked to Billy’s wrist where he slowly lifted his sleeve to reveal an almost exact replica to the bracelet in his hand.

“Looks like we’re matching.”

[diva-1-online]

Chapter Text

A meeting at the “trial of the century,” as Monokuma claimed, hosted a shrunken group. Two people were left in the small circle.

The final girl.

The final boy.

Byakuya thought he outsmarted them with poisoned wine. Well, (Y/n) and Makoto didn’t drink. Aoi and Yasuhiro did. It was pretty obvious at the trial who was the killer. That was weeks ago though, the two of them had been living with each other in solitude for a while. Despite all the offers Monokuma fabricated if one of them killed the other, no attempts were made. On (Y/n)’s part, no attempts were even thought of.

“I didn’t think you two would hold out so long,” Monokuma muttered as he hopped down from his judgment table to the two final students. “But since neither of you seems to be interested in killing each other, someone has to dieee,” he sang out as the two students looked nervously at each other. Makoto shuffled his feet in place while (Y/n) tugged on her jacket as Monokuma stared at them. “Someone has to give themself up in an execution. Pre-planned for your despair while you suffer! Eenie meenie miney mo,” he began to point back and forth between them, “I choose-”

“I’ll go.”

“Huh?” Monokuma and Makoto seemed just as shocked as the other as (Y/n) tried to hide her anxiety.

“It’s life or death and it’s my game.” Monokuma began to try to stop her from entering and submitting herself to the execution. “You can try and survive but I don’t think it’s wise to- I mean, you aren’t even gonna fight each other for who gets to live?”

“I’m the ultimate softball star, I think I’ll play,” she cocked her head slightly and stepped into the execution arena.

“C’mon, Makoto’s a total pushover! He would’ve done this if you just made yourself cry.” Monokuma stepped before her and pushed on her leg.

“That’s not quite how I play games,” she nudged him off as politely as possible and continued. She stepped onto a softball field, freshly painted white lines for foul lines. Her feet crunched on the sand as she made her way to three simple objects.

A bat, red and black. A home plate, white and pristine. A pitching machine, dark and greasy. She picked up the bat as rules were called over an intercom. It must’ve been pre-recorded since Monokuma was standing in the dugout with a baseball cap on. Simple rules: hit as many softballs as you can until the machine runs out.

Whenever that’ll be.

(Y/n) did a practice swing as the machine began. She winded up and swung, a clean hit. She winded up again. Easy. The motions continued for far too long until another pre-recorded phrase was said into the intercom. Round two; the pitches get faster. A couple more clean hits until she missed. She cursed under her breath, not realizing the consequence about to happen. A chain came up and snagged onto her ankle, causing her to falter. She was in a strange lunge position now, the bat was higher than she’d like.

Round three.

Round four. Another chain snagged onto her thigh, pulling her to the sandy ground. Another ball went by, another chain snagged her other leg. And then her waist and left arm. Eventually, the only body part left alone was her right hand that she reached up to try to bat once more. She felt the collision of a ball with her bat, flying out of her hand and onto the sand. She felt one more chain wrap around her neck, pulling her to the ground.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Monokuma pulled the machine’s plug out, chains releasing her. Her arms immediately went to rub her neck in comfort, standing up in front of the plate. “Woah!” Monokuma yelled as the machine fell, creating a sphere of dust around him. Monokuma didn’t walk out though.

“Mondo?”

“Surprised to see me? Aw, don’t gimme that look, smile,” he joked, walking towards (Y/n).

“You’re supposed to be dead. I SAW you die. Don’t tell me there’s some sorta zombie apocalypse happening,” she joked while edging to her bat for a grip.

“Don’t try and swing,” he noted her slow movements in anxious unrest. She bit her bottom lip, loosening her grip but keeping her hand placed.

“Why not? You’re already dead and I must be too.”

“Recall the rules again, (Y/n). You can’t hurt me without being killed.”

“That’s for Monoku- no. No, no, no.” She backed up and tightened her grip on her bat. His grin widened and widened until it mimicked Monokuma’s almost-permanent smile. She refused to believe that he was a part of this scheme.

“What’s wrong? I thought I was your boyfriend- don’t be so scared.”

“YOU DIED! You’re supposed to be DEAD!”

“It was all staged, don’t worry about me. C’mon babe.” He smiled as she began to back up, bat now dropped. “Are you really that upset with me?” He seemed so real, walking up to her and smiling. She didn’t believe Monokuma thought of this as a plan to torture her. Right? Monokuma wouldn’t fake Mondo being alive.

“Mondo,” she glanced into his eyes. No, this was truly Mondo. “Do you know how I felt? I thought you died! I couldn’t sleep, Taka couldn’t eat-”

“Taka? I saw how he made moves on you- don’t pretend he was all innocent-”

“He was in grief! You did this, this is your fault! Taka lost his closest friend and you’re acting like he couldn’t possibly be in grief,” her voice grew shakier and shakier as each word passed. She began to blink away any tear that threatened to come.

“It wasn’t the plan to have Taka be killed. You two were supposed to be the last two survivors- the final players,” Mondo stepped closer to her as his smile began to fade.

“Then what? What would you do? The same thing Makoto and I are doing?”

“No, dammit! Just shut up and listen!” His fists clenched as (Y/n) was backed into a wall, staring down at the ground in fear. He immediately went quiet when he saw the state she was in. He took a step back to let her breathe as she crossed her shaky arms. She let out a choked breath and finally let herself cry. His hand reached up to her face and his thumb wiped a single tear away. He didn’t know what to say.

Neither did she.

She placed her hand into his, sniffling quietly. “What’ll happen to Makoto?”

“Damn, you really care about him? Even now?”

“I’ve been with him since this game started. Unlike someone,” she glared at him for a second before avoiding his gaze again, “he never left me.”

“What do you want done to him? Say the word and I’ll do it.”

“Nothing. Don’t do anything to him, just let him keep living.”

“You know I’m pretty jealous of how much you care for him,” Mondo joked, hoping to see a smile on (Y/n)’s face. She was blank and her eyes narrowed to the ground. “Aw, don’t be so sensitive. It’s a joke.”

“Just let him live. And then. Then we can go live alone somewhere, anywhere. Just don’t kill him,” she mumbled into his chest, letting him envelop her in a hug. He sighed and nodded, lifting her up and carrying her out of the execution room. Her arms hugged his neck in warmth with a soft smile creeping on her face. She didn’t even know where they were going, she just knew it was with him.

[notchesandbullets]

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

A/N: dedicated to the anon who wanted me to write a oneshot about ojiro giving the reader a gift, this fanfic is for you 💖💖 this is incredibly self-indulgent and ive been working on it for over a month now. its almost done but i’ll post what i have so far, i hope you like it!!

Contains reluctant Aizawa to soft Dadzawa, annoying brother Shinsou, pure Eri-chan, bakugou's notorious cursing, sweet and innocent fluff between reader-chan and Ojiro. First friend Ojiro to best friend and then lover. Featuring the rest of Class 1-A and them acting like hooligans.

Part 1: Crashing into Ojiro, Room Competition, meeting Class 1-A and Aizawa, who has some bad news for you when you’re discovered.

Word Count: 7k 

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the busy city of Musutafu.

Ojiro had planned on taking Tokoyami with him, but his friend was still in the middle of unpacking as he was leaving.

He was on the way back to the dorms from the grocery store with a bag of ingredients and sweets as per Sato's request. It was a bit longer of a walking distance since he was so used to coming from his house and would take some getting used to, now that Heights Alliance was his home.

The streets weren't any busier than usual, but when he saw something flicker out of the corner of his eyes off to the side, he couldn't help but feel as though something was wrong.

Maybe it was his hero blood or something stronger but he didn't waste any time diving into action.

As he rounded the corner, his eyes widened as someone crashed into him, nearly toppling him over. He caught his balance just in time, steadying the person that had collided into his chest but not before he saw it.

Blood matting down your hair had his heart dropping in horror. You were trembling in his arms, positively terrified and it didn't take long to figure out what the cause of your stress was when two more figures slinked out of the shadows.

Ojiro acted quickly, using his tail to whisk the two of you higher until you were out of sight. He curled his arms tightly but carefully around your waist, making sure that you wouldn't fall.

Thanks to Ectoplasm's guidance, he had refined his skills and learned how to be unpredictable.

It wasn't until you two were safely on top of the nearest roof did he loosen his grip. Leaning over the edge cautiously, he watched the strangers bolt off in opposite directions, presumably to look for you. He was pretty sure they didn't see him take you away but he wasn't completely certain. Pulling back, he released you from his hold. But he didn't take any offense to the way you practically flew from his touch.

He could see it in your eyes. Fear as deep as yours shouldn't ever be allowed to get that far, for anyone.

You hugged your trembling body with your arms, desperately willing the anxiety to die down so that you could think straight. All you could think about was running. Far, far away where no one could get to you.

"Ah... sorry to take you away so suddenly like that, but it looked like you seemed to be in trouble." Ojiro apologized.

His sheepish tone made you finally break out of your thoughts and for a moment, the two of you didn't say anything, both of you enamored with the other as you got a proper look.

He didn't think he had ever seen anyone as beautiful as you before. Round orbs blinking up at him curiously, your fuzzy ears perched on top of your head perked up as you met his gaze, bushy tail twitching behind you.

As for you, your mouth dried at the sight of your savior. His golden hair and kind smile made your heart skip a beat for reasons unknown to you. You couldn't stop your tail from thumping excitedly against the rooftop when you saw his tail.

It was much bigger and looked much stronger than yours was and you couldn't stop from bounding over to it eagerly, stretching out a tentative hand to touch it.

But you halted at the last second and recoiled, expecting to be punished for your behavior.

Ojiro frowned, taking notice of your trepidation and offered you an encouraging smile. "It's okay, you can touch it if you'd like."

He lifted his tail slightly, inviting your curiosity forth and a bit nervously, you reached out your hand once again. A wide smile split your features as you felt the soft, short fur underneath, your other hand going up to pet your ears, as if to compare the softness.

Ojiro couldn't help but match your smile at that, finding it adorable. Tucking his legs underneath him so that you could still play with his tail, he breached the topic sensitively.

"What's your name?" He asked quietly. "Who were those guys that were after you?"

At first, you seized up and for a minute there, he was worried he went about asking you the wrong way. But a deep sigh left your lungs and testing the waters, you timidly introduced yourself and began to explain in a concise way, your current situation.

You honestly weren't entirely sure how you got there.

But one bad thing after another landed you in a pretty rough neighborhood notorious for Quirk Traffickers. They looked for people with unique abilities that would sell well on the black market. People paid a lot of money to own those they deemed exotic, particularly kids and teens with quirks that had an effect on their physical appearance.

You were no exception, having been cursed with an extremely rare wolf quirk. All it ever brought you was trouble.

You had heard that quirks were hereditary but yours definitely wasn't. You don't know which ancestor it came from when it appeared out of the blue.

Tiny fangs, fluffy ears and a tail emerged one day. But your excitement of discovering it was short-lived when you were abandoned by your parents the very next day. They had found it disgusting.

Young and innocent, you wandered the streets, not sure what you were supposed to do. That's when they caught you.

You bounced from one owner to another, never staying in one place for very long. You had been brought back to their base of operations in Japan, your last master less than satisfied with you since all you did was hide out of fear of everyone, lashing out when he tried to approach you.

You may or may not have bitten a guest when they tried to touch your ears.

Back in your homeland, that's when you saw your opening.

You didn't know what propelled your legs to start running from the men but pretty soon you were out of breath and out of options. Alone in the alleyway, but not for long, you frantically scanned for an escape route.

And that's when you crashed into him.

A shadow fell over Ojiro's face as he heard you explain your past, hands balling into fists at his sides. He wouldn't stand behind while someone was tormenting you. No hero would allow something like this to continue.

Coming to his decision instantly, he stood up, extending a hand out to you.

"Y/N, will you come with me?" He asked, gaze unwavering. "I think I know where you'll be safe, at least for now."

You paused, skeptical. "I-I... I don't know."

He squatted down beside you, patting your head gently. If there was more time, he would've been more patient but he couldn't help but feel uneasy the longer you guys stayed out in the open. Even if you were out of sight, a rooftop wasn't a permanent place for you to hide out in.

Your eyes went wide but you didn't shrink away. You didn't know why. Anytime someone reached for your head, they always had this glint in their eyes, but this time, he looked desperate.

Desperate for you to believe him.

"You must have a hard time trusting people after all you've been through." Ojiro empathized before urgency seeped into his tone. "I really don't want to leave you alone. My sensei might be able to help you but only if you come with me."

You still didn't look entirely convinced but he didn't blame you.

"If you don't like what he says, then you don't have to listen." Ojiro reassured you easily. "No one's going to force you to do anything. You can make your own choice but let me at least give you more options."

That was what finally made you drop your guard, still wary but choosing to trust him for now. After all, he did save you earlier.

You put your hand in his, cheeks warming as he squeezed it slightly.

"Okay."

The two of you traveled to Heights Alliance, the dormitory for Class 1-A of UA High School. He immediately found his teacher, Aizawa, and told him of your circumstances. The man's rough and rugged appearance caused fear to flash through you but only for an instant.

He concealed it well but he seemed kind. Not outwardly like Ojiro, but it was enough to reassure you for now.

All throughout Ojiro's explanation, you hid behind his broad back, shivering at the way his tail curled around your waist to keep you close to him.

It was weird. It didn't feel restricting like you expected it to, it almost felt protective. You kind of liked it. You giggled as the furry tip of his tail tickled your nose playfully and you batted at it, eyes shining as you momentarily forgot where you were.

Aizawa was silent as his student finished explaining why he had a wolf girl attached to his side, scratching the back of his neck as he racked his brain to come up with a solution that wouldn't land you back in that same place again but also without compromising the safety of his students.

Since you were an orphan and a minor, the police would most likely take you to an orphanage, in which case the people looking for you would certainly find you. Aizawa called Principal Nezu and got permission from him to house you at the dorms until the threat hanging over your head was dealt with by the authorities.

You blinked when he asked you if you wanted to stay with them for the time being while they ironed out all the details and see what could be done for a more permanent residence but accepted his offer with a shy and grateful smile.

Then was the matter of actually carrying it out.

The two wanted to settle you in a room of your own but your ears flattened against your head in distress at the suggestion so they quickly dropped that idea.

Aizawa ran a hand tiredly through his hair, unsure of how to resolve this when you clearly were in danger but didn't want to be left alone. The less people that knew of your whereabouts the better and even though he knew Yaoyorozu would probably do a good job looking after you, you clung to Ojiro's side like glue.

You seemed the most comfortable with him and he figured they could use that for now.

Needless to say, Ojiro was surprised when Aizawa suggested he take care of you until the man could figure out a way to accommodate you without you having an anxiety attack but he readily agreed with a slight blush on his face.

He just wanted you to be safe and happy and he was stunned that his sensei trusted him enough to be responsible for you.

Aizawa promptly handed him a small first-aid kit to take care of the blood smeared on your forehead after ensuring that it wasn't anything serious. It was just a slight nick, shallow enough not to need any stitches since it would heal relatively quickly. He told him to clean it before it got infected and his student nodded seriously.

"You can count on me, Aizawa-sensei!!" Ojiro said, bowing respectfully to thank him for all he had done before leaving.

With Ojiro guiding the way, the two of you snuck through the back door and up into his room for you to get settled in. The other students in his class were bustling around the common floor, moving all their things into their respective rooms, hoping to get it done before dark.

It was loud and chaotic, or maybe that was just your sensitive ears picking up on it more. Curiosity peaked, you peeked around the corner after you ensured you were out of their sight, gaze falling on the activity going on below from the second floor.

Ojiro softly pointed each one of them out, telling you their names as they talked over each other.

"I can't believe we get to live together!!" Ashido exclaimed happily, doing a little dance in front of Hagakure and Uraraka. "This is so exciting!!"

"I can't believe my parents agreed to it!!" The invisible girl commented, undoubtedly puffing out her cheeks.

The red-haired and yellow-haired boys who were wrestling in the corner paused for a second to join in on the girls' conversation.

"Did you have a hard time convincing them?" Kirishima asked, only to be smacked upside the head by Kaminari. "Ow, what the heck man?!"

"Why are you asking such a dumb question?" The electric boy retorted, kicking up his feet and smirking. "She could've always just snuck out of the house if they said no. You know, invisibility quirk and all."

He leaped up with a yelp as something shocked him from behind, whirling around to glare at Jirou, who was twirling her earphone jack around a finger nonchalantly.

She sighed, retracting the other one from where she had send an electric pulse through him. "What an idiot."

Kaminari gripped his hair, nearly tearing it out in frustration. "That's what I'm saying!!"

Sero, who was passing by with a box full of his things, stopped and raised an eyebrow. "You know she's talking about you, right?"

"That's not true!!" Kaminari shouted incredulously.

"It's true." Jirou retorted flatly.

The others in the vicinity burst into laughter and you couldn't help but giggle a bit along with them, muffling the sound behind your hand in fear that they would catch you spying on them.

Ojiro's tail twined around your waist gently, steering you towards the elevators. "C'mon, this way."

That contraption alone was the most nerve-wracking thing you've experienced so far. Luckily, the ride wasn't long but that was the only upside. Your tail swished nervously behind you and you didn't relax until the door to his room on the third floor softly clicked closed behind you.

Ojiro breathed a sigh of relief, glancing up at you. You had made it without being spotted by anyone. Thankfully.

He didn't have many things, so moving in wasn't a problem for him and it didn't take too long. He was one of the first ones to finish, along with Shoji, and helped Sato unpack his things until his friend noticed he needed some more ingredients for the cake he wanted to make later on.

The plastic bag crinkled as he took out the snacks he had found while he was getting Sato more flour and sugar. Your nose twitched cutely and he had to refrain from poking your cheek, lest he scare you off.

Your tail was less frazzled now and he took it as a sign that you were getting accustomed to your surroundings.

His eyes softened as you took in his room, pawing at the neat collection of books on his desk before your attention flitted up to the high shelving above your head.

This time, Ojiro couldn't contain his fond smile as he reached over you to grab what you were longingly looking at.

Your eyes went wide as his chest pressed against your back, he easily reached it since he was taller than you. A small giraffe plushie landed in your hands not long after.

He tilted his head, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled at you. "Cute, right?"

His little sister, Holly, gave it to him as a going-away present when he moved into the dorms. He missed her so much already but the presence of this little stuffed giraffe soothed his heart.

