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amandacanwrite · 11 months ago

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The Violet Thread of Fate ||

Reluctant Mentor Gale x Unskilled Wizard F!Tav

Length || About 4,000 Words

POV || Dual Narration, Third Person

Warnings || Descriptions of viscera, age gap (about ten years, both adults)

Summary || After waking up on the craggy shoreline of the sword coast, Elinna and Gale reunite with a new common ground.

A/n || I am feeling sort of on the fence about Gale's eagerness in his attraction to Elinna, but I also feel like it's still at least somewhat in character for him--after all in any playthrough you can wind up being blindsided by his feelings for you since he is usually so subtle about his affections. I also just think it's so fun to get the internal narration of Gale's attraction. He always seems so put together, polite and proper. I just love to see a man precariously balancing his carnal desires with his conscience and desire to be a good man. I hope you like it, I know things feel a little slow right now, but I'm planning on taking some creative liberties in the next couple parts. Please also lemme know what you think if you read it! I am absolutely tinkerbell and need the dopamine to live

Chapter Two: A Nightmare, An Awakening

Read Part One Here • Join Tag List Here

A Nightmare

Elinna thought she had died; thought the disintegration of her bodily form was the end of her short, unremarkable life. Much to her surprise, though when her vision once again returned to her she realized she had merely been spirited away somehow.

It took a few moments for her eyes to properly focus. When they finally did, she almost wished that the contact with the tentacle had killed her. It would have been far preferable to where she had wound up.

She found herself locked in a great chitinous pod, looking through smeared membranous glass at what she could only suppose was the nautiloid she had tried to escape from.

Yes…death would have been a far preferable fate to becoming a mindless thrall on a mindflayer ship. As she squinted through the clear panel in front of her and saw what appeared to be a brain walking on four spindly limbs, she realized that her fate could be even worse than regular enthrallment.

The minutes she spent entrapped in the pod felt like hours. A miserable limbo of wondering what would be coming next for her. What if she was already marked for turning into an intellect devourer? What if the enthrallment had already been put in place and she could simply be ordered to do something whenever a mindflayer so wished it?

She couldn’t just stay here. She had to move.

She tried, in vain, to wrench her arms free of the fleshy brindings within the pod. The sinuous tendrils only tightened more and more, leaving her fingertips throbbing and tingling from the blood flow being cut off. She tried to move her feet next and her boots sloshed in some sort of viscera at the base of the pod. She did her best not to vomit as the viscera eked some ichorous fluid into the fibers of her clothing and through the porous leather of her soft-soled shoes.

The last thing she needed in addition to all of this was to be covered in the contents of her own stomach–empty as it was.

The shock of panic cinched tight around her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. And as she struggled to get her lungs to fill, she also struggled to think.

“Calm down, Elinna,” she told herself. “Think about what you’ve read. Think about what you know.”

What did she know about Illithids? They were hivemind organisms. They required high-moisture, high-humidity environments to protect the mucosal membranes of their skin. They primarily fed on the brains of their prey and used psionic energy not only to fight but to control their biomechanical machinery.

She craned her head forward to look for some sort of control panel–something that could get her out of this cocoon of horror.

As she did, a valve-like door opened on the far side of the room, revealing a dizzying network of corridors. And…and one of them. A mind flayer.

Elinna went dizzy as her heart thumped in her temples. She watched in horror and sickly anticipation as it levitated toward something in the center of the room; a cistern of sorts from what she could see. It waved a four-fingered hand and the vessel opened, revealing a golden, glowing brine pool that may have been beautiful if Elinna didn’t know precisely what it was.

The mindflayer coaxed one of those disgusting tadpoles out of the amber liquid and levitated over to Elinna’s pod. She recoiled away from it as the pod opened, turning her face away from the creature and squeezing her eyes shut. She knew exactly how mindflayers reproduced, and she was not interested in getting a first hand experience with ceremorphosis.

She didn’t have much of a choice, though. Even without the parasite, the illithid was able to compel her to stillness.

It was an atrocious violation of her agency; surreal and nightmarish in the worst ways. Her mind was fully intact as the creature made her muscles release the tension they held and coerced her eyes to open. Her body was still and calm, but her heart was racing like a trapped rabbit’s. She watched uselessly as the tiny creature floated closer to her. She cried to cry out as it latched onto the orb of her eye and started to wriggle and squirm until it could find purchase beneath her eyelid.

She was silent. Infuriatingly, horribly silent as the creature continued to burrow its way into her skull.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as she screamed inside her own body, begging herself to fight, to tear her own eye out rather than let the process of ceremorphosis take place.

But her body was still as the tiny parasite worked its way into her eye socket and back into her brain.

Elinna lost consciousness as she felt the unsettling pressure of her brain matter being displaced to accommodate her unwelcome guest.

When she awoke next, she didn’t immediately know where she was. She only knew that it was loud and it was cold. The sound of air ripping past her pointed ears is what brought her back into full consciousness, and though her eyes were open, she wasn’t actually seeing at first.

There was a vast expanse of stars above her, the smell of salty air, the lingering cling of something far more acrid–like the smell of burnt sulfur woven into her clothes.

She tried to parse what was going on, it felt like she was sinking into the ocean–but if that were the case, shouldn’t she not be able to breathe?

Then she saw the burning wreckage of the Nautiloid and everything came back to her.

The travel to Waterdeep, the encounter with Mr. Dekarios, the parasite and…

And she was falling through the sky!

“Not again!” she cried as she stared at the ground rising to meet her with startling velocity. “No, no, no! I will not–This is not how I die!”

It didn’t go very well the last time, but it wasn’t as if she had any other ideas of what to do. She scoped out the approaching shoreline, selecting one spot and earmarking it. After choosing a point on a craggy cliffside, she shut her eyes and tried to gulp in a breath before it was whipped out of her mouth.

“Inveniam Viam!” she shouted.

That strange, surreal feeling of not moving, yet being in a different place came again, only this time it was followed very quickly by the feeling smashing into the ground beneath her, square onto her back. It wasn’t a far drop, perhaps only a few feet, but it was enough to hurt her. She blinked up at the sky above her, the glow of the stars somewhat dampened by the flaming wreckage of the nautiloid as it loudly crashed into the earth just a few moments after her.

She ached as she stood and looked out over the cliffside she’d misty stepped to, seeing the vast expanse of an unfamiliar coast crawling with intellect devourers and the blazing with fires choking out great plumes of black smoke. She dropped to her knees, feeling utterly defeated.

She had no idea where she was. She had no money. No food. Not even a change of clothes with her. She didn’t even know where she was–and she knew she was more than a little directionally challenged.

Her keepers at The Scribes Nest had told her not to leave; had warned her that there were dangers in the world. That she couldn’t hope to survive on the knowledge she’d amassed from books alone. That the lives of wizards often ended in folly.

She knew this, of course. She’d read extensively about every wizard she could find and more than half of them were done in by their own curiosity.

But the ones who hadn’t been rendered themselves undone…they were amazing. Elminster and Blackstaff. Lorroikan and Sammaster. Karsus and Dekarios.

Wait….

Gale Dekarios–he’d been touched by the tentacles, too!

And if she hadn’t died, then that meant he probably hadn’t either. If she could find him, if she could just appeal to him for one favor…maybe he could help her get back to Waterdeep. Maybe she would have an opportunity to prove to him that she could be a good apprentice; that she was worth the trouble of taking on as a student. Maybe he would know how to get rid of the tadpole squirming in her brain.

But none of that would happen if she just sat there on her knees and despaired.

She would need to get back up and put one bloody boot in front of the other.

She would have to be brave and she would have to trust that Mystra would guide her to what came next.

An Awakening

Hells…it just had to be a pocket dimension that saved him, didn’t it?

They were tricky little things–a slice of wild magic that functioned like an oubliette; a place to put things to be forgotten, or to be summoned at a different point in time. He’d used a few in his time, but never for more than storage during travel or to hide the occasional failed potion. He’d thought once that he might use one when it was clear that the orb would no longer be sated by the magic artifacts he consumed; discussed the idea with Tara before she requested not to speak of it until necessary.

“I don’t like think of that eventuality, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara had said to him. “I know I tend to be pragmatic…but it makes me far too sad.”

“Focus,” he scolded himself as he looked around the darkened pocket. He needed to find an opening–or at least find a way to make one, failing that.

It was a mistake that he’d even ended up in one in the first place. A mistake that stemmed from the first mistake when he’d tried to help that girl.

If he’d had any sense, he would have let her run and gone straight to help his mother and make sure Tara would be okay. He could only hope that they were still safely nestled at his childhood home in Waterdeep. At least he’d not seen either of them during his wanderings about the ship.

But then the spelljammer had lurched and started falling out of the sky, and he’d grabbed onto the strongest strand of weave he could find and followed it here. The unfortunate side of that, of course, was that the strength of that thread is precisely what made this particular pocket realm exceedingly hard to get out of. And the parasite so rudely deposited into his brain was not doing wonders for his ability to concentrate.

He held his hands up and closed his eyes, attempting to feel out the strands of weave in this darkened place. Wherever he’d been transported to, it felt very far away from Mystra indeed. Like whatever reality he’d blipped into was one almost entirely devoid of magic at all.

He focused a bit harder, the tadpole in his head wriggling with the effort. He continued to focus, trying not to think too hard about the unnerving sensation. Finally, with some challenge, he managed to pool some magic together. It felt similar to trying to collect enough morning dew on a leaf to drink.

There came a crackle, then a tear. Not nearly large enough to fit himself entirely through, but enough that he could get an arm out.

Perhaps with at least one hand in Faerun, he could channel whatever remaining weave he needed to fully escape this dark corner of nothing.

A sheen of perspiration shone on his brow as he felt around outside of the oubliette. He could feel the familiar moisture of coastal air and it sent a wave of relief through him. He wasn’t far from Waterdeep at all, then. Or at least he’d hoped as much.

Perhaps he could just appear on the main road and hurry straight to his mother to make sure that she and Tara were alright.

He was trying to grasp onto the weave when he suddenly felt the soft, almost tentative brush of fingertips on the palm of his hand.

A person! Perfect! There was no better way to anchor a teleportation spell than to another living soul. It would be a little complex to explain that, though, and he was sure a mysterious arm poking out of wherever he could reach was more than a little unnerving so he settled for simplicity instead.

“Hello?!” He called through the tear in the fabric of space and time. “Is anyone there? A hand? Please?”

He felt the hand withdraw for a moment, then it returned with what he assumed was the person’s other hand. One closed tightly around his fingers, the other grasped a bit higher, accompanied by the sensation of fingertips curling into the fabric of his sleeve. Small, gentle hands. Not small enough to be a child–but perhaps a woman.

He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel the energy of the stranger on the other side of the opening. He tapped into it, smelling the faint, sweetly lactic scent of peaches; tasting on the tip of his tongue the light flavor of…honeyscotch candy. If Mystra’s energy was violet in color…this energy was the color of the sky during sunrise…a gradient of lilac, rose and cerulean.

Pretty… he thought to himself before slamming the heel of his hand to his brow.

Focus you touch-starved buffoon.

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders!” he said encouragingly. “I think if you just give me a good pull, I should come right out!”

The stranger pulled and he joined that effort by pushing himself through from the other side with what remained of that pooled bit of magic he’d gathered together.

Finally, he flew out of the pocket realm like a cork from a bottle, regrettably landing right on top of the poor woman who had helped him.

He was quick to shift his weight so he didn’t put the entirety of his considerable heft on the poor thing. Yet, his creaky knees slowed him down when it came to properly getting up. Then again…he couldn’t deny a certain reluctance to rise. He hated to admit it, and if anyone ever asked him he would deny it to the grave…but it was pleasant to feel the soft curves of a woman against him. A year was such a long time to be without it, and to feel warmth beneath him again…

It was a lascivious thought not becoming of a gentleman, he remembered, but one that occurred almost automatically much to his chagrin.

“Hells,” he said. “Forgive me miss. I’m usually much better at this–and usually not so long sedentary that my limbs can’t keep up with my manners. Allow me to–”

He lifted himself up onto his elbows and finally laid eyes on his savior.

It was the girl from before. What was the name? Elinna Inklynn.

She stared up at him with wide eyes and a face flushed with exertion. How hard had she needed to work to pull him out of that portal? Seeing her so close now, he picked up on some of the qualities he’d missed in the dim light of the Waterdhavian evening.

A constellation of mauve-tinged freckles dusted across her flushed nose and cheeks. In the daylight, her skin was almost pale pink. The soft swell of her lips sat slightly parted with a look of surprise. And her eyes…my those eyes were something to behold. Verdant as a sprig of mint and flecked with gold as if she had a vein of ore curling through the irises of her eyes.

“A-allow me to help you up,” he finally stammered. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Not by you,” she said somewhat breathlessly.

He grunted slightly as he got back onto his feet, now allowing himself to think of the way her soft curves shifted beneath him. He reached a hand down and helped her back up to her feet as well, dusting off her theadbare apron and her slightly puffed sleeves. She was still flushed–perhaps dehydration or fever…or…

“You haven’t happened to have been on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, have you?” he asked.

The flush could be a sign of the beginning stages of ceremorphosis.

“I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself,” Elinna replied.

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” he asked with a smirk. “I don’t suppose you know what these little passengers will cause if left to their own devices?”

“Ceremorphosis,” she answered without missing a beat. “At least–if we don’t get it handled in a few days…”

Well, color him surprised.

It wasn’t very often that ceremorphosis was talked about among the common man–it was even hard to find books detailing the finer details of the process. The girl may have been a poor magician, but she was clearly learned.

“Suffice to say, it is a process that should be avoided,” he said.

“Agreed,” she said.

It occurred to him that she was behaving…a bit stiff; almost aloof. The young woman he’d encountered in front of his tower had a bit more fire to her than this one did. Then again, they’d just gone through quite the harrowing experience. Both of them were covered in mysterious viscera, they’d been taken hostage on a mindflayer ship and well–the poor girl did just have a strange older man on top of her.

The girl bit down on her lower lip and he found his eyes unconscionably glued to her mouth. She released her lower lip and he watched as the pale pink color returned to it, wondering idly what it would feel like to–

“Are we just—are we just going to pretend that I didn’t beg you to take me on as an apprentice and that you quite sumerilly told me to bugger off?” she asked. “Are we just going to be compatriots now?”

He blinked down at her, his mind catching up with her words.

Good gods, he really was behaving like a lech. He didn’t know where this was coming from. Perhaps it was an undocumented symptom of ceremorphosis–this…uncommon desire he was feeling.

Or maybe he was just, well, desperate.

“Well, I take umbrage with that analysis. I don’t believe I told you to bugger off…At least not verbatim. I do try to not be a miserable ass,” Gale said a bit sheepishly. “But I hasten to point out that we do have a shared problem now–some common ground we didn’t have before. It seems wasteful to part ways at a juncture such as this, don’t you think?”

He looked around in the early morning daylight and frowned realizing that he didn’t recognize anything. “I certainly don’t know the area after all, and judging by the history you disclosed with me, you likely don’t either.”

“Well…no, I don’t. Aside from Waterdeep I’ve not been anywhere other than the Moonshae Islands.” she said.

“And you seem to not have a very strong sense of location judging by our time in the alleyways,” he pointed out.

“That’s true…so then… does that mean you’ll do it?” she asked. “You’ll take me on as your student?”

He grimmaced.

“No,” he said with not a moment’s hesitation. “Not a student–an ally. An equal. It’s best that we tackle this issue together, don’t you think? It makes no sense to travel separately when our searching will likely lead us to the same places. And besides that…”

Besides that, if he started to change into a mindflayer, he wanted to be sure he had someone nearby who could…put him out of his misery and get his body somewhere safe before it leveled a city.

“But I could be more helpful if you teach me,” she pleaded. “I’d just be a liability without your help.”

“I have seen your magic,” Gale said with a bit of a teasing gaze. “And I don’t know if there is much I can do for someone who casts Misty Step with their eyes closed. It seems you’d be more of a liability with the magic than without.”

She blinked up at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Oh, please,” he said. “You must know that it’s a spell that requires a clear line of sight.”

She shrank a bit. “I…didn’t know. No,” she said.

“How could you not know such a thing? You must have read a scroll to learn the incantation,” he said.

“I mean this with the utmost respect, but when is the last time you’ve read a scroll, Mr. Dekarios?”

He inhaled, lifting an index finger. Then he closed his mouth and looked off to the side.

When was the last time? It must have been ages.

“Well,” she said without waiting for his answer. “Most spell scrolls assume a certain basis of classical training, or at minimum an innate understanding of how to channel the weave.”

“I see,” he said. “I’m to assume you’re not a sorceress then?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she said with a sigh.

He clenched his jaw as he looked down at the younger woman. Gods, she really did need a teacher. Maybe he could at least talk to her about theory–or give her a few simple exercises for manipulating the–

No. No.

He had more than enough on his plate without adding a poorly self-taught mage to it.

“Elinna,” he said. “Tell you what. I have a deal to offer–a concession if your like. If we make it through this and…make it out of wherever we are and back to Waterdeep, I promise I will introduce you to some colleagues that will help you get your start as a novice wizard. How does that sound? Fair?”

To his great surprise, she still looked disappointed by that answer. The girl really was an ambitious thing–coming right to his tower to seek his tutelage and no one else's? The poor girl had no idea what she was trying to sign herself up for; a depressed, anti-social, explosive wizard. A depressed, anti-social, explosive and impatient wizard. As far as teachers went, he was not the best candidate for the job.

“Alright,” she finally said. “Let’s see if we can go find a healer together…or maybe some other survivors…of a bath.”

“Oh, to find a bath,” Gale agreed. “Ah, but–before you think you’re journeying with most ill mannered a man–”

Gale gave the young woman a slight bow. “Thank you for pulling me out of that stone.”

When he stood up to his full height again, the young woman was smiling at him, her pretty viridian eyes crinkling at the edges. She tucked a pale copper strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and looked a bit sheepishly down the craggy shore.

