#sensitive people reporting others are dumb too

[panda-writes-kpop]

who you gonna call? (winchesters!) ~ k. br.

a/n: raaaahhh happy SuA day!!! a little late on the international end of things but it's better late than never, right? anyways enjoy this fic, I had so much fun writing it that I may get back into watching supernatural. :) also the title is based on an edit of the winchesters brothers to 'ghostbusters' by ray parker jr!

I normally don't do a separate trigger warning for specific triggers, but since this is the first time that a piece of work has touched on such a serious topic, I wanted to put a big disclaimer out there. There is a scene in the fic where suicide is discussed as a possible cause of death. There's isn't any more graphic of a description than the word being thrown around once or twice; however, I feel it is my responsibility as an author to inform you of this. That being said, if you or a loved one are struggling, here's a list of international suicide hotlines that can help you if you need them. take care of yourselves, my loves, and remember that you all are beloved by me. ❤️

tw: BRIEF MENTION OF SUICIDE, main character death, lots of blood and gore in this one, not accurate to the Supernatural episode (Season 1, Episode 5) that it is based on, reader's parents died at an early age, it's a mixed bag of angst, fluff, and hurt/comfort with an open ending

summary: after one of the worst nights of your life, a pair of "reporters" roll into town and ask you questions about your dead friend. unfortunately, one of the girls, SuA, is a bit too charming for her own good. your curiosity towards the girl brings you closer to her, and it brings SuA closer to solving your friend's death, as well as the death of your parents.

♡ Masterlist ♡

“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody-”

“Stop!” You cry out before shutting your eyes. “Don’t do this!”

“You know it’s not real, right?” Ryujin looks at you as concern laces into her voice. “We can leave, if you’re uncomfortable-”

“You’re both chickens!” Yuna teases you before turning back to the bathroom mirror. “O’ spooky mirror ghost, tell these losers to go back home!”

She cackles as you open your eyes and place a steady hand on the counter.

“Yuna, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” You bite your lip as tears start to form in your eyes.

Yuna’s smile immediately fades as she pushes Ryujin aside to pull you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry! I was just playing around, and I didn’t mean to make you cry.” She whines before placing her head on your chest. “Please forgive me!”

With pleading eyes, Yuna looks like a wounded puppy as you gently comb your fingers through her hair.

“It’s alright, Yuna,” You reassure her as your free hand wraps around her side, “I know you didn’t mean any harm. I’ve just been sensitive to these things since people started spreading those haunting rumors after my parents died.”

“Those people are assholes,” Ryujin injects, “and you shouldn’t pay them any mind.”

Yuna bobs her head up and down before letting you out of her arms.

“That’s why you’ve got us!” She proudly says before looking in the mirror. “We’ll protect you from anything, ghost-related or not.”

You let go of Yuna before heading towards the bathroom door.

“Thank you, to the both of you.” You wipe away the tears that threaten to fall as Ryujin grabs your hand and guides you away from the bathroom.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some hot chocolate and we can talk about those cute girls you’ve been seeing at college.” She teases as you smile back at her.

“Girls? What girls?” You play dumb, which causes Ryujin to laugh.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Your other hand catches the door frame as you look back at Yuna.

“You coming?”

“In a minute!” She gleefully says as you remove your hand from the doorway.

A second later, and it would’ve been crushed by Yuna slamming the door shut. You allow Ryujin to drag you to the kitchen as your thoughts begin to wander.

It’s silly to believe those rumors, right? Maybe I should be brave like Yuna and face them head on.

~

After Yuna slams the door shut, she turns the light off and grabs the candle from the sink. With a spare match that she stowed away in her pocket, she lights the candle and sets it back onto the counter.

Yuna looks at herself in the mirror, locking eyes with the reflection that looks back at her, as she smiles to herself.

“It’s just a child’s game - what harm could it do?”

She leans close to the mirror before whispering, “Bloody Mary.”

A single shiver runs up her spine - fear? adrenaline? panic? fate?

She sighs to herself. 

This is stupid.

“Bloody Mary.” Her voice rings out again, and this time, the candle wavers in the wind.

Yuna looks out to the window in the bathroom, but it isn’t wide open or slightly cracked. It’s completely shut, with no holes to be seen.

A new shiver runs down her spine - this one she identifies as pure terror.