You held it so gently, as if you were scared you would destroy it.

"Yeah..." You trailed off quietly and he beamed.

It was his first time hearing your voice so unrestrained and free from the fear that gripped you earlier but nothing could have prepared him for how pure and precious it was. He ruffled your hair gently, being mindful of your fluffy ears and looking out for any signs you were uncomfortable with the affectionate gesture.

But his heart skipped a beat when you closed your eyes at his touch, clearly enjoying it and even going so far as to butt your head against his hand in a silent plea for more pets.

You flushed when he chuckled, obliging you for a minute longer until you were like putty in his hands.

The both of you jumped when a loud crash came from downstairs, accompanied by a flurry of enraged shouting and colorful insults even through the many floors. Ojiro casted a worried glance at you but all his concern melted away when a little giggle left your lips.

Relieved that you didn't seem to be too shaken by the noise, he offered the snacks he bought earlier, taking the package and ripping it open for you when you fumbled with it.

Thanking him quietly, you nibbled on the food gratefully. The flavors exploded in your mouth and you positively beamed, radiating the same pure energy you emitted earlier when you had spoken to him.

Ojiro maneuvered around you, finding what he was looking for pretty quickly.

You looked up curiously when he came back, shifting your weight on your knees, unsure of why he was holding a water bottle in your field of vision.

"I need to treat your cut, is that okay?" He asked, unscrewing the cap and pouring a little bit on the cloth he got from the first-aid kit. He didn't want to startle you, so he narrated what he was doing.

You nodded, setting down your half-eaten cookie carefully and brushed back your tangled hair as much as you could so that it wasn't in the way.

Your breath caught in your throat when he moved closer to you. He angled your chin up, gazing into your eyes as he wiped the blood away first to assess the damage done.

"It's going to sting a little bit." He murmured, preparing the antibiotic.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you gripped onto the lapels of his blazer, practically ripping it as your claws came out when he dabbed the cut. You whimpered in pain, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes at how much it hurt.

Ojiro faltered, your whimper sending a spike straight through his heart and he hastened, not wanting you to be in pain any longer. But he was thorough, well aware that if he didn't do a good job now, there was a chance you would have to endure it again. As soon as he disinfected it, he applied a couple butterfly closures to aid the healing process.

It wasn't bleeding anymore and he sighed in relief.

You panted heavily when he was finally done. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you blinked through your blurry vision, frantically scanning the room as his warmth suddenly disappeared.

"Y/N-chan?"

The voice was close by but not close enough. Your breathing started to pick up, hands clammy and tail fluffed out. An obvious sign you were stressed.

"Y/N-chan!!"

This time, it was a lot closer and you sank back, relieved beyond belief as the familiar sensation of his tail encircling your waist returned.

You stammered out his name, blindly reaching for him.

"Where did you go?" Your whispered, fingers trembling uncontrollably as he pulled you into his chest.

"Just had to put away the bandages." He reassured you, concerned with how quickly you were to losing it. "Are you okay?"

Your ears flopped back and forth at how vigorously you nodded, as if you needed to convince him like your life depended on it and his mouth twisted into a small frown.

"You don't have to do that." He said, going to pet you once more, smiling in relief as your tail finally stopped lashing behind you.

"... 'm sorry." You mumbled sadly, clutching onto the front of his jacket.

"It's okay." Ojiro replied, stroking your hair to calm you down. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Just how much pain had you endured?

This time when he stood up, you were okay. Somehow comforted that he wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon, you polished off your snack as he got something else from the closet.

"Here."

You perked up at the sight of the blue hoodie in his outstretched hand.

Ojiro laughed at your expression of awe as you accepted it and ran your fingers over the material. "You seemed cold so how about you hang onto this for now?"

It was one of his lounging hoodies that he didn't wear too often but it was rather warm and would hopefully stop you from shivering. That tattered dress you were wearing looked like it was about to go any second. He didn't want to know how weak your immune system was to be freezing cold in the middle of August.

You beamed happily, bowing repeatedly. "Thank you, Ojiro-san!!"

It had gotten stuck over your head when you tried to pull it down though and with a muffled squeak that gained his attention, he tugged down the hem, smiling when your ears and flushed face popped through.

Just when I thought she couldn't get any cuter... He thought to himself as you began to run around the room, climbing on anything and everything once he told you that he didn't mind.

His clothes swallowed your smaller frame and he found it incredibly endearing with the way you would flap your arms around, claiming you had sweater paws. It fell just above your knees, keeping it modest.

He steered you away from the balcony for now, wanting you to stay where he could keep an eye on you.

After a few more hours of you getting adjusted, you had tuckered yourself out and curled up into a ball on the floor at the foot of his bed.

Ojiro frowned once he noticed you taking a nap on the hard surface, abandoning his studying at his desk to take you in his arms and placing you in his bed.

You stirred, heavy eyelids struggling to open as you croaked out, "W-What? Ojiro-san, what's going on??"

"You can't sleep on the floor, Y/N-chan." He chided lightly. "It's not good for your back."

Sleepy haze diminishing, you bolted upright, nearly smacking him in the face when you realized where he had put you.

"I can't sleep in your bed!!" You burst out incredulously.

Ojiro hushed you, worriedly glancing at the door as if his friends would come barging in without any warning but luckily they didn't. He didn't put it past them but this was one time where he didn't want them to do that.

He tried to ease you back down but you wouldn't obey.

"Don't worry, the sheets are new." He reassured.

His eyebrow furrowed when you shook your head violently from side to side, wondering what you were so worked up about. You tried to climb out and he let you but didn't let you go too far.

"What's wrong?" He asked quickly, the possibility that he had offended you coming to light. "I didn't mean to—"

"I'm not allowed to!!" You suddenly blurted out.

He did a double take and you looked over his shoulder, your eyes darting everywhere else besides him.

Crouching down to your level, he soothed you gently. "Hey, it's okay. What do you mean you're not allowed to?"

You absentmindedly picked at the wound closures on your forehead, swallowing thickly when he took your hand in his to prevent you from messing with the bandages.

"Y/N-chan?" He prompted.

Your mutter was so quiet he had to strain himself to hear you right and when he did, he asked you to repeat it because by All Might was his blood boiling if he heard you correctly.

You gulped, intimidated by the brazen anger in his eyes, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

"They said we're animals and called us dirty. We're not supposed to sleep where humans do." With each word, you got quieter until his face was right in front of yours. "They were right... weren't they?"

Squeaking as you got engulfed in a hug, you tensed up and he broke it, apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry, I just," He ran a hand through his hair, conflicted. "They couldn't be more wrong."

He didn't touch you but he didn't need to for you to feel his warm presence extending out towards you and covering you in the most love you've experienced since your parents left.

"You might have an animal quirk but you're human just like the rest of us and don't deserve to be treated any less than that by anyone." He emphasized, then pounded a fist to his chest. "From now on, I'll look out for you and show you what it's like to be treated like an equal, as a friend, if you'll let me."

Ojiro held out his hand. "Deal?"

You sniffled, unbelievably moved by his kindness after only knowing you for less than a day. "Deal."

You sealed it with a handshake and he gestured to the rumpled bed behind him.

Waving his hand grandly, he proclaimed, "Your napping space awaits."

He internally winced at how corny that sounded but hearing your laughter ring in the air more than made up for it. As he helped you settle beneath the covers, he reassured you constantly but patiently that you really were allowed to sleep in a bed and no, you weren't bothering him or being a burden.

After that, you couldn't fall asleep right away and he really didn't want to study anymore so the two of you talked.

He told you about his family, how he got into UA, stuttering nervously a couple of times only to shoot you a grateful smile when you didn't judge or make fun of him. He told you about his little sister, a cute, precious little girl who was growing up faster than he liked to admit. Retelling and entertaining you with stories of his classmates and their adventures, his tail flicked up excitedly when you started to chime in with experiences of your own.

Things you could remember from your past. Foods you liked, hobbies you had, friends you liked to play with, and he listened attentively through it all. When you started to drift off, you sleepily mumbled offhandedly how you liked it when he patted your head or rubbed your ears.

And you especially liked it when he would hug you with his tail.

Ojiro just smiled softly, tucking the blanket around you before brushing the hair away from your face. You looked so peaceful. He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head, jaw dropping in surprise when his gaze landed on the bag discarded on the floor. He had completely forgotten about that.

Shaking your shoulder to rouse you from your tranquil state, he whispered apologies when you finally opened your eyes.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up but I have to go to Sato-kun's room really quick to give him the flour and sugar I bought earlier, okay?" He rushed out, tripping over his words to get it out faster so that you could go back to sleep.

"Can't I go with you?" You mumbled, still half asleep.

Ojiro shook his head, remembering what Aizawa said about exposure. Sure, he trusted his classmates but there was a big difference between what he wanted and what was logical. Your chances were better off with the less that people knew you of your whereabouts so he refused, even though it nearly broke his heart when you trained your wide orbs on him.

Pushing out your bottom lip slightly, tears collected at the corner of your eyes. "You don't want me there?"

He was quick to kneel down by your side, unable to stop himself from pressing his forehead to your temple in a desperate attempt to make the sadness in your voice fade away.

"No, no, princess, it's not that at all." The pet name slipped out faster than he could stop it but he didn't even stop. "You're safer here for right now. And I'll only be gone for a minute."

He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. "Okay?"

You mustered up a wobbly smile for him. "Okay..."

He wanted to text Sato to come to his room to pick it up so that he wouldn't have to leave you but that would stir up questions, especially since he wouldn't allow his friend inside and that would undoubtedly create a mayhem within his peers at what he was hiding. For aspiring heroes, they were still teenagers after all. And they loved to bug each other like it, too.

Ojiro sighed as he forced himself to detach from you, tucking the blanket securely around you before he stepped quietly out the door.

For once in his life, he kind of wished he wasn't living with his classmates.

After he left, you tried to quell the anxiety and insecurities. Twisting and turning, your mind raced, spiraling out of control. He didn't abandon you, he was just returning something to his friend. He would be back soon. He promised you.

But as the minutes ticked by, it felt like hours and you couldn't wait any longer. Throwing off the covers, your legs shook as you stepped towards the door. However, you froze in place and your ears twitched, picking up the sounds faster than the average human which normally would've given you an advantage but you couldn't move in time.

The door flew open with a bang, slamming into the wall and making you jump nearly five feet into the air. On the other side stood the girl with pink hair and skin that you had seen earlier, along with the electric boy and a few others you didn't recognize.

You shrunk back as the group exploded into chaos, directing questions towards you faster than you could process or fend off on your own. Your panic rose as they flooded in, clutching your hands tightly to your chest at the overwhelming amount of people in the cramped space.

Then, your eyes widened as someone shouted frantically for them to move, shouldering his way through until he came to you. You willed your feet to move but they wouldn't obey no matter how hard you tried, your body still frozen in fear. It didn't matter though because he reached you within seconds.

"Guys, seriously, back off!!" Ojiro shouted above the clamor, his tail pulling you close and tucked you under his arm. "You're scaring her!!"

At the strain in his usually light tone, his friends started to quiet down one by one and he turned his full attention on you.

"You okay?" He murmured, cradling your jaw and inspecting your face for any hint that you might've been hurt.

You didn't say anything, just threw your arms around him and brushed your nose against the crook of his neck, scenting him. His warm scent eased you and brought you back down bit by bit until your feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Even though he had no clue what you were doing, it was making the tension wound in your body disappear fast so he didn't have any issues with it. But his breath hitched as a soft rumble emitted from the back of your throat in contentment, squeezing you once before letting you go. He didn't detach his tail from you though, using it as a wall to keep his overeager friends from coming too close.

Ojiro let you do what you needed in that moment and in the minutes that followed, his friends began peppering you with questions. He let you keep your face nuzzled into his chest as you shyly answered them but he answered for you whenever you hesitated so that you wouldn't be put in an uncomfortable position of refusing them.

He had already seen what you were like when something that was normal for them went against what was ingrained into you and his arms curled around you tighter in an effort to protect you.

You were thankful for him taking most of the pressure off of you, timidly straying from his side when he encouraged you to talk to the girls a little bit more. You warmed up to them much faster than the rest, your eyes brightening up excitedly when they told you there was a girl among their friend group who had a frog quirk.

He sighed as Yaoyorozu and Ashido led you away from the boys with the rest of the girls in tow to go to a space where the environment would be better for you. Feeling bad that the secret had gotten out already, he winced as he thought of the penalty he would face once he told Aizawa.

Kaminari smirked, leaning against the doorframe after you exited. "Man, where have you been hiding her?"

Ojiro shot him a look that told him to keep quiet, not in the mood for playing around. "That's not funny."

"C'mon man, we're just teasing." Kirishima added on, not picking up on the tense energy of the room. "You could've at least told us you had a girlfriend, she's really cute."

"If not a little shy." Sero grinned, elbowing him in the ribs teasingly. "Don't worry, it's not like we're going to steal her away or anything."

"You should not have a girl in your room, Ojiro!!" Iida declared, chopping his hands in the air to emphasize his point despite the inconsiderate snickering occurring on the other side of the room by the three of them. "It is not appropriate!!"

Shoji, Sato and Koda all elected to remain silent, studying their friend's shadowed expression as their other classmates relentlessly teased him.

Forehead creasing in annoyance at the continuous jabs, Ojiro blurted out, "Guys, stop!! It's not something to joke about!!"

He sank to the floor, head in his hands and for the first time since they burst in, the guys finally took notice of the way his shoulders shook and how anxiety seemed to roll off of him in waves.

"She's in real danger." Ojiro told them quietly. "There are bad people looking for her so you guys can't talk about her, alright?"

"Please." He begged, not caring how desperate he sounded.

All he wanted was for you to be safe. All he wanted was for you to live the life you had been robbed of without having to look over your shoulder to see if someone was following you or not.

Shoji uncrossed his duplicate arms, stance broadening. "We won't."

"Yeah," Kirishima inserted, rubbing the back of his neck, ashamed of his behavior earlier. "Sorry man, had no idea."

Scattered apologies followed his and reluctantly, Ojiro raised his head, mouth set in a determined line. He didn't answer too many questions about your situation, wanting to keep as much of it as he could private until he knew how you felt about telling them and stood up. Now that damage control had been dealt with, all that was left was to tell Aizawa.

Piece of cake.

Back with the girls, you were dragged back to the elevators to get to the girls' side. Since Jirou's was the closest, you guys went there. Your expression filled with awe at the many instruments that hung on the walls, wanting to touch them but you didn't want to get in trouble so you kept your hands stiffly by your sides.

Ashido enthusiastically led you to the plushiest spot on the floor and for a second, you were reminded of the little stuffed giraffe Ojiro let you play with when he caught you looking at it. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you jumped when the girls squealed.

"Who are you thinking about?" Ashido pried, eyes glimmering with mischief. "It's Ojiro-kun, isn't it?!"

Your mouth opened and closed, unable to form a response to that. You covered your ears when she shrieked excitedly, taking your silence as your answer and dancing around the room.

"Mina-chan, calm down, you're a little too loud." Yaoyorozu told her gently before reaching over to pat your shoulder. "Where did you come from?"

Mouth parting in shock at how blatant she was being, you twiddled with the strings of Ojiro's hoodie. "Um, well, they told me that my breed is mixed so I don't sell as well as a purebred but I'm fast and—"

"Oh goodness no!!" Ashido interrupted, eyes widened in horror and if you looked around you would've seen all the other girls wearing that exact same expression. "That's not what she meant!!"

Tilting your head to the side clueless, you frowned. "It's not?"

"No!!" Yaoyorozu exclaimed, horrified by what you had to have been through to respond like that on instinct. "I meant how did you get in the dormitory, in Ojiro-san's room nonetheless!!"

"Ah, well... that, um... I—" You cut off your stammering with a frustrated sigh. "I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to tell you."

"That's okay." Uraraka reassured you easily.

Her energy reminded you of Ojiro.

"Is it true that you're in danger?" Jirou spoke up for the first time since the gang of girls invaded her room.

Your jaw dropped in shock but your expression cleared when she waved her earjacks around pointedly. That must've been how she could hear and judging by the timing of her question, you concluded that Ojiro must have been the one talking about your circumstances. And since you didn't feel like he would knowingly put you into danger, you told them what you told him.

Their expressions crumbled before you, losing all semblance of their happy-go-lucky personalities as disbelief took over.

Yaoyorozu's eyes filled with tears. "You had to endure all of that alone?"

"That's horrible!!" Ashido cried out.

"I'm so sorry!!" Uraraka and Hagakure shouted simultaneously.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like." Jirou said, her eyes sad. "You're here now though, so Aizawa-sensei must've given you permission."

You nodded, knees tucked under you as you gripped the hem of the blue sweatshirt. "Yes, but it was only supposed to be a temporary solution and no one else was supposed to find out."

Hesitating, you gulped. "If... If this gets out, I—"

"Don't worry, Y/N-chan!!" Ashido exclaimed, shooting to her feet and pumping her fist in the air. "We'll definitely protect you."

Jirou nodded, fueled by her friend. "Yeah!!"

"You can count on us!!" Hagakure jumped up beside her.

"They won't be able to touch you anymore now that you've got us!!" Yaoyorozu declared determinedly.

"Let's go!!" Uraraka cheered. "Plus Ultra!!"

You burst into sobs at their overwhelming support despite only having just met them and the girls crowded around you in the best group hug you've ever received.

After that emotional roller coaster, they were going to bring you back to Ojiro's room since that's where you wanted to stay for the night but they heard your stomach growling and collectively decided to feed you with whatever they could find in the kitchen.

Yaoyorozu was pretty sure there was some leftover pizza that the guys had bought earlier that day.

Your protests fell on deaf ears as Ashido and Uraraka dragged you all the way there, Jirou trailing behind as Yaoyorozu and Hagakure ran ahead.

"You don't want your own room?" Jirou questioned when they finally released you.

You shook your head. "I... I don't really like being alone and Ojiro-san is my first friend I've had in a long time, so I... I trust him."

She nodded understandingly. "I get it."

"That is soooo cute!!" Hagakure swooned, balancing several boxes of various packaged Japanese snacks in her arms.

You blushed beet red, flushing further when the girls cooed at how cute you were. Pulling the collar of the hoodie up to hide your smile, you pleaded for them to stop embarrassing you. Tea kettle whistling on the stove as Yaoyorozu prepared some jasmine tea, Uraraka brought out the pizza box she had just found from the industrial-sized fridge, handing it to you after heating it up.