“Ah–it’s almost a dead end over here–I think there might be more ground to cover if we cross through the wreckage…but I didn’t want to do that on my own,” she said.

“A wise choice, I think,” Gale said. “No telling what you would have run into. Not to imply that you can’t hold your own, of course–”

“No, you’re right,” she said, looking away from him a little timidly. “I’ll feel better with you there–it’s nice to have a friend.”

He huffed a soft breath and found himself smiling at how willing she was to call him her friend. Even after all the ways he had been a bit of an oaf to her, he felt in her he had found a bit of a kindred spirit. Someone else who sought camaraderie in perhaps…unworthy places.

She looked up at him and bit the swell of her lower lip again. “Shall we go then?” she asked him.

He gestured to the road ahead. “After you,” he said with a magnanimous smile. “Consider me your ever faithful guard dog, ready at the first sign of trouble.”

She snorted a little laugh and shook her head.

And as he followed after her, for the first time in the last year, he hoped the pang in his chest was because of the orb.

Taglist || @auroraesmeraldarose @thoughts-of-bear @cherifrog @puckprimrose @drabblesandimagines

#writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #bg3 #romantasy #writers on tumblr #writing community #bg3 fanfic #gale fanfic #gale headcannons #gale x tav #student x teacher #professor! gale #Gale dekarios #dekarios clan #violet thread of fate

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hiding-under-the-willow · 8 days ago

Note

👀!!

A much longer little writing blurb regarding my Watcher RT. This was my first experiment with a scene that inspired both this drawing and this comic. I never ended up finishing it because the idea for the scene itself has evolved as my idea for the project I'm planning for him evolved over time and it seemed like a waste to put a bunch of effort into writing a complicated poker scene, with an at the time undefined character, that was just a draft for something I'd be remaking later, but I am incredibly fond of this whole thing so it might as well see the light of day

When the man at the top of the stairs looks up from his card, he’s beaming, like he’s seeing an old friend for the first time, all fondness and anticipation.

“Ah, glad to see you finally made it,” He carefully folds down the card, hiding his hand from view as he leaves them face down on the table, gesturing for his guest to approach, “Come on, have a seat, have a seat.”

They hesitate at the top of the stairs. They aren’t exactly sure when they got here. They can’t remember the journey up the steps, though they’re sure they took the climb, and they can’t quite remember where they started. They take the step forward towards the table anyways, and take a seat across from the man. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else to go.

The world around them is strange. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as if the little platform at the top of the stairs was nowhere. It was made of nothing, at least no particular discernible material. It just glowed, swirling light of whites and yellows and pale blues, solid beneath their feet though it didn’t look like it should be. The stairs were the same, glowing, free floating, out in the nothingness.

It looked almost like the night sky, dotted with stars and painted with subtle twisting colors, reds and blues and purples, far off gaseous nebulae bleeding into each other, glowing with stars too far away to ever feel the heat of their fire on your skin. The problem with the theory that it was in fact just the night sky, was that it was all around them. They could see over the edge of the platform, and the scene seemed to stretch on just as infinitely below them as it did up.

There was a sound in the air as they sat across from the strange man, like a chorus of whispers, the shape of words more so than the sound of anything in particular. It made it hard to focus on what exactly he was saying.

“Y’know it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to talk to one of you lot,” He was picking up the mess of card on the table, shuffling them all back into the stack; playing cards with unusual markings, more jokers than there should be in a normal deck, each with unique art of their own, what looked like colorful tarot cards, swept up too quick for them to get a good look. They had no fucking clue what game he was supposed to be playing.

He continued speaking, “I’m usually put on jobs that involve a bit more face to face interaction, but I decided to do a favor for my buddy and ended up watching over this world. It’s been a much longer assignment than I thought it would be. Entertaining enough, certainly, I’ve put a lot of work into that I’ll have you know, but a bit lonely,” He kept rambling, shuffling the deck. They were paying more attention to the symbol that marked the back of each card, a symbol they recognized, though it took a moment for them to realize why, “So, anyways, I’m glad we’ve gotten to meet face to face, despite the circumstances.”

They looked up from the cards, their gaze meeting his. He was still smiling, seemingly unbothered by the disturbed look that had made its way onto their face.

“Something wrong?” He asked, cheery as ever.

“You- You're the one who cut off the admin panel.” It wasn’t an accusation or a question, just a statement of fact. Their eyes shifted back to the cards again, to the symbol that had kept them out of this strange world’s code ever since they’d arrived. It wasn’t until his gaze followed theirs that he seemed to realize where exactly the statement had come from.

“Oh, right, that!” He still didn’t seem at all shaken by their dawning horror at the realization, “That’s just standard procedure for this type of world. It’d distract the players from the story if they were still stuck handling all of the code, better to just handle it ourselves. Helps maintain their immersion, y’know?” He continued absentmindedly shuffling the cards, “It’s what we were made for originally, just to help with the code, so it’s not like it’s hard to take on or anything.”

Their thoughts were running a million miles a minute, new and old questions flooding their head as they were trying to process the information they were being given. They stumbled over their words for a minute, and he just kept giving them that patient smile.

“Why?” They eventually managed to spit out.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “The players of this world wanted a story. I was assigned the job of facilitating it.”

There was an anger that flooded them at the simplicity of the statement, thinking about what exactly they’d found when they’d wandered into this world for their own job.

“Whatever the fuck you’re doing here, it’s not fucking facilitating a story.” His smile dropped for the first time since they’d found him, his brows furrowing as they continued, “You’ve cut them off from the rest of the fucking world, made them forget they were ever anything other than the characters they’re playing.”

There was a long pause, the two of them staring at each other. They could see the gears turning in his head.

“Look, you don’t have to understand my work, or enjoy it. We have a disagreement of opinion in that department, I already knew that about you before I brought you here to talk.” There was a barely contained anger behind the words, a sudden level coldness that sent shivers down their spine, “However, I would appreciate it greatly if you kept any inflammatory opinions to yourself.”

The air almost seemed heavier than before. The cards were motionless in his hands as he stared them down. There was a buzzing around them, a frenzied sound, closing in on them. They wanted to speak, but the words caught in their throat.

Then he spoke again, and the tension seemed to clear all at once, his voice friendly again, the shuffling of the cards cutting through the buzzing whispers around them, “On that note, I understand you have a lot of questions, and I would like to give you the opportunity to ask them, so I’m proposing a little game.”

“I’m not playing anything with you.” They say, pushing their chair back to stand.

There is a force, something in the air that stops them, a pressure on their shoulders, keeping them from standing.

“Oh, don’t be like that.” He says, not looking up from the cards, “Just hear me out for a moment, friend.”

“We’re not friends.”

He ignores the comment, continuing, “I’d usually propose something a bit more consequential, but truly I’m just a bit bored out here by myself, so I’d just like to play a bit of poker, the simple version you humans are used to, nothing fancy.” He looks up at them, “You don’t even have to win.” He says, like it’s some kind of blessing, “Just play a round with me, and then you can ask a question, I’ll answer. Simple as that. It can end whenever you’d like.”

They hesitate.

“Why?” They ask.

“Why, what?” He says in return, a feigned look of innocence on his face.

“I’ve been trying to figure out this world, what the hell’s been going on here, for weeks. Why decide to start answering questions now? Why reveal yourself now?”

He hums in acknowledgement. There is a thoughtful look on his face, something strange in his eyes.

“Do you remember where you were before here?” He asks them.

“Of course-” They begin to answer, only for the words to die in their throat. They tried to conjure up an idea of what they’d done that day, when they’d woken up, who they’d seen, what they’d been planning to do, how exactly they had gone from the overworld to this… place. Everything came up blank. Hell, they couldn’t even remember what day it was, what they’d done the day before. It was like the world had just dissolved at some point and spit them out here without them noticing.

They stare down at the table, mouth opening and closing while they searched for the right words, eyes wide.

“Right,” He says in acknowledgement, sighing, “Well, eventually you’ll figure that out, and at that point I suppose you will understand why now.”

“Why can’t I…” They hold the edge of the table, try to keep their hands from shaking, “What did you do?”

“Oh, me?” He chuckles, “Nothing at all in that department, actually. That’s just your own small, strange, human brain reacting to its current circumstances. Not used to the void, not used to…” He trails off, staring into the nothingness around them. He clears his throat, perks back up, “Well, it’ll sort itself out eventually.”

“My point, though,” He continues, “Is that after our game, once you’ve decided you have all the information you need, I have a different proposition for you, one to help us end this whole predicament we’re in, so we can stop running circles around each other and just go back to our jobs.”

“And why can’t you just give me that proposition now, skip the theatrics?” They ask, eyes narrowed, “Why agree to answer any of my questions at all?”

“Well,” He chuckles, “I figured you’d want to be well informed before you made a decision, but if you’d rather not play, I suppose I could just give you my offer now.” He finally places down the deck, folds his hands on the table in front of him, “Though I have to say I’d be a bit disappointed to lose out on the opportunity for a good game.”

For a moment it is silent, other than that continued incessant chorus of whispers in the air. He simply looks at them expectantly, awaits their answer, that calm, friendly smile unwavering on his face. It feels like he is looking right through them.

Their eyes do not leave him.

“So?” He eventually asks, head tilting to the side like an owl studying its prey, eyes unblinking.

They are still clinging to the table, like it may somehow ground them.

“Fine.” They agree, tone venomous, “I’ll play your game.”

“Oh, wonderful!” He perks up immediately, clapping with excitement, and for once, that smile on his face looks entirely genuine.

“But,” They cut in again, and he pauses his celebration to stare at them, “I have one condition; I’m not doing your stupid one question per round thing, as long as we play I can ask as many questions as I want, and you have to answer them.”

He nods, shrugging, “Fair enough, I can allow that.”

They stare at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed.

“Really? That easy?”

They blink and suddenly the table is set for the game, chips and cards dispersed as necessary.

He beams, pulling his hand from the table in front of him, “That easy.” He confirms, “I’m not unreasonable.” He turns his attention to his cards, looking over them.

#atlas.art #ask game #watcher rt but make him the card game bastard #under the cut since it's almost 2000 words #love this thing so much #i think woosh is the only one who's ever read any of this

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kikokus · 2 years ago

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Sanji Since the Time-Skip, Part Eight (Chapters 810-813)

…So it’s been almost nine years. I’ve recently gotten back into One Piece and am caught up with the manga again, and since I’ve had some requests to continue this series (and there’s obviously been a lot of Sanji content in that time!) I thought I might as well go and do that!

This covers the few chapters of Zou but there’s actually a lot of great Sanji character moments within those four chapters so it seemed to make sense to keep it as its own section. As before, standard disclaimers apply.

[Part One] // [Part Two] // [Part Three] // [Part Four] // [Part Five] // [Part Six] // [Part Seven]

Let’s see if I still remember how to do this...

So not only does everyone seemingly accept that Sanji’s the obvious choice to fill the position of captain in Luffy’s absence, there’s actually an entire chapter named after ‘his’ crew which really emphasizes the point that we’re supposed to look at him as taking that leadership role for the time being.

And, because of that, most of the examples in this part have something to do with Sanji stepping into said leadership role, and that starts here once they can clearly see the city’s been destroyed and Sanji’s first reaction is to leave the others behind where it’s at least relatively safe and go off by himself to make sure he doesn’t put them in any danger.

Chopper threatens Caesar a lot during this part as well but with Sanji here you can tell how much emotion there is behind his words and how angry he is because at this point it’s not even a request anymore, it’s just an order. I really do like how this is set up because the reveal with Sanji’s new wanted poster being ‘only alive’ is before this, but there’s really no other indication as to what that means and once you find out more about his birth family it makes sense why he’s able to take charge as easily as he does.

But for as emotional as he’d been with Caesar, he recovers very quickly here and is the only one to point out that they shouldn’t let their guards down just because it seems like the enemy's gone. Caesar also tries to deter him from deciding to help the Minks by painting them as hostile towards humans and really, all Sanji has to go on right now is Law’s word that his crew is there so he has to make a decision on the spot as to whether trying to save them is a good idea.

Sanji being observant is nothing new but at least in this case we really don’t see what Wanda’s holding until he warns Nami so it’s revealing it to us as readers, too.

I like that this is stated so plainly because the last time we saw Sanji he was very adamant about escaping with Caesar and not letting Big Mom get her hands on him since that was the promise he made to Law, but now that Doflamingo’s been taken care of he sees that as going along with the fulfillment of said promise. He’s also obviously weighing the option of whether or not Caesar’s worth all of the potential trouble both to his crew and to the Minks (and being snarky while doing it, which I always appreciate.)

Though I think he quickly realizes that it’s not quite that simple as just handing Caesar over and being left in peace, and I feel like by this point it’s probably hard to keep track of all the people Luffy’s picked a fight with but Big Mom’s obviously a significant one and Sanji’s not ignoring that.

This is about the most authoritative we see him when it comes to giving orders and it’s very brusque while also keeping Nami and Chopper safe and shutting down any sort of wild ideas Caesar might have. The focus on the panel of him looking down at Bege and giving that little cocky nod is also some pretty great foreshadowing but has another purpose in showing us how easily he can slip into that sort of role when it’s needed.

Sanji doesn’t really have to say this because conceivably this negotiation doesn’t involve the Minks outside of Pekoms being there but once again it speaks to his inherent kindness that he doesn’t want to cause them any more trouble after what they’ve already been through.

This is more just about how well Sanji knows Luffy and knows that he would never agree to becoming a subordinate of one of the Yonko, but at this point I think he’s still trying to find a way for all of them (except Caesar) to get out of there safely. It’s also interesting that earlier we get Brook talking about vaguely about the Vinsmoke family and Nami remembering that Sanji had told them before he was born in the North Blue so it wasn’t as if he was afraid to share that part of his past, but that was as much as he was willing to divulge.

Sanji’s expressions in this chapter are so telling, and I think it’s very effective considering that we don’t know exactly what’s happening but we can tell from his reactions how serious it is and because he’s not saying anything one way or the other that’s all we have to go on. But this is where it turns from him wanting to escape with everyone to him realizing that, now that he’s been told Zeff’s in danger, that’s no longer an option and it’s more about getting the others out instead. There’s a panel directly after where he lights a cigarette which is a very classic ‘I need some time to think’ move from him as well.

That little sad smile says so much…he’s accepted his fate and is saying goodbye in the only way he knows how, and I think he’s being honest here: he never intended to hide anything because, for him, he’s left that part of his past behind and cut all ties with his family so he didn’t consider it a factor or something to dwell on but now circumstances have made it impossible to ignore.

His dialogue goes with what I was saying earlier but I really put this here because it shows him using Observation Haki again and while he can’t say for sure that it’s the Minks, he knows they’re likely the most powerful beings left on the island and he’s willing to take that chance if it means getting the others to safety. I’ll also point out that through this entire section he never even tries to frame it as just ‘getting Nami out’; he wants all of them out of there and goes so far as to hug them (even if it’s with the excuse of making it easier to toss them all out at once).

Sanji’s definitely taking a chance here but even with the little he’s been told about the current situation it’s one he can afford to take because it’s not as if he doesn’t know what Judge is like and he can already infer that Big Mom has some sort of use for Caesar so threatening him is about the easiest way to make his point and gain the upper hand for just long enough to do what he needs to.

And I think Sanji’s also banking on Bege being smart enough to realize that, too (which he does) so while there was a lot that could have gone wrong he’s managed to accomplish his goal of making sure the rest of the crew is safe. If you look closely at some of the panels in this section there’s these little double curved lines around Sanji which are usually an indication of trembling/shivering but even though he’s obviously emotional he’s still holding it together enough to at least make it seem like he’s in control.

I’ve seen some comments that after so long Sanji should know the crew would back him up regardless of what trouble he’s in but Sanji’s nothing if not consistently self-sacrificial and this time, because it’s dealing with a part of his life that’s existed since long before he met any of them, I think he truly does see it as something he needs to do on his own. His smile still hurts me, though.

…And that’s the end of this section! That…probably went on longer than it needed to but I guess it proves that almost a decade later I still have a lot to say about Sanji so please feel free to like/reblog if you found this interesting at all and we’ll…see about working on the next part…

#one piece #sanji #sstts #nobody remembers this series but...it's back...

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booktravelergal · 4 months ago

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First Time Manga Read Review: "In the Name of the Mermaid Princess" | Book 1-3 | SPOILERS!

I first came across the book when searching through CrunchyRoll store front, but bought them on sale through Books-a-Million. At the time only three of the books were available to purchase with the next issue being a pre-order, so afraid of waiting I just got the first three to see how much I ended up liking the series.

| Story Basics and Comments |

Reading the small blurb online for it I thought the story was going to be something much different than expected. I can't really describe what was going through my head, but best put something akin the usual fairy-tales I've enjoyed as a child, with a sprinkle more adventure. The setting is the theme of [insert race] vs humans sort of trope, the whole 'we don't like your kind because of reason here' with added magic. Only the non-human races have magic and the humans called them cursed, which sets up the Princess who was born a mermaid kept secret and being forced to take experimental drugs to make her human. Plot is as follows, an outsider comes into her life which convinces her to make rebelling choices against her father; this leading to her needing to flee and travel to her betrothed in belief he accepts her. Some action and all that good romance, not just with the Prince.