What’s going on?

“Bloody Mary.” 

The words leave her lips before she can stop herself. Yuna immediately turns on the lights and looks around.

There’s nothing here - you’re just a scaredy-cat!

She breathes out before wiping a tear from her eye.

I must’ve really scared myself if I started crying.

She looks down at her hand, expecting to see nothing but a teardrop, but she sees blood.

Her blood.

A scream is caught in her throat, threatening to escape as she looks in the mirror.

This time, she sees blood falling from both of her eyes, and a shadowy figure in the back.

A woman.

Bloody Mary.

~

You grab the warm mug from Ryujin’s hands before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. Like an impatient child, you take a sip and are immediately reminded why doing so is a terrible idea. You quickly set the mug back down as the liquid in your mouth is scolding your tongue and throat as it travels down to your stomach.

“Fuck,” You wipe your lips, “that’s hot.”

“It’s hot chocolate, you know.” She nudges your arm before taking a seat next to you in the dining room.

You roll your eyes as she laughs at her own bad joke.

“Thanks, Einstein.”

Her mug sits on the table, right next to yours, as her hand grabs your arm.

“How’s college life? Meet anyone special?”

“Not yet. I’m focused on my studies.” You shrug off her nosiness, but Ryujin’s persistent.

“You can’t just spend the rest of your life slaving away at work, you know.” 

“You can’t just spend the rest of your life working at a shitty cafe, Ryujin.” You mimic her voice as she loudly gasps.

“Excuse you! My caramel macchiatos are anything but shitty!”

You both laugh before falling into a comfortable silence.

Her fingers run up and down your arm, and you find comfort in the gesture. She’s been your closest friend since your parents died, back during your first year of high school. Through her, you met Yuna, her neighbor and childhood best friend, who had the biggest house on the block.

It was easy to escape the pain of being in a home with no parents when you could simply spend every night at a friend’s house. It wasn’t like their parents complained - you all got decent grades and stayed out of trouble, so what was the harm?

“It was nice of Yuna to offer her house to me since I’m in town for the week.” You say, as Ryujin nods.

“Her house is always open to me. The benefits of being neighbors, I suppose.” She looks over to the hallway where the bathroom is. “Yuna, come out here before your hot chocolate gets cold! I don’t want to hear any complaints if it already is!”

You laugh before looking out to the hallway.

“That’s odd. She’d usually have some sort of smartass comment to say by now.” You glance at Ryujin, who seems perplexed by Yuna’s odd behavior.

“You’re right. She’s never this quiet. Do you want to check in on her, or should I do so?”

“I’ll do it.” You quickly get out of your chair and head towards the bathroom.

“Yuna!” You call out to her as you slowly approach the bathroom door. Nearly every light in the house is on, yet you feel some sort of darkness around you.

C’mon, Yuna, now is not the time for jokes.

“Yuna, please come out! Ryujin and I, we’re worried about you!” You stop before the door, fist raised to knock against it.

You knock once, twice, thrice.

No response.

“Yuna, please!” Your voice becomes more desperate as you continue to knock. “This isn’t funny!”

You try to open the door, you’re past the social politeness of knocking in case she’s taking care of private business. You’re worried that she slipped and fell, or maybe she hurt herself and didn’t want to say anything-

A key. There has to be a key somewhere.

You look down to see if you can spot a key, but your eyes widen at the sight in front of you.

Blood soaks into your shoes and the carpet below your feet.

You shriek in terror.

“What’s wrong?” Ryujin races around the corner as you start sobbing.

“Call an ambulance! I think Yuna’s, she’s-” 

You choke on your own tears as Ryujin scrambles to find her phone to call for help.

Your mind can’t help but to make a terrible comparison, one that you thought you would never have to relive.

This was exactly how you found your parents, all those years ago.

~

“Mom! Dad!” You call out from your bedroom. “You guys forgot to turn off the hallway light!”

You tightly hug your stuffed rabbit as you wait for one of your parents to respond. They were the two people you trusted most in the world, even though you were a young teenager.

Making friends didn’t come easy to you, especially not in high school, when most of the friend groups had already been decided.

You did talk to this one girl in your math class - Ryujin - but she was more of a study buddy than anything. A friend that simply saw you as a means to an end.