"Isn't this someone's food?" You questioned, not touching it. You didn't want to eat it if it belonged to someone.

Jirou pushed it towards you encouragingly with her earphone jack, smirking. "Trust me, Kaminari won't miss it."

You decided to take her word for it.

You had barely finished half a slice when the front door opened and the chilly night air blew inside. Turning around, you hopped off of the stool you were perched on and ran to Ojiro, who had an extremely exhausted Aizawa in tow.

Ojiro caught you easily, wrapping his tail around you out of instinct. It was getting to be a habit by now.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he checked you over.

You giggled, prying his hands away from their dutiful inspection. "I'm okay."

He breathed a sigh of relief but the two of you stiffened when Aizawa cleared his throat from behind him.

"As much as I don't want to interrupt whatever that is," He droned monotonously. "This has gotten a lot more serious."

You shared a worried look with Ojiro and gasped when his tail tightened around your waist ever so slightly.

"You can't stay here." Aizawa told you, fixating his eyes on the students who moved to object, more flooding in as their sensei's voice carried clearly. "You need to come with me, I'll find you a place to stay for the night."

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel​

[astrologiaxo]

Messages for the signs <3

For Sun, Moon, and Rising. Check all 3! Starting w Leo cause LEO SZN.

Affirmation of the Day:

FLEXIBILITY - I am flexible and adaptable to change while I pursue my ambitions. 

Leo: Detach yourself from any power struggles that you may have placed on yourself unknowingly. You’ve been hard on yourself these days. You have the power to release yourself from these shackles, no one else has that power but you. Mind fucking yourself isn’t gonna get you anywhere. End the victim mentality. Once you’re able to overcome this you will start to flourish and fight for what is right. Your fiery self will come to light once again, and just in time for your season! 

Virgo: Something is trying to manifest through you but you’re blocking it! You blocking yo blessings, Virgo! Negative thoughts are consuming you and instead of the positive things you think about, you’re manifesting all the negative. If you think it’s not aligned with your higher self, take a moment and reconsider. Is it fear stopping you or were you manifesting something that was of no use? You’re hesitant to realize what is good for you. You’re feeling guilty that maybe you don’t deserve all these manifestations. You’re being tested right now but stay the course. Only you know what’s in your best interest. 

Libra: Your heart’s desire is being blocked right now. You’re dealing with setbacks that you were not expecting. You’re preparing for the worst but hoping for the best. So far it’s been a shit storm. But there’s good news! All that has seemed unfair and unjust is finally being met with justice. All the turmoil that you’ve undergone was all for the greater good. Good karma and bad karma happens to us all. You may have been struggling with finances or health and this has been a hard time for you. Be more wise with yourself and take care of yourself. Don’t overspend and save for a rainy day. Also, watch out for the friends you surround yourself with as they are a big reflection of who you are. If you feel you need to make new friends that align more with your spirit, this is your sign to work on communication and find better collaborators. 

Scorpio: You’re being tested! This is a newsflash to not quit. Even if you feel like you have every reason to quit, keep going. You have the right mindset and passion to go after what you’ve been working on for a while. If you stay confident and strong, you will receive all the fruits of your labor. You may be struggling trying to balance your passions with more practical matters in life, such as finances. And you feel you can’t have one without the either. It’s okay to chase your passions sometimes and not get so caught up in the finances. Follow your heart and dream big, Scorpio!

Sagittarius: Quarantine is making you face your demons. Instead of escaping like you usually do, you’ve been getting to the root of all your problems lately. You’re realizing what you were chasing before quarantine is not aligned with your higher self anymore. You’re surprisingly craving more stability and grounding energy than usual. You’ve realized that if the world is gonna end soon, you’d rather be boo’ed up or make sure that you and your family are well provided for. This is your new way of exploring life, since you can’t travel anywhere. You’re exploring what it’s like to change your priorities from socializing and mingling to stabilizing energy. You’ve had your fun and want to get more serious so you can finally get your shit together and chase your dreams!

Capricorn: You’re in a good place, Cap. In the past you were feeling disconnected and not like your self, but now your purpose is becoming clear and things are starting to fall into place. You’re thinking ahead and making sure everyone around you is okay. It took a lot for you to get here though. You trusted your intuition and defended all that you’ve worked for. With this came more security where you felt comfortable enough to let your walls down and open your heart to receiving some love from the outside world. You trusted the process and the process did not let you down!

Aquarius: You’ve been intellectualizing the fuck out of a partnership right now. There’s someone on your mind and you’ve been analyzing EVERYTHING about them. You’re hopeful about the situation, however, you’re just wondering WHY is it taking so long. You’re starting to feel impatient and lose hope when you feel there’s no progress, but when you start to over think, you know deep down you just need to have patience. Which is very hard for you. This person is teaching you that if you want them enough you have to be willing to wait for them. This person is a lot more slow moving than you so it’s not something you’re use to and it’s driving you a lil out of your mind. You’re being tested but are trusting your intellect and wisdom that you believe in this partnership. 

Pisces: You may be feeling extremely ambitious more than you’re use to. You have the mentality that you’re willing to pursue something or someone at all costs, which is a new energy for you since you’re use to going with the flow. This is a great thing for you because it seems like you’re chasing happiness and the bag (money). You’re chasing things that are worthwhile and it’s admirable. You have passionate energy about your desires and perhaps it’s the fact that Mars in Aries so take advantage of this time! You’re getting out of your usual funk and tapping more into wanting to be happy. It feels like something good enough has at last fallen into your lap where you feel like you’ll do anything to have it. 

Aries: You’ve been stuck in the past but you’re finally choosing to move forward. It’s as if though you’ve got a flame coming out of your butt and you’re ready to tap into the future! Perhaps you’ve reconnected with someone from your past but you’re ready to start a new beginning with them. Or something from your past has been looming over you and you’re ready to let it go. Whatever the case, nostalgia was a huge factor but now you’re realizing that you’ve  been holding yourself back from happiness. You’re feeling passionate about your desires and have been inspired to chase after them. Whether someone has started this in you or you’re doing this for others, there’s a lot of stripping of the old and bringing of the new.

Taurus: You’ve been working on yourself! On bad days, you let your fears get the best of you and believe that people will leave you behind and not care about you. This is just something you’ve created in your head though and isn’t true at all. You’ve gladly shunned yourself away from the world during quarantine to really work on yourself. You’ve been in hermit mode and this has done wonders for you. You’re starting to finally see that people have been there to help you all along but it took some time away from everyone for you to notice that. You’ve been so use to feeling that you’re destined for fear and betrayal but are realizing that this was all just in your head. This took a lot of effort and inner work. And if you’re still working on yourself, this is a push to keep going. Try and look at things from a different perspective and not be so stuck on just one. 

Gemini: You have the intellectual upper hand...as always. You’re in the know about everything, knowing both sides, good and evil. Whatever you’re trying to manifest right now, use it to your advantage. Divine timing will make it come true when the time is right but you have to make sure you choose well and bring yourself good karma. You may be hesitant about what you want to choose, and perhaps this is why you’re struggling. You’re not ready to leave the negative because you might be attached to it, but trust that this transition is in your highest favor. Open your heart to the new possibilities. There needs to be an equal give and take here, so bring balance into your life and choose wisely.

Cancer: It’s time for self care and self love. Don’t get so caught up in your anxieties. There’s an indecision that’s been looming over you, a sort of crossroads. Today you’re being asked to relax and focus on yourself. If you don’t know whether to start a relationship or foundation with someone it’s because the thought of it scares you and puts pressure on you that you’re uncomfortable with. Sometimes you don’t practice enough self love to feel like someone really loves you. Cancer, you do deserve love. If you realized how much people cared about you, you wouldn’t be so insecure about accepting love. 

[z-iridest]

My Hero Academia: Ascension

Warning: Language

Chapter 1: Birds of a Feather-

The bitter cold winds of Japan’s early morning in the dead of winter felt crisply refreshing against a young woman’s skin as she soared through the air like her brother had done many times before in her childhood. Her white wings flapped up and down as she flew higher and higher still, eventually breaking through the clouds before she retracted her wings, releasing a deep breath out of her mouth as she stayed suspended in the air for a brief moment before her descent from the nostalgia of the past began, her feathery dark hair flowing upward as gravity dragged her down. She tucked her arms into her body as she allowed herself to twist in midair, pulling reckless mid-air maneuvers that she knew her brother would kill her for even attempting. At the last second, her amber eyes snapped open the same time her wings burst through her jacket, the young girl smirking as she effortlessly sped through Japan’s early morning air. Adrenaline pumped through the girl’s veins, her wings flapping up and down faster than before, allowing her speed to increase. She was headed toward a construction area, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she flew toward it, toward the perfect obstacle course to challenge control of her powers. She flew through the unfinished building, maneuvering pretty easily around the framework of the rooms that had not yet received windows nor walls, performing sharp turns in tight spots, loop de loops on the higher floors with no ceiling... Would her brother consider this dangerous? Possibly, but he was never a stickler for the rules, so who ever said she couldn’t be similar to her brother in at least that much of an extent? Coming up on the one spot she knew she couldn’t get through without hurting her wings, the girl quickly switched gears, flipping midair as she retracted her wings once more, this time running along the beams to get through the narrow path before somersaulting off again and activating her quirk for the third time that night to soar higher into the air. “WOOOHOOOO!” She yelled in excitement at the top of her lungs as she soared upwards once more, laughing as the excitement began to dwindle down and she began her flight home, allowing the tailwinds to keep her hair out of her face. Right on cue, her phone buzzed against her leg in her pocket. Unbuttoning the designated pocket, she pulled out the device and looked at the caller ID before grimacing a bit. It was her brother, and something in her gut told her he wasn’t going to be very happy if he ever found out about the type of training she was putting herself through this early... Reluctantly, she pressed the green button, answering the call from her brother. “Kei, before you say anything, I just went for a fly to warm up my wings, I’m on my way back right now.”

“I should hope so...And don’t stop anywhere else like you did last time, okay? It’s bad enough that you go on these night flies, but staying out as long as you do leaves more opportunity for a villain to see you, chickadee... You do realize those wings don’t exactly hide you in darkness, right? With how white your wings are, you’re practically a target day or night..” 

“Oh, please, like your bright red wings would hide your dumb butt any better? And that one time I didn’t come straight home, it was to grab breakfast for both of us, because if I didn’t, we’d be eating friend chicken for breakfast again.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with fried chicken? It’s my favorite...”

“Yeah, I know it is, bird brain. But the problem with it is that it’s all you ever wanna eat. Chicken and waffles is one thing, but nothing but fried chicken every night? You’re gonna make us both fat.” A laugh left the male on the other end of the phone.

“Oh come on, with all the extra flying you’re doing at night and considering that I work hard as a pro hero, we both burn it off pretty damn fast.” The statement from her brother caused the girl to deadpan.

“Kei, you literally do nothing but walk around and send your feathers flying to do the work. It’s me burning off the fried chicken you always feed us both.” 

“Hey! Hasn’t no one ever taught you to respect your elders, young lady?”

“You’re my big brother who’s nearly 8 years older than me, you don’t count as an elder when you’re not even that old.” A sniff from the other line caused the girl’s eyes to go skyward.

“Hinaki, why are you always so mean to me?” Her older brother whined. Hinaki sighed heavily in response, pinching the bridge of her nose in partial annoyance. ‘Why do I even bother with him? I swear...’  She asked herself.

“I’m almost home, Keigo, and please, for the love of God, no fried chicken for breakfast this time.” Hinaki told him.

“Okay, that was uncalled for, I haven’t even...” 

“Keigo Takami...”

“Fine... Ugggh, you’re so mean, I swear.”

“You mean just like how you’re annoying at times? Damn straight, and I love your bird brained dumbass anyways.”

“Love you too, baby bird.”

"Okay, when are you going to stop calling me that? I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Yeah, I know you’re not, but you still are my little sister, Hina.”

“Not so little anymore, but...”

“I know, I know... See you in a minute, birdie.”

“See you in a minute, bird brain...” Came Hinaki’s soft reply before the siblings hung up the phone. A sigh left Hinaki’s lips before she glided down to the front gate of the home she shared with her older brother...

Since childhood, Hinaki knew of the hero world, having been raised within the Hero Public Safety Commission only because Keigo had refused to train if she hadn’t been with him, kept safe and protected from potential threats. Not too long after she turned four, she gained her quirk: Steel Wings, and she still had the scars on her back from the first time she found out why her wings needed to go back to normal before retreating into her back. Wings that she could use to fly as fast as Hawks, if not faster, and feathers she could use as weapons or just use the entirety of her wings as a sturdy shield. The white wings had grown with her as she had gotten older, relying on her big brother to teach her how to control her newfound power of flight and the rules of combat in order to defend herself in his absence... Training that came in handy in more ways than one, as she came to realize. The first time she watched Keigo fight as a pro hero, she knew exactly what she wanted to use her quirk for... Though telling her brother that she wanted to become a hero hadn’t exactly gone smooth as silk at first....

Keigo was waiting in the kitchen with a protein shake waiting for Hinaki when she set foot in the house. “Hi, birdie.” He greeted her as he took in the wide awake eyes that were identical to his own in shape and in color. Both Takami siblings shared the same golden brown, triangle shaped eyes with two little triangles just below their tear ducts. Though, while both siblings had feathery hair, Keigo’s was ash blonde in color, while Hinaki’s was darker, closer to chocolate brown like their mother’s had been. At 22 years old, Keigo was known to the rest of the world as Hawks, though in the current moment, he was just Hinaki’s laid back for the most part, but protective, older brother.

“Hi, Kei.” Hinaki greeted her brother back, stretching her arms a bit before accepting the protein shake and taking a gulp of it. 

“Drink up and replenish those muscles, kiddo. After morning training, you’re hitting to books and studying today. The entrance exams for UA are just a few months away, you know.”

“I know, it’s not like I’ve been training for the past nearly 6 months now for nothing... I know the deal, Kei. Train hard, study hard in order to get into UA. I’ve been working really hard...”

“So you can have the choice I never did in becoming a hero... But not just that. You’ll be learning from pro-heroes that had been students at the school years before you. You might even get to make new friends and be able to interact with new people your age.”

“Oh, goodie...” Hinaki’s voice dripped with sarcasm, making Keigo give her a look. He knew why Hinaki had made that comment, meeting new people was not one of her strong suits, tending to hide away and allow him to do the talking more often than not. Deciding to attend UA alone was a huge step for her, not only in becoming a hero, but also in conquering the anxieties she felt about meeting new people before it hindered her as a pro hero.

“Hey, none of that, you’re gonna be fine, you’ll see.” He firmly reassured his sister. The look she shot him told him she wasn’t exactly convinced of it herself. Before she could walk away from him, he made her turn back around to face her and cupped her face in his hands. “Hinaki Takami, you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known. You’re quiet, sure, but you’ve got a heart of gold. You’re quick on your feet, and even faster in the air, you’re talented, smart... I might be your brother, but trust me when I say you’re going to become one of the best heroes in the world if not the absolute best and I’m not just saying that. You. Got. This. Baby. Sister.” The grin on his face made Hinaki giggle, the sound making Keigo’s grin grow even wider. With the final words of encouragement, the two Takami siblings went their separate ways, the younger counterpart heading to her school: Jakku Jr. High. Due to her silent nature, Hinaki didn’t have many friends, preferring to eat lunch on the rooftop, where she could be alone and think. But, as she ate lunch that day at school, all she could think about were the upcoming exams. What kind of tests would U.A. put her through? She knew there would be a practical exam and a written exam, but she was more worried about the practical part of it. How would they test the students quirks? The only thing she knew she could do to prepare was study for the written and train so she’d be ready for anything when it came to the practical.

Over the next four months, that was exactly what she did... She trained hard the nights she couldn’t sleep and every chance she got after school, she studied hard and aced every test she was given in school. Her hard work didn’t pass by her brother, who came home to a plate of food in the microwave and his sister either studying, training outside in the backyard or fast asleep on the couch. He smiled every time he caught sight of her and ate his food before either training with her, studying with her or carrying her to bed in his arms. A couple months before the entrance exams, after carrying his exhausted sister to bed, Keigo decided to do something he knew Hinaki wouldn’t like... But, hey, it was for her own good. 

The morning of the exams, Keigo had to leave early for work, but left notes of encouragement by Hinaki’s beside, in the bathroom, and next to a plate of warm and nutritious breakfast for her. When Hinaki woke up to her alarm clock going off, she noticed the little note her brother had left on her bedside. She picked it up and read it: Hey chickadee, sorry I couldn’t see you off, but I know you’re gonna do great. I’ll see you after work, kiddo, and I love you.

- Your Big brother, Keigo

Hinaki shook her head with a smile before gathering a backless high collar top, a pair of black shorts and other things she needed before going into the bathroom and kick starting her morning routine. In the bathroom, she found the note Keigo left for her on the mirror.

Take a look at the mirror, chickadee and you’ll see the hero I’ve always seen in you. By the way, there’s a plate waiting on the table for you, don’t skip giving your brain and body power, ‘kay?

Hinaki glanced at her reflection in the mirror, shaking her head as her brother’s written words echoed in her mind as if he had spoken them to her just before he had left. He had always seen a hero in her? How? She shook the doubt out of her mind and continued getting ready. 

As she descended down the stairs just a few minutes later, she pulled her dark, feathery hair back into a ponytail, her hair swaying as she headed toward the food waiting for her on the table. Next to the plate was the third and final note.

Eat up, chickadee, you’ll need to feed that smart brain of yours. I won’t tell you good luck because I know you got this. I believe in you, kiddo, more than anyone or anything... And that’s saying something, because you know how much I look up to Endeavor. 

By the time Hinaki left, she couldn’t remember what she was so nervous about... With a brother like the one I have, who has time for insecurities? Hinaki asked herself as she flew toward U.A. High School. Though it was early in the morning, her bird’s eye view was able to pick up a few people commuting to work and or school, including a green haired boy training on Dagoba Municipal Park Beach below her. She notice him look up for a second and gave a friendly wave to him as his eyes landed on her. 