Over all, following the story the Princess can get pretty repetitive in her inner/outer dialog and to me it seems very fast pace. Think almost level of Deku from My Hero Academia, when he keeps repeating his reasoning for being a hero even though as an audience we know, after the fifteenth time he's stated it. Having more dialog-less moments wouldn't be bad, especially already know her reasoning we can read into the moment, at least for most moments. The story is moving and there is no time for the character to soak up where she is traveling through, nor really make full relationships with those she meets. Which on one hand is why the dialog for the Princess is like that and the story itself seems shallow, because we don't get to take at least extra time with minimal fluff-fill-moments to learn more of each place she visits. The other downside with this is that the story never really builds onto that complexity this trope would need to feel rounded, so far as of book three at least. The trope for this plot is not a black-n-white one, it's a complex multi layered that requires some world building. Luckily in book two we do see a non-human being as cruel as a human, willing to help capture another non-human for money even almost kill her companion due to being wanted dead-or-alive. The Princess does acknowledge it, but it isn't really touched up on afterwards only then focusing on humans again. Otherwise, the reason behind why humans call non-humans cursed and fear them isn't really explained. It's safe to assume due to being born humanoid beast or the magic, but for it to be this extreme something big had to have happened. So far, nothing has really been hinted towards that kind of historic moment.

| Artwork and Panels |

The artwork is very cute and lovely, anatomy is well handled with effects not over used too much. Panels are also creatively and dynamically used, making a satisfying read as well a great skim through for artist. They are also very easy to -read- panel art wise, following the character's actions and focus without being too confused; including the uses of blacks to whites which balance each page for that readability. There is no fan-service within this manga, serving a good break from many other manga with it inside the artwork. Dialog bubbles aren't covering the art and isn't over bearing, kept short with just enough words needing to be read. The designs aren't super detailed, but there is enough to keep things from looking too plain and boring. There isn't really a use of the 'goofy faces' or 'goofy chibis' exaggerating the expressions, the portrayal of character emotions is solely kept within the design for them and style; so if you've ever felt annoyed of a 'goofy face or chibi' ruining a moment, it won't happen in this manga.

| Ending Words |

For what it is, I do enjoy it so far. I'm a huge fan of these fantasy worlds with unique lore to its story, as well a good romance with some drama and adventure, so its writing being passable I am fine to collect and continue reading. However, I do hope over time it can slow down with the now main group compiled together and do some more world building to grow characters. I do enjoy this sort of trope plot, one such being Frieren and how the demons are written into the story, but do hope for this one it isn't one sided with no reason behind it.

These are just my thoughts and review, I don't mind hearing from others and chatting about the Manga. I just wanted to share my opinion.

Note: Original I tried to post this within the sub-reddit, but I found trying to follow the rules seemed too complicated since it was so specific yet also too vague to follow. So I made a tumblr to post my reviews. Hope you enjoy.

#manga #review #in the name of the mermaid princess #mermaid #romance #adventure

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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Multitasking

Summary: Tech's job is to repair the ship. Your job is to test his focus by riding his cock.

Pairing: Tech x Reader

Reader Description: Reader is gender-neutral. This fic does not include any descriptions of their appearance.

Word count: 4.1k

Tags: Established relationship, Oral (giving), Smut, Cuming inside, Praise kink, sub!Tech, dom!Reader, Making out, Fluff.

Notes: Happy Tech Tuesdays!! I just had to write something for this specific shot in last weeks episode teehee

Being stranded on an unknown planet is one thing, but being stranded on an unknown planet with a broken down ship? Now, that's entirely another thing - a thing that the Bad Batch has been unfortunate enough to come across. Luck, nor hope, has ever been on their side, nothing ever goes to plan, but today's plan is simple: You and Tech are to stay on the ship and work on repairs, whilst everybody else heads out and searches for food, supplies, the will to live, and so on. And that's exactly where you are right now. Tech is currently suited up, helmet on, laying down on his back, working on the underside of the ships control panel. Most of your jobs are complete, and Tech urged you to have a break like the caring sweetheart that he is. You two have kept your relationship hidden from just about everybody, including the Batch, as you fear that it might cause a rift within the group. Although, you're almost certain they know. You've seen the glances Hunter and Crosshair make to each other when you and Tech are nattering away, and you've overheard Omega ask Wrecker and Echo multiple times if they're certain that you two aren't actually an item. The Batch knows, but the Batch doesn't officially know, and you both plan on keeping it that way. Alone time is a rarity. You'll be lucky to receive a kiss whenever you bring Tech a cup of caf whilst he's alone in the cockpit, or feel his hand in yours whenever you two are buddied up during a mission. You're both touch starved an unimaginable amount, and now that you two have some privacy, you want to make the most of it. Only, Tech being Tech, he needs to work. Tech wants to spend this time with you, just as much as you want to spend it with him, but the Marauder is in dire need of repairs, and only Tech has the ability to fix this ship. So, whilst on your break, you make Tech another cup of caf and bring it over, informing him of your presence as you settle down beside him. He thanks you, but his eyes remain glued to the underside of the cockpits control panel. Dare you say it - he looks inviting. Yes, he's busy working on the ship, and that's exactly why you're fighting the urge to hop on his lap right now. There's something enticing about Tech when he's literally buried in his work. Your mind has blanked out almost every single time he's attempted to explain something to you; you never understand what he's actually on about, but you always ask him to further explain, as the glisten in his eyes always makes you smile. But this? This is something else. You've seen Tech work on the ship so many times, but never in this position. He's lying on his back, hands and eyes fixated on the wires dangling above him, but the way his legs are casually spread is just so... oh. "Tech?" you question as you place a hand on his thigh, gently kneading at the fabric wrapped around him. "I know," Tech sighs. You're about to question what he apparently knows, but his sorrowful eyes meet yours, and he continues with "I want to spend this quiet time with you too." "Awhh," you sigh, giving Tech's thigh another squeeze. "I was actually going to tell you that your caf is there, and to be careful not to knock it over," you laugh, pointing to the cup beside him. Tech rolls his eyes, but from the way they're squinting, you know he's smiling beneath his helmet. He turns his attention back to his work, and you express your agreement with his comment. "But I also wish I was spending this time with you," you reply, and purr your words at the end, hoping that Tech knows what you're implying. "Stars," Tech sighs. "It's been some time, hasn't it?" "Tell me the specifics, Tech," you smile, and Tech's eyes happily meet yours. He's often silenced by his vods for 'blabbering' on about 'unimportant' details, but to you, his ability to remember so much makes your heart flutter. "Eighteen days, to be precise," Tech states as he continues working. "It's been eighteen days since we've had some time alone together, and four days since we've kissed." "I held your hand yesterday," you say with a laugh. "Yes, and I'm almost certain that Hunter saw that," Tech sighs. He stretches his hand out and makes a small grabbing motion, and you fill his palm with one of his tools. Tech shifts up onto his elbows as he looks at the tool that you've handed him, and he can't help but laugh. "I was motioning for you to place your hand in mine," he says as he places the tool down, and shuffles his way from underneath the control panel, sitting on the floor beside you. You laugh along with him, one hand still on his thigh, the other settling in his gloved palm. Tech gives you a comforting squeeze as he flicks his helmets' visor up, revealing his wide eyes, protected by his goggles. He speaks so much through his eyes alone, and you know him to a point where you two can speak without words, and right now, Tech's asking for more. Your hand slips from Tech's grasp so you can remove his helmet. His helmet remains in your grasp as you shuffle closer, and with a smug expression, you ask "do you want to change our four day count back to zero?" Tech nods his head as he softly laughs at your flirtatious remark. He shifts his goggles from his eyes, resting them on his forehead so they won't get in the way as he leans in and kisses you. Tech's kisses are always so soft and gentle, affectionate with a sprinkle of needy. One of his hands finds the back of your neck, simply holding you there as he makes up for all the lost time. Shuffling even closer to Tech, you debate asking a specific question, fearing rejection; you know that Tech wants the same, but he's busy with work, and work is always his top priority. You understand, and you understand that you two would have a lot of explaining to do if the rest of the Batch returned to find an unfixed ship, so you always allow him to prioritize his work. But Tech's kisses grow hungry, deeper and sloppier, and the whimper that he makes when you pull away confirms that he's just as eager as you are. "Do you want to reset our eighteen day count also?" you softly question against his lips, and your tone of voice makes him shudder. "I want to," he sighs, and gives you another kiss before continuing. "But I have work to do, although I estimate that it won't take me long to complete. Then, I'm all yours." "And what if the others return before then?" you pout. "They set off two hours ago. It's highly unlikely that they'd return in such a short time," Tech states. Smart, as always, but the Batch are unpredictable, and you worry that today might be one of those days. You ponder your thoughts, lazily kissing Tech as you weigh out your options. All of your work is done, and Tech doesn't have long to go, but you need him right now. He has the ability to work in an array of situations - under pressure, stressed, overwhelmed, and so on - but what about aroused? Yes, you've teased him on the odd occasion when he's been working, but that's as far as you've gone. Is it time to take things further? "Tech?" you sigh as you pull away. "Mhm?" Tech responds, half-lidded eyes meeting yours. "You still have work to do, but I don't. So, maybe I could start us off whilst you continue working?" you suggest, batting your lashes as you speak, even though you know Tech will say yes. To your surprise, Tech thinks about it, and quickly points out a negative to your idea. "I'm sure you're aware on how distracting your presence is, and... engaging with me sexually will distract me tenfold," Tech objects, moving his hands as he talks. "I've seen you work whilst distracted before. I won't be any different," you shrug. "I understand what you're referring to, but your presence can't be compared to the heat of the battlefield. They are two completely different types of distractions." "What I'm saying is..." you begin, and straddle Tech's lap as you talk, placing his helmet down on the floor beside him. One hand gently cups Tech's chin, tilting it to the side, leaving his neck open for you to begin kissing along. "You're a good worker, Tech, and you've worked through just about everything. So, you'll be fine with my presence, I'm certain of it." You can physically feel Tech shuddering in your grasp, turning into putty whilst you kiss along his neck, speaking against his skin. He lets out a groan when you nip at a sensitive spot behind his ear, and his hands find your hips, squeezing and kneading them. "What do you think?" you question, and wait patiently for Tech's answer. Tech stays silent for a while, minus his quiet mewls and moans. He's putting a lot of thought into this, possibly too much, but he eventually comes to a decision. "Alright," he gently nods. "You're welcome to engage with me whilst I work, but if you are too distracting, and I am unable to work with you around, then I will ask you to stop." "Of course, love," you reply as your kisses move up to his cheek. "I only want what's best for you." "You're what's best for me," Tech sharply exhales, and from the way his eyes turn wide, you know he wasn't meant to let that slip. "I mean... Uh, I shall return to my work, and you're welcome to... do whatever you'd like to do." Tech fumbles for his goggles, pulling them down from his forehead. You sneak in another kiss before his helmet is placed on, and just as Tech's about to lie down, he points something out. "I'd suggest that you shut and lock the door." You scramble up from his lap, shutting the cockpits' door, just to be safe. As you're about to lock it, Tech informs you of a different code to use, and explains why when you turn around and raise your brow at him. "It's a private code that I installed recently, just to be safe." "Safe from what?" you question. "Well, after the inhibitor chip situation, I wanted to install a code that only I know, so if something were to go wrong, say the Empire takes control of us and reinstalls the chip, then sends said person down to attack us, then we'd be safe from them in the ship." You're left speechless as Tech explains his bizarre, paranoid scenario. He notices your bewildered expression, and adds "hypothetically speaking, of course." As if that somehow makes things any better. "You and your paranoia, Tech," you sigh as you punch in the new code. "If it weren't for my paranoia, then we wouldn't now have this safely locked door, preventing the others from walking in on us, if they are to return early," Tech points out, motioning with his hands as he talks, before lying down and shuffling under the cockpits control panel. You roll your eyes whilst smiling, your heart fluttering over yet another reason why you've fallen for Tech. He goes back to work, leaving you to your mischief. Just like before, Tech has his legs partially spread, feet firmly on the floor with his knees slightly raised. As you settle beside him, your hand comes to rest on his thigh, fingers fiddling with the straps of his utility belt. You unhook the straps from his thighs, moving them up to his waist, giving you access to his codpiece. You know far too well how to remove his armour, and you find the hook that unlatches his codpiece, removing it entirely in one swift motion. Tech's already semi-hard, his cock straining against the tight fabric of his blacks. You palm over his erection, eyes peeking up to watch his reaction, and there is none, minus a soft sight. It's clear that he's attempting to focus on his work, and you're torn between wanting to be a massive distraction, and wanting to let him get on with his work. Sadly, repairing the ship is important, but you're certain that you can test his focus another time. For now, you're happy with slowly and lazily getting both of you off, waiting for Tech to finish so both of you can quicken the pace. Shuffling down onto your front, you free his cock from beneath his blacks, pumping it loosely whilst you find a comfortable position. Tech lets out another sigh when you swipe your tongue over the tip of his cock, swirling it around a few times, and then sinking down onto his length. You know by now exactly what makes Tech stir, and like the minx that you are, you go for those specific areas. Tech lets out a groan as you glide your tongue down the underside of his shaft, your hand lightly squeezing his tip. You spend a while between his thighs, earning weak moans, muffled through his helmet. One of his legs begins to lightly bounce, something his body subconsciously does when he's in deep though, and as of recent, something he also does when he's attempting to focus whilst distracted. With one hand around Tech's cock, you manage to slip your pants off, kicking off your boots in the process. You find the perfect balance between satisfying your partner, and preparing yourself, and although the position is slightly uncomfortable, the sound that Tech makes when he notices you prepping yourself makes it worth your while. "Copaani gaan?" you overhear Tech speak in his mother tongue. His eyes lock onto yours as he raises his head slightly, propping himself up on elbows, and Tech watches as you tilt your head in confusion. "Need a hand?" he repeats, and you mumble an 'oh' at his translation. "Shouldn't you be working on the ship?" you question. As Tech starts speaking, you slip his cock back into your mouth, completely malfunctioning his brain. "It's- I... the work- uh..." Tech stutters, and groans as he blurts out "mesh'la." A gloved hand rests on the back of your head as Tech lies back down, eyes scrunching shut, moaning softly for you. "So beautiful," he mumbles, and lets out a choked sob when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. "What were you saying about the ship?" you innocently ask as you pull off his cock. "It's almost fixed," Tech groans, followed by a heavy sigh. "Finish your work, Tech," you order, and your tone of voice makes Tech shudder. "Elek, cyar'ika," Tech whimpers. "Anything for you." The hand on the back of your head is removed, and Tech turns as much focus as he can to his work. You decide that you're prepped enough, as is Tech, and begin shuffling into position, straddling Tech's lap. His eyes flick away for a moment, watching through his slowly steaming-up goggles as you sink down onto his length, letting out a soft sigh once you're fully seated. Despite not being able to see Tech's face, you know he's struggling to hold himself together, especially from the noise he makes when you begin slowly rising and falling on his cock, taking your time with every thrust. "Your work, Tech," you comment as you lock eyes. "Y-yes, right..." Tech's words trail off as he attempts to finish up, moving wires and tightening bolts, putting together the final parts of the ships control panel. You keep your pace slow and steady, not wanting to move Tech's body too much as he works, plus the sensation of slowly fucking yourself on your partners cock is oh-so-satisfying. And from the sounds that Tech is attempting not to make, you know that he's feeling the same way. You two spend some time like that, Tech finalizing the ship as you slowly get each other off, tensing your muscles every so often to tighten your grip on Tech's cock. Wanting to see how Tech will react, you catch him by surprise by slamming down on his cock; Tech lets out a choked moan, the air from his lungs being pushed out, and he almost drops the bolt tightener that he's holding. He perks his head up, groans at the sight of you, and then lets it fall back again. His hands pause mid-air, uncertain if he should attempt to work, or enjoy a brief break. "Tech?" you purr, and his eyes lock onto yours through the tint of his goggles. "Carry on working, love, you're almost finished." "Cyar'ika, you're making this unbelievably difficult," Tech whimpers. Tech isn't always one for praise, unless you're reminding him of how intelligent he is, but maybe he'll accept a few compliments whilst he's literally beneath you? "You're such a good worker, Tech, you can continue with a minor distraction," you praise. Tech's eyes momentarily flick away, as if to question if he really can work in these conditions. You know he's accepted your compliment the second his hands move up, returning to the control panel. "See?" you smile. "Pretend I'm not here. Pretend I'm not riding your cock right now," you tease, and your smile grows when Tech lets out a deep sigh. "I'll get you for this," he threatens in his own, soft, Tech-like way. "I can't wait," you purr, and pick up the pace, positioning your hands on his armoured chest to give your body extra support. Your eyes fall shut just as Tech returns to his work, putting your focus into riding him. Your pace isn't perfect, but it's enough to get you off, and from the sounds you're hearing from your partner, it's enough to get him off too. You're so engulfed in pleasure that you almost don't hear Tech suddenly states "I'm done." For some reason, you instantly assume he's done with you, motioning for you to stop. "Huh?!" you yelp as your eyes snap open. "I'm done with my work," Tech states, unaware of your confusion, and you let out a heavy sigh of relief. He lightly taps your thigh, signalling for you to raise your hips, and with the tip of his cock barely inside you, both of you shuffle so that Tech is no longer pinned beneath the control panel. You slam back down onto his cock just as he props himself up on his elbows, almost collapsing down again from the sensation. Tech curses under his breath, and with shaky arms, he manages to reach up and remove his helmet, placing it down beside him. His cheeks are redder than ever, almost as bright as when you two shared your first kiss, and from the light layer of sweat over his face, you assume that he'll be needing a shower later, and no doubt, you'll join him. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" you cheekily smile, and Tech has the audacity to roll his eyes at you. "You're unbelievable," Tech groans as he shifts his legs, placing his feet firmly on the floor, hips slightly raised - the perfect position to begin thrusting up into you. Tech meets your hips halfway, finding the perfect rhythm within no time. He's no longer holding back, moaning and groaning freely, and treating you to the occasional whimper. Tech's hands are snugly sitting around your hips, and his eyes are struggling to stay open, eventually scrunching shut, his mouth remaining parted as he puts all of his focus into fucking you. Your hands grip onto his chest once more, thick plastoid armour pressed against your palms, steadying your weight whilst both of you chase your orgasms. You know Tech is close when he begins stuttering, his mind becoming hazy, but Tech manages to whimper "I'm close." "Inside," you quietly state, and all Tech manages to do is nod. You beat him to it, tightening around his length as your orgasm hits. The sensation of you squeezing his cock has Tech sputtering, mewling beneath you whilst he pulls you down onto his hips and holds you there, his cock twitching heavily as he fills you up. You rock your hips back and forth gently, just enough to milk him, and Tech's grip on your hips tightens as he begins panting; his eyes slowly open, pupils blown, gawking at the sight of you. "T-too much," Tech eventually stutters, so you ease up, coming to a halt. Both of you spend a moment to gather yourselves and catch your breaths. Tech's hands move from your hips so he can prop his goggles up on his forehead, wiping his face with his palms, attempting to snap himself out of his post-orgasm haze. "Good?" you simply question, smiling when Tech nods in agreement. "Yes," he sighs, "so good. I think you'll agree that we both needed that," Tech comments as he pulls his goggles back on, and props himself up on his elbows, looking up at you, still sat on his lap with his cock slowly softening inside you. Tech takes a hold of your hips again, keeping you firmly on his lap as he sits upright. His soft eyes remain glued to yours, and a sweet smile appears on his lips when you playfully rub your nose against his. Tech wraps his hands around your waist, holding you in his lap, enjoying the sensation of your bodies being pressed together. Neither of you speak, but you don't need words to express the connection that you're feeling right now. You cup his jawline, holding his head steady whilst you enjoy some slow, sensual kisses. The taste of sweat is light on Tech's lips, but it's not enough for you to pull you away from him; if anything, you're enticed by how he tastes, parting your lips slightly so your tongue can glide across his. An unknowing amount of time passes as you two remain tied together, catching up on those lost moments; the nights where you can't be in each other's arms, the kisses you've missed due to lack of privacy, the gentle touches that are always kept private. As you move apart, you motion for Tech to tilt his head to the side, revealing your favourite place to kiss. Your hands slide over his shoulders, fiddling with the ends of his short hair, and you plant kiss after kiss on his faint scar, hidden beneath his short, buzzed hair. Tech smiles as you kiss over that area, and once you're done, he presses his forehead against yours. Finally, one of you speaks up. "Would you like to join me in the refresher?" Tech offers. "Of course," you smile, and place a kiss on his nose before shuffling off his lap. Once both of you are dressed, and Tech has tidied his equipment away, you go to make your way through the ship. As you open the locked cockpit door, you're both met with an extremely grumpy looking Hunter. He's sat with his arms crossed, tired eyes, and the only thing he asks is "are you two finally done?" "T-the ship is repaired, if that is what you're asking," Tech replies, struggling to maintain eye contact. "C'mon, you know I'm not on about that," he sighs. "You're lucky that the others wanted to stay outside and enjoy the sun!" Both of you stand there awkwardly, gawking around the ship, looking at everything but Hunter. He lets out a long, defeated sigh before saying "both of you, go and clean up, please. And leave the cockpit door open, it stinks in there." With that, Hunter rises from his chair, and makes his way off the Marauder, leaving the ships' door open to let fresh air flow through the ship. At the same time, Tech and you lock eyes, sharing an awkward expression. To your surprise, Tech states "that went rather well." "You're joking, right?" "It's been a long time coming," he shrugs. "Anyway, are you still joining me in the refresher?" You let out a laugh, but shake your head in agreement. "Lead the way!"