How tragic.

“Mom! Dad!” You call out for them again, wait for a response, and then get out of bed. “I wanted to stay curled up in bed, but I can’t do that when you guys are ignoring me!”

You sigh before putting on your slippers and trudging towards the hallway.

You exit your bedroom and turn to the left as you find the lightswitch with ease. That, however, isn’t what peaks your interest.

It’s the steady stream of a red liquid coming from the master bathroom.

“Mom…” You trail off before walking towards the door. “Dad?”

As you approach, a metal tang hits your nose. It isn’t any red liquid - it’s blood.

~

Red and white lights consume your vision as you sit on the steps of the front porch. In the distance, you can hear Ryujin talking with one of the paramedics, but it all feels like white noise to you.

Could it really be? Could the same entity that killed my parents really have done this to Yuna?

It’s all a jumble of lights, endless questioning, and paranoia until a hand meets your shoulder.

You look up at Ryujin, who tries to give you a forced smile.

“What did they say?” You softly ask as Ryujin takes a seat next to you.

“They think it was a stroke, or some other heart condition. That’s the only thing that could’ve caused her eyes to be like that.”

“Her eyes were liquified, just like my parents.” You quietly say. “Paramedics said they died of strokes, too.”

“But I don’t get it. Yuna ate healthy, exercised regularly, and didn’t seem stressed at all. That’s why they’re looking into suicide as a cause of death too.”

“You can’t be serious, Ryujin,” You glare at her. “Suicide?”

“We never really know what’s going on in someone’s head.” She shrugs before letting her head fall between her knees. “How are we going to tell her family about this? We should’ve been in there with her, maybe we could’ve caught the signs sooner-”

You lean your head against her shoulder and offer her a bit of comfort.

“Trust me, dreading the past doesn’t help at all.”

“What are we supposed to do, then?” 

When Ryujin lifts her head to meet your eyes, she hides her face in a valiant effort to hide her red eyes and quiet sniffles. You gently rub circles into her back as she grabs your shoulders and pulls you closer to her.

“We grieve, we remember, and we move forward with our lives.”

~

“Hustling for pool money again?” Siyeon asks, not daring to lift her eyes from the newspaper.

“Uh-huh.” SuA tosses a stack of cash on the bar table. “What do you think?”

“That it’s better than the credit card scams, but worse than an actual job.” Siyeon bluntly says before SuA grabs a chair, spins it around, and takes a seat.

“Think what you want, but it’s money and it’s right there.” She proudly smiles before looking at Siyeon. “Speaking of jobs, have you found anything?”

“This might interest you.” Siyeon grabs a pen and circles an article in the paper before tossing it to SuA.

“What am I looking at?”

“A girl from a prominent family died about a month ago. Shin Yuna was her name.” Siyeon explains.

“What’s so special about her that requires our… unique expertise?”

“Read the autopsy report in the paper. Her eyes were completely liquified, and they found most of the blood in her body within her skull. They claim that her cause of death was a stroke.”

“No shit.” SuA bites her lips as her eyes gloss over the page. “Are we dealing with a pissed-off spirit, a deranged vampire, or something else?”

“I say that we give it a look before those men over there get mad at you for your hustling.” Siyeon grabs her jacket as SuA takes a sip of beer from the stein in front of her.

“Hustling is an underappreciated art form.” SuA argues before putting on her leather jacket. “Let’s go.”

Siyeon shrugs before grabbing the newspaper from SuA.

“Let’s go.”

~

“This feels wrong.” Siyeon raises her fist to the door before looking back to SuA’s ‘67 Chevy Impala. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else we can talk to first?”

“Family and next of kin is always the best source.” SuA adjusts the aviators on her face as she admires her reflection in a side view mirror. “We have to rule out witchcraft and demonic possession, just so we can be sure that we’re dealing with a pissed-off spirit.”

“Yuna’s family… her parents have been through enough. Should we really not start anywhere else?” Siyeon’s hesitation causes SuA to sigh and walk towards the house.

“Where has this hesitation come from? It’s not like you.” SuA places her sunglasses on the top of her head before knocking on the door.

Siyeon crinkles her nose in disapproval before moving to the side.

“Mr. and Mrs. Shin, a moment of your time!” SuA calls out while banging on their front door.