As she touched down in front of U.A. High, however, the confidence she’d had earlier dissipated. The school was HUGE. She blinked for a second before shaking it off, forcing herself to walk forward and shoving down the doubts that threatened to make her turn on her heel and run away. Her body slightly trembled as she walked through the doors of U.A. for the first time, but she steeled her mind against her fears. If she was going to be a student at U.A., let alone a pro hero, she couldn’t let her fears get to her, no matter how nervous she was... She took a seat in the designated area, looking around. Not many people were there, and a quick glance at the clock on the wall told her that she was actually early. She sat silently for a moment, observing everyone else as more and more people entered the room, talking among themselves. The hushed whispers of the first few slowly turned into a buzzing noise as it grew closer to the time appointed for the entrance exams to start. Hinaki closed her eyes, letting her ears not focus on one single voice or conversation, but allowing herself to block it all out. If her wings had been out, she knew they’d be vibrating like crazy from the noise, thankfully being tucked away for the moment...

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” A voice interrupted Hinaki’s thoughts, causing the winged teen to open her eyes and turn her attention to the source. A girl around her age was standing near her. Her hair was jet black, tied up and out of her face in a high ponytail, her eyes a charcoal grey color. Only shaking her head in reply, Hinaki silently gestured for the girl to sit down next to her. The teen next to her bowed. “Thank you.” She replied before sitting down next to Hinaki before taking out a thermos and a mug, unscrewing the cap as she continued to speak. “Would you like some tea? I noticed you were looking a little nervous earlier, and since tea always calms my nerves, I figured I’d offer.” Straightening up a bit as the girl poured the tea into the mug, Hinaki nodded, murmuring a small,

“Thank you.” As the girl gave her the mug of tea. Keeping her hands warm around it for a moment, Hinaki watched as a part of the girl’s stomach began to glow before another mug appeared, making Hinaki’s eyes widen. Noticing the look on Hinaki’s face, the girl giggled.

“It’s my quirk: Creation. I can use the lipids in my body to create anything non-living... That is, as long as I know the chemical makeup of it. The more I eat, the more I can create.” She explained.

“That’s a pretty cool quirk.” Hinaki commented, making the girl blush in embarrassment. 

“Oh, please, you’re too kind... I’m Momo, by the way. Momo Yayorozu.” She introduced herself. Hinaki smiled softly in response.

“I’m Hinaki. Hinaki Takami... It’s nice to meet you, Yayorozu-chan.” Hinaki replied, an identical smile spreading across Yayorozu’s face.

“Same to you, Takami-chan.” Yayorozu responded cheerfully, the girls talking a bit more while drinking tea. After a bit, all the chatter in the room was interrupted by the intercom going off. 

“YEEEEEAH! HELLO, LISTENERS AND WELCOME TO THE U.A. ENTRANCE EXAMS!” The voice over the intercom boomed. The girls exchanged looks.

“Was that Present Mic?” Hinaki asked.

“I believe so...” Yayorozu trailed off before Present Mic continued.

“ALL RIGHT, YOU COOL CATS ARE HERE BECAUSE WE RECEIVED RECOMMENDATIONS FOR ALL OF YOU! HOWEVER, AS YOU’RE ALL WELL AWARE, ONLY SIX OF YOU WILL BE TAKING UP THE RECOMMENDATION SPOTS, SO I HOPE YOU’RE ALL READY!”  

“6 spots, huh... That sure is a lot of pressure...” Yayorozu murmured, meanwhile Hinaki’s mind was racing to figure out why she would be part of the students who were recommended to the school faculty. But, her thoughts came to a halt on the one person she should’ve guessed the first time around and deadpanned at the thought of her brother sending in a recommendation into U.A. for her. Really, Keigo? She thought, making a mental note to talk to her brother when he got home.

“ALL RIGHT, SO THIS IS HOW IT’S ALL GONNA GO DOWN. ALL OF YOU WILL BE DIVIDED INTO GROUPS, AND EACH GROUP WILL HAVE THE WRITTEN AND PRACTICAL EXAMS AS WELL AS AN INTERVIEW! TO ENSURE THAT NO ONE KNOWS WHAT TO EXPECT, THE PRACTICAL EXAMS WILL BE DIFFERENT FOR EACH GROUP!” Present Mic finished explaining the entrance exams before a different voice came onto the intercom.

“We’ll start with the interview. When your name is called, you will be interviewed by one of the teachers here before the written exam. Good luck.” With that, the intercom shut off.

“Not exactly words of encouragement...” Hinaki mumbled under her breath, her nerves returning.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Takami-chan.” Yayorozu encouraged her new friend, Hinaki giving a small smile back.

“Thanks... With any luck, we’ll both end up getting into U.A. and be in the same class.” Hinaki grinned at her new friend, making the other girl smile back in response. 

“I hope so too.” Yayorozu replied before Hinaki felt a chill in the air and shivered slightly, glancing around the room before noticing him...

The boy looked around 5 foot 9, 5 inches taller than her, with red hair on the left side of his head while right side of his hair was white in color, and Hinaki's sharp eyes caught that his eyes were the same way: His right eye was a grey color while the left eye was a turquoise blue that looked familiar to her for some reason... Over his left eye, however, Hinaki noticed a huge scar and wondered what happened to him to cause a scar like that...

Just as her thoughts started to run, he turned his head, the cold look in his eyes making her feathery hair ruffle before she quickly looked away. "What's wrong?" Yayorozu asked, noticing the look on her face. For a moment, Hinaki considered telling Yayorozu about the boy, but chose to keep her mouth shut, shaking her head.

"It's nothing, don't worry." She gave her friend a reassuring smile before it dropped as soon as Yayorozu looked away. What was with the cold look in the boy's eyes?

"Hinaki Takami." A female voice on the intercom called Hinaki's name. Hinaki swallowed before standing up, feeling Yayorozu gently pat her back to silently wish her luck. Hinaki smiled at Yayorozu in thanks before walking toward the closed door to the office. She paused at the office door to take a deep breath in order to keep herself calm before opening the door. She was greeted by a female hero, one she recognized as Midnight. “You must be Hinaki Takami, correct?” She asked. The younger girl nodded in response.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Hinaki politely responded with a bow, Midnight smiling at her.

“Go ahead and have a seat and we’ll begin.” Midnight told Hinaki, the younger woman taking the seat across from Midnight, her back straight as the interview began. It went on for a good hour or so, and Hinaki found herself more relaxed the longer she talked with Midnight. “All right, Hinaki, I only have one question left for you at this time.” Midnight said as she adjusted the papers on the desk before looking at Hinaki once again. “Every hero has their reason... Some are in it for the fame and fortune, others simply want to do what’s right. I guess what I’m asking is, what’s your reason for wanting to be a hero?” Midnight asked. The question caused Hinaki’s eyes to look away in thought. It was certainly something she didn’t think about too often, the training she went through with her brother was bonus time with him whenever she could get it while learning how to defend herself. After a moment, Hinaki’s amber eyes returned to Midnight, the woman’s eyes showing her eagerness, yet patience, to hear the answer to the last question of the interview. The young girl’s reflected her determination.

“I want to be a hero to protect people. My brother didn’t react well at first when I told him I wanted to be a pro hero, and who can blame him? The line of work itself is dangerous, but I can’t sit still on the sidelines anymore, especially not when I have the power to help... Not with my brother risking his life as a pro. I’d give anything to be a hero and protect people, even my quirk. I’d rather be quirkless in a world safe from villains rather than have a ton of power in a world where innocent lives are constantly put at stake. I’m risking sounding like Hawks here with this next part, but I think the goal should be a world where pro heroes have too much time on their hands.” Hinaki answered, Midnight smiling at the girl’s response. 

“Thank you, Hinaki. That’s all the time we have, but I wish you the best of luck in the written and practical exams.” Midnight told the young girl as both women stood and bowed to each other. 

“Thank you.” Hinaki replied before she stepped out of the office. Hinaki caught glances with Yayorozu on her way to the area for the written test, giving her new friend a smile and a thumbs up before entering the designated area for the written exam. Now that the interview was over, she knew it’d be a piece of cake for her. She’d studied pretty damn hard to ace the written test, and it didn’t hurt that she had grown stronger from the training with Keigo either, but the nagging question of whether or not it’d be enough kept tugging at the back of her mind. That one insecurity kept rearing its ugly head like a parasite no one could get rid of. Sitting in a seat near the back, Hinaki shook it off once more. No... She could do this. Keigo believes in her, and he’s the 3rd ranked pro hero in Japan, as he had been for the past 4 years. She just had to have confidence in herself, no matter how difficult it was for her...

Before Hinaki knew it, the written exam was complete, and she was lined up with her group at a pair of giant gates, dressed in her workout clothes. She looked around at the fellow examinees around her before her eyes landed on a familiar head of jet black hair. Hinaki smiled and once Yayorozu’s eyes caught sight of her, Hinaki waved in greeting, gaining a smile and a wave back. “Takami-chan, how do you think you did with the interview and written exam?” 

“I feel like I did good with both, hopefully it was enough to get in.” Hinaki replied, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “What about you? How do you think you did?”

“Honestly, I feel like I did well, but that just leaves one test remaining...” 

“Right, the practical.” The girls faced the gates. “What do you think the practical exam's gonna be?” Hinaki asked.

“I’m not sure... It could be anything, from endurance to strength tests... Honestly, that just means we have to be ready for anything." Yayorozu told her, the other teen nodding in agreement.

"Right." Hinaki replied. Before either girl could say anything more, the intercom turned on.

"Right, then... Group Gamma, your practical exam is simple: Defeat as many faux villains as you can. There'll be certain targets that are worth a certain amount of points, but the biggest targets are worth zero. Try to avoid the biggest targets as much as you can. You'll have 10 minutes to gain as many points as you can. Good luck." The girls exchanged glances.

"Faux villains?" Yayorozu asked.

"Sounds like they'll be robots.... Least, that's my guess. I doubt they'll put us against the faculty when we're not even students yet." Hinaki responded, speaking what was on her mind.

“That’s true.” Yayorozu stated before the gates slowly began to open. The girls stood at the ready.

“Here we go.” Hinaki told her friend. Just as she finished her sentence, an air horn sounded off, sounding the start of the practical test. Hinaki’s feet automatically moved, running through the gates with the others. Once she was clear from the others, her wings sprouted from her back, allowing her to take off into the air as she pulled two feather blades the size of swords from its sheath on her back, flying straight for the robots in her path. She sliced through them both with ease, taking a sharp turn to encounter more. She sliced through them, at the same time, keeping a watchful eye on the other examinees as she took down faux villains. She sliced through robot after robot, all the while, a few of her feathers left her wings to help the fellow examinees in harm’s way. Yayorozu paused for a moment as she watched the way Hinaki fought... Something about the airborne female’s movements reminded her of Hawks... But why?

Just as the thought entered her mind, a few white feathers flew past her to dig into the faux villain that had snuck up on her, allowing her to follow up with an attack that destroyed the faux villain all together while Hinaki flew by several feet above her, the feathers she had sent out returning to her wings. “Might wanna pay attention to the fight, Ponytail.” Hinaki teased from above her head. Yayorozu rolled her eyes at the smirk on her face. 

“Thanks for the assist.” Yayorozu thanked her, ignoring the joking comment and gaining a salute in reply. One by one, the number of smaller faux villains shrank more and more in size. As Hinaki sliced down yet another, she heard a scream. Turning her head, she saw one of the students frozen in fright as one or the bigger faux villains headed toward them. Judging by the looks of those scratches on the robot, they had tried taking down the faux villain only to realize that their quirk didn't have enough power. She looked toward the other smaller faux villains before ultimately reaching her decision and diving for the student. While she sent a few feathers to get the student to safety, she somersaulted in mid air, pulling her wings into her back for a brief moment to let herself fall, slicing the robot in half as she fell before landing nimbly on her feet, her feather blade held out to one side as her wings reemerged from her back, straightening out behind her. Her wings flapped a little as she stood up straight, her snow white feathers returning to her as she turned to the student she had helped. "You okay?" She asked the student, holding out her hand. She noticed it was a female around her age, with crimson eyes, pale skin and ebony black hair that hung in her face slightly. The girl glared at her before smacking her hand away and standing up on her own.

"I'm perfectly fine, you shouldn't have helped me." She snarled in response. Hinaki blinked in surprise before her eyebrow went up and she placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh, so I was supposed to let you get crushed by that thing? What kind of hero would that make me?" She asked.

"You're not a hero, you're nothing but a wannabe trying to copy her big brother." The girl snapped in retaliation.

"Oh, really? Then why are you here? You talk about how I'm a wannabe hero, but you're here for the same exact reason, aren't you? I know you want to be a hero too. If the opposite was true, you wouldn't be here right now." Hinaki pointed out, the girl pausing before growling.

"Just stay out my way, bird brain." She snapped before hesitating a minute. Just as Hinaki opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, the girl manipulated some water from the pouch that was slung across her shoulders. The water covered the girl's hand and made it glow aqua blue as she touched a deep cut on Hinaki's right wing, a cut that the winged teenager herself had failed to notice. The wound itself glowed aqua blue itself before disappearing entirely as the girl lifted her hand. "There, bird brain. Now, we're even." The girl told her, not meeting her eyes before runnning off, not giving Hinaki a chance to thank her. Hinaki blinked as she watched the girl go. What the hell was that about? She asked herself before shaking it off and continuing to fight.

Before she knew it, the airhorn blared once again, marking the end of the practical exam. Hinaki once again sheathed her feather blades and relaxed so her wings once again retreated into her back. She spotted an old woman hobbling toward her. She noticed that the old woman looked like a nurse and smiled, recognizing her as the healing hero, Recovery Girl.

"Are you all right, dearie?" She asked the younger woman. Hinaki checked herself over and nodded.

"I have a couple scratches, but it's nothing I can't take care of myself. You'll need your strength for those who truly need it." Hinaki told her with a smile. Recovery Girl smiled back before nodding and walking away toward the next examinee. Hinaki's amber eyes searched the area for her new friend, the smile dropping and her brow creasing when she didn't spot her. She was about to release her wings out of her back to look for her when she heard a shout behind her.

"Hey, Takami-chan!" Hinaki turned at her name, relief flooding her face as she spotted Yayorozu behind her.

"Yayorozu, glad to see you're okay." Hinaki replied.

"Same to you. I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out together sometime. Even if one of us doesn't make it in, I still want to keep in touch and be friends... If you're willing to, that is." Yayorozu replied. Hinaki smiled.

"I'd like that." Hinaki replied, making Yayorozu excitedly squeal before creating a pen, taking Hinaki's hand and writing down her phone number. "This is my cell phone number. Call me when you get home, okay?" She asked. Hinaki nodded before taking the pen and writing her number down on Yayorozu's hand.

"Here's mine, just so you'll know it's me." Hinaki replied with a smile, causing her new friend to smile back before the girls left the arena together.

A few hours later, Hinaki was studying at home for the finals to wrap up her 3rd year at her junior high. She was listening to music with one earbud in while twirling her pencil in her hand, her golden eyes scanning the pages of her textbook. But, for some reason, she couldn't focus... Why had the boy in the hall looked so familiar to her? She sighed and shook her head, rubbing her eyes a bit and glancing at the time on her phone. 9:30... Kei should have been home by now... Hinaki thought to herself. She had made dinner a couple hours before, and had already eaten. Keigo's plate had been left in the microwave for him like always, and yet here she was, studying on the couch just to wait up for him. She shook her head once more to keep herself awake. However, her eyes kept sliding shut despite her best efforts to stay alert long enough to continue studying. She felt tired, but she couldn't sleep now. She had a test to prepare for....

She jolted awake a while later to a pair of arms slipping under her and lifting her from the couch. She automatically lifted her fists before the soft hushing from her brother caused her to relax against his chest, fatigue taking over the young woman. "You gotta stop staying up so late, chickadee. I know you were studying, but you're gonna end up brain fried if you don't give your all-star brain time to rest too, you know." The 22-year-old's voice rumbled in his chest as he told her, his comment earning a small grunt in response as the pro hero carried her with ease up the stairs and into her room, setting her down on her bed and tucking her in. By the time Keigo had kissed her forehead and left the room, Hinaki had already gone back to sleep.

The following week was nothing short of torturous waiting for Hinaki. Between studying for the upcoming final exams plus training, she had very little free time to worry about the results... "Hey, you know, rumors have been flying around that All Might's gonna be teaching at UA this year." Keigo told her one night during dinner.

"Oh, yeah? That'll be interesting. Wonder what subject he'll end up teaching." Hinaki replied, her head tipped to one side in thought. Though her voice and face didn't show any of her excitement, her mind was bubbling with the possibility of the Number 1 Hero teaching her.

"Probably the Heroes 101 if I had to guess... He is number one, after all. If you're gonna learn how to be a hero, you might as well learn from the best, right?" Keigo asked before smiling a bit. "By the way, I can tell you're excited just by that news, you can hide it from anybody else, but forget it when it comes to me. I can read you like an open book."

"Kei, I'm not exactly holding my breath here, it's just rumors for now... But, the thought of being taught by All Might is really cool." Hinaki answered her brother with a sheepish smile before blinking, her smile dropping. "Don't get me wrong, training with you is just as awesome too..."

"Chickadee, calm down, it's okay. Besides, I know we haven't had much time to train together especially in recent years... I taught you as much as I could from a big brother stand point. Now, it's up to the teachers for the boring but essential part of it." Keigo told her.

"That is, if I get in." Hinaki replied, glancing off to the side.

"Hey, what did I say about that? Stop it. You're gonna get into UA, and you're gonna be freaking awesome because you're Hinaki Takami, damn it. You're a badass through and through, on the ground and in the air. You're gonna be an amazing pro hero because you've got the heart and the drive that every great pro hero has. If I'm wrong, I'll never eat chicken again." Hinaki stared at her brother. Those were words that she thought he'd never utter in his life. "What?"

"You're that serious?" Hinaki asked.

"Hell yeah, I'm that serious. Kiddo, I've been watching you since you were little. You've always worked hard to become a pro since you first got your quirk and I'm proud as fuck with how far you've come. You've got just a bit further to go, but I can already tell that you're gonna help so many people, birdie." Keigo told her. Hinaki smiled.

"If I am, it's only because I had the best big brother anyone can ever ask for growing up." Hinaki responded to her brother's praise. Keigo grinned at her counter praise and winked, shifting so he was close enough to wrap his arm around her.

"And as your big brother, I'll always be here to continue helping you. Always." He promised, giving her a side squeeze that made her giggle. He grinned in response before letting her go and the two continued to eat together.

"By the way..." As soon as Hinaki spoke again, she watched as Keigo stiffen slightly. "I was told a certain little bird sent in a reccomendation letter for me. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Hinaki asked before her brother laughed nervously. "Keigo..."

"Okay, so I did, but come on. You deserve it. The kids that train under the wing of the Hero Safety Commission? They don't do half the shit you do when it comes to training, let alone have to go to school at the same time like you do. Besides, if I can give you a hand in becoming a pro, I wanna do as much as I can." Keigo pointed out.