#swwriting #multitasking #tech x reader #the bad batch #clone trooper tech x reader #smut #nsft #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #star wars #tbb fanfic #reader insert #tbbwriting

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psychewritesbs · 3 years ago

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Chapter 160: How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated? + Megumi the stage-five clinger

Happy JJK-Sunday!

If I had to describe chapter 160 with as few words as possible, I would say: Oh f*ck...

My favorite moment was, of course, Megumi acting like a stage-five clinger. His interaction with Yuji in this chapter is especially ominous in light of Yuji being adamant of protecting Megumi from Sukuna.

A second favorite was Sasaki showing up in this chapter because of the implications moving forward.

Let’s jump right in.

How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated by Kenjaku?

We start the chapter with Kenjaku talking to none other than Sasaki, one of the members of the Occult Club at the high school in Sendai that Yuji used to attend.

Of course, the bomb that Gege dropped on us in this chapter is when Kenjaku thanks Sasaki “for getting along with my son”.

Like... excuse you?

Not only does this 100% confirm that Kenjaku used Yuji’s mother’s body to give birth to him, but this specific moment + some foreshadowing from previous chapters also opens an interesting can of worms about Yuji’s life: just how much of Yuji’s life has Kenjaku orchestrated?

For me, the implication is that Sasaki had an assigned role to play in Yuji’s life that would inevitably lead to him eating Sukuna’s finger.

I am assuming this because although we don’t see Kenjaku’s interactions with the other people in Sendai, we get to see that, in addition for thanking her for getting along with Yuji, Kenjaku is incredibly kind to Sasaki. We also learn that she’s the only one who has received a special message from him (thanking her).

Ready to make this whole interaction more ominous? Someone pointed out that the kanji in Sasaki’s name means assistant.

All of this brings us right back to Yuji’s free will--or lack thereof?

We already know that Kenjaku claims he made Yuji “ingest” Sukuna’s finger and that Megumi is rightfully concerned with this idea because he witnessed Yuji eat Sukuna’s finger “of his own free will.”

It’s also becoming increasingly obvious that Yuji was "created” solely for the purpose of becoming Sukuna’s vessel.

What this new reveal about Sasaki does is that it makes everything feel like certain events have been part of Kenjaku’s master plan all along. While this still feels a little farfetched, it will come down to how Gege works this idea into the story moving forward.

Come to think of it, even Yuji’s grandfather’s dying words to Yuji take on a new meaning since we know Wasuke knew something was definitively up with Yuji’s mother.

Another possible bit of foreshadowing all the way in chapter 1: While the intersection in the second panel below could be ANY intersection in Japan, it sure looks like the Shibuya crossing:

A quick note on the importance of kanji meanings in JJK before moving onto the next section: knowing the meaning of Sasaki’s name tells us that names are important in JJK. If you haven’t, I recommend you read my break down on the meaning of Megumi’s FULL NAME. His first name is important, but so is his last name.

The plans moving forward

Going off to Tokyo Colony #2 are Panda and Hakari.

As the strongest, Hakari feels like he should take on Hajime. As for Panda, it looks like his focus will be on hunting down Angel.

Side note: I love that Hakari is still calling Megumi names. Guess Senpai can’t help himself.

I must admit I was disappointed to find that Kirara will stay behind to report, but it is what it is. I am assuming Gege could see no use for Kirara and decided to leave the character out of the action for the time being.

As for Megumi and Yuji, they’ll be heading to Tokyo Colony #1 to target Higuruma, everybody’s new favorite Law & Order boss.

This brings us to Megumi’s current state of mind...

Megumi the stage-five clinger

I had a hard time coming up with the title for this section because what I see happening is that Megumi is starting to feel the pressure of the looming deadline for Tsumiki joining the Culling Game. What his behavior shows, however, is that he needs Yuji with him and is clinging onto him but won’t come out and say it--opting instead for aggression towards Yuji, the very same person he needs most.

His behavior reminded me of how Megumi could be mean to Tsumiki even though he clearly adores her. Apparently that’s the meaning of being tsundere. I’ve read about the term tsundere before but it never “clicked” until this moment and I just love Gege’s interpretation of the trope through Megumi’s character.

It goes without saying that it was REALLY interesting to me to see Megumi’s dynamic and interaction with Yuji in this chapter because it looks like Gege is letting us know Megumi’s state of mind continues to be one of desperation--remember that dogeza bow from chapter 157?

The thing about Megumi is that he looks stoic on the outside, but he’s actually an incredibly emotional person who doesn’t often show how he’s feeling.

I hadn’t caught on, but in chatting with @justafrenchlondoner about the chapter, they pointed out Megumi’s behavior in his dynamic with Yuji appears nervous and aggressive.

Upon a second look I have to agree that Megumi is acting out of character and aggressive with Yuji when all that Yuji really wants is to protect Megumi from Sukuna.

And yes, let me go ahead and sound like a broken record as I remind you of Yuji’s rather ominous words from chapter 143 yet again:

And this is the part of the chapter that knocked the air out of me: Megumi telling Yuji to stfu about Sukuna but Yuji thinking to himself “as long as I’m around you will suffer” back in ch143 is so damn ominous.

Oh f*ck...

But this is what REALLY gets me about this whole interaction and why I’m calling Megumi a stage-five clinger...

Even though Megumi is calling Yuji selfish, in reality, the one being selfish is Megumi.

This is, of course, my own interpretation of the situation, but to me it feels as though Megumi is clinging onto Yuji’s strength for dear life.

It’s almost like Megumi needs not just Yuji’s physical strength, but also his unwavering conviction or mental strength.

If you think about it, Megumi has only recently started fighting to win. Remember how unsure he was of himself when fighting Sukuna for the first time? It wasn’t until he went up against the Cursed Spirit from the Yasohachi bridge that he let go of his inhibitions.

Megumi’s battles during Shibuya were the pinnacle of his growth as a character in that moment. If I remember correctly, according to the timeline of events, the Shibuya incident happened around two weeks prior to the current chapter. You could say that although he is more comfortable in his strength than before, Megumi is still growing into his strength at this point.

The thing about Megumi is that everybody and their Divine Dog believes in him and sees his potential except for him. As Gojo tells him “you undervalue yourself.”

Looking back, the way Megumi asks begs Yuji for help in chapter 143 is very enlightening of how Megumi needs Yuji’s strength:

I initially had read this to mean Megumi needed Yuji’s physical strength. Upon second look, however, Megumi has always seemed to have admiration for Yuji’s conviction.

With the looming deadline for Tsumiki’s vow to join the Culling Game, as Megumi starts to feel the pressure to make his plan work, who better to keep around than the person who will always go for the home run and whose strength he admires?

In other words, like hell he’s going to let Yuji leave his side. Which, again, only makes it more heartbreaking to think Sukuna is up to no good regarding Megumi and Yuji wants to protect him from that.

Oh f*ck.......

The panel below feels like a bit of a lighthearted and comical moment, but it’s also interesting to note that this is the second time they “fight”.

The first “fight” having taken place during the Cursed Womb Arc.

If you will remember, Gege used the Cursed Womb Arc and the Origin of Obedience Arc to show us how much our favorite trio had grown.

Not sure Gege is going to parallel something here again, but just interesting to note.

Oh f*ck...

Ya, please excuse the French.

Despite the many words I’ve shared here, this chapter left me mostly speechless.

I feel like I’ve been trapped in Gojo’s limitless domain expansion and all I can think is “oh f*ck” or “halloween” (if you catch my drift).

Chapter 160 was incredible because it looks like Gege has finally finished putting all his pieces into place and is ready to go for the kill by:

Starting to unravel the story bit by bit, giving us all of the twists we both saw and did not see coming, and

Ramping up the stakes. Taking into consideration the estimates that JJK is somewhere around 60-70% done at this point, It’s not a matter of whether some of our beloved characters will die, but about who, when and how they will die

One last detail

I love the last four panels of the chapter showing Panda, Hakari, Yuji and Megumi all wearing their uniforms (barring Panda) and getting ready to become official participants of the Culling Game by entering their respective barriers.

Knowing that Gege is a very talented artist capable of showing and expressing emotions through his art, I feel like these panels tell us a lot about what the characters might be thinking and I thought I’d expand on that.

Bear in mind this is my personal interpretation as an artist:

Panda looks excited and ready to fight, perhaps even confident. Panda is saying “bring it!” with his body language

There’s a hint of something I can’t describe in Hakari’s face. It’s almost like he’s coming face to face against how big of a challenge this is going to be and yet he’s resolved to walk straight into “the depths of hell itself”

Yuji looks focused, determined to go in and give it his best no matter what comes his way--that’s just who he is

And then there’s Megumi. I’ve been drawing Megumi recently, and one thing I noticed is that he has very specific micro-expressions. In his panel, he’s warming up his wrists as though he’s getting ready to fight, he has a focused look on his face, but the shadows around his eyes say he might be feeling like he is carrying the heavy burden of the uncertainty surrounding the situation he’s going through

With all that being said... the Culling Game is officially starting and we’re in for a one-way ride straight to hell.

Thank you for reading and happy JJK-Sunday!

What about you? What did you enjoy most about chapter 160?

#fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #god i love jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk ch 160 #gege akutami #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #hakari kinji #jjk meta #jjk theory

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nev3rfound · 4 years ago

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blame it on the neighbours : b.b

having recently moved in next door, you and bucky become fast friends. however, there's something looming between the two of you and it comes to light when it's revealed you're in the hospital. (1.7k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the very sweet @didsomeonesaybucky warnings: bucky freaking out if that counts? descriptions of hospitals

Ever since you moved in and became Bucky's next-door neighbour, he could tell things were going to be different. In the first instance, he could hear you in the corridor, chatting away happily to your other neighbours, offering baked goods. He watched cautiously through the peephole, still having to yet meet you, he merely observed from afar.

When he finally met you, it wasn't the interaction he quite hoped for.

Standing in front of his door with a tray of cookies in hand, you release a shaky breath having heard from your other neighbours that the occupant in apartment 4F wasn't the friendliest. But you would simply have to judge that for yourself, you told them.

"He's a bit of a strange one, dear." Your neighbour, Clarissa in 2F warned you as she accepted the container of muffins you had made that morning. "Doesn't really leave or go out much, I think I've only ever heard him say morning once in the six months he's been here!" Her words echo in the back of your mind as you lift your hand up, knuckles lightly tapping the door.

With wide eyes, Bucky hesitantly walks toward the door and stares straight through the peephole. His breath halters, watching as you stare down at your feet.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky glides his fingers over the several locks across his door and slides through the small gap in the doorway with an attempted smile gracing his lips.

"Hi," You start, now lifting your eyes up toward this mysterious neighbour who is definitely not what you anticipated. "I, I'm Y/n, I moved in next door a week ago," Motioning to your apartment, Bucky forces his eyes to glance across down the hall before averting them back to you, taking in your features up close as you rub your lips together.

"Yeah, I heard you moving in." Bucky comments, internally cringing at his choice of wording. "I mean, I," His words falter at the sound of you chuckling softly to yourself. "can I start again? Is that alright?" He asks, grateful that you nod. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm James."

"Well, it's lovely to know my other neighbour, James. I, these are for you." Thrusting the tray forward, Bucky pushes his door open further with his foot to accept the tray, forgetting he didn't have his glove on.

Your eyes wander down to see his left arm is entirely metal. "Thanks." He mutters, feeling your eyes burning into his arm.

"I'm sorry," You quickly say, looking up at his face. "it's rude to stare, my Mom would scold me if she were here right now."

Bucky shakes his head, moving his leg to catch the back of the door. "Don't worry 'bout it." He brushes it off, but he notices your eyes wandering around the bland corridor and your lips parting.

"You don't happen to know any good places for dinner 'round here?" You move the conversation on, causing Bucky to raise a brow in response. "I'm kinda new to the area and I was wondering if you knew any good spots." You shrug your shoulders, hoping he couldn't read your mind and know that sentence was a complete lie.

"Erm, yeah." He sheepishly tells you, hearing Doctor Raynor droning in the back of his mind about putting himself out there, and not on those godforsaken dating apps again. "There's a great sushi place I know of."

Your smile brightens at his suggestion, and Bucky can't ignore how his lips rise at the sight. "Great, wanna join me then since you know it so well?" You suggest nonchalantly. "And you can always enjoy those as a dessert afterwards."

Looking down at the tray of warm cookies, Bucky tries to hide the sound of his stomach grumbling against the tray.

"Sure," He reaches into his apartment, grabbing his things including his gloves before following you out. "so, what brings you to Brooklyn?"

It's been several months since you moved in next door, and Bucky couldn't be happier that you plucked up the courage to knock that day.

Every week you two hang out, sometimes you join him and Yori for lunch who spends most of the time trying to convince Bucky to ask you out (only to be scolded when you're absent.) Sometimes you'll cook dinner, dance around your apartment and watch movies or wander around the city whilst Bucky tells you old stories; just like normal friends do, right?

It was truly blissful, but there was still so much about each other you had yet to learn.

Running his fingers through his combed hair, Bucky tugs on his blue henley before heading out.

As he locks his front door, he carries out dinner that he promised to make for you tonight.

"Oh, James." Your neighbour in 2F, Clarissa, stands in front of her door with her handbag and walking stick.

"Hi, Clarissa." Bucky forces a small smile, having heard her conversations regarding his past, muttering about having a murderer in the building shouldn't be allowed.

"Heading into Y/n's I take it." She hums, eyeing him carefully as he nods in response. "She should be back later, told me she had to go to the hospital." Waving herself off, Clarissa turns the lock in her doors.

"The hospital?" Bucky speaks up as the containers in his hands begin to slip, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. "Y/n's in the hospital?" Trying not to yell, Bucky steps closer, causing Clarissa to clutch her handbag tightly in front of her chest.

"Yes," Clarissa states calmly, but Bucky notices the keys in her right hand begin to shake.

"Thanks." Bucky mutters, stepping away as he darts back into his own apartment and grabs his coat, barely able to process his thoughts before rushing down the stairwell with nothing but you on his mind.

Reaching the entrance to the hospital, Bucky hands the driver some money without any words being exchanged. Bucky knew he looked like hell; he couldn't focus properly on anything. He had only seen you last night, the two of you in his apartment painting his living room walls, laughing together as you accidentally flicked paint across his cheek.

The reception area was crowded, voices bounced from wall to wall as Bucky strode toward the desk where a woman sat, staring blankly at a screen.

"How can I help?" She asks, briefly glancing up at Bucky before focusing on her screen once more.

Suddenly lost for words, Bucky homes in on a man crying in the waiting area, loudly sobbing into his hands as a nurse stands over him.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I'm looking for Y/n." Bucky forces the words out as the Nurse simply nods whilst typing away, humming a tune to herself.

"Oh okay," The Nurse pauses as her eyes scan over the monitor.

Clutching the edge of the desk, Bucky can hear the plates in his metal arm whirring as his grip tightens, nearly tearing the panel off as the silence becomes insufferable.

"So Y/n is currently in the operating theatre." The nurse tells Bucky nonchalantly, glancing up to see something change in his expression.

"No," Shaking his head, Bucky steps back. "she, I, I we were going to have dinner." It sounds pathetic to him, saying it aloud. But seeing you, having any moment with you made him feel human again, almost normal.