She stops for a moment and waits for an answer, but no one responds or comes to the door.

“They must be out of town.” Siyeon shrugs before watching SuA grab a bobby pin from her hair. “Don’t tell me you’re going to-”

“You said they weren’t home,” She argues, “and we have to learn about our victim one way or another.”

She places one knee on the ground as she lowers herself to be eye-level with the door. One hand grabs the door knob while the other takes the bobby pin and begins to mess with the lock and-

Easy does it, baby.

“Hey, I’m pretty sure trespassing is illegal in all parts of the world!” A voice yells, which breaks SuA’s concentration.

Startled, she launches herself to her feet before Siyeon walks backwards and falls into SuA, sending them both to the ground.

“Nice one.” SuA grumbles before Siyeon scoots aside.

“You tried breaking in!”

“You encouraged it!”

“You two have to be the worst thieves I’ve ever seen.” A pink-haired girl walks from the next-door house to greet them at Yuna’s home. “Or you’re the next Nancy Drew in-training.”

“Who are you?” SuA quickly stands up before offering a hand to Siyeon.

Siyeon takes the hand and quickly reaches for her wallet in her back pocket, most likely looking for whatever fake ID will get them out of a potential cop car ride.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” She innocently tilts her head as her piercing gaze makes SuA sweat under her leather jacket. “The nearest police station is five minutes away, and I know the deputy’s daughter-”

“Ryujin, that’s enough!”

SuA lets out a heavy breath as her knight in shining pajamas appears at Ryujin’s side. With messy bed hair and a kind smile, they look much less terrifying (and much cuter) than Ryujin.

~

“Ryujin, that’s enough!” You march towards Yuna’s house as Ryujin sheepishly backs down from the two women in front of her. “They’re probably interns at a newspaper who were sent to look into Yuna’s death.”

“Yeah, sorry we forgot to mention that to you.” The taller one rubs her neck before putting her wallet away. “I left my college ID in my car, I can go get it for you if you’d like-”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” You shrug before looking at her, “Names are enough for me.”

“Siyeon.” The taller girl sticks out her hand, which you gladly shake.

“And you?” You look over to the smaller girl, who simply smirks.

“You can call me the woman of your dreams.” She flashes you a charming smile before Siyeon elbows her in the gut. “Fuck! What was that for?”

“Her name’s SuA.” Siyeon apologetically says as SuA grabs her stomach in pain. “She can be a bit… much at times.”

You simply smile at SuA, who leans against the doorframe to look tougher.

And less like a child who got their hand stuck in the cookie jar.

Cute.

“SuA, Siyeon, it’s nice to meet you,” You say before quickly introducing yourself, “and this is Ryujin.”

“You still didn’t tell me why you’re knocking at our dead friend’s front door.” She deadpans as you place a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s better that they bug us instead of her parents,” You say, “who have been out of town since the funeral. Rumor is that they’re going to sell the place, but it’ll most likely get torn down.”

“Right. No one wants to live in a house where a woman died.” Siyeon looks at the door for a moment. “Is there any way we could look inside? For our article, we need a full biography of the victim, and we thought her childhood home might fill in the pieces that we don’t know.”

“Yuna.” Ryujin sternly corrects Siyeon. “Her name is Yuna.”

“I-” Siyeon pauses, rethinking her answer. “Yuna, of course. Apologies.”

Ryujin scoffs before nodding. 

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable being in there without her parents’ permission, but we can talk to you in Ryujin’s house.” You clarify before Ryujin can say something argumentative in response.

That, however, does not completely stop her from responding as Ryujin’s head snaps towards you.

“You can’t be serious! They’re strangers-”

“-Yet, they’re much better than the other reporters and photographs that have come around here.” You say before beckoning SuA and Siyeon towards Ryujin’s house. “C’mon, we can tell you everything you need to know. We were her closest friends, and we were there when she died.”

You don’t miss the way that SuA’s eyes light up when you say the last part.

She must be really invested in this case.

~

“This hot chocolate is really good.” SuA remarks before offering her glass to you. “Want some?”

“No, I’m alright,” You lean towards SuA with a smile, “but Ryujin’s coffees are so much better.”

“Are you shit-talking my hot chocolate?” Ryujin yells from the kitchen as you slide into the stool next to SuA.