"Yeah, but the whole point of me training was so that you wouldn't have to." Hinaki told him.

"I mean, it's already been done, what'd you want me to do?" Keigo asked with a shrug and a slight smirk. Hinaki rolled her eyes. "Hey." Hinaki looked at her brother. "I love you, birdie. I was only trying to help, you know."

"I know, and I love you too." Hinaki replied as the two finished their food, bringing their dishes to the sink.

Just a few days after the conversation, Hinaki sat motionless on the couch, staring at the envelope addressed to her. The seal on the back indicated that it was from UA, more than likely with her test results. Should she wait for Keigo to open it? Or just tell him what the letter held for her? She blinked a couple times before shaking her head. Better late than never... She ultimately decided before she broke the seal on the back, her hands trembling from the anticipation. But, instead of a letter, was a little metal disc. She raised an eyebrow, turning it over and over in her hands. What the? But, just as she set it down on the coffee table in front of her, it lit up, coming to life. A loud, boisterous laughter filled the room before a muscular figure came in view. His eyes had been sucken in over the years, but his bunny ear like blond hair and bright grin were more than a little recognizable. "Hello, young Takami! I am here to give you your test results!" Hinaki blinked in surprise.

"All Might? So, the rumors about you coming to teach at UA were true, then." Hinaki answered.

"That's right, young Takami! However, I'll be only one of the teachers at UA High this year! Now, before I get too ahead of myself, onto your results! You passed the written exam at the top of the recommended students, and the practical allowed you to shine brightly, only coming in second to one recommended student. But, young Takami, you didn't just gain Villain points in the practical. You see, there was a secret point value we were looking for... After all, what's the point in being a hero if you can't rescue those in danger? You didn't hesitate to help one of the fellow examinees in trouble, earning you 50 rescue points. But, there's one more thing I want to show you before we move ahead." All Might stepped off to the side as a small video popped up, showing a video of Midnight.

"For someone so young, I have to admit, it surprised me a little that Hinaki has a level head on her shoulders. She shares the same idea as Hawks in that we should aim for a society where heroes have too much time on their hands, yet in contrast to Hawks appearing relaxed no matter the situation, Hinaki looks more than ready for even the worst case scenario, which is something we need in more heroes if I'm completely honest... I can't wait to see the hero she's going to become."

"That's right, young Takami. Though Hawks was the one who recommended you, he's not the only pro excited to see how you'll continue to grow as a fledgling hero. With that in mind, young Takami, it's my pleasure to officially welcome you to the Hero Academia. You've made it in, welcome to U.A." All Might congratulated her. Hinaki smiled brightly back.

"I can't wait to learn from you, All Might." Hinaki replied before All Might signed off and the Holographic disc went quiet once more. Hinaki trembled with excitement before a holler of joy left her, her wings flapping hard and fast in excitement to lift her up into the air slightly before she touched back down. A laugh left her as she ran her fingers through her feathery dark hair, her golden amber eyes lit up in joy.

Wait till I tell Keigo....

Taglist: @bisexualmattholtstan @lirinstaalem

(Message me if you wanna be added to the taglist! Hope you enjoy the first chapter of MHA: Ascension! ^.^ )

[detroitbydark]

Part 8

Characters: Commander Fox/Reader

Summary: things are getting interesting

Warnings: mentions of past smut but nothing really steamy.

A/N: this needs to be done as I’m tired of staring at it. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think.

Padme Amidala was a dream to work with; polite, considerate, appreciative. Truly one of the few people in the Galactic Senate that Fox truly enjoyed. Her ability to rally those around her to her cause and spark loyalty in her followers was something he couldn’t help but admire and though her strong willed personality had put them at odds at times (when keeping her safe out weighed her desire to throw herself headlong into danger) he would always consider himself a fan.

Which made it all the more irritating that he was on detail for Raxallian Thrug, the sniveling chakaar from Cantonica. Every vile cliche Fox had ever heard about politicians was on display in Thrug. Deceitful, underhanded, slimy- the list went on and on.

Fox stands at attention behind his current charge as he leans to the aide at his side and whispers what amounted to filth into his ear as Senator Amidala gave an impassioned plea for aide to the outer rim, heavily under siege from seppie forces.

Did Thrug not realize Fox could hear every disgusting comment he made about Amidala or did he simply not care what a clone may or may not hear. Clenching his hands into fists, Fox wasn’t sure what option bothered him more.

Trying to block the senator out he looks past him, scanning the crowd for any anomalies, anything that stood out or could indicate an issue.

Rule’s voice crackles through his helmet comms. “She’s really worked up over this”.

Aside from the HUD and the various other bells and whistles the buckets were equipped with, the ability for private comms was one of the biggest perks in Fox’s eyes. No one ever needed to know they were talking.

“Seems to be, yeah” he hums in agreement.

“She said to say ‘hi’ earlier. You think she’s got a crush too?” Rule teases.

Fox rolls his eyes behind his visor. He doesn’t justify that with a response. Padmé Amidala was not interested in the likes of him, she merely cared about those around her. Even if she did, his interest lay elsewhere.

Interest wasn’t the right word though was it? Not after what he’d done. Not after what he’d said. He’d said those words, those words, to not one other soul in his life. He honestly had never even thought about the phrase before he was quieting her with it. They had just been one of the many things he- and many other troopers- absorbed over time about their progenitor’s culture. Mando’a spread like wildfire when spoken in barracks and war zones across the galaxy. They were just men without history, without a background or roots, looking for meaning and belonging outside of someone else’s war.

He’d been supremely thankful (and also a little miffed) when she hadn’t questioned him any further on his amorous declaration. Hadn’t she even been curious? Obviously she didn’t feel the same. How could she?

He’d taken her in a way he’d only dreamt about, done something he had relegated to his most private fantasies. But she’d encouraged it. She’d asked for more. For more explanation, for more of everything. Even now the memory of spilling inside her, of the way she’d sobbed out her release and quaked in his arms sent a thrill through Fox. He was a man nursing a borderline obsession and it was going to end badly for the both of them if he wasn’t careful.

“Commander?” Rules voice breaks hesitantly into his thoughts.

“I hear you, Rule. Whatcha got?”

“I’m not sure sir. I just got a flash of something in quadrant three, northwest corner. HUD picked up a wonky looking heat signature.”

Fox’s eyes scan to the coordinates that pop up on his display, a balcony two levels above where he stood guard behind Thrug. It should have been unoccupied. That was the game plan, no guests above Guard eyesight.

“Ryk?” Fox’s voice is brisk as his mind starts working through the possibilities, adrenaline slowly seeping into his system. “Come stand with the good senator while I look into this.”

“Yes Commander?”

Fox has approximately three minutes to think of all the horrible possibilities. Snipers, Bombs, Seppie Sympathizers. Each one offers a new and more complicated amount of paperwork. And more headaches.

Always the headaches. They were getting worse each week. More frequent. More intense. More of a pain in his ass.

Mouse had noticed. Mouse always noticed. This morning she’d crawled over him, still only in his shirt, and gone digging through the ‘fresher cabinet til she’d found a bottle of pain pills. She’d come back with the bottle, water, and a cool cloth for his head. He would have fallen to his knees and worshipped her if his head hadn’t caused such a revolt. She’d laid with him, legs straddling his hips and body sprawled over his, before the sun came up and done her weird little miracle massage along his forehead even though he knew she was exhausted. It had helped but hadn’t cured him. Even now the dull ache followed him.

Ryk slips into Thrugs box and if the politician registers one clone has traded places with the other, Fox will be surprised.

He takes the steps up to the supposedly empty balcony dragging his deece from the holster as he gets to the door, eyes drop to the weapon to check settings. The door is slightly ajar and he can see a quick flash of movement through the crack.

He counts silently to three before his boot connects with the door control, slamming it open. It’s a tense moment as he finds himself face to face with the singing blue plasma blade of a lightsaber and a pair of blasters, identical to his, pointed dead center mass at his being.

“Commander Fox” Anakin Skywalker’s voice is cool as it greets him. The curse that escapes from Captain Rex at his side is less than formal.

“Fierfek, Fox…” he grumbles lowly, something Fox vaguely hears as something about shooting his shebs off.

General Skywalker retracts his blade and both clones lower their blasters, pausing for a tense moment before holstering the weapons.

“General. Captain. This area is off limits. If I may ask, why are you up here?” He aims for stern military Commander but he can’t help the cringe under his bucket as Skywalker raises a brow in his direction. “With all do respect General” he adds as on afterthought.

Rex must sense the brewing tension between the pair as he steps into speak for his general. “We were just trying to get a good spot to listen to Senator Amidala speak. We’re both fans.” A look passes between the pair that Fox can’t decipher. Skywalker rolls his eyes at his captain before turning back to Fox.

There was no love lost between the general and the Commander. Too much had happened that set their paths intersecting- and not for the better- for them to meet with anything but anxiety (from Fox) and thinly veiled contempt (from the Jedi).

The Jedi waves his hand dismissively turning his back to the clones. It raises the small hairs on the back of Fox’s neck. He should be used to this by now, the brush off, the outright disdain that he and his men had been forced to become accustomed too. In the name of obedience and loyalty he has to handle the general’s brush off with an acceptance that he doesn’t feel.

He turns stiffly as the roar of the crowd rises up to them. A quick glance over his shoulder shows Skywalker staring down at the young Senator with a look in his eyes that felt, at once, both foreign and all too familiar to Fox.

“Fox?” Rex’s voice rises over the sounds below. “I was wondering if I could talk to you? I was going to just stop at your office but since your here now-“

Fox’s bucket cocks to the side. anything Rex has to say to him wouldn’t be in front of the Jedi. “my office is fine. I’ll be there all afternoon”

Rex looks as if he’s about to argue but he stops and gives him a nod of affirmation. There was history between them and if something had to come of it then it would be on Fox’s terms. In private.

“Commander? You ok?” Ryk’s voice crackles through his helmet comms.

“Yeah, Ryk, nothing worth seeing here.”

———-

Your body throbs dully, the pleasant soreness from last night sending a shiver down your spine each time you think back on it. Everytime you think of Fox your body reacts, a warm flush of color to your cheeks or a full feeling in your chest that can only be one thing. Kriff. You were in deep and you couldn’t help the smile that played on your lips when you thought about him.

You move through the cafeteria line, slowly gathering a few things for a light lunch. You weren’t particularly hungry but you grab a sandwich and a bag of protato chips along with a small cup of fruit. And the largest mug of caf available because you were exhausted. Fox had not let you be done after your initial romp. Your cheeks flame hot as you remember waking in the middle of the night to his tongue lapping are your cunt and the soft groans he made between praising you for taking him so well and telling you how much he wanted to have you again and again.

You wonder if anyone can tell the filthy thoughts you're having, how you were remembering Fox cleaning up his release that had leaked from your overly full core.

You needed a cold shower. Or your Commander.

“Mouse!” Sargent Wren elbows through a trio of troopers to get to you. He smiles brightly as he places his own food on your tray and takes it from you. “I’ll carry that.”

You give it up, knowing that there was no use in arguing. Wren falls in at your side as he grabs a pair of ration bars and adds it to the tray.

“For later” he explains. You’d never in your life seen people that could put away so much food. Hound had once explained it was due to a higher than normal metabolism and, while they’d been engineered to run on the dense ration bars alone, if given the option, each clone could put away seemingly half his weight in food at each meal. Nearly every one you’d met had a viscous sweet tooth on top of it. You’d learned the hard way after the candy stash you’d kept in your desk drawer had been discovered and raided but a group of “unknown perpetrators“.

Ryk and Rule had promised to look into it, Rule with bits of chocolate still clinging to his lip.

“All by yourself today?” Wren asks conversationally as the pair of you find an unoccupied table. You know what he’s asking. You’ll have to inform Fox that the pair of you were the worst kept secret in the Guard.

“Senator Amidala had a speech today. He’s pulling protection detail.”

“With Amidala?” Wren has shoved a large bite of sandwich in his mouth and struggles to swallow as he asks the question. You push a canteen of water to him.

“No. Thrug I believe.” The Sargent makes a sound of understanding as he gulps down a drink. He coughs once as the food goes down.

“That sounds about right. Since The incident with Skywalker’s Padawan he hasn’t been pulling detail with the senator. Word is General Skywalker is a bit protective over her. Unfortunately the Commander is a two time loser in the generals eyes.”

The fruit in your cup is a bit too ripe, but you eat it regardless, chewing thoughtfully. Wren is right. You hadn’t noticed the change but now that it was pointed out you wonder how you’d missed it. Maybe Fox wasn’t the only one carrying on an unheard of affair, not that you could blame the Jedi. You’d only met once (and for a second at that) but you’d found Padmé Amidala to be courteous and warm, much more like senators Chuchi and Organa than the loud blustering career politicians from other worlds.

You keep your mouth shut. If you'd learned one thing it was best to stay out of matters involving Jedi. Public opinion on the war and the order itself had been wavering as of late. Your concern was with Fox and the men of the Coruscant Guard and while what happened with the Senate and the war would affect them on a grand scale you’d come to terms with the fact that you couldn’t control that. You could, however, control things in their daily lives. Make things easier in little ways. It was a small consolation but it was what you could offer.

It was more than some, who claimed to be for clone rights, did. A glance around the cafeteria shows the self segregation, clones and civilian contractors at separate tables not mixing or interacting. A group of troopers to your right argues good naturedly in Mando’a. Wren smothers a smile as he listens in.

“What’s so funny?”

Wren looks up at you, confusion then clarity lights his face, “just a joke” he gestures toward the other clones. “It’s stupid” he dismisses.

You huff a breath. Maybe you wanted to hear a stupid joke. Not for the first time you wished you knew the language the troopers bantered in.

“Really Mouse it’s not even that funny. Like, ‘your mother’ jokes? We don’t even have mothers.” Wren rapidly tries to explain and hold up your hand for him to stop.

“It’s fine. I get it. You’d think I’d have picked up some Mando’a by this point anyway.”

Wren shrugs as if agreeing with you. “I could teach you a few words if you want?” He offers. He waits while you think. “Come on” he presses.

You shrug, “ok, cyar’ika” you throw back at him.

His flashes a toothy grin, “easy- and I can guess where you’ve been hearing that one- beloved, darling. It’s a term of endearment but I’m sure you’ve learned that by now.”

You fight back a blush, hiding behind a big gulp of caf. “Something like that.”

He goes on unprompted with simple words for child, mother/father, outsiders, Jedi. You try to burn each into your memory.

“Al’verde Fox” he offers and you shrug.

“Leader Fox?”

“Close! Very close Mous’ika” Wren is an enthusiastic teacher. He makes an encouraging gesture with his hands, “try again”.

You think carefully before your next attempt, “Commander Fox?”

Wren slaps his hand against the table with a laugh. You jump slightly at the loud noise. “Yes! Good job! Now” he offers, “you tell me something and I’ll translate it”

The words don’t even pause at your lips before they slip out. Your accent is atrocious and you're not sure if it comes out correct. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum”.

The phrase catches Wren mid-drink and he seems to choke before he’s able to swallow down the liquid on his mouth. “Wow.”

“Wow?”

“Yes, wow” he sobers “wanna tell me where you heard that doozy? Or should I guess?”

“Well are you going to tell me what it means or what?”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum” he repeats, the words flowing off his tongue easily and without the stilted tone you’d used “I know you forever” he says softly.

It’s a pretty phrase and you say as much.

“Pretty is an understatement. It’s the Mando equivalent to a declaration of love.”

———

Fox paces his office floor as he flips through screen after screen of requisitions. This was the part of his job he hated most. The supply clerk was in charge of getting all orders together, but as Commander, he had to give final authorization for every order going through. It was mind numbing, monotonous.

A soft knock comes mid step and he gives a sharp bark to enter. Between dealing with Thrug, his unexpected run in with Skywalker and the Captain of the 501st, and the new stress inducing realization of the depth of his emotions for his little Mouse,Fox feels off-kilter. He doesn’t like it.

Mouse enters bearing a ration bar, a mug, and a smile that makes him forget his raw nerves.

“Caf?” He asks enthusiastically. She shakes her head and gives him a skeptical smile.

“Tea. A little less stimulating this late in the afternoon.” She sets both on his desk before leaning against the duraplast and taking him in.

“What?”

Something soft tugs at the corner of her mouth. She shrugs, “just wondering why you're trying to wear a tread through the floor. That’s all.”

The eye roll he gives is big and dramatic and she chuckles quietly. He moves to the desk, tossing the datapad down. It doesn’t take much to work her bottom back onto the surface and step between her legs. She looks hesitant, staring up at him, her lip between her teeth in that telling way of hers.

“Something wrong, Cyar’ika?” Gently, his gloved hand cups her cheek and she tips softly into it. He places a soft kiss on the crown of her head before her eyes flutter shut. She’s so kriffing soft. He scarcely believes he’s allowed to handle anything so delicate and fragile. Fox’s fingers slip to her chin and angle her mouth up to him.

“Was your day really that bad?” She probes. Fox can feel her feet hooking behind his knees and pulling in til he was flush with her body.

“S’much better now” he’s being purposefully evasive. Mouse didn’t need to worry about the things that had been weighing heavily on him, nor did he want her to realize that she was one of them. He slides his mouth over hers, sharing his breath and taking in hers in return in a soft reverent meditation masquerading as a kiss. Being wrapped up in his precious girl does seem to make everything better, the tension pressing in on his chest eases. The soft sigh that slips past her lips as his teeth nip at her is the best thing he’s heard all day.

One hand splays across his chest while the other grips behind his neck. She mewls sweetly as his tongue tastes her. Sweet girl tastes like caf-

“Commander Fox-“ Fox has missed the tell-tale slide of the door and curses mentally.

Mouse makes a distressed noise as the deep voice cuts through the room. She pushes ineffectively against Fox’s chest as he squeezes his eyes shut. Fox doesn’t move as Mouse scoots back enough to slip her legs from around him and rise to her feet. She looks up wide-eyed and accusing, as if he’d orchestrated the whole thing. Her cheeks are a vivid shade of pink. Her look is one of absolute embarrassment.

He wants to lean in and kiss her swollen lips again, tell her there’s nothing to fear or worry about because he had her. Of course, he can’t do that but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to. He watches as she smooths her skirt and mutters something about getting back to work.