"Yeah, crazy how schedules fall." A heavy sigh leaves the nurses lips, unaware of the cool gaze that is locking in on her.

"Do you know when she'll be-" Before Bucky can finish his sentence, he's caught off guard by someone calling his name from the corridor.

"James?" You chuckle, walking toward him wearing your uniform adorned with your badge.

"Doll?" Bucky stutters, stepping closer as he tries to stop the tears in his eyes from forming. "You, you're okay?" He mumbles, looking you over, keeping his hands on your arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You ask, evidently surprised. "Everything okay, James?" Lowering your voice, you peer down to look him in the eyes whilst his head hangs low.

"Clarissa said you were in the hospital." Bucky huffs in annoyance to himself. "I, I didn't put it together," He mumbles. "I forgot that you,"

"That I'm a Doctor?" Holding back the laugh in your throat, you sigh before tugging Bucky closer into your embrace. "I'm okay, James. I'm only sorry you came all this way."

Keeping you in his arms, Bucky doesn't want to let go. Whilst your face rests in the crook of his neck, he allows a few stray tears to fall in relief. "I, I made us dinner." He eventually says, feeling you pull back to look at him, your eyes softening at the trails left on his cheeks.

"Oh, James." Raising your hand, you cup his cheek. "I'll be off work in an hour. I'm so sorry I should've said something or let you know sooner."

Shaking his head, Bucky takes your hand from his cheek and runs his fingers over your knuckles. "Don't worry 'bout it, Y/n. I'm just glad you're safe." He tells you, wishing he could say something else, but for now, that was enough.

"Did you make,- Your eyes light up in excitement, but Bucky cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

"Yep." Bucky chuckles as you do a little dance. "You're such a dork sometimes, doll."

"Yeah," You admit, slipping your hand from his as you bury them in your pockets. "but would you have me any other way, neighbour?" Raising a brow to him, Bucky shakes his head. "Thought as much."

"I'll keep dinner warm for you." He smiles, hearing the word neighbour circle his thoughts. Yet, for once, Bucky forces his intrusive thoughts aside as his lips brush across your forehead. "Be good, Doc." He can't help but laugh to himself at the sound of your heart beating rapidly whilst externally, you remain cool.

"I'll try my best, Barnes." You salute him, watching as he walks back out of the hospital, knowing he's one step closer to calling you his girl.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@bissstuff @psychicforest@lourightm@mywinterwolf@justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx@courtneychicken@marvelsangels@supraveng@tommy-lee-81@smilexcaptainx@fandom-princess-forevermore@sarge-barnes-sir@pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated-fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs@eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8@notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan @cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976@sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor @pleasantlysecretdream @yougottalovefandoms @magicalxdaydream@soccer-100000 @tenaciousperfectionunkown @talksoprettyjjx @btsonthedaily @jessyballet @katiaw2 @buckyswildflower@lucrea @weenersoldierr @katiaw2 @lucrea @amelia-song-pond @bluelakeee @dottirose @emilytheukuleleplayer @5-seconds-of-mendes @rudystilins @bookfrog242@wild-rose-35@fleurlovesbucky@iiclarixa @soldierstucky@twinerd14@lieswithoutfairytales@ateliefloresdaprimavera@teenwonder@weenersoldierr@nobody-will @ilikemypolarbear @rottenstyx @original-in-itself @sebby-staan @bbl32 @lyoongx @iilwjbb @siriuslyslytherin @chazubagi @youngmarveltastypersona

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captnjacksparrow · 3 years ago

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Hey. So when do you think Sasuke realised his true feelings for Naruto? I feel like he knew since part one itself, in some way at least. He was aware of something. When Sasuke tells Naruto his body moved on its own, I feel like there were seeds of realisation or at least a trigger point. In Shippuden, he always seems like he is fully aware of his depth of feelings for Naruto, he gets super emotional because of it. The fact that he is driven to ask Naruto again and again about his feelings, and is disappointed except for chapter 698 proves that he knew this feeling was somehow different, and he wanted understanding from Naruto, maybe to validate his own feelings, since he is equally inexperienced if not oblivious like Naruto.

He knows deep down that Naruto is special to him, he adores Naruto privately, he had since before the genin days. At the end of vote 1, I think he realises it fully, his true feelings for Naruto. What do you think?

Wonderful Ask, Anon!!! 😍😍😍.

[[Lengthy Post ahead]]

WHEN DID SASUKE REALIZED HIS TRUE FEELINGS FOR NARUTO?

I am damn sure, like 100%, the moment he realized his true feelings is when he thought he was going to die and recollected all the memories he shared with Naruto (including the Accidental Kiss and Roasting Sakura for insulting Naruto) for one Last Time in the Land of the Waves Arc.

You might be thinking now, "What makes you so sure?"

Well, Kishimoto just hammered into our faces in many plotlines.

How is this panel has to do anything with Sasuke?, You may ask.

The answer is here.

"You will realize what you are, as death comes to embrace you".

Itachi, no matter how cold he acted before Sasuke in that battle, he simply couldn't keep up his Evil Brother act at the final moment of his death.

He just smiled. That is who Itachi really was and always will be for Sasuke.

Again, you may ask, 'All this happens much later in the series, Kishi might've had a different mindset back when he was drawing part 1'.

You are right. But Kishi's mindset was the same all the time. He even established this 'True face before Death' theme very strongly in Land of the Waves arc itself.

This is who Zabuza really was. He didn't treat Haku like a Tool. Infact, his final words were, "I wanted to go the same place as you".

Kakashi made sure to convey this message to Haku in the War Arc, when he fought with the Edo Tensei'ed Haku and Zabuza.

And there are many characters who died in this series. Almost all of them projects their true feelings before their death. Just rewind the deaths of Nagato, Yahiko, Konan, Obito, Madara. You might've noticed that there won't be any lies. For Example, Obito. When he died for the first time, he was really thinking about Kakashi and Rin. He even said, ‘I wish I could’ve spent more time with them’. That’s who Obito really was. He was convinced with that Tsukuyomi plan because he wanted to live in a dream world where Rin and Kakashi will be with him happily.

So, a person, at their final moment thinks only about all their memories shared with that 'precious' person signifies only one thing. That person must have unconditionally loved the one they thought about.

Sasuke realized that he loves Naruto at that moment and he had no regrets because he smiled before falling into Naruto's lap.

And I always wondered, 'Why did Sasuke thought only about Naruto? Didn't he have any other good memories other than the ones he shared with Naruto?'.

Well, this goes way back when he was just 8, right after the Massacre. Yes, the chapter 698 confession. But I am not going to attach all the panels here as I will go in-depth about it later in this post.

However, there are three panels that provides the general gist of what Sasuke felt about Naruto, the whole time.

Happiness:

Whenever Sasuke watches Naruto, he reminded him of his family and it made Sasuke 'felt relieved' or 'feel warm and fuzzy'. Simply put, Naruto's presence made him happy.

And did Sasuke ever felt relieved?

Yes, he did!!

This above scene happens sometime after the massacre and yet, somehow Naruto could make him smile even in that distressful situation.

And this is one recurring feeling which Sasuke experience whenever he comes in contact with Naruto. After the Massacre, somehow Naruto became his source of happiness or relief. This panel right after massacre, that smile before his ‘supposed’ death, on seeing the Great Naruto Bridge with a relaxed smile, VoTE2 smile.....

Sasuke smiled at all these scenes and you know the reason why!!!

Weakness:

This is exactly opposite from how he felt earlier. And this conflicting thoughts are what Sasuke was battling in his mind throughout Part 1 and Part 2 until Chapter 697. He liked Naruto's presence. But, For him, the very thought of bonding with him made him feel weak.

According to Sasuke, the stronger he bonds with someone the more he has to worry about losing them and the very thought of losing them will put him in a precarious position which is considered as a weakness. And Sasuke doesn’t want to experience this again.

Meaning, Sasuke doesn’t want to feel the pain of loss over someone, ever again. He wants to be the person who don’t care about anyone.

Did Sasuke ever expose his weakness?

Yes he did!!!

This is his absolute display of weakness and this is what he always wanted to avoid. The very thought of something is going to happen to Naruto made him do something that put him under immense pain.

Yes, In his mind, he doesn’t want to care about anyone’s loss. But his body doesn’t seem to listen to him. And that’s why his body moved on it’s own.

God!!! This made me cry!!!!

Pain:

Now, this feeling Sasuke had towards Naruto was very evident in the War Arc. That one time he sensed Naruto’s Chakra in Konoha and asked Orochimaru to hurry up. Also when Naruto was bawling after seeing countless shinobi’s deaths, Sasuke’s reaction changed from ‘I don’t care 😶’ to ‘How dare you😠’, I consider all these moments where Sasuke was bothered about Naruto . But since, I want to focus only on Pre- Land of the Waves moments, I’m not going to add those moments here.

Did Sasuke felt pain in Part 1?

Of course, he did!!!

Well, I always consider this scene as something ‘very personal’ for Sasuke.

In this post, I’ve written about how chapter 3 is masked by the ‘Accidental Kiss’ as a comical facade but when you analyze it deeply you will find that Naruto and Sasuke’s rivalry thing goes long back, even before the series started.

After hearing Pinky’s insensitive comment, what Sasuke did here was completely extreme. He was just giving her a ‘Murder Stare’ which was way too extreme for Naruto, if he was just a teammate. When in reality, Naruto was not just his teammate. That’s why I think Sasuke was bothered by this insensitive comment and roasted her because he knew Naruto was suffering from this loneliness ever since he saw him when he was 8. And when someone made fun of his loneliness, Sasuke just couldn’t keep quiet.

Isn’t this some form of feeling pain of the person you care about and standing up for them?

This is another scene which I don’t have to go in detail about.

On my first watch, I always wondered, ‘Why Sasuke was making exceptions for Naruto? They just know for a very few days and yet why was he giving his lunch and standing up for him, which he doesn’t have to in the first place? It’s just 2 episodes in and Sasuke has already made 4 exceptions, why was he doing this?’

But after watching Episode 478, I came to the realization that Sasuke did all these because he knew about Naruto before the series even started.

It’s funny that before this scene, Sasuke was giving his long-ass serious speech to Pinky about how he is an avenger, he was crying at that time, he wants to get stronger than someone and wants to kill him, he can’t waste his time here..... And yet when he saw Naruto suffering from Hunger, he just gave his lunch without minding the consequences. (Ninja Career says Hello!!!!)

Now, Let’s get back to my previous question I posed here,

Why did Sasuke thought only about Naruto in his final moments? Didn't he have any other good memories other than the ones he shared with Naruto?

The answer is, ‘Sasuke always felt any one of the three extreme emotions such as Happiness, Weakness, Pain in the presence of Naruto. And all these 3 extremities are not something you feel for everyone unless that person shares your blood or the person you love unconditionally. Sasuke, at this point has no one that shares his blood plus the only blood relation left was the one he wants to kill. And since Sasuke thinks he is going to die, he doesn’t mind thinking about his happiest moments with the person he considers as ‘precious’ , because somehow Sasuke considers Naruto as ‘His Person’ or you can say ‘a part of himself’’

And that’s why I think Sasuke realized his true feelings just when he was about to die.

At the end of vote 1, I think he realizes it fully, his true feelings for Naruto.

I had this same thought before, anon!!! But after multiple re-watches, I realized something else. You cannot realize your true feelings and say a painful ‘Good Bye’ at the same time.

Realizing true feelings works only in two ways,

You either say a ‘Good Bye’ to someone. After leaving that person you may realize you miss that person and eventually you may come to term with your feelings.

You already have a strong feeling established in your heart and say a painful ‘Good Bye’. And VoTE 1 belongs to this category.

Simply put, Break ups and Love realization cannot happen simultaneously.

And that’s why Sasuke casually said, “To me, you’ve become my closest friend” without any hesitation. Because he already knew it otherwise obtaining Mangekyou Sharingan (MS) will not be possible if you don’t have such a strong feelings established already.

That whole battle started off as a way to obtain MS but then it changed into his desperate attempt to cut off his bond with Naruto to become stronger and only killing him can sever it because it’s such a strong one. It’s not a bond that will be severed by saying a simple, ‘Thank you’.

At this moment, Sasuke must be realizing he simply cannot cut off this bond and he is again making an exception by letting this one weakness to exist and embracing it by being closer to him for one final time.

And this is one of the hauntingly brilliant way of conveying A Connection indirectly. And the best part is... this scene is not accidental. We know Sasuke felt stinging pain in his arms and knelt down & coughed up blood. How did he end up straight above Naruto’s face?

It’s because Sasuke simply wanted to convey his unbroken bond with Naruto by deliberately leaning towards his face. Rain falls on Sasuke and all those droplets passes through Sasuke’s face and falls upon Naruto’s face or it is very possible that Sasuke might by crying and his tears might be touching his face, but either way, it creates a Connection which he couldn’t able to cut off. In the fillers, Sasuke’s sweat drop falls on Naruto. It’s almost similar to how at the end of chapter 698, both of their blood connects together to form a connection. Which means only death can separate their connection.

That’s why I feel that this is the moment where he is painfully saying his Good Bye for one last time, it pains him immensely because he already knows that leaving his ‘precious’ person who became a part of himself is not very easy added to that he hurt him so much during the battle. And for this reason, Sasuke felt ‘leaving Naruto is like ripping off half of his body’.

He knows deep down that Naruto is special to him, he adores Naruto privately, he had since before the genin days. What do you think?

Sasuke always fights this inner battle within himself. Mind Vs Heart & Body.

His mind says, ‘No more Bonds. Just stay alone. That will save you a lot of pain’.

His body says, ‘Create Bonds. Feel Relieved’.

When Sasuke met Naruto near the lake pier, His body wins the battle and that’s why he smiled back at him despite the trauma he went through few days earlier. This is when Naruto became special to him.

When Sasuke attempted to make friendship with Naruto. His body wins the battle and that’s why he offered food, trained along with him.

When Sasuke died for Naruto by casting away his dreams, his body moved on its own.

At the beginning of VoTE1 battle, his mind said, ‘Leave Naruto. Pursue your dreams by treading in a darker path by filling your heart with hatred’. His body said, ‘Be with Naruto. Achieve your goals by filling your heart with Love’.

By the end of VoTE1, Sasuke came to the conclusion that he really couldn’t sever his bond with Naruto, no matter how hard he tried. That’s why his body moved on its own and ended up straight above Naruto’s face for one last time. Carrying all the heart break of a painful breakup, Sasuke treads towards the darker path. For the very first time, Sasuke’s mind won the inner battle. And he was extremely saddened by it.

Throughout Shippuden, Sasuke mostly listened to his mind and whenever he does, he was seen pushing Naruto away like leaving with Orochimaru, ramming chidori through Naruto’s Shadow Clone when pursuing Itachi, promising to kill Naruto before Attacking Konoha, wanting to fight with Naruto in VoTE2.

But whenever he followed his heart, you can see scenes like Sasuke occupying Naruto’s personal space in Orochimaru hideout, Sasuke smiling at Great Naruto Bridge, asking Obito about Kyuubi (Naruto) when he joined Akatsuki, stopping his rampage on seeing Naruto’s eyes under The Bridge, asking Obito to wait and listened to Naruto under the Bridge, sensing Naruto’s chakra in Konoha and getting concerned about it, prioritize saving Naruto over everyone in the War Arc, switching off Sharingan at the last moment. These are all the moment where Sasuke’s heart was winning over his mind.

And finally at the end of VoTE2, Sasuke happily claimed, ‘I lost’, meaning, his mind which always asked him to cut the bond with Naruto lost to his Heart and Body which always wanted him to be with Naruto. And when Sasuke felt that he was unconditionally loved by Naruto who was willing to share his pain, Sasuke cried happily and finally sealed his Bond with Naruto.

But anyways, I still get this question, why do Sasuke had to battle his feelings for Naruto like a lover? And why Naruto had to act all Tsundere towards Sasuke for most of the Part 1 if only they are friends!!! Like Shikamaru was never shown to be acting tsundere towards Chouji or Naruto. Or Obito was never shown to battle his feelings towards Kakashi!!! Itachi was never shown to be obsessed about Sasuke all the time. Or Hashirama was never obsessed about Tobirama either. Like we were shown many fraternal bonds, friendly bonds throughout the series. And yet why none of those bonds fits for Naruto and Sasuke?

Well, this post is not the right place to cover these questions and I am simply going to leave it at that.

Sasuke realized it very early and that’s why he decided to push Naruto away by the end of Part 1. Whereas Naruto truly realized his feelings at the end of Part 1 and decided to put himself close with Sasuke in Part 2 and finally confessed in VoTE2 that, ‘Remember, you once gave me your food during the Bell Test? It’s because you simply can’t tolerate to watch me suffer before your eyes.... I also feel the same way about you.. I simply cannot see you suffer alone when you were willing to give your body to Orochimaru... It just hurt me a lot inside’.

They finally realize the feelings they had for each other is a love in a broader sense which cannot be labelled under a certain term (it may include a father, a mother, a friend, a lover too) and we can call them as Pure Soulmates, where one cannot live without the other, where one cannot bear to see the other one suffer and they always wanted to be standing next to each other sharing their happiness and pain in their hearts.

#sasunaru #sasunarusasu #narusasu #sns #naruto #sasuke #they are the eternal soulmates #naruto analysis #meta post #when did sasuke realize his feelings for naruto

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misslovasstuff · 4 years ago

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Why Dazai is a complex character

We all know how hard it is to get in this man’s mind, right?

First, let’t take a look on what makes a character complex:

- Conflicted or contradictory motives - Change or grow as a result of the story’s actions - Decisions advance the story’s plot - Create conflict in the story’s plot or theme - Learn something about themselves

It fits Dazai perfectly, right? Now let’s take them one by one.