“I thought you said it was okay to do so, as long as you said your coffees were better!” You holler back as Siyeon takes a seat next to SuA.

“My coffee is fantastic, by the way!” Ryujin says as you chuckle to yourself.

Never change, Ryujin.

“Maybe I could buy you some, as a treat for your hospitality?” SuA gives you a wide grin before nudging your shoulder.

“Maybe.” You teasingly shrug before looking at Siyeon. “Are you sure you don’t want anything besides water?”

“No, I’m alright. I feel like we’re imposing on you already.” Siyeon gives SuA a sharp glare before looking back at you. “Do you mind if we ask you some questions about Yuna? It’s not exactly surface-level stuff, and if we cross any boundaries, be sure t-”

“-Did you notice anything weird going on with Yuna before she died?” SuA enters the conversation with the gracefulness of a one-ton elephant. “Any flickering lights, sulfur around window sills, increasing or decreasing temperatures…”

“No, none of that,” You shake your head before thinking, “but there was one thing that she did say, before she died.”

“What was it?” SuA looks deep into your eyes, and you’d blush under any other circumstance.

“The three of us - me, Ryujin, and Yuna - were in the bathroom a few minutes before she died. When we were in there, Yuna was teasing me and she started chanting Bloody Mary in the mirror. I stopped her before she got to the third one, but I can’t help but wonder…”

You bow your head for a moment to recollect yourself before speaking again.

“...I’m sorry, you didn’t come for speculation. So no, there wasn’t anything weird with Yuna before she died.”

You glance over at Siyeon, then to SuA. The two girls are staring at each other with an intrigued look on their faces.

They can’t actually believe this story, right?

“Have there been any other deaths like this in town?” Siyeon asks.

Here we go.

“Two, actually,” You start to chew on your lip, “my parents.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

The words fly out of Siyeon’s mouth as she tries to pick her jaw up off the table. 

“Don’t be, it was seven years ago. But yes, when I found them, their eyes were liquified, just like Yuna’s.” You offer a weak smile to your companions, both of which look like they’d rather be five feet under the ground than right next to you.

And everyone wonders why I don’t like to talk about my parents - the response is always similar to this.

“Can I ask a stupid question?” SuA takes a sip from her mug after responding.

“Shoot.”

“Did you play Bloody Mary before your parents died?”

Your eyes widen as SuA’s bluntness.

“I-”

“SuA!” Siyeon reaches behind you to smack SuA on the shoulder. “Why would you ask something like that?”

“I’m forming a theory on what’s happened here,” She pauses for dramatic effect, “a damn good one if you ask me.”

Siyeon clears her throat before grabbing her water and standing up.

“Alright, we’re done here. Pardon my partner’s rudeness.” Siyeon walks over to SuA and hauls her onto her feet.

“But my hot cocoa-” SuA whines, which causes you to laugh.

“It’ll be here if you have any more questions.” You wave at the two girls as they bicker and exit the house at the same time.

Ryujin slowly approaches from the kitchen with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why’d you tell them all that? You know they’re not reporters, right?”

“I don’t know, Ryujin,” You say before patting the vacant stool on your left, “there was something different about those two. They might just be nosy tourists, but I think they might be able to find something in connection with Yuna and my parents.”

“Be honest - you just let them in because SuA was eye-fucking you-”

“RYUJIN!”

~

“Alright, SuA, what’s your theory?” Siyeon places her feet on the dashboard before SuA swats them away in disapproval.

“We’re not dealing with a demon or a vampire or a werewolf. This is just a seriously pissed-off spirit. One that looks like Blood Mary, apparently.” SuA says before turning the car to the left. “We need to look into unsolved murders in the area. Perhaps one that has to do with eyes?”

“Spirits do like to kill their victims in ways that resemble how their murderer killed them. A twisted sort of revenge.” Siyeon nods along. “What would cause the spirit to attack once, and then not attack until seven years later? Usually, these sort of killings happen in rapid succession.”

“That’s the part that has me stumped, too.” SuA pulls into the motel parking lot with ease before putting the car into park. “Let’s get some sleep and see what we can figure out in the morning.”

~

“Shit.”

SuA runs her fingers through her hair as she stares at the headline for the morning news broadcast on TV.

A Deadly Sleepover: Three Teens Found Dead in Local Home!