Fox can feel eyes burning into his back. He knew the voice as well as he knew his own. Some believed that clones were interchangeable but any person who’d spent any amount of time should be able to tell him or Rex from their other vode. Little things like accents they’d picked, how they worded their thoughts. How they carried themselves.

“Captain Rex. It’s customary to knock before entering.” Fox spins to see his visitor turning away from his furiously blushing secretary as she scurries past him and out the door.

“My deepest apologies” What Rex says and his tone don’t exactly match up. Fox has a feeling he’s given the Captain free entertainment and a serious bit of gossip to bring back to the front. “I was unaware you were preoccupied with- such an important engagement.”

Fox smiles, a thing full of teeth and thinly veiled menace. “I can understand how you wouldn’t understand such things, ner vod.”

Rex’s helmet shakes and Fox can hear the quick huff of dark laughter that filters through his vocoder before he’s reaching up to remove his helmet. “I'm really sorry about that. You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I was” Fox agrees, moving to sit at his desk and motioning for Rex to sit across from him. He hesitates a moment and Fox wonders if he’s ever been offered a seat in any meeting. Is he relegated to standing over the shoulder of Skywalker like a well healed akk dog? He doesn’t ask. “What can I do for you today?”

Rex sits straight, his face a composed mask. This wasn’t a social call though that was no different from any interactions they’d had before.

“I need to apologize for the incident with my shinies.” The stiff pseudo apology catches Fox off guard. He sits quietly for a moment. The two clones staring at one another.

“Ok.”

“Ok? That’s it?” Rex’s voice is wary.

“Am I supposed to throw a fit? Yell and scream that I want their buckets on a platter? What would you have me say Captain?” Fox pinches the bridge of his nose, “look I get it. Trust me. Since-“ he angles away from the other clone. “I get I’m not ever going to win a popularity contest and yeah, it was not kriffing fun. Actually, it was about the least amount of fun I’ve had in a while but what am I supposed to demand? Demotion? Reconditioning?”

Rex flinches at the last word.

“Exactly” Fox feels as if he’s made his point. “So if that’s all you wanted…” he lets the words hang in the air between them. Rex closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“That’s not it.”

Fox can feel what’s coming next, always knew it would come.

“I need to know about that day. I need to know why you killed Fives.”

The Captain’s stare is unyielding and Fox feels like he’s under a microscope, rigid and without escape while the clone across from him dissects each move and every word he’s about to say. He’s never backed down for a fight in his life but right now, right here? He wants to do nothing more than get away.

“He had a gun.” Fox draws a steadying breath but his voice comes out shaky and he's disgusted at his own weakness washes over him. “I told him to stand down. I told him to get on his knees. Even after he grabbed the kriffing thing I told him not to do it. I-“

“Why didn’t you just stun him” Rex’s voice rises above his, anger bleeding into every word as he leans forward, planting his hands on the desk as he rises to his feet.

The invasion of space throws Fox off. He rolls his shoulders briefly trying to ease the tension that was growing there. The spot behind his eyes throbs. “The settings were wrong. I- I don’t know how but the kriffing setting was wrong.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that”

Something in the arch of the captain’s brow, the accusatory nature of what he was in insinuating sparks white hot rage in Fox’s chest. The photos on the wall rattle as he rises to his feet, his fist meeting the wall behind him.

“What are you saying?!”he asks turning on the blonde clone. “Are you inferring that I had it out for him? A vod I’d never met? That I went looking to kill a brother?”

Rex flinches back. Fox’s knuckles throb. He focuses on the growing ache, uses it to stay grounded. His voice is low, a pained snarl.

“His death will never leave me. I pulled the trigger that ended his life. Do you know- can you understand what that feels like?”

“He said this was bigger than us” Rex pushes on, seemingly paying no mind to what Fox had said.

“And that means I was in on a conspiracy?”

“Damn it, Fox” Rex growls, “you said you don’t know how your blaster ended up throwing bolts!”

Something about that catches Fox right in the gut, steals air from his lungs. As quickly as his rage had swollen it subsides and he’s left to sink back down to his desk, forehead cradled in his head.

“Bigger than us” he repeats Rex’s words- Fives words- quietly.

“He mentioned a conspiracy to Kix” the blonde clone doesn’t sit but he’s posture loosens.

“Conspiracy?”

“Something that went all the way to the top. Said the clones and the Jedi were in great danger.”

“Tell me more.”

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

avatar state

day three of zutaraang week 2020 by @zutaraangtastic! today i tried my hand at some angst (aangst, if you will). i hope you enjoy :)

avatar state: who dares to love forever (oh, when love must die?)

Waiting was the hardest part.

“He was supposed to be back five days ago!” Katara snapped, shoving past the Fire Nation guards to enter Zuko’s personal study. “Five days! And we haven’t heard anything from him!”

Aang had been called to the Earth Kingdom last week to help put down an uprising of hot-blooded Ozai supporters in one of the former Fire Nation colonies - of all places - and had been expected back before the weekend passed. It was a higher risk mission than usual, as some of the firebenders had supposedly convinced earthbenders to join their cause - as to how they’d done that, Katara didn’t have a damn clue - but Aang had promised he could handle it without her and Zuko’s help. Now it was five days beyond his promised return, and neither he nor anyone else had sent word about what had caused his delay. Lagging two or three days behind schedule wasn’t necessarily unusual for Aang, what with him being the Avatar, but not having heard from him? And not having heard anything about him? And then taking into consideration how dangerous the mission had been labelled to be? Katara felt her anxiety was completely justified. And therefore so were her lack of appetite and the sleepless nights she’d been having.

Zuko sighed, scrawling his signature at the bottom of one of the many papers on his desk before placing his pen down and looking up at her. “I know. I dispatched people to the Earth Kingdom two days after his intended return date, and I’m expecting them to send news by messenger hawk that will arrive either tonight or tomorrow morning.”

Katara had to resist the urge to tear her hair out, as that particular display of frustration would get her nowhere. Still, the pent-up stress and fear and guilt for not accompanying Aang when she could have - it demanded release. She slammed her palms down on Zuko’s desk. “There has to be more you can do. You’re the Fire Lord. Something! Anything more than just sitting here, for spirits’ sake!”

Zuko dismissed the aide who Katara assumed had been helping him sort through and review his paperwork, waiting for the door to shut behind them before he addressed her again. “I know it’s frustrating,” he began, his tone even, “but all we can do right now is wait for news to arrive.”

If Katara hadn’t been a waterbender, she would have described her blood as being on fire. She supposed ‘boiling’ would have to do. “‘Wait’?” she repeated, her voice far icier than the hot rage burning inside of her. “How can you possibly expect me to wait any longer?!” She’d waited five days already, and she couldn’t stand the endless delays for even one more second. Her hand dropped to the flask ever-present on her hip. “No. You can’t make me stay here. I’m going after him.” Maybe it was futile, but she didn’t care, at least looking for him was an action, at least she’d be doing something instead of sitting helpless -

“Katara, you are not leaving this palace,” Zuko ordered, staring her down.

She met his gaze with a cold, steely one of her own. “You have no power over me, Fire Lord Zuko,” she sneered, an ugly, irrational hatred curling through her veins. “In fact, as your esteemed guest, you should be helping me in any way possible rather than refusing to provide me assistance.”

“And what, exactly, do you plan to do to help him, Katara?” Zuko said, standing and crossing his arms over his chest. She could tell he was trying not to lose his temper - Aang had once pointed out to her how Zuko tended to clench his jaw when he was frustrated, and she’d noticed it ever since. “We don’t know where he is inside the colony, or if he’s even in that area of the Earth Kingdom anymore!”

“And? I’ll figure it out,” she snapped, grip tightening on her flask of water. “You’re the Fire Lord, aren’t you? Use that power and status of yours to - to get me an ostrich horse or something! Anything that covers ground fast.”

“No. I won’t,” Zuko said, his shoulders stiffening. “We are not taking any action until the messenger hawk arrives. Only once we have a clear read on the situation will anyone, us included, be allowed to -”

The anger simmering in the pit of Katara’s stomach finally boiled over. “Oh, shut up about ‘we’! Just shut up!” she shouted, her hands clenching into fists at her sides before she relaxed one enough to point at him accusingly, her eyes narrowing in a deadly glare. “There is no ‘we’, Fire Lord Zuko, because apparently I am the only one here who actually cares about Aang since all you want to do is sit here and pretend everything is fine! There is no ‘we’, because you’re incapable of making a decisive choice to try and help him before it’s too late!” She blinked back tears, furiously wiping at her eyes before her fists clenched again. “Dammit, Zuko, Tui and La know that there isn’t a ‘we’, because it’s clear from your - your apathy that you don’t love Aang as much as I do!”

Katara regretted the harsh words as soon as they left her lips, inhaling sharply and biting her tongue less than a second later. But before her mind could piece together a coherent apology -

“How dare you,” Zuko growled, tendrils of smoke and a flicker of fire escaping the corners of his mouth as sparks flew out of his fingertips. If looks could kill, Katara knew his venomous glare would have sent her six feet under. “How dare you suggest that I don’t care about Aang because I have the sense not to take hasty action like you so impatiently want to? How dare you suggest that I’m content with sitting behind my desk and waiting for news to arrive? How dare you suggest that I don’t - that I don’t love him -”

His voice broke, and just as quickly as rage had poured out of him, it dissipated, the fire in his eyes vanishing as a look of deep, aching pain fell across his features.

“You have no idea how worried I am,” he whispered. “I have more power than anyone else in my country, and I’m still helpless. Left behind. Stuck… waiting.”

It took every ounce of willpower in Katara’s body to keep herself from breaking into sobs. “You’re wrong,” she managed to say. “I know exactly how worried you are.” She could feel a tear sliding down her cheek, and she had to bite her tongue to keep the rest from pouring out for fear they would never stop. “I’m sorry.” She took a step away from his desk, holding her arms open.

And when Zuko walked around to accept her embrace, burying his face into her hair as she pressed her own into his shoulder, she couldn’t say when she began to cry, nor did she know which of them allowed their tears to fall first. Not that it mattered. When it came to Aang, it never did.

“I’m so afraid,” Katara said, her words coming out as fractured gasps between heaving sobs. “He’s never - disappeared like this, without saying something or - or letting someone know! If something happened to him, I don’t know what I’ll do -”

It had been hard enough watching him die once. She wasn’t ready - no, she couldn’t watch it happen again.

Zuko’s arms tightened around her. “I know,” he murmured. Katara didn’t miss the unsteadiness, the fear, the pain in his voice. “I can’t imagine life without him, either.”

His words only made her cry harder, and she probably would have cried all night had a messenger not barged into Zuko’s study, panting hard and face red as a tomato, presumably from sprinting all the way down the hall.

“Lord - Lord Zuko!” he gasped. “A - A message! From” - he heaved in a deep breath - “from the Earth Kingdom!”

To his credit, Zuko remained far more composed than she did. No doubt thanks to his royal upbringing. Katara barely managed to quiet her sobs to muffled, hiccuping sniffles as the firebender pulled away from her, though he did keep a hand on her shoulder, for which she was silently grateful.

“Read the message,” Zuko ordered, though without the usual intensity of his regal demeanor. “Please.”

Aang had to be the one driving those manners into him. Aang and Iroh.

The messenger nodded, taking in a few more deep breaths before coughing and then clearing his throat as he opened the parchment scroll. “In a battle against a group of former Fire Lord Ozai’s supporters,” he began, “Avatar Aang attempted to hold them all off on his own to allow civilians to escape the area, as the firebenders made extreme efforts to burn down the numerous houses and shops in the vicinity. However, when forced to enter the Avatar state or else be overwhelmed, he was injured by a rogue earthbender -”

The last thing Katara remembered were her knees buckling beneath her and Zuko crying out her name before everything went dark.

~*~

Katara woke up with a warm, damp cloth pressed to her forehead and a steaming cup of tea on the table next to her… bed?

This was not the guest room Zuko had given her.

“You’re in the palace’s infirmary. Of sorts,” a voice explained. “Right now it’s not much more than a big room of small beds and tables, but we’re expecting to stock it with medicine and bandages before the end of the week. It was still faster to carry you here than to your bedroom.”

Katara groaned, pulling the cloth off of her forehead. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Zuko said flatly. He was sitting on a chair next to her ‘bed’. “Before you ask, you were only out for a few minutes.” He then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Or maybe it was exasperation. Possibly both. “Dammit, Katara! How can a waterbender get dehydrated? Aang is going to kill me when he finds out I let his girlfriend forget to take care of herself!”

Katara rolled her eyes as she pushed herself up into a sitting position and - 

Oh. The world was spinning. That was… concerning.

Okay, maybe she was a little lightheaded from not having eaten or slept for the past 72 hours. But she was fine. Or she would be in a minute or two.

“Don’t even try to argue,” Zuko grumbled. He proceeded to hand her the cup of tea that had been resting on the table next to her. “Here. Drink this. I tried to make it like Uncle does.”

The emphasis usually went on ‘tried’ in these scenarios, or so Aang had once warned her, but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so she didn’t protest. She was thankful for his help regardless.

A few minutes and a few sips of tea later, Katara felt considerably more alert, and not to mention the world was no longer spinning. She considered herself 100% less likely to faint. Probably. Hopefully.

“Okay,” she said, taking a final sip of tea before placing her cup back down on the small table beside her bed. “I’m good now. What did the rest of the message say? The one about Aang?”

Zuko appeared hesitant to answer. Not a great sign. “I don’t think it’s the best idea for me to -”

“Zuko.” Katara tried to find a middle ground between stern and pleading. “I have to know. You know I do.”

Zuko flinched beneath her steady gaze, then sighed. “It… didn’t really say much else,” he admitted. “Just that Aang was injured in the Avatar state, and when the dust cloud dissipated afterwards, he was nowhere to be seen. No one knows for certain what happened to him.”

Katara’s heart dropped into her stomach, and she suspected it was a good thing she wasn’t standing as she had to bite back bile rising in her throat. “No one?” she repeated after a pause, clutching at the blue fabric on her lap. “How can there be no word about him?! He might be an airbender, but he can’t just disappear -”

“I’ve already got my people there digging for more information,” he promised her, though he didn’t sound confident. Which didn’t exactly reassure her, but it was… better than nothing. Barely. “It’s possibly that he’s already on his way back with Appa already, and that’s why no one has seen him.”

Katara couldn’t help but scoff at his suggestion, which at least distracted her from the nausea rolling in the pit of her stomach. “As if the spirits would ever let us be so lucky -”

“KATARA!”

Her voice caught in her throat at the familiar, frantic tone. She didn’t dare to get her hopes up, and yet -

In a blur of orange, the person Katara had been weeping for less than ten minutes earlier was by her side, leaning over her bed and pushing her hair out of her face. She hadn’t realized it had fallen down.

“Katara, they told me you fainted!” Aang exclaimed worriedly, his eyebrows furrowed in concern as he touched her cheek. “Sweetie, what hap-”

Katara didn’t let him finish, cupping his face with both of her hands and leaning forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss. “I was so worried about you, Aang,” she breathed when she finally had to break away for air. “When I heard you were hurt in the Avatar state, I thought -”

“Shh,” Aang whispered, kissing away the tears that had started to trickle down her cheeks. “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m here now. You don’t need to worry any more.”

Katara took a deep breath before she managed a small nod. “Okay.”

He looked her over one more time before pushing her hair out of her face again and then pulling away, standing upright to face Zuko, who Katara realized had jumped to his feet when Aang first came rushing in.

“Are you okay?” Aang asked him quietly.

Zuko didn’t respond at first, blinking furiously in an evident attempt to stop his own tears from falling. He let out a shuddering breath, the tension gradually disappearing from his shoulders. “Spirits, Aang, seeing you alive…” He shook his head. “Not yet. But… I will be. Because you’re here now.”

Aang gave him a soft smile, and even though it hadn’t been directed at her, Katara couldn’t help but feel more at ease. “Can I hug you?”

Zuko nodded, wiping beneath his right eye with the base of his palm. “Yes. Thank you.”

No further words were spoken. But with Aang, there often didn’t need to be. And when Katara was pulled off her makeshift bed and into their hug a minute or so later, she couldn’t say she was surprised.

Waiting was the hardest part.

But as their boyfriend gently kissed the top of her head before pressing a soft kiss to Zuko’s cheek, Katara knew that Aang… He’d always be worth waiting for.

[onestowatch]

Lynn Gunn’s Honest Portrayal of PVRIS’ Past, Present and Future Plus Details on New LP ‘Use Me’ [Q&A]

Did you know that quicksand cannot really sink your entire body? Hollywood renditions of this frightening occurrence showcase “Indiana Jones” type heroes desperately reaching for a branch or a vine to evade being swallowed whole by the muddy foe. In real life, however, quicksand is much denser than the human body–namely your torso and lungs. So, although you may sink to some degree, you’ll only be engulfed to about your torso region. That being said, to escape the hold of this mucky captor, you’re called to utilize, not a vine or a stick, but a natural aspect of yourself–in this case, the buoyancy of your torso and lungs. Doing so allows you to adjust your positioning so that you are on your back and are therefore more easily able to free your legs and eventually, yourself.

During moments of crisis such as this, it is not often that we think to use what comes most natural to us in order to overcome difficulties. However, as PVRIS frontwomxn Lynn Gunn discovered, tuning into your natural inclinations can be exactly what sets you free.

After battling debilitating health issues, anxieties, and multiple album delays, the refreshingly new album Use Me is here, and it has the empowered LGBTQIA+ artist plastered all over it. From the distinctively raw lyrics, impassioned vocals, dexterous commixture of that classic PVRIS Alternative Rock and new-aged Glitch-pop, and even a 070 Shake feature, this new album is taking everything we thought we knew about PVRIS to much higher heights. Use Me serves as the first release since Gunn followed her heart and came forward as the sole architect behind PVRIS back in March. After listening to all 40 emotion-inducing minutes of this cinematic project, it becomes clear that Use Me is so much more than an album, it is an unapologetic reclamation of power.

We were able to speak with Lynn Gunn before the release of the album and gather her perspective on this new era of creativity, utilizing her natural abilities for this new project, and even on supporting social justice causes.

All quicksand jokes aside, sink into this interview with Lynn Gunn below:

Ones to Watch: Although you’ve been making music for quite some time, this new era seems to be of a new bloom, not only for PVRIS, but for you. As you have stated, PVRIS is still very much a collective, but you have decided to shed the skin of “band culture” and from it emerge as the sole vocalist, lyricists, and creative director of PVRIS. How has that transition been on you all? Are people taking to it the way that you imagined?