1. Conflicted or contradictory motives

- to die/to find meaning/to save others/? What the audience is given to realize is that Dazai wants salvation through death. His desire to die comes with a shade of humor to hide how sad and tragic it really is. Other than that, one motive of his is the promise he made to his friend who died on his arms. You see it right? Dazai’s motives are contradictory because he saves people but can’t really save himself. Although Dazai is on the side of ‘good’ which is actually something that doesn’t really exist in BSD world because everything is more like in a gray area, his motives are more focused on others rather than himself. While on the mafia, his focus was on himself, his doom and suffering. That’s what made him so miserable. People aren’t sure whether Dazai has changed, and they question his conflicted motives. But in reality, it’s very simple. Dazai has no hidden motives other than the ones we already know. He’s not the type to aim for power and fortune. Dazai just wants a bit of happiness, he wants to answer questions that are impossible to answer. I’d like to quote a Dostoevsky saying:

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

2. Change or grow as a result of the story’s actions Dazai’s grow is something people fail to see. I’ve read thoughts on this matter and some claim that Dazai hasn’t changed at all. That is partly true. Before Oda’s death, Dazai was not open to people (and still isn’t) but the difference stays on how he dealt with it. In the dark era, Dazai drowned himself in misery, seeing only darkness and claiming that this is how it always has been for him. Whilst in the time being, Dazai hides his misery behind a smile and happy facade. Bsck then, he made no attempt to change, nor did he tried to look things differently. Dazai was alone, completely. There were times he was surrounded by people he genuinely cared about, like Oda. Now, the thing is, without Oda, Dazai may have never gotten the development he got. Hardly would the things lead differently if Oda was still alive. With Oda, Dazai felt comfortable, not judges. He felt like he could open up with him because Oda would always listen to Dazai without joking around or judging him. That’s the reason why Odasaku was the only person that came close to understanding Dazai, because he was the only one Dazai opened up to. I believe that is becuase in reality, Dazai trusted Oda. We know how easily he can see through people. Perhaps, he saw in Oda that kindness and goodness that intrigued him. He saw such integrity and selflessness that made him lower his guard. Their relationship was beautiful. They let aside the ranks and always had each other’s backs. Sometimes, between two people, it just clicks. It feels like you’ve known each other for a long time and you find yourself comfortable, you let yourself be. That’s how Dazai was. Maybe, the only thing that kept him happy, was his friendship with Odasaku and Ango. Because those were two people that accepted him the way he was, people who appreciated life and had dreams and goals, something that Dazai longs to have. When Odasaku died, Dazai’s hope died with him. Although extremely intelligent, Dazai is optimistic. He had hope that he’d find a solution to his problem, but Oda’s words shattered him.

Dazai did not cry. But you can tell that he’s ready to. Look at his face and tell me that that’s not the most devastating Dazai you have ever seen. His lip trembles and his eyes give away how hard it is for him, how hard it has always been. This is the moment that Dazai takes the decision to change, keeping the promise of his friend to become a good man and protect others.

3- Decisions advance the story’s plot Dazai is the one who comes up with brilliant strategies, but that’s not all of it.

- He took Atsushi under his mentoring and hired him as an agent in the ADA. Atsushi plays a very important role in almost every mission or situation that ADA is in. If Atsushi wasn’t in the ADA, things might have gone completely different. - Dazai decided to join the good side. Yet again, if Dazai didn’t join the ADA, there would be no Atsushi, no shin-soukoku and probably the ADA would have already fallen due to the immense power the mafia would have with Dazai in it. More people would die, wars would destroy the city and things may have gotten to be worse. - The creation of shin-soukoku The plot goes around Atushi and Akutagawa as the new generation of the double black, a powerful duo brought together for the good of the city, to defeat the greater evil. Their mentor, who sees the potential in them better than everyone else, has forcefully made them work together, which had successful results. If Dazai didn’t make such decision, Atsushi and Akutagawa may had already killed each other. - Dazai decides almost any plan and strategy there is. He plays his cards well and the way he thinks and acts determine the aftermath.

4- Create conflict in the story’s plot or theme - Dazai’s a problematic character for a lot of reasons. He’s lazy, distracted, unbothered, mysterious and secretive. Sometimes, unwillingly he creates conflicts that sometimes as viewed lightly by the audience. Like the shin-soukoku conflict. A part why Aku hates Atsushi is because he is Dazai’s junior and that he gets almost everything that he himself once desired. He gets praise and acknowledgment from Dazai. The latter, has not acknowledged Aku that way he wants to, but surely he has acknowledged him on his own way. Dazai made him part of the new double black and puts his trust in him and Atsushi. Dazai too believes in the quote that ‘only a diamond can polish a diamond’. Furthermore, we have the conflict between the mafia and the ADA. You may think that it’s not directly tied to Dazai, but he plays a major role. Having Dazai in the opposite team, makes it harder for the mafia to create successful operations. Not only Dazai’s intelligent and cunning, but he’s an ex-member himself which makes him even more of a threat to the mafia. His suicidal tendencies is the reason why he met Atsushi in the first place. So in a way, Dazai drives the plot of the story.

5- Learn something about themselves I believe that this is the point we are all looking forward to. Although we have already caught a glimpse of Dazai considering his worth as a human being in the Dead apple movie, but also in the manga countless times.

Just look at his expression. How his eyes close so peacefully when Atsushi claims that he does things that let him know that Daza’s a good guy (visiting graves and also in the end of the movie...)

Dazai sees himself rather harshly. He judges himself for his past and puts himself in constant misery. Maybe he doesn’t accept the fact that he’s a ‘good guy’, but he’s desperately trying to be.

Take a look to the following panel (chapter 50)

You can tell how much Dazai wants to help and this warms my heart so much.

“Yosano could heal me and I could help in the search”

He clenches the sheet because of the frustration of not being able to help; that his ability is holding him back.

HE’S BLAMING HIMSELF.

Like one would say that he’s injured, or that he was shot, but no. Dazai puts the blame on himself like he always does.

I’d like people to acknowledge Dazai’s growth because our boy is trying so hard. Dazai literally went from hell to salvation. He has already found his salvation but he hasn’t recognized that yet.

In conclusion, Dazai is the complex character we so much love. In the future, maybe we’ll be able to see him a bit more happy. Genuinely happy.

(sorry this was very sloppy but I hope you get the point)

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs analysis #bungou stray dogs theories #dazai #Dazai Osamu #dazai analysis #being a dazai stan is hard #dazai manga #dazai san #dazai scenarios #bsd dazai #bsd dark era #bsd anime

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plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

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In God's Warm Embrace

Pastor Simeon decides to talk about you and your little absence around the Church as of late.

Warnings: could be considered noncon, or like coercion

Warnings: 4.2K

A/N: (〃￣︶￣)人(￣︶￣〃)

You walk through the corridor, the statues looking upon you. White roses are placed in vases at each window, the petals wilting at the ends and falling onto the lace tablecloth. The eyes of a crucified Jesus seem to follow you as you enter a room. It’s empty, only pictures and a singular cross looking upon you and keeping you company as you sit on a teal cushioned chair and wait.

The room is filled with light, the rays of the fading sun catching amongst the panels and shining a kaleidoscope of colors onto the room, peeking at the top of your knees and creeping to your thighs. Your hands are moist with sweat, your brow knitted with worry and your lips pulled into a frown. Shame floods your body, burning hot with the fire from hell, your tears slipping down the curve of your face and dripping onto the collar of your shirt. You’re stuck in silence while the world outside moves on, living shame free and simply existing.

The door to the office opens with a gust of warm air entering, and in the same breath, it’s closed, clicking to a lock. You swallow and your mouth is dry, your gaze sticks on the hardwood floor, trying to make out a pattern within the lines. A chill runs through your body when two hands rest on your shoulder, gripping tightly onto you.

Silence rings in your ears, deafening and enough to make your ears ache. “You know I care for you deeply, do you not?” He offers no room for you to answer him. “I do my best with what I can, while I’m in charge of the church- in charge of you. You know you’re able to come to me if you’re ever struggling.” His index finger twitches against your shoulder. “Have I not made that clear?” He squeezes your shoulders with both hands.

“No, Pastor Simeon. You’ve made it clear I can turn to you. You’ve taken great care of me ever since I found the Church.” You can hear laughter ringing outside the window, the color on your knees twinkling with each passing second. “I appreciate it very much.”

“Then, you’d be willing to tell me why I found you with Pastor Raphael? You know, he doesn’t just allow anyone in his office.” His nails are cushioned by the fabric of your blouse. “Nor does he allow anyone to sit so close to him.” You can hear something venomous in his voice, a low hiss that is gone as soon as it came.

“I simply needed help planning the monthly party. You seemed busy with a new follower and I didn’t want to take away your attention.” Your heart leaps into your throat, catching and making it impossible to breathe. “I didn't mean to offend.”

“You know I’m always happy to make time for my favorite follower.” His hand creeps closer to your neck, his skin warm against your clammy one. “While you’re here, I’ve also been meaning to ask you why you haven’t shown up on Friday nights? You know we still hold services on those nights.” His index tickles the base of your neck, stroking upwards onto you. “Where have you been?”

You rub your thighs together, anxiety deep in your joints, making you antsy and uncomfortable. “I’ve met some friends,” you confess. “We go out on Fridays and well, Fridays are usually empty so I assumed-”

“Ah,” he says simply. “You believe that your own enjoyment is above others who are seeking guidance from our Lord.” He sighs, his hands coming closer to the base of your neck, fingertips light against you. “I see the Devil has tainted your heart,” a sad tone lacing at his words.

“No!” You gasp out, trying to look above. “It- It’s not-”

His words cut through yours. “Tell me, are these friends the ones who saved you when you were alone? When you were lost and broken? Are they the ones who rescued you from damnation?” You shake your head. “I can’t hear you.”

“No,” you mutter, twiddling your hands together. “That was you.” You swallow, your lips dry and the swirl of colors makes it hard to focus. “I apologize. I just thought-” your lips pull into a straight line- “I had thought that perhaps I could go out. I didn’t mean to abandon my duties here. I promise to do better.”

“You’re in God’s house. You should know that promises made under here are sacred.” You nod your head. “Speaking of Fridays-” his hands finally wrap around your neck and you startle- “you’ve been missing confession during then.” Your hands flutter but make it no further than your chest, your eyes trying to latch onto a reflective surface to look at him. He says your name in a light whisper, his fingertips caressing the front of your neck. “I’m sure you have things to confess. Don’t fret, we all sin from time to time. We are only made in God's Image, but he’s the one who gave us free will. As long as we find our path to light, we’ll surely be saved.” He clicks his tongue, a hand faltering away to slip past your shoulder and tease at your collarbone. “Is there anything you’d like to confess? After all, you have my undivided attention.”

“I’m afraid I have sinned.” His hands tighten around you. You aren’t sure if it’s a threat or something else- even then you aren’t sure what the “something else” could be. “As you mentioned earlier, I’ve been putting my own satisfaction above others. I fear that I’m becoming selfish in my ways. However, I know that with enough prayer, I could overcome this. I think I'll head home tonight and pray.” You don’t know how to feel with his hands around your throat, not liking the way they seem to claim over you. “I still need to purchase items for the monthly party.”

As you move to rise from your seat, he pushes you back down. You fear that the Devil’s clawed hands will rise from the floor and grab at your ankles. You call his name, straining your neck to look up at him and when you meet his eyes, you look back down, murmuring an apology for daring to look at him.

“You’ve been lacking your duties, playing around with people who don’t care for you- at least not in the way I do- and now you want to rush home? You’re already here, let me help you. Let me be the one to help you repent your sins. I am a man of God, devoted and under his light, it’s only right that I save you from damnation.” His words leave a sinking feeling in your stomach, aching and twisting around, pulling tight until acid is rising- thick and burning. “You want to be forgiven, don’t you?”

You nod your head. “In the confessional?”

“No, dear.” The colors are warm on your skin, his hands light, and the room cold. “This one is a bit more personal. Something that I’m only willing to share with you.” The sun shines outside, colors reflected across the room, shining in an heavenly light. “Hebrew 4:13-” he sounds almost smug as he speaks, his abdomen pressed against the back of your chair- “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” You can feel him hover closer to you, his hand lowering past your collarbone and slipping to the curve of your breast. “You seek to repent for your sins, do you not? Do you think Raphael would still be intrigued with you after learning that you’re abandoning God to seek out pleasure from others? I know how you care for the opinion of others.” His hand massages at your breast, pulling at the cup, your hardened nipple peeking through the shirt. “Come now, my little lamb, make the wise choice.” His finger pinches at your clothed nipple, causing you to pinch your thighs together, a shameful sound muffled between your closed lips. “Do you wish to confess your sins to me?”

Your body is lit aflame with the way that he touches you, an uncomfortable growing wet spot forming between your legs. “I wish to repent, Pastor Simeon.” Your stomach drops at your words, your heart beating against your chest and a cold feeling wraps tight around you. “Please, help me.”

“Open your mouth,” he says, a hand hugging your throat and forcing you to look up at him. You do as you say, the tip of your tongue peeking past your bottom lip. “You wished to repent for your sins.” His lips curve into a thin smile. “Well, I’m about to help you.” He bows his head, the apple in his throat bobbing as his lips are pursed together. Spit falls onto your tongue, the taste bitter with wine, and thick with salvation, as you close your mouth and swallow it. A hand cups your face, his hand softly curling into a petting motion. “Good-” he pulls away and you watch him move, standing before you with hands on his belt, the metal clinking together as he undoes the belt- “get on your knees and take my cock into your mouth.”

You can still feel the way that his hand felt when it was wrapped around your throat, the lingering feeling of something tight coiling around you and you fear that you’ll be left with bruises. “Yes, Pastor Simeon,” you whisper under your breath.

The chair squeaks in the room, your knees cold as you meet the floor. You open your mouth, wanting to speak further, to perhaps put a stop to this or have some sort of guidance, but the taste of wine weighs heavy on your tongue, your breath coming out in short pants as your hands tremble to unzip his pants. You inch close to him, the zip echoing in your ears as you pull it down. He removes his shoes and kicks them off the side, his pants lowered and he stands in his briefs in front of you, the outline of his cock bulging against the fabric. Your hand cups over the outline, your lips pulled into a frown when warmth emanates from it and burns against your palm.

“Are you okay?” You look up at him, with wide eyes, sneaking a glance back to where your hand still holds his covered cock. “I understand, being tempted is quite different than actually committing the act, but I assure you-” his hand curves over the top of your head- “this is for you. I’m trying to save your soul. I was chosen by God, I wouldn’t dare trick you in any way.” He senses your hesitation, the worry in your eyes that brim over with tears. “How about this? Kiss me. That way, it’ll be an easy transition for you.” He helps you onto your legs, standing against him, his hands cupping your face and lips bittersweet with wine. “We’ll kiss like lovers. Make love as one, and I assure you, that after today’s session, you’ll be one step closer to God’s Light.”

His lips are soft, tongue even softer as it slips between your lips. His kiss is nice- something pleasant and slow that makes your stomach churn as if butterflies were inside of you. You lean closer to him, pressing your chest against his and your hands are awkwardly stiff at your sides. He’s still pressed against you- his erection stiff and pulsating with heat as he deepens the kiss.

A hand leaves your face, leaving you cold. You whine into him when his hand traces down your body, grabbing at your empty hand and placing it above his cock. He holds yours, gently mimicking jerking motions as the kiss continues. Saliva pools under your tongue, slipping past the corners of your lips and dripping thickly onto your shirt. Your head spins, fever burning your skin as the summer heat does to you. You hold together onto him, the cock thick in your hands as shakily continues the motions without his help. With a mouth filled with his tongue and shared spit, he pulls away, pecking at the corner of your lips to your jawline and against your neck- right below where your heart pulses. His briefs are slipped off, the heat of his member burning against your hand.

“Get on your knees. It’s time to worship,” he says quietly to you, his hands wrapped around your arms, guiding you to your knees. “Remember, that this is for you.” Your knees meet the cold floor once more, your joints aching and lips already feeling bruised despite the soft kiss. “You’re the sinner and I’m the one guiding you to salvation.”

Your cupid’s bow bumps against his cockhead, a slimy trail of pre-ejaculate spreading across your lips. A hint of something salty replaces his bittersweet taste, you push yourself forward, your lips opening as you wrap them around his cock. His hands cradle the back of your head, a sigh of pleasure filling the air between the two of you.

“Suck on it,” he orders, pushing your head deeper onto his cock, until it hits your uvula. You hollow your cheeks, the soft, plushiness of it pressed against the side of his cock. “Just a bit harder, my dear.” His hands knit between your hair and his fingertips press against your scalp. “You suck on my cock, and I’ll guide you.”

True to his word, he guides your head, pushing you deeper down his cock as tears spring to your eyes, your ears hot and chest losing air with each thrust. Your mouth closes around his cock, a pitiful attempt at sucking at his cock while he thrusts your head onto him. With each thrust, the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, his hands holding tightly onto you. To say he is forceful feels almost wrong, but his hands are heavy, his gestures anything but sweet and the only kind words that he can hiss out between his clenched teeth are praises that make your stomach twist. You aren’t sure if it’s his taste that is acidic or sickness settling in.

“But while my relationship is secure with you, I know sin can break our fellowship at times. I’m still human, and I often forget who I am and Whose I am. You want to convict and correct me, not shame me.” His voice cuts through the air, louder than your choking. He holds power in his voice, muttering through the prayer, increasing in volume as his moans do. “So before I take communion today, I’m asking You to truly search my heart and reveal hidden things for which to ask Your forgiveness.”

The noises that fill the room are loud, gagging and wet slapping sounds with each movement. Your jaw aches, tears slipping past the curve of your face as your nails dig into his thighs. You call his name and it’s unheard, a jumbled mess of slurred sounds that are lost within the wet slapping sounds. Yet, even with his cruelness, something pulses between your legs. It’s an uncomfortable situation, something thick slipping past your entrance and resting on your underwear, the twisting in your stomach rivaled by a burning ache.

“Oh my,” he grunts, pressing your face down to his base. Your tongue slips around the underside of his cock, tracing at a vein as saliva slips down your chin. “My little lamb, you feel fantastic.” He’s too deep in your mouth, closing at your throat and blocking any air that can travel. “Just hearing you gag is nearly enough for me.” Your face burns, burning hot tears form and cling to your lashes. Your mouth bubbles with drool, your palms slapping against his thighs as you call to him through his cock. Something acid crises in your throat, only to be washed away by his thick seed. It slides down your throat, heavy and filling, white creaminess staining your tongue and burning past your tears.