“You think it’s our spirit?” Siyeon asks as SuA places her head into her hands.

“They said that the girls had their eyes liquified.” SuA absentmindedly looks up to the ceiling.

Why does there always have to be more deaths before we catch our murderer?

SuA watches Siyeon sort through a few newspaper clips while looking at her computer.

“Tell me you’ve got a lead.” SuA taps her foot against the motel flooring as Siyeon nods.

“I do. I cross-referenced local unsolved murders with any autopsy reports of eye gouging or similar injuries, but I couldn’t find anything on the victim’s side.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” SuA asks as Siyeon hands the computer to her.

“Look here. Lucinda Brown, 25 years old. She was murdered in her home by an older man who had his eyes gouged out at the scene of the crime.”

“Jesus.” SuA scrolls through the autopsy reports. “You think this is our girl?”

“Timeline matches up. Lucinda was murdered twenty years before any murders occurred here. That’s enough time to drive any person, living or dead, to insanity. Speaking of, her murderer managed to escape jail time by pleading that he was mentally unwell at the time of the murder.” Siyeon replies.

“Alright, so what do we do now? Dig up some old bones and give them a communion in fire?” SuA suggests, which is quickly shot down by Siyeon.

“The woman was cremated, so that’s a no-go. There must be something else tying her to the mortal world.” Siyeon ponders for a moment. “Let me see the laptop again.”

“Sure.” SuA hands it back to Siyeon before looking at the TV.

The reporter’s interviewing a neighbor who had heard nothing of the incident, except that the girls had been playing Bloody Mary with a handheld mirror in the backyard.

“Bingo,” With a satisfying click, Siyeon turns the laptop to face SuA, "we've got our object of interest.”

On the laptop monitor is a picture of the crime scene from Lucinda Brown’s home. It’s obvious that this was a home invasion - a dresser was knocked down in the background, sheets were tangled with each other on the floor, and blood was splattered across every possible surface in the room.

No wonder the family cremated the poor girl.

SuA’s eyes drift up towards the middle of the picture, where a floor-length mirror stares back at her. In the middle of the mirror, written in blood, is a simple message: Help Me.

“She knew she was going to die there.” SuA softly says. “One last act of rebellion against her killer. I think we’ve got our ghost, but the question remains: where’s that mirror?”

~

“I can’t believe you still kept the thrift store, after all of these years.” Ryujin adjusts the cap on her head before leaning over the counter. “I know it’s your parents, but that place gives me the creeps.”

“I know.” You nod as you stare out of the cafe window. “There’s just a part of me that would hate to see it go to ruin.”

“So you just leave it in limbo?”

“So I just leave it in limbo.” You answer as she looks over to the register. 

“You could always come work with me, y’know. I might own this place one day.” Ryujin’s eyes sparkle with ambition, and you can’t help but laugh at her goals.

“You work on that, Ryujin.” You take a step back before the door opens. “Well, if it isn’t our reporter friends.”

“Friends?” SuA scoffs before walking in. “I thought I left a better impression than friends.”

“Maybe I want you to make a better impression now.” You tease before grabbing your coffee. “Order something first, and then we’ll talk.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” SuA rushes over to talk with Ryujin, which causes laughter to fall from your lips.

Wonder if she’s like this with every person she meets…

“Siyeon.” You greet her as she admires the display of baked goods. “You should try the donuts so Ryujin doesn’t have to burn anything in the oven.”

“It was one time!” Ryujin yells as she writes SuA’s order on a cup.

“I’ll get something in a minute, but I wanted to ask you if you saw the news this morning.” Siyeon places her hand on the display case as her eyes look through the different options.

“I did, yes,” You lower your voice before asking, “do you think it’s related to the other deaths?”

“Given that the girls had the same wounds that Yuna did, I’d say there’s a strong chance that it is.” Siyeon quietly answers.

“Do you know how to stop them?”

“We have a strong idea. Have you seen a mirror like this?” Siyeon grabs a folded-up piece of paper and hands it to you.

You grab the paper and carefully unfold it, and you gasp as you stare at the crime scene in front of you.

“I-” You pause as you notice the mirror in the corner, “I think I’ve seen that mirror before. My parents used to have one just like it in the thrift shop that they owned.”