Lynn Gunn: I didn’t really imagine anyone taking it any way, to be honest, it’s happening regardless of what others want to say or feel about it. It’s felt great personally and as a unit. I’ve seen mostly support but obviously, with anything, there’s always going to be people with the opposite. At the end of the day, this is what this is moving forward and works best for us, I know my truth and what this journey has been and looked like so far. I’ve seen so many insane and comical theories and conspiracies about the transition/negative comments… but ultimately I think anyone who decides to wastes their energy like that might find their life to be much more enjoyable if they channeled that energy back into their own life as there’s clearly a lack/wound somewhere within themselves. If that seems sprinkled with “shade”, it is, but I mean that with the most sincerity as well.

The saying goes “you can never really outrun yourself”, and from White Noise to Use Me, it seems that you’ve left a bit of a breadcrumb-trail leading us to this point. Although PVRIS has primarily been recognized as an Alternative Rock “band”, we can hear tiny glimpses of the sound that best encompasses PVRIS now throughout your entire discography.  Was this glitch-pop, disco-esque sound something you were intentionally experimenting within your previous projects?

To be honest, this is always where I imagined PVRIS’s sound living and the type of production I’d heard PVRIS songs being told through. I think in the past I didn’t fully know how to communicate the little production nuances that would have taken some tracks from point A to B, there was also a fear (that I now regret having) about straying from the “rock” production/experiencing rejection from the “scene” we initially started playing shows and touring in.

For the most part, and I truly mean this, there really isn’t that much of a difference in the instrumentation and sonic choices of this album from the first two, it’s still a very even play of organic instruments and electronic/synths, it’s just being produced through a different lens that’s a bit cleaner, crisper and crunchier in some areas. It’s a new interpretation of the woodwork that’s always been there.

What has kept you motivated to continue creating and sharing your truth with the world?

That’s a great question because I go back and forth with that feeling sometimes… Ultimately seeing comments from fans/listeners and hearing everyone’s stories and ways that they connect to PVRIS’s music is the most motivating thing in the world. I also feel that no matter what type of obstacle course the universe wants to throw me through, I’m always going to be grateful for the bruises/lessons and always going to feel compelled to create and share those truths through music.

I understand you’ve run into a deluge of unfortunate health issues the past few years that have affected you and the band greatly. If you feel comfortable sharing, could you talk a little bit about these illnesses and the ways you have had to overcome the obstacles they brought forth to get you to where you are now?

Totally comfortable sharing! I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS) about two years ago and then about a year ago was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. AS is an inflammatory disease that mainly attacks the lower back, hips, and ribs, but it can also manifest in a lot of other ways as well such as joint pain, chronic fatigue, and even eye issues. Sometimes when my AS is really bad, I can barely get out of bed or even roll over in bed. Over time, if not treated properly or managed, it can cause your vertebrae to fuse... I’ve heard that’s super rare though. Crohn’s is chronic inflammation in the digestive tract and is a little more embarrassing but pretty self-explanatory haha…

They definitely taught me (and by taught I mean forced me) to take time in caring for myself and caring for my body. Resting properly, staying in shape, eating super healthy, setting boundaries with work, etc. It’s also just made me really appreciative of the moments when my symptoms aren’t as bad/just happy to be alive and not have it worse. I’m determined to manage both diseases holistically and through integrative medicine, so far I’ve seen great progress.

Do you believe these difficulties aided in your journey towards this self-actualization that listeners are able to distinguish in this new era of PVRIS? If so, how/in what way?

Definitely! There are definitely some references to those difficulties in a few of the songs. I think outside of the music, it’s given a lot more self-love, strength, and patience. It’s also just created even more urgency to live my truth and to live it unapologetically in the way that I want, which naturally extends into PVRIS and the art that I want to make.

If you had to use one word to describe each album thus far, what words would you use and why?

White Noise - Freshman - everything was so new and exciting and there was so much eagerness with it, like a freshman walking through a high school for the first time haha.

All We Know of Heaven, All We Need of Hell - Bootcamp (haha) - creating it and touring it were both pretty hard experiences BUT incredibly strengthening.

USE ME - Upgrade - despite all the chaos around this release, this is the freest I’ve felt and the most confident I’ve felt about a PVRIS album.

All the visuals and music video treatments that you have conjured up have a strikingly symbolic and cinematic feel to them. However, the symbolism and tone of the music videos tied to Use Me seem to take on a different nature. Can you talk about this shift in creative expression?

Mostly just working with new collaborators (Yhellow, Katharine White and Griffin Stoddard). I feel a lot less precious about things (to a healthy degree) and much more open to letting others run with the concepts as they wish! So many fun new exciting perspectives have been able to shine through.  

I know you are a film fanatic and dabble in cinematography. Do you have any staple films that influenced the creation of the last five music videos?

The Holy Mountain was a big influence for the “Hallucinations” video, as well as [for] “Old Wounds”. For “Dead Weight”, I was actually inspired by the opening credits to That 70’s Show and Saturday Night Fever haha.

In July, you announced that the album was being pushed back so as to allow the floor for the amplification of Black voices, and to generate events in support of Black Lives Matter. Do you believe artists have a responsibility to take steps such as these to create a better future, regardless of whether or not these issues directly affect them?

Absolutely. We all need to be educating ourselves and actively doing the work to demand and create change towards a future that’s equal and just for Black lives.

Fans have been clinging to the edges of their proverbial seats waiting for Use Me in spite of all of the justifiable album delays. If you could relay one message to all the fans who have been patiently waiting, what would it be?

Please enjoy/connect, be good to each other and please please please vote if you are able!

Who are your Ones to Watch?

DRAMA, Jax Anderson, HDBeenDope, Royal and The Serpent, Nikki Hayes, Kat Cunning and LEXXE!

[psyched2b]

Bawcock

Summary: A glimpse into the domestic/semi-retired life of Bucky Barnes where there’s no such thing as too much sass or love.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Some swear words; mentions of blood and gore; little bit steamy towards the end

A/N: Here is is! After over a year and four months of nothing new, here we go. Thank you to everyone who has stuck around! A special thanks goes out to @thinkwritexpress-official​ for all her help in making sure this wasn’t a mess and beta-ing for me. Another huge thank you to @mermaidxatxheart​ for supporting me through all the ups and downs of this and convincing me not to throw myself or my computer in a dumpster and set it on fire. Anywho, please enjoy! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated!!!

Masterlist

It was one of those quiet days that Y/N treasured. 

All that was left to do was to wait for Bucky’s return. 

That, and to settle into Bucky’s worn leather armchair that they found at a consignment shop, grab her new book by her favorite philosophical author, and engross herself in the thoughts of another.

It had been over a week since he had left with AmericanAirline, otherwise known as Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, on a mission to some undisclosed place. 

Having the house to herself had been nice. It gave her time to pamper herself a bit and also to have some much needed girl time with Wanda.

However, if her fiance was going to be any longer, she would have to go ahead and get started on their ‘dream’ garden. They had to get their seeds sown before it was too late in the season. Bucky, nonetheless, was adamant before he left that she wasn’t to so much as touch one weed because this was their garden. And he would be damned if he wasn’t there to partake in the fun. 

Y/N was just waiting for the day for him to ask to get a goat. Not that she would begrudge him one. Her only secret condition would be that they had to name him after one of the Avengers. She would never admit it out loud, but she wanted a whole tribe of them. They had more than enough property and they were a highlight of their time in Wakanda.

Unfortunately, the Three Musketeers were on complete radio silence, meaning that there was no way of knowing where they were at, if they were successful, or when they were due to return. If they came home. 

‘No!’ she mentally chastised herself, wanting to squish that bit of anxiety that tried to creep through the peace. ‘Everything will be fine.’

She had the utmost faith in the Winter Soldier’s capabilities. He would be fine and home soon. Back in her arms. Safe. 

She just had to keep telling herself that.

.... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢.

It wasn’t until the sun had sunk below the tree line that she heard the opening and closing of the front door. 

“Bucky?” she called out, setting her book to the side. She reached her arms up and curved her back, releasing the tension that had built in her from remaining stationary for so long. 

The man stuck his head around the corner and gave her a wide smile… but something was off. “Hey, darling,” Bucky’s husky voice greeted, causing a familiar shiver to go down her spine. 

Y/N didn’t waste any more time, tossing the book on the coffee table and scrambling out of the nest of blankets she had collected over the hours to scurry over to where he stood in all of his Super Soldier glory.

Her eyes widened in shock. “Holy fuck, Buck. Did you slaughter a pig and bathe in its blood before coming home?” Still dressed in his black stealth gear and equipped in his many, many knives, he was also covered in bits and pieces of coagulated blood and… was that brain matter?

He offered a sheepish smile in return. “Code red, babe.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed with pursed lips. “I can see that.”

Towards the beginning of their relationship, they came up with a code to let each other know how bad things were mentally or physically upon arrival at home so the other could help where needed. 

Sometimes… Sometimes the missions would leave more than just a physical scar, resulting in restless nights full of nightmares, panic attacks and bouts of anger, but it wasn’t something he would let anyone outside of his house see, not even Steve. She was his safe place and he thanked whatever higher power out there everyday to have someone like her in his life. Sometimes he had thoughts that he wasn’t worth anything, but Y/N was right there, reassuring him that everyone had a purpose in life and without him, the world would be a very different place. Plus, if he was out of the picture, what would be left of her? She’d probably be in some institution herself. 

Together, they kept each other sane. 

Their codes were based on the stoplight system. 

Code red was pretty easy to guess, but in spite of the code, Bucky was still in his ‘everything-is-completely-fine’ persona. She wouldn’t see the mental wounds until later that night. 

Thankfully for the carpet, the ex-Winter Soldier kept his distance, remaining on the tiled flooring of the entryway. They had a rule that no blood was to make it on the carpet, period. If that happened, Y/N would go into a cleaning frenzy until she was certain that everything was back to its original condition. Though the rule carried on from the Compound, this was their first home after all and they would be damned if - for any reason other than godly interference (with the explicit exception of those of Asgardian form) - the house would remain in top-notch condition. 

Together, they had built this home after Thanos and his army was decimated once and for all. They both kept working for a while, doing odd free-lance work here and there, trying to make the world a better place and all. But as soon as the house was completed, a decision had been made to go into retirement...or at least, semi-retirement. It was time to let the younger people take over. Of course, with her, Bucky always felt like he was in the prime of his life. Despite being well over a hundred years old, she kept him young… and in good shape.

He smiled at the thought, hoping that good times were but a shower away. Or maybe good times in the shower? Hm, the possibilities. 

Y/N was oblivious to where his thoughts had gone, worried within her own thoughts, but kept a cool exterior. “Now, question. Just right off the bat. Totally random.” She let her eyes sweep over his gore-covered form. “Is that all just one person’s insides, or multiple persons?” Then she sniffed and made an exaggerated look of disgust. “And when on earth was the last time you showered?” Still, she decided his cheek looked relatively clear of body fluids and went up on her tippy-toes to press a quick kiss to it before stepping back and further assessing her partner with a soft shake of her head. “But seriously, you stink.”

“And yet, you still kissed me,” he gloated, managing to keep his hands to himself, not wanting to dirty her favorite sweater (though they both knew her favorite was one of his; he just wasn’t allowed to bring it up). “Albeit, I wish it was more than just a peck on my cheek, but eh, I’ll take what I can get.” He paused. “For now.” Then he gave Y/N another cheeky smile before heading to the bathroom dubbed the ‘Taint to Daint Area’. Bucky proudly thought of it himself. 

Watching his retreating form, or rather, his retreating ass, Y/N shook her head in disbelief at his antics and quietly asked herself, “Why are you like this?” knowing full well that she wouldn’t have him any other way. 

Bucky smirked at her over his shoulder as he entered the large bathroom and began to remove his many, many knives, dropping them into the sink to be cleaned properly later.“ Depends on what you mean, dollface. Do you mean the irrevocable handsomeness that is moi, the disturbing amounts of coagulated blood on me, or the always exciting vexatious PTSD?”

Peals of laughter erupted from Y/N as she entered the room after him, stopping to lean a shoulder against the doorway that carried the faint scent of lacquer. “Ha ha, smart ass. But no.” She crossed her arms and nodded towards his lower half. “I was actually referring to your shoes.” 

Keep in mind that approximately 89.7% of the time, Sergeant Barnes would wear his “trustworthy” combat boots. Didn’t matter the occasion. Mission. Stark Parties. Vacationing through the Caymans. Cruise trip that turned into a near bioterrorist attack.  He always stood firm on the fact that he had to make sure he was always prepared to kick ass anytime, anywhere, and he wasn’t going to do so in “fucking sneakers.” Mr. Always-Prepared would then make it abundantly clear to everyone “that it wasn’t because he couldn’t do it in sneakers. It just looked cooler with his kickass boots.”

So imagine Y/N’s surprise when the Winter Soldier came home still in all his gear… but with the great exception of the highlighter-yellow Crocs on his feet. And, to top it off? Inside the offensive shoes were shockingly white tube socks instead of his usual black worn in all other instances.

Both were clearly new as they were the only part of his ensemble that remained spared from the obvious bloodbath.

His pale blue eyes flickered down as if having forgotten what he was wearing. He nodded to himself then turned to Y/N and shrugged without a care in the world, moving to disassemble the buckles on his vest. “They’re surprisingly functional,” he answered simply. 

As if that explained anything. 

Y/N moved to grab the plastic tote kept under the sink for such disrobing instances. It kept the rest of the house safe from a variety of bodily fluids until the offending clothes made way to the laundry room… or if bad enough, the burn pile a quarter-mile deep in the woods. 

 “Right,” she articulated speculatively. “As opposed to the boots you swear will go to the grave with you?”

Bucky dropped the dark vest into the tote, leaving him in a damp black tank top before moving to disassemble his thigh harness. 

Y/N once again had to restrain herself from where her thoughts led. 

“Fewer laces to undo to get me down to my knickers,” he snickered at her, knowing exactly where her thoughts had drifted to. 

She had to force herself not to blush. “You’re avoiding the topic.”

With an exaggerated sigh from him, she knew she was in for a story. Bucky dropped the harness to the ground and took a seat on the ledge of the bath, turning his undivided attention to his wonderful and naughty fiance. “Well, to start, I put part of the blame on you.”

Y/N gasped loudly. “Me?”, she asked incredulously, pressing a hand to her chest as it was one of the most ridiculous things she had ever heard. “How?”

Bucky nodded his head with a solemn expression, looking down at his brightly covered feet. “Yes, you,” he affirmed. “Let’s see. It all started after the bloodbath of a lifetime and I was covered head to toe in various body parts and goo and shit. Then I realized we had to travel 12 clicks back to base camp… and my shoes were squishy and just gross.”

The skeptical woman looked up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to this craziness before refocusing her attention on her clearly delusional man. “As if ‘gross’ boots have ever stopped you before,” she pointed out. “‘I’m a hard man that served my country. Even almost got trench foot. I like to bathe in the blood of my enemies.’ Blah blah blah,” she mimicked in a gruff voice, trying to do her best impression of Bucky. 

Bucky scowled at her in response. “I do not sound like that.”

Y/N shrugged, “Mm, sure you don’t. Still fail to see how any part of your footwear preferences is my fault.”

The Super Soldier pouted at her for a moment before realizing she wasn’t going to let up on the subject. With another hearty sigh, he continued. “You’re part in this is that you now have me accustomed to a life of luxury and comfort. I used to be a total badass. And I did have trench foot, thank you very much. But now? The thought of having to walk miles to base from the mission point in… well, I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that there was no way in hell that was going to happen. Just plain gross.”

“Gross,” she echoed flatly, trying to decide if he was punking her or if he was being serious. 

Bucky gave a hum of affirmation, reaching behind him to turn on the shower before working on getting his pants off. 

She shook her head to clear it, holding a hand up. “Okay. Fine. Life of luxury. Whatever. Now I just have two questions. What happened to your old boots and where the hell did you find those...monstrosities?” She paused for a moment. “Correction. I have three. First, how the heck did you of all people end up drenched in human bits? You’re the most meticulous and precise person I’ve ever met, this isn’t your usual style. Nor Steve’s, and I highly doubt Sam would be a part of whatever this,” she gestured to the tote between them, “is.”

For the first time since returning home, Bucky’s playful demeanor dropped as he scowled at the soiled clothes. “There were civilians,” he grunted out, angrily shucking off his pants. 

Y/N sucked on her teeth, suddenly understanding the severity of the situation. “Hostages?”

Bucky threw his hands up in exasperation before testing the water to make sure it was at an agreeable temperature. “That’s what we all thought! Wasn’t the case… at all,” he spat out bitterly. Water evidently to his liking, he stripped the rest of the way and stepped under the high-pressured spray. 

Y/N didn’t hesitate to strip and climb into the shower behind him, immediately going to wrap her arms around his waist from behind, settling her forehead on the spot between his shoulder blades. “How bad?” she asked.

Beneath her, the man let out a shudder of breath, his shoulders slumped forward, head dropping. He reached out with one hand to grasp the wall as if anchoring himself to something solid. Then, he whispered, “There was only one way for it to end.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, moving so they stood chest to chest. She reached up, cupping his cheek within her palm. “We can talk more about it when you’re ready.” 

He smiled at her, a small one, but real this time, ducking his head to hers and pulled her closer. “I love you.” 

Y/N smiled back. “I love you too, bawcock.”

She could see the ‘Error 404’ happening in Bucky’s mind when he stood up straight, staring blankly at her. Y/N let out a small giggle, grabbing the shampoo and lathering his hair, waiting for him to catch up.

As she was beginning to rinse his hair, he snapped out of it. “Bawcock?” he questioned loudly, confusion taking over his expression. “Bawcock? What the fuck?!” Y/N let out another giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer. “Yes, Bawcock.” Giving him a brilliant smile that had his heart skipping a beat, she explained, “It means, ‘a fine fellow’.” She pressed up on her toes, getting close enough that their lips were just centimeters from meeting, teasing him. Before he could give in and kiss her, she pulled back with another sly smile. “It’s either that or Lambkins. Your choice.” 

Bucky’s hands dropped to her ass and picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his middle. He dropped his forehead to hers and whispered. “I swear, you are so much trouble.” 

She pressed her bare breasts against his chest and tightened her legs around him, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “But you wouldn’t have me any other way,” she replied smugly, tangling her fingers in his now short locks. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Bucky pressed his lips against hers, pouring the emotions he was feeling into his movements, Y/N’s touch lifting some of the darkness brewing under his skin.