When he pulls you away, you cough, small specks of semen ruining the cherry wood floors. You gasp for air, the scent of candles burning strong in the air. “Sim-” a cough interrupts your words- “Simeon,” you hiccup, your hands flat on the ground. You look up at him, watching as he strokes his cock, semen dripping onto the floor. “What are you doing?”

“We’re not done yet,” he says as he grabs you by your biceps and lifts you into a standing position. “I apologize for the roughness but it��s what the Lord commands me to do. Now, it’s time for the other steps.” He presses you against the edge of his desk, the hem of your skirt in his hands and his breath close to yours. His thumb brushes away your tears. “Lift up your skirt for me, my sweet lamb.”

“What?” You ask in a strained whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself, giving yourself the comfort you desperately need. “What do you mean? Wasn’t that enough?”

“There can never be enough salvation.” he grabs your hands and lets them hover over the hem of your skirt. “Now, lift up your skirt. Don’t make me repeat myself again, dear.” He takes a few steps back. He gives you a slight nod, allowing you to proceed.

You lift up your skirt, the fabric clenched in your hands, and even though you just had his cock in your mouth, you feel exposed. Simeon hums in thought, stepping towards you, his index finger tracing over your slit. His index presses harshly against you, almost teasing at your entrance and when he pulls away, the tip of his index is shining. He tilts his head and rubs his index and thumb together, your arousal smearing between the two, as his hands on your thighs as they reach the hem of your underwear and pull down. You can feel a cool strand of your arousal slap against our warm skin when the fabric pools around your ankles.

Your clothes are removed, falling onto a lifeless puddle on the floor. You rest on the desk, your hands flat against the table as you peer at your Pastor. He fills the gap, the tip of his cock smearing between your lips. You gasp out, your head shaking as you look around the room. “Wait- Wait,” you stop him. He listens and gives you a tender smile.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” His hand cusps at your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip.

“I’m a-” your face burns with shame as you look down. Your hand is casted in rainbow light. “I don’t- I’m saving myself till marriage. I don’t- isn’t there another way?”

“My lovely lamb,” he whispers out, his lips ghosting over your collarbone and resting over a pert nipple, another hand covering your other breast. “You don’t have to worry about that right now. God won’t hate you for acts of love. If that’s difficult for you to comprehend, why don’t you think of me as your God for now?” His lips peck at your nipple, his mouth opening and suckling at your breast. “Making love with God is not a sin.” You arch your back as he nurses on your breast, his other hand massaging and kneading at the other breast.

Tears dry in your eyes, your gaze wide and doe-like. “What about a condom? I’m not on birth control or anything.”

“My dear-” he kisses at your breast once more, lolling the hardened nipple with the tip of his tongue- “with me inside of you, it’ll be much more pure. It’ll be the pure essence of me- our God- in your body. Nursing at your womb and filling you with life. Don’t deprive yourself of that.” He lifts his head, your breast is cold from the air, the other pert from touch.

Your rim is stretched, a pain sparking between your legs. The crown of your head is pushed against his desk, your hands lawing around his biceps. He muffles your yelp with a rushed kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips. You gasp for air, pulling him closer to you and wrapping your legs around him, hoping that that will deter him from continuing.

It doesn’t.

He thrust into you, pulling away, his cock stretching you virgin walls. He pulls away from the kiss, his lips on your neck before he rises above you and kisses your lips once more. Your legs loosen from the hold on him and he grabs at you, pushing your legs into a bent position over your body. Everything feels much too tight, the position only bringing a stinging pain with pleasure right at the cusp, your body aching for anything to remove the pain.

In a desperate attempt, you bring your hand to rub at your clit, letting out a breathy moan when it does relieve you from the pain. He kisses your lips once more and unable to think, you can only press down at your clit.

“It stings,” you murmur between the lips. “Pastor Simeon, it doesn’t-”

“Just give it a second.'' His hand replaces yours and his fingertips feel foreign compared to yours. “Such a good follower to know that you have to play with yourself.” He presses the kiss deeper, his hands finding a sweet rhythm that makes you gasp into his mouth, the pain fading away with every thrust. “How ever did you know to do something like that?” His pace quickens, a wet clicking sound filling the room as he pushes himself inside of you. “Do you do this often or-” his fingers pinch at your clit, causing you to squeeze your legs together, your cunt wrapping tightly around him- “did someone teach my favorite follower something so perverse? What was it? Were you being a whore and touching yourself or did you let someone play with you?”

“Me,” you choke out, clinging onto him, so desperate for another kiss to dull the fading pain. “It was me.” Your tears catch on your tongue and you shake your head at the taste. “I’m so sorry Pastor Simeon. I was weak,” you moan, closing your eyes until colors and organic shapes fill the inky blackness. You can feel the gold cross around his neck rest between the valley of your breasts, a cold surface against your fevered skin, it bobs and piches at you with every thrust.

He grunts above you, moaning your name until it sounds odd in your ears, his cock twitching inside of your velvety walls. His cock fills you, stretches your cunt and makes you feel impossibly full. Your clit pulses with arousal as you drip around his cock, pulling him close to you, desperate to feel his burning skin upon yours. He calls your name, stuttering his hips inside fo you before coming to a still. You’re filled with his seed- creamy white that spills out of you only to be pushed back in by his hands. You’re covered by him, your entrance puffed and spilling with white discharge, your body shakes as he pulls himself out. His lips meet your in a tender kiss, sucking at your bottom lip and holding you close.

Your eyes are heavy with exhaustion, your body shaking lightly as thick semen pours out of your ravaged cunt. You call for him, your hands blindly searching as they fall past the edge of the desk. His lips press against your forehead, cold hands that touch at your feverish body, makes you lean into him. His lips smile against you.

“You’re free to rest here as long as necessary.” You open your eyes at him, your brows furrowed but without energy and no room to have any coherent thoughts, you are unable to ask him anything. “I hate to leave you here, but I have a meeting to attend. I’ll hope to see you again next Friday, of course.”

You turn your head lazily towards him where he’s already buckling his belt. “Next?” You ask with a pause. “What do you-” a yawn ruins your sentence and chance to speak.

“Surely, you did not believe that one session was enough to lead you to redemption? Oh my, sweet lamb, no.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a patronizing huff. “You’ve told me yourself that you’ve touched yourself- do you believe that God would take in such a whore?” He smiles at you and it’s cold. “He wouldn’t,” he says simply, adjusting his collar, the necklace that once laid between your breasts now rests between his. “But I’m here to watch over you. To give you the treatment that you deserve and make sure you get into God’s good graces.” He walks to the door, his back turned to you, until his hand is around the knob. “Now remember, you wanted this, and I’m more than happy to help, my dear lamb.”

The door clicks close behind him and you are left in a darkening room, the kaleidoscope of lights vanished long ago, only a dripping trail of semen leaking from your cunt. Your body aches and you feel cold, naked under the eyes of the Lord. With shaky limbs, you rise from the desk, wearing the clothes as they are- wrinkled and dirtied from the dust on the floor. You pat yourself down. The doorknob is cold under your touch, your body pricked with goosebumps, and let the door close behind you.

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volleychumps · 4 years ago

Note

hi,, i love your writing !! this is kind of odd but can i request a (slightly nsfw) morning after with fem!s/o x oikawa, kuroo, terushima, and osamu? you had a one night stand but they actually like you so they convince you to go on a date after making you breakfast or something like that? please and thank you 🥺

Thank you for 2.8k<33 I love you all.

More Than A Night. (w/ Oikawa, Kuroo, Terushima, and Osamu)

Warning(s): slight nsfw themes

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Oikawa

“You’re up early.”

You flinch in the midst of shouldering your jacket on as you glance behind you, wondering just how rushed you looked as you blush in embarrassment, causing the brunette to grin in turn. Oikawa yawns through a playful grin with one eye closed, adorning a pair of sweatpants and nothing to cover his bare torso as he crosses his arms over his chest in amusement. You look to the cracked open door, smiling a bit sheepishly.

“I didn’t want to um, impose?” Your words come out questioning as you look away, swallowing tightly at the sight as Oikawa takes knowing steps towards you. You shudder when the setter’s hands you knew so well carefully take the jacket you were in the middle of putting on, slipping it off your shoulders slowly while humming to himself.

“Trust me, lovely- if you were bothersome I would’ve had you out of here hours ago.”

“Oh all mighty one, to what do I owe this special treatment?” You tease, remembering that before last night, Oikawa was still one of your friends, regardless of whether or not last night’s events could cause a rift in your friendship with one another.

“You really want to know?”

You blink, feeling his fingers gently touch the side of your face to get you to look at him, realizing he had been simply running his finger against the side of his jaw as he seemed to be soaking your features in the morning sun.

“In fact, what if I asked you to impose for a little longer, Y/N-chan?”

“Y-You don’t regret last night-?”

“Are you kidding me?” You feel heat swirl in your cheeks as Oikawa’s teasing tone had taken a serious edge, feeling his hand slide across your cheek to cup your face gently.

“Should I be kidding you?” A nervous chuckle slips your lips as Oikawa hangs your jacket on the hanging rack again without looking, chocolate orbs seeming to root you in place as he takes one of the few steps he can towards you.

“I’ve wanted you for years, Y/N-chan.”

“Liar.” Your voice falls to a whisper as Oikawa tilts his head in a seemingly mocking-manner, annoyance glinting in his eyes at the fact that you didn’t seem to believe him.

“Want proof?” He takes another step, voice also falling to a soft tone before taking a strand of your hair in his fingers, kissing it sweetly as you redden at the gesture.

You close your eyes, feeling Oikawa dip his head into your neck, lips smirking slightly against your skin as a newfound heat emerges in the contact as the brunette speaks, gently pressing you up the door and shutting it tightly in the movement.

“So what do you say we make my wait worth it- and make this official, already?”

Kuroo

“You are not reading through my comic books right now.”

“You’re right, I’m actually wondering how a nerd like you got laid.” You retort, flipping through the pages as you bite your lip, hiding your face in the process as you see Kuroo walk into the room from your peripheral view.

“You slept with this nerd, so I don’t think you’re one to talk, kitten.”

The events of last night had been a little fuzzy, but little details came back to you as you blush, pretending to focus on the panels of the sci-fi comic book as you hear Kuroo set something down on the bed, leaving his retort unanswered.

A bright grin crosses your features as you use the blanket to cover your chest as you sit up, seeing the simple breakfast of eggs and toast in the middle of the tray along with a cup of coffee just how you liked it. Your grin grows teasing as you lift the mug to your lips, watching your friend eat a piece of toast on the end of the bed in all his shirtless glory.

“Is this one of the perks of sleeping with the Kuroo Tetsurou?” You try to keep your voice light, and Kuroo quiets down after scoffing in response, eyes calculating and thoughtful as you withold the urge to sigh. Of course things would be different. Was it even possible going back to normal after sleeping together?

“There are a lot more perks if you stick around, trust me.” Kuroo winks, and you roll your eyes at his flirtatious nature, watching him finish off his toast before beginning to get out of bed, shuffling around to pull your shirt from yesterday overhead.

“Well, as fun as this was, I say we revert back to the day before yesterday-”

“...don’t want to.” Your ears perk up at Kuroo’s faded mumble, not hearing him properly.

“Hm? Speak up or I’ll dirty your comic books.”

“I don’t want to go back to how we were.” Kuroo’s voice seemed to be teetering on the edge of strained as you quirk a brow, feeling dissappointment dig into your stomach.

“Oh.” Your smile turns wobbly. “As in...you don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“..Exactly.”

“...Then I guess I’ll be taking my leave.” You break the tension residing in the silence, Kuroo catching your wrist before you can dash out of his bedroom with a wet heat in your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.” Kuroo’s voice was oddly serious- a tone you didn’t hear that often- before tugging you into his chest into his sitting position so you were straddling his lap. His feral eyes raked over your half-clothed body, mouth beginning to nibble at the sensitive spot on your collarbone as an embarrassed sound slips your lips-

Kuroo smirks, hand trailing underneath your shirt as he feels your heartbeat at the slightest touch of your chest.

“I want to be able to see you like this every morning, kitten- that’s what I meant before you jumped to conclusions.”

His hand presses against the small of your back, pressing you up against him even tighter as comic books lay open and forgotten, a half-drunk coffee cup growing cooler beside them.

“I want to lose you as my friend and keep you as my everything.”

Terushima

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that the other side of my bed was cold?”

“I’m surprised you’re capable of noticing things.” You hum in reply, smiling a little as you feel the spiker’s arms wrap around you from behind, Terushima’s chin resting on your shoulder as he examines what you’re doing. You poured the dark liquid from the coffee pot as you basked in the morning light, having left the blonde in bed with slightly wobbly legs.

“This almost feels like we’re married, no?”

“Totally.” You hadn’t meant for your words to come out that sarcastic, but you knew better. Terushima Yuuji had been a friend of yours for years, but one night of heat and mixed emotions didn’t change the fact that the spiker was the exact definition of fuckboy.

“Y/N you’re acually gonna make me cry one day! You’re so cold.” Terushima whines, feeling at complete ease at the thought of you standing in the kitchen with a brewed coffee pot for the two of you.

“And my coffee’s getting cold too, so you can start calling up another one of your girls in line to warm yourself up.” You reply without missing a beat, feeling Terushima tense up before relaxing again.

“Jealous?” Terushima smirks against your shoulder, still not letting you go as you roll your eyes, smiling nonetheless.

“To be honest you are great in bed, my friend. Kudos to the next lucky girl.” You wink, feeling Terushima’s grip on your waist loosen slightly as you finish off your coffee, the spiker spinning you around to lean into you, cornering you against the counter.

“Go on a date with me! Coffee isn’t breakfast.”

You stare at your friend for a solid second before shaking your head, laughing a little in disbelief. “Do you typically bring girls out on dates after you sleep together?”

“No, not usually.” Terushima shrugs, and you laugh again before feeling his hand snake down to your waist, his hand tracing up your bare thigh as heat floods your cheeks, the spiker before you eyeing you with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Yuuji-”

“One date.”

You blink at the seriousness tinging his words, gasping when he lifts you up to sit you on the counter to stand between your legs, smirking when his breath hits your lips as he watches your eyes dart between his lips and his eyes.

“Give me one date, Y/N.”

“...Fine. Only because you’re acting is phenomenal at the moment.” You give in, kissing him deeply on the lips as Terushima’s grip on your waist tightens the slightest bit before you brush past him, humming as if nothing serious had happened.

Terushima sighs as he hears the shower turn on, leaning his back against the counter before pouring his own cup of dark brew into the mug you had been drinking out of, a hand running through his hair as his usual bright almond eyes seemed to have darkened.

“Acting, huh?”

Osamu

“Y/N. You’ll sleep into the afternoon.”

“Please let me?” You croak, shielding your eyes from the blinds Osamu had opened an hour before.

“Nope. I have breakfast going, I laid one of my shirts out for you.” The wing spiker leans against the doorway of his bedroom, watching you wake up in a slightly confused manner as you slowly sit up, the corner of Osamu’s lip twitching at the sight. You hug the blanket to your chest embarrasedly, smiling a little bashfully.

Osamu clears his throat, attempting to clear the awkward atmosphere. “Can you walk okay?”

“Someone’s cocky.” You comment, taking Osamu’s shirt and pulling it over your head although it engulfed your figure. “And no, by the way- I can’t.”

You yelp, feeling your friend’s arms tuck beneath your legs and back before picking you up as if you weighed nothing, causing your bare legs to thrash around slightly in complaint. Osamu remains indifferent, walking to the kitchen with ease.

“You said you couldn’t walk, and I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

“I was actually planning to go straight home...” You trail off, sweatdropping when Osamu sits you in the chair across from his before taking his own seat.

“You have time. Your class doesn’t start for another hour.”

“...right.” You mumble, putting your hands together to begin the meal. The two of you eat in silence, Osamu not being very talkative to begin with- the friendship you two had fostered had been put into such a threatening position from last night’s slightly drunken decisions. Do you go about your day and pretend it didn’t happen? Address it and stop being friends?

“-be my girlfriend.”

You choke, the statement/question coming out of Osamu’s mouth casually muffled by his mug as the twin looks out on the morning sun as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

“...are you sure you aren’t confused?” You eye him directly, all shyness and awkwardness washed away as Osamu lazily meets your eyes, forking some more food into his mouth with a nod.

“I’m sure.”

“Look, Osamu- just because we slept together doesn’t mean you’re under any obligation-”

Your eyes widen when Osamu had suddenly leaned forward, hand entangling in your hair to kiss the corner of your lips from across the spread on the table, sitting back and resuming to eat his rice with a shrug.

“There was a little rice near your mouth-”

“Are you even listening?!” You exclaim, flustered at the lazy boy’s actions as Osamu sighs before setting down his chopsticks, something he never did, before eyeing you evenly, fighting the amused smirk on his lips at how flushed you looked. He tilts his head, standing from his chair before shrugging.

“If you don’t want to go out with me, then..”

You panic, heart confused with mind in tow as you stand, catching the back of his fitted black shirt before he can walk away.

“I...we can maybe...try it?” You make out in fidgety embarrassment, Osamu releasing a deep sigh that had his shoulders lifting up and down before turning to glance at you. The gray haired boy tugs you into his chest tightly by the wrist, mumbling into your ear as he watched with a satisfied look at the pink that dusted your cheeks.

“You seriously can’t be this cute this early in the morning. I think I’m hungry for something else now.”

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General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb @yams046

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu anime #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa toru #haikyuu kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu terushima #terushima x y/n #haikyuu osamu #osamu miya #haikyuu reads #haikyuu requests #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq scenarios

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viperbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you��d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: tttb

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persephone-is-here-omg · 4 years ago

Text

Part of the Job.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Reader.

Warnings: Smut. Oral, female receiving, slight choking, fingering, teasing. Alcohol.

Word Count: 4059.

Rating: 18+.

Masterlist.

More Bruce Wayne bullshit, hoes. And watch your backs, because if I give into the idea I have there’s gonna be a Bucky Barnes/Bruce Wayne/Reader fic coming your way and you won’t know what hit you.

"Bruce Wayne" The gruff voice at the other end of the line says as you examine the boutique box that had just been delivered at your door.

"Hey... Uhm... I think you sent a dress or something by mistake to my place" You say prodding him for information, but you know is not a mistake.

"Not by mistake, we have something to do tonight and I need you to wear that dress" Bruce informs you of your plans and you can't help but nod slowly, even though he can not see you do it.

"So, what if I have plans tonight?" You tease, hardly containing the glee in your voice "Maybe dinner or something, probably with a guy you wouldn't like"

If you had Bruce in front of you, you know you'd see him frown for a moment, just a short little second, then he'd look at you with those clear blue eyes of his, face completely neutral "I know you don't have any plans"

"You know, is kinda rude of you to just dispose of my time like this" You keep teasing, just pushing a little more.

"You knew what you were getting into and it didn't stop you. I'll be there at nine tonight" He says and hangs up.

You giggle and bite your lip, staring at the box still closed on your bed. You haven't even opened it yet, not that you don't trust Bruce's taste, you just wanted to give him shit about it first. You tell yourself he probably knows the sizes of every person that's ever come into his proximity, but still a part of you preens with pride at the idea of having so much of his atention. Not that you would ever admit it to him.

You open the box and look at the dress, is nice. Is a really nice dress, black with delicate beading details that make a swirling pattern on the sides, a deep v in the front that shows quite a bit of cleavage is kept together by a sheer mesh panel. When you turn it around you can see the low back and how the skirt is slightly longer at the back.

You jump, a few hours later, as you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy black towel and find Bruce seated on the armchair in your room “God damn it” You mutter “What are you doing here so early?”

“Does the dress fit?” He asks, his intense gaze fixed on you.

Holding the towel tight around you and narrowing your eyes “You know it does and that is weird”

Bruce raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth raised just the tiniest bit “Is it?” The rest of the sentence is left unsaid, but you know what he's thinking about.

You roll your eyes “Where are we going, anyway? That you need me to dress like a showgirl”

“Remember that arms dealer I had been trailing?”

You nod.

“He frequents a clandestine casino, here, in Gotham. We are going there tonight” Bruce explains, fixing his tie.

“Oh, so we're wasting money tonight?”

“Mainly. There's some illegal fighting, too but I’ll only fight if I have to. They have a strict dress code, hence, the dress” He looks at you intently, then adds “You should wear that black coat over it. Is cold outside”

“Okay, daddy” You answer in a sarcastic tone “Now… Can you give me some space?”

The corner of his mouth lifts almost imperceptibly in amusement and you can almost hear his thoughts, then he stands and walks pass you and out of the room “Don’t take too long”

The door closes after Bruce and you walk towards your dresser, pull on a pair of panties and then sit down and start to get your makeup done, then your hair. Finally you put on the dress, paired with black, high heeled shoes and the coat Bruce suggested.

Bruce’s back is to you as you come out and clear your throat “I’m ready” You stand there as he turns around, his eyes moving slowly down your body, taking you in.

"Perfect" He says and walks over to you "Let's go"

Bruce opens the passenger side door for you and you look at him with a tilted head as he gets on the opposite side "I thought Alfred would be driving"

"Alfred's busy tonight"

"Busy, huh?" You nod and watch as he starts the car with calculated moves "And what did he say about my stitches?"

"He said you did a marvelous job" You beam at the praise "Thinks you should patch me up more often"

"He does?"

"Is what he said" Bruce counters and then starts driving.

Silence extends between the two of you as your eyes watch the city lights pass you by, then you turn your head and look at Bruce, see his eyes dart from the road to you, see his hand tighten on the gear shift. You realize you are going out of the city.

"So, B" You start and he turns his face again towards you, you know he wants to tell you not to call him 'B' he also knows you're not going to stop "What made you pick this dress? But, more importantly, can I keep it?"

"Is a nice dress and is yours" He answers, simply, to the point.

"I know is a nice dress, Bruce" You tilt your head and lean closer to him "But why did you pick it for me?"

Bruce drives out of the road and looks at you, one hand on the steering wheel and another on the gear shift "I knew it would look good on you and would fit into the place we're going" His knuckles are white, as if he's holding back from something, he lets go of the gear shift and places his hand around your neck loosely "And I like how you look in it, very much" He lets go of your neck and starts driving again, you squirm in your seat, bite your lip and take a deep, shaky breath, let your head rest against the seat.

You cross and then uncross your legs and Bruce grips your thigh firmly "Stop" He kneads your thigh but doesn't add anything else, his hand moves slowly up your thigh and stops right under the hem of your dress.

Bruce moves his hand back onto the gear shift and you turn your face to look at him, watch the tick in his jaw, think about telling him to park somewhere and just fuck you already, is what you both want. But you know Bruce and know he won't do it, he'd tell you to focus on tonight's mission and that you should take this as an exercise in delayed gratification.

About twenty minutes later, he parks outside a rather inconspicous building, a man you assume works security approaches the car as Bruce rolls down the window on his side. He hands the man a small, black card and then the man steps back, Bruce gets out of the car and walks over to your side, opens the door for you and offers his hand for you take as you step out of the car. His hand finds the small of your back and you can feel how his thumb moves in a slow motion over your coat as he hands the keys of the car and guides you towards the door.

Once inside a very young girl takes your coats and Bruce's hand is back on your back, his skin is warm on yours, his hand is rough and calloused, and he guides you towards a poker table. When Bruce sits down you lean over his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth, it's a show after all and in this show, that's your part to play "I'll go get a drink, do you want something?"

He nods takes a moment to think and then says "Scotch, no ice, please"

You walk away towards the bar, order red wine for you and scotch for Bruce, then head back to the table. You hand the glass to Bruce and stand right behind his chair, a hand casually draped over his shoulder as the game unfolds in front of you. Your fingers find their way into the hair at the nape of Bruce's neck, you start to play with it distractedly as you keep your eyes open, roaming around the room, locating possible way outs and security personel. You lean in again and whisper in Bruce's ear, pointing out all the possible exits, a flirty smile on your face as you explain to him. Your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Bruce smiles, that cocky self-satisfied smile, the one from the tabloids and magazines. After a while, and after loosing a considerable amount of money and gaining some back, Bruce stands up and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, lips brushing against the corner of your jaw, you smile and caress his hair.

"Lets go to the bar" Bruce directs "That's our guy" He has his arm around a girl that doesn't quite look of legal age and you turn to Bruce, almost as if he can read your mind he adds "I know. All these girls are way too young. We'll deal with it"

You make your way to the bar and sit on a stool, Bruce stands behind you, arms caging you in with your front to the bar, his lips meet your skin right at the point where your neck and shoulder meet, one of his hands moves down to your thigh and again the calloused pads of his fingers move up, stopping at the hem of your dress making your breath hitch "Focus" He whispers, but you know that he knows it is impossible for you to do that when he's touching you like that, it almost feels like this isn't part of facade. The bartender comes and Bruce orders the same two drinks. The guy sitting a couple of stools away turns to look at Bruce.

"Are you betting only?" He says and you follow Bruce's gaze toward him.

"So far, but I've heard about the fights" He sounds exactly as he should, too much money, too much time.

The guy smirks "You don't look like you need the money"

"I don't need the money" Bruce confirms "But I would enjoy a fight, work some stress off"

You know he can perfectly handle the kind of fighting that takes place here, but you still play up your part " Are you sure?"

He nods, starts walking and takes the jacket and tie off, handing them to you, then rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbows and steps into the circle of people. He stands in the middle for a while and your gazes cross, then his oppenent walks in and the fight starts. Bruce dodges some hits and lets others land, if he wanted to this fight would be over already, but he's supposed to be playing the bored billionaire in search of some adrenaline. So he allows it to continue, even crashing against the onlookers a few times. It comes a point, though, where you can tell he's done with the game. There's a bruise blooming around one of his eyes and a small cut on his lower lip, he manages to make it look like something completely fortitous, but you know better, when he knocks his opponent out and gives you the smallest of smirks.

Bruce takes his tie and places untied around his neck, the jacket is drapped over his arm as he steers you towards the door "Lets get out of here" His hand rests just above your ass, his fingers spread wide, it reminds of just how big his hands are. The same girl that took your coats gives them back and as you step out the door the car stops right in front of you.

The drive back into the city is not really going back into the city, is towards Wayne Manor you realize. You don't say anything, instead let the anticipation course through your body, fill you with a buzzing energy that almost makes you shiver and your skin breaks out in goosebumps. Bruce steers right into the tunnel that leads to the cave, he drives as if he's in the other car, takes his curves really close and if it was anyone else you might get nervous but not with him. He parks seamlessly and perfectly and your door is open even before the car is fully parked. Your heel touches the ground and you're out as soon as it stops moving, you push the door closed without looking behind you, trying to give you time to get a hold of yourself.

You can hear Bruce's steps behind you, he's purposely keeping his distance, you stop in front of the computer, roll your neck and feel him cage you against the desk. He says nothing, he doesn't touch you, just stands there waiting until you turn around to face him. The space between you feels electric, buzzing with that undefinable energy right before something happens. Is in these moments that you realize just how tall he is, how big he is, you look up at him and he hauls you onto the desktop, sets you down on it and kisses you right away, his hand cups your jaw, it does it in that way that leaves no doubt who's the one in charge here. You like it. He uses his other hand to push your coat down, you pull your arms free and wrap them around his neck, move down his chest and undo the buttons of his shirt, pull it free from his slacks and place them on the broad span of his chest.

Bruce pushes the straps of your dress down your arms, until your breasts are exposed and your nipples harden against the chilly air of the cave, his hands move towards your chest and cup your boobs. His thumbs circle your nipples and your back arches in response, you want to be closer to him with as little space possible between you, but he keeps his distance, watches your face intently.

"What?" You say, trying to hide the vulnerability in your voice. How exposed you feel when he looks at you like that.

Bruce moves one hand back to your jaw, makes sure you hold his gaze as he says "I like watching you. I like that little crease between your brows when you try to guess what I’m thinking" Then he's kissing you again, hard and hungry, teeth grazing your lower lip, his tongue slips inside your mouth and it feels all consuming. The kisses move to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest, his lips close around your nipple and Bruce sucks on it until it’s hard and aching, making your back arch, your nails dig on the exposed skin of his arms. He moves to the other side and this time bites the underside of your breast, moving in tandem as he tugs the skirt of your dress up, over your hips.

He uses both hands to rip your panties off, first one side then the other the sound reverberates through the cave and, after he's done, Bruce pulls them away and stuffs them inside the pocket of his pants. You feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that drives you wild, as you watch Bruce come down in front of you, between your thighs, your skin prickles with anticipation.

You shiver under the intensity of Bruce's gaze, unwavering as he looks at your face for a few seconds. Then his lips graze your thigh, is feather light at first, goosebumps break on your skin and you bring your hands to the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly. He sinks his teeth on the inside of your thigh and you hiss, it stings enough for you to know that it will leave a mark that will in time turn into a bruise. You bury one of your hands in his hair "B-Bruce" You stutter, feeling him move closer to your core "Oh, my God. You're enjoting this too much" You can't hear him, but you see his shoulders shake and narrow your eyes, open your mouth to give him some witty, smartass response but it dies before it even forms as his lips come into contact with your sex. A gasp comes out of you instead.

"Fuck" You breath. Bruce grasps your thighs and pulls you forward, to the edge of the desk. His tongue darts between your folds, following the edges of your slit, swirling around your clit. You close your hand around Bruce's dark hair and moan, long and drawn. His tongue delves inside you, then his lips close around your clit and suck. You toss your head back "Fuck" You repeat, he's reduced your vocabulary to one word and you can't form a complete thought, not when he is between your legs, face buried in you, lips pressed against your most intimate parts. You feel it start on your toes, that warm coil that tightens the more he works on you, feel it start to tug and tug, slowly at first, then all of a sudden until it releases and you cry out, thighs trembling, hands both pushing him away and holding him in place. Bruce works you through it, doesn't stop when you're coming down, he lets go of your thighs and stands up, brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them.

You follow his hand with your eyes, barely register when he says "I didn't even had to wet my finger, you're so slick" His fingers circle your clit and make you jump, still reeling from your previous orgasm. The way he says it is almost mocking, it really just makes you want to slap him.

"G-god I hate you" You groan as he thrusts two of his fingers inside you and his shoulders shake almost silently again, moving in and out, scissoring and hooking. You move your hand to his sides and dig your nails in Bruce's skin, making him hiss, but it only makes him focus more on making you cum again, not that is going to take long. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you can feel how the orgasm builds deep in your belly. He curls his fingers once more, flicks your clit with his thumb again and you're cumming hard, letting your head fall into his shoulder, eyes closed tight and toes curling. He kisses the side of your head and you turn your face to kiss him, move your arms around his neck again, then drag them down his chest and drag your nails over his absm leaving red, angry marks in your wake.

You undo the button on his slacks, pull the zipper down and push your hand inside his boxers, wrap it warm and soft around his cock, keep your eyes fixed on his face, the way Bruce's mouth twitches as he groans your name, and pushes his pants and underwear down, just past his ass, leaving with more than enough space to move your hand up and down his cock. He groans your name again.

Bruce grasps your thighs once more, lowers his gaze and looks at your hand around his cock for a moment, until he decides it's been enough. He lets go of your thigh and instead wraps that hand around your neck firmly "Go on, guide me inside you" He orders, always in control.

You do as he says and drag the tip of Bruce's cock inside you, your mouth agape as he fills you inch by inch. You cling to his sides again as he makes you hold his gaze, he pulls back halfway in, then starts thrusting inside once again, until he’s buried deep inside you. Bruce stays like that, then grinds against you, making you gasp against his lips.

Bruce's hand is still firm around your throat when he starts moving, is a pace right in the middle, not too slow and not too fast, just in control. Always in control. He grinds into you every time he bottoms out, makes you gasp and dig your nails deeper on his sides. He doesn't let go of your neck, keeps you looking at his face. You move your hands down and grab Bruce's ass tightly, moan against his lips as he kisses your lips and thrusts harder. He reaches so deep into you it is hard to breath. Bruce leans over you as you let go of his ass and hold your weight on your elbows as he takes a nipple into his mouth, your walls clench around him and a moan of his name tumbles through your lips, you cross your ankles behind his back and whine "Please, please" That voice is almost unrecognizable to you, its small and pleading, makes your cheeks burn.

Bruce envelopes you with his arms, tightly secured around your waist and lifts you from the desk, there is a squeal and then a moan when he thrust hard, then he's sitting down on the chair and his hands are gripping your hips, encouraging you to move and ride him. You oblige, there's no way you could say no, not when you're on edge and he refuses to look at anything else but you.

One of your hands is on his shoulder and the other grips the back of the chair so tight, somewhere in the back of your mind you think your nails will tear the leather, but your hips move above him, you ride Bruce fast and hard, chasing after your third orgasm of the night, the sound of your skin against his resonates through the cave and comes back to both of you, filling the space between his growls and your moans, his grunts and your whines. He wraps his arms around your waist again and for a moment you think he will stand up again, but instead he holds you in place and kisses your shoulder, your neck, bites your skin the feeling of his teeth marking you makes you shiver in his arms, makes your hips buck wildly of their own accord and as he chases and catches your lips, Bruce thrusts up into you, holding in you in place with his arms around you, he kisses you deep and thoroughly, all tongue, teeth and wild need. You're so close to each other his pelvic bone drags against your clit every time he moves, heightening every sensation and when he buries a hand in your hair and tugs the fire consumes, it wreaks havoc through your entire body as you cum, arching your back and eyes watering as your walls tighten around his cock velvet fist like. The look on your face, the goosebumps on your skin are enough to trigger Bruce's own orgasm. His name tumbles from his lips in a raspy, deep tone, you tremble in his arms but he holds you tight in place, balls deep inside you, his cum warm inside you.

You both pant as you get your breaths back, Bruce rests his forehead against your chest and you play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel his semen starting to leak out of you and believe he will pull out of you and let you stand. He does pull out of you, but he keeps you there, watches as his cum drips out slowly, then gathers some of it on his fingers and brings it to your mouth. You open obediently and suck on his fingers, moaning around his fingers, until they're clean, then he kisses your lips, a growl deep within his chest as he tastes both of you in your mouth.

"Fuck" He curses looking at you "I can't keep you out of my head, I can't keep my hands off of you"

He always says this, it almost sounds as if he is chiding himself for it, for not keeping it 'professional' but the truth is you don't want him to.

And you say as much "Then don't. I don't want you to"

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x you #my big bad furry #batman fic #bruce wayne fic #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #don't judge me #i have no self control when it comes to bruce wayne #and i won't even try

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hongism · 4 years ago

Text

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

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part five

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were there any issues with the mission?”

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

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

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

“Where is Jisung?”

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

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

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

“And Seonghwa?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lieutenant?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet the damage is already done.

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

“Go, Y/N, before I truly hurt you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

San is still missing.

Seonghwa locked himself in the brig.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trust got you nowhere before.

Would it be foolish to make the same mistakes again?

…

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

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

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

“Nadu, nadu. Sosun hen.”

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

“Wait! Don’t — don’t leave me here!”

“Kidehon u Nurun, Umiko.”

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

“Yeosang!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no, no, p-please, no, Yun—”

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

Your chin drops to your chest.

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

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

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

“Mother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, my beloved.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

San huffs out a loud laugh that echoes around you.

“You are completely and utterly useless to me.”

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

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

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

Why, why, why did this happen?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay… okay. I can do that.”

“Then that’s more than enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have.”

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

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

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

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

Hongjoong hums.

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

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

“Seonghwa stabbed me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That would be your first mistake.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room is deathly cold.

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And? Do I have what I want?”

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

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

“I’m not yours to be clai—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t even think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re insane.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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