Y/N was the one to pull back, panting. “I will never get used to that.”

He nuzzled her neck, pressing small kisses randomly. “Good, because we have a lifetime together of it.”

“Even longer, bawcock.”

Bucky pulled back with a scowl. “No. That’s not going to stick.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow in defiance. “Oh yeah? And how are you going to stop me?”

“Oh, I’ll show you,” he responded with a mischievous grin, slowly dropping to his knees. He pressed a slow kiss to her stomach before making eye contact with her. “All I’m going to be hearing for the next while will be my name and some of those beautiful moans I love to hear coming from your lips.” 

... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢.

In the end, they both got what they wanted. 

The end. ______________________________________________________________________

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[katsukikitten]

Whisper 2

A/N have this small part. I've tried adding more but this is all I have for now.

Time slows as it always does when you're about to see a Death, especially when it was one you hadn't meant to see.

*"He will...."* Their breath stops suddenly and you snap your eyes open. There is no more scuttling or scraping or ripping of haunted flesh to be the one to tell you just how he will die.

Instead they are all frozen in place and you begin to wonder who or what is the cause.

*"Child I have done this."* The deep voice reverberates through your chest as you screw your eyes shut, hopeful that this entity has not noticed your movement.

*"I will spare you from witnessing his Death but you will have to give me a piece of you."*

You say nothing for a few long moments enraging it.

*"I'VE STOPPED THIS! I'M SPARING YOU HIS DEATH BUT CHILD I WILL DO SO NO LONGER! I WILL BRING YOU TO WITNESS HIS DEATH IN PERSON. YOU WILL SMELL THE ROT ON HIS FLESH IF YOU DO NOT GIVE ME A PIECE OF YOU!"*

You've angered it enough for it to show it's true voice, not a deep haunting pitch you hear in a dark alley or in the emptiness of your house when there should be no one but many overlapping pitches and tones.

All speaking in unison revealing to you it's age and the amount of souls it has previously collected.

You decide to call it's bluff, this is currently the only leverage it has over you.

You've seen plenty of Deaths before, in strangers and friends alike. Yes seeing Bakugou's would be hard.

*Extremely hard* but you would learn to live with it.

You have before.

Plus your "gift" is the rarest of all levels of Listeners, you cannot only see them and hear them.

But you can move them, change them, guide them, command them.

Form a connection deeper than most so you shine like a beacon.

And the dead will always be a moth to a bright flame.

The desperation of this entity is reflected heavily on his current bargain. Revealing so much of itself and its abilities over something as trivial as witnessing a death.

There was not much known about the Dead but you've picked up on cues quickly, the more powerful the entity, the higher the price.

And higher the amount of weaknesses it could have.

You just have to listen.

And this one proved over and over again that it did not like to be ignored.

*"VILE CHILD ACKNOWLEDGE ME AT THE VERY LEAST AND I WILL SILENCE THE DEAD EACH TIME YOU LOOK INTO HIS EYES. YOU WILL BE SPARED HIS DEATH STORY!"*

Oh that was tempting.

Before, even if their Death was whispered to you like a lullaby once before, it would be repeated each time you held eye contact whether the same Dead told you or many the story would be repeated.

As if it were a beloved night time tale they would have told their children.

So to be able to look someone in the eye, to not see their death, and to not hear about it even years later sounded....

Sounded too good to be true.

Your eyes flash open to stare into burning ember and your heart races, his skin a soothing hum beneath your finger tips.

Your mind quiets when you're around him when he is calm, well as calm as Bakugou can be.

There is a calmness about him when he fights, the same as their is a calmness about him when he stays up late watching TV in the common area. His energy producing a stillness during these moments, so much so that even his Dead seemed to relax, doze.

And for some reason the Dead do not like Bakugou when he is even the slightest bit kind to you which is more reason to be able to, maybe, possibly, make some sort of friend that could bring you even the tiniest bit of TRUE silence.

Even if it came at a high price.

"Nameless, know that if you betray me or your promise should become broken I will hunt you down and make you wish your own demise." A snarl so chilled that even the frozen Dead shiver.

They knew the truth in your words as you had done it before, becoming a terrifying legend among Dead. Ripping an entity limb from haunted limb ensuring its exepriance was that much more sinister than Hell had to offer.

The deep blood red necklace winks now at its mention, stirring with an ear piercing scream.

Milky dead eyes start to shift towards the exchange despite their immobility.

They cannot miss the contract that may be forming.

Vying to be next.

*"Ah my child, I am well aware of your abilities. What do you think has brought me here in the first place?"*

It settles on a voice of a male, smooth and deep but not overly so.

Similar in pitch and tone to the one frozen on top of you making you wonder if that is what he would sound like if he were older.

"When will you truely reveal yourself. Nameless?"

"When the time is right we will meet. For now you've paid in full." You feel its breath on your ear, hands curling onto your shoulders as his voice is filled with cocky arrogance, "Until next time my sweet Y/N."

You feel Nameless fade away as the gears of time slowly begin to work, averting your eyes from Bakugou's out of habit.

Causing your spreading anxiety to further, it is not good when a spirit is overly satisfied when you've paid the price, especially not when it is paid in full.

Meaning that even though the current "contract" exchange has happened all this entity needs is acknowledgment to worm his way into your head.

But you would have to think of that another time as everything begins to come back to life.

The dead screaming in anguish in your ear each time they attempt to continue.

You feel the familiar gaze of Wide Eyes once more before beginning a binging feast on any spirit that attempts to place their hands on you.

Between the screaming of Bakugou's dead, Bakugou himself, the angry Dead and the snaps and slurps coming from Wide Eyes combined by the rising anxiety of the contract with Nameless has a vein popping in your forehead.

You stare at his throat that reddens with rising blood pressure.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" He yells louder than his dead who still fail to right him.

*Snap*

*Sluuuuurrrp*

*POP*

*"YOU CHEATED YOU CHEATED YOU CHEATED YOU CHEATED!!!"*

"ENOUGH!" You snap finally losing it and flinging all of them from the dorm hall, including the Dead that cling to Bakugou, as if erasing a mistake made in pencil.

Suddenly the hallway seems brighter and hell, even lighter, the pressure of their presence immediately gone.

Most importantly truly quiet and your fingers grip tighter onto the dull hum that is thick forearms.

You'd pay for displaying your power in front of so many dead.

But the price was more than worth it.

You want to test the promise before avoiding the ash blonde, for how long you weren't sure but it's not as if you seem in a stable state what with pulling him to you and shouting for no reason.

You just needed to know, so bravely you let your eyes trail up his handsome face.

Past his strong jaw, his kissable lips that snarl over sharp white teeth, gliding over dusted cheeks before forcing yourself to see his eyes.

Burning scarlet red, set in a narrow scowl.

"Oi!" His voice echoes in the silence, "So you can look me in the eye now? I thought you were too good for our class."

He bites and you fear his anger with urge the Dead to rush back to you.

You've sent them quite far but still you relished the quiet.

Something you hadn't had since the first time you set eyes on an entity, pulling at your mother's long skirt with shaking hands to grab her attention.

*"Momma what's that?"*

*"What's what honey?"*

Wide Eyes had given you a wide smile then and hadn't let his gaze waiver from you in over twelve years.

Your nerves feel grated from his question, who HAD started that rumor that you thought you were above everyone else.

That you did not use your powers because these people were beneath you.

You didn't use your quirk so you could protect them.

You give up, reluctantly releasing your hold on him.

He does not move right away as he studies you, had you used your quirk just now?

You were flushed, sweating but not enough to make your hair that damp. That must have been from a shower or bath.

He had noticed how gloomy the dorm had felt when he stepped out and he definitely noticed how charged and heavy the air became when he yelled.

The air felt...lighter somehow, the hallway deffently brighter, but most importantly you seemed relaxed.

He sucks his teeth as he rises to his feet.

"Whatever." He growls before stalking to his dorm room. Leaving you to lie on the carpet of the boys dorm floor.

[jenomark]

Take Care of Me

○Pairing: Jungwoo x Reader (Female) ○Other Members/ Characters: X ○Genre: smut  ○Warnings: oral (m), hand job, face-fucking (m) ○Word count: 2,389

→Summary: You and your make-out buddy, Jungwoo, finally want to have penetrative sex, but neither of you have a condom. 

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

  He’s smiling and suddenly you’re counting the number of his teeth. He looks so angelic when he smiles, his cheeks rising to meet the halo on top of his head. You lean in a little. Your eyes can’t stop staring at the curves of his lips, the way his tongue touches the inside of his mouth like it’s playfully waiting for you.

“Have you eaten today?” he asks.

  He already knows the answer. You can see his mind filing through it’s thoughts, a mental Rolodex of everything he wants to say. If he can make a witty quip, he doesn’t have to discuss what he wants. He closes his lips and gives you a drowsy wink of his eye. You smile and cover your mouth with your hands. He never fails to make your cheeks turn scarlet. You feel a little bit like a teenager, but it’s a tenderness you miss.

  When Jungwoo kisses you, a hand falls naturally to the side of his face, the other on his neck. You can feel his adam’s apple bob as he opens his mouth wider to let you in. The tip of his tongue samples yours carefully, little soft licks keeping you relaxed. He throws a long leg over your thigh and shifts his body closer so that your stomach’s are touching. Where his stomach is hard, yours is squishy. This kind of intimacy with someone always feels strange, but never with him. With Jungwoo, every kiss and every touch has always been enjoyable.

 “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.” he sings.

  You laugh into another kiss. Your bodies rock back and forth until his body snaps into yours like it’s a missing piece. You’re breathing heavily. He’s kissing you aggressively, his hand combing down your sides and in between your thighs. It’s the first time either of you have explored each other like this. Previously, everything has been mild. You love making out on his bed, holding his hand when he’s walking you home at night. More often than not, you would fall asleep in his arms, your life being the only thing lucky enough to fuck you. 

   Almost since the beginning, you’ve craved the idea of having sex with Jungwoo. Ever since the first day he made you laugh, you’ve been falling for him. There was something about the way he responded to you that made you feel cared for and loved. Jungwoo opened you up, prying everything apart like he could add more things inside to keep you safe: stability as a friend, trust and familiarity, little blossoms of hope to bloom in the future. You dreamed about how it would feel if he was above you, inside of you. There wasn’t a lot of promises made towards your friendship over the months you have known him, but those few things are what keep you going. You know he feels it, too. There is something so satisfying about the two of you together, like the world couldn’t wait for you to say hello. When you did, life became a little bit brighter.

  Jungwoo’s reputation is fittingly innocent. He has only kissed one person before you, and his concept of love is puppy-like. He never tried to flirt, never did anything bold, and definitely wouldn’t have kissed you if you didn’t kiss him first. All Jungwoo wants is your love and affection, for you to stay close to him when life gets a little rough. You can see how easily nervous you make him feel whenever you are around him. For awhile, you’ve been feeling like it’s time to take things a little further, but you are always worried about the state of his heart. He is a lot less experienced than you, and he rarely talks about what he needs from you.

   “Jungwoo.” you say.

  He slows down kissing you. He rubs his body against yours and settles into you, his neck buried in the crook of your neck. You scratch his back, and like a cat, you swear you hear him purring.

 “I feel so happy.” he says.

  The timing feels right. He looks down at you and pouts before he kisses you again. For a second, you think he’s going to stretch his body back onto the bed and cuddle with you. You support him taking it slow, support how he wants to progress the relationship in his own time. Surprising you, Jungwoo bites on your bottom lip. The move is so sexy that you can’t think of anything to say. He pulls back to get a better look at how speechless you are. The light in his eyes seems to change when he sees the way you’re looking at him: shock trying to register in your gaze, the blush on the apples of your cheeks. There isn’t anything cute about either of you now. You’re both raw enough for the other to see. 

 “Do you have a condom?” he asks.

  You ask him if he’s sure he wants to have sex. You don’t answer the question about the condom. You want him to be okay with his decision, to be okay with his first time being with you. Jungwoo doesn’t give you a long speech, just tells you that he’s sure. You kiss him longingly, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him closer. He laughs, his loud laughter making some of your own nerves dissipate.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks.

   You note the fear in his eyes, the crack in his voice , and the way he keeps  jutting out his lower lip like he might cry if you tell him you don’t like him like that.

“Yes,” you say. “God, yes.”

 Jungwoo smiles, but he cannot keep the tension out of his forehead. He doesn't know what move to make next. It’s like he can’t remember how to kiss you, or how you like to be touched. His hands hang limply, his eyes mapping out your skin as if he’s trying to remember his way back before he gets too lost. You know you’ll have to take over, giving him a memorable first time. You grind yourself against him, wanting Jungwoo to feel a little bit of your enthusiasm. He relaxes a little, his shoulders lowering gradually, and the lines on his face disappearing.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice coming out in a whisper. “I’ll take care of you.”

   Mid-kiss you realize that you don’t have a condom. In your haste to finally seal the deal, you have forgotten that you came to his dorm on a whim.  When you pull away, he thinks something is wrong. Jungwoo asks you if he’s doing okay, if you’ve changed your mind about him. You put a hand on his arm to calm his anxiety over the situation. 

“I would never change my mind, Jungwoo. I want you,” you say. “ But I don’t  have a condom. Please tell me that you do.”

   When he shakes his head no, you feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The feeling is quickly replaced by acceptance. It’s not a big deal to postpone the sex. When he realizes that neither of you have protection, Jungwoo feels the same way.

“I’m okay. Are you okay? “ he asks.

  The sweet glance he gives you makes all of the sorry feelings disappear. You don’t want to disappoint him, but having safe sex is the most important thing. Jungwoo falls to his side on the bed, detaching himself from you. He kisses your cheek, his nose smushing against it. He looks so happy, his energy boundless. 

“I know something else we can do.” you say.

“What?”

  You push Jungwoo back onto the mattress. He laughs at your eagerness to please him, at the determined way you climb on top of his legs. He rests his hands on your thighs and peers up at you.

“I want to please you.” you tell him.

 You place your hand where his cock is, and feel him. You’ve only felt him once during an intense make-out meeting, but he ended it out of embarrassment. This time, Jungwoo lets you touch him. He’s confident, his body rising to meet your hands.

“Please me?” he asks, giving you an eyebrow raise.

 You kiss him, just a small peck on his lips. Jungwoo’s caught off guard and doesn’t get enough time to kiss you back before your mouth is on his neck. A long hiss of air comes from his throat as you begin to suck on his skin. His neck is long, and there are many places to leave your mark on him. Jungwoo raises his arms above his head, his fingers trying to grip onto everything in sight. You don’t let him get too comfortable. You leave him and sidle down his body, stopping only to lift his shirt up and kiss the sensitive skin around his belly button. He’s ticklish and sucks in more air than he can handle.

“Is this good?” you ask.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I want you to come today, Jungwoo. Can you do that for me?”

  Jungwoo nods frantically, his lips sticking together when he tries to open his mouth again.The room feels more humid. You slide your hands up his abs and chest, his sweat making the path easier for you. When you touch his nipples, the purring sound returns. You lift his shirt up higher and use your tongue to draw circles around the little bud. His body is trembling beneath you. You want to call him out for it, but you fear it will make him worse. You want Jungwoo focused enough to keep his eyes locked on you.

  You look down at his cock. You can see him through his pants, the bulge bigger than before. You ignore it. Jungwoo notices, his eyes widening as you move upwards to kiss him again. Your kisses are slow while his body is wanting to move fast. He wants you to take care of him like you said you would. You move back down towards his cock. You don’t want to draw it out any longer than you have to. You don’t want him to come in his pants before you can get your mouth around him. It would be interesting to see his facial expressions up close as he releases his load, but you really want your body to be the cause of his first orgasm with another person.

 “I can’t hold out much longer.” he says.

  Jungwoo’s honesty turns you on. You pause with your hand on the button of his jeans and look up at him. There is a warm smile threatening to break your character. He smiles enough for both of you, the sweat pouring down his cheek as he does. He leans his head back. His throat is exposed, his adam’s apple making itself seen again. You unbutton his jeans, and he’s concentrating on the movement of your fingers.

“I love this.” he says.

“I didn’t do anything yet.”

“You don’t have to. You’re here with me.”

  You unzip his pants. The atmosphere feels less desperate and more calm. It feels like you’re with a friend. You watch him watching you, his eyes a little glazed over. You yank his jeans and underwear down his slim waist, tugging so hard he moves down the bed a little. You both break out into laughter until you free his cock and everything gets silent.

   Without saying anything more, his cock is in your hands, and then in your mouth. You’re able to fit nearly all of him inside, your nose hitting his mound of black pubic hair. The first time he feels your tongue against his shaft, he lets out a high-pitched moan. There is no time for Jungwoo to feel embarrassed as you work at him. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth on his cock makes the little muscles on his face twitch. Your eyes take in all the little details you don’t want to miss: his eyelids fluttering, the way his belly rises and falls , and his fingers pulling at a thread on his blanket. You take him out of your mouth and pump him in your hands so you can watch him.

“Do you like watching me?”

“Yes.”

  Jungwoo moans, his eyes going from your hands, to your face. You hold your hand still around his cock. You loosen your fist a little and smile when Jungwoo lifts his hips up to start fucking your hand. He thrusts gently, watching your face to see if he’s doing it right.

 “Fuck me,” you encourage him. “Fuck me like you’re inside of me.”

  You lean over and spit down onto your hand, smoothing it down over his cock so he can glide a little better. When you still again, Jungwoo starts fucking your fist more feverishly, the bed squeaking every time he brings his hips up. His face is contorted, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. You moan his name every time you watch the tip of his cock slip out of the top of your fist. Abruptly, you remove your fist and replace it with your mouth, laying your tongue against him. Without being directed, Jungwoo starts fucking your face. You only get to feel him a few times before his body tightens and he tells you he’s going to come.

“Look at me.” you say, taking hold of his cock in your hands.

  Jungwoo looks just in time to see his cum squirting into your mouth. Each spurt makes his back arch a little more. When he’s done, he settles back down onto the bed, his body exhausted. You lick the head of his cock, letting him see his load still on your tongue. When you swallow him, he can’t stop gaping at you.

“ I’m sorry it was so fast.” he says.

“Don’t be. It was good.”

“I want to make you come.”

“You will.”

  You take his cock again and slowly jerk him a few times. His mind is spent, but his body looks like it’s ready for another round. You don’t know if he can come a second time, but you’re determined to find out.

“Let’s see if you can last a little longer this time, baby.” you say.