Siyeon’s eyes widen as she looks over at SuA.

“I’m listening, hold on.” SuA hands her card to Ryujin before walking over to the two of you. “Mind if we take a look around there?”

“I thought you wanted to have a coffee shop date.” You smile as she bashfully looks away for a moment.

“Ah, so now it’s a date.” SuA chuckles before leaning against the counter. “We can change plans, as long as you don’t mind having a third wheel.”

“As long as you two aren’t making out in the back of the Impala, I don’t really care.” Siyeon shrugs before Ryujin hands her a baked good.

“Here’s one slightly toasted-but-not-burnt donut.” Ryujin says before grabbing a coffee from the back. “And your black coffee, you heathen.”

“I prefer my coffee black instead of liquid sugar, thanks.” SuA remarks before taking a sip. “Perfect.”

“Whatever.” Ryujin rolls her eyes before looking out of the window. “Hey, did you see that woman?”

“What woman?” You look out to the road, but there’s not one car or person outside except the Chevy Impala.

You notice the visible panic on Siyeon’s face as she walks over to Ryujin. 

“What does she look like?”

“Well, she had pretty blonde hair, but her face was a little messed up. It almost looked like she was dead or something…” Ryujin confesses.

“Fuck.” SuA sets her coffee aside before grabbing Ryujin. 

“What are you doing?” She frantically looks around as SuA drags her to the car.

“If you want to live, you have to come with us.” 

The door slams shut as Siyeon follows after her.

“We’ll explain in the car, I swear.”

~

“Are you serious?” Ryujin breathes deeply through her nose as Siyeon covers the rearview mirror with a small towel. “If so, I’m fucked.”

“But she didn’t say Bloody Mary three times!” You try to reason with SuA as she steps on the gas after pulling out from the parking spot.

“It doesn’t seem to matter who said it.” SuA runs a red light in town as you fumble with the keys in your hand. “What can you tell us about that mirror in your parents’ thrift shop?”

“I remember that they sold it to a woman in our neighborhood, a few weeks before they…” You trail off. “You’re telling me that this mirror killed my mom and dad?”

“Not the mirror as much as the spirit attached to this.” Siyeon says as she lowers the passenger seat window.

“This is insane, right?” Ryujin looks over to you with a look of fear that doesn’t normally sit on her face. “I can’t believe that you believe this!”

“I mean… I’ve always felt that there was something wrong about their deaths, but I didn’t think it was a literal haunting. I just thought it was a mean rumor that the neighborhood kids saw.”

“The same kids that would play Bloody Mary with that mirror?” SuA asks as you point out the thrift shop in the distance.

“You guys have done more to solve my parents murder in the last twenty-four hours than the police have done in seven years.” You shake your head. “I don’t know how I could thank you.”

“Let’s save your friend first, and then let’s talk about thank you’s, alright?” SuA pulls into a nearby parking spot as you hand Siyeon the keys.

“Are you positive that the mirror is here?” Ryujin looks over to you as you nod.

“The woman who bought that mirror had died a few weeks later, of an actual stroke, and one of her children took it with them when they moved out of her house.” You explain as SuA nods along.

“That explains the lack of murders in seven years, but that means someone brought it back to your town.” 

“I’ve used the thrift shop as a storage unit since my parents’ house was torn down two years ago. A few weeks ago, I saw that someone placed a floor-length mirror outside of the back door, so I brought it inside so it wouldn’t get smashed.” You hand the picture back to Siyeon. “The same mirror in that photo, minus the bloody message.”

“I hate to rush the exposition, but I’ve seen Bloody Mary in your side mirror.” Ryujin says before slapping a hand over your eyes. “Can we please get this show on the road?”

“Right. You get the hammer, I’ll get the shotgun.” Siyeon says as she and SuA exit the car at the same time.

“I’m fucked, aren’t I?” Ryujin whimpers as you rub her shoulder. 

“They hunt ghosts, or whatever they tried to explain to us. We have to keep you alive long enough for them to deal with this.” You attempt to comfort her as you hear the trunk of the car slam shut.

You roll down the window as SuA approaches your side of the car.

“Hey, be careful out there. I still want to get coffee with you sometime.” You offer her a cheerful smile as she runs a hand through her hair.

“You don’t have to worry about me, babe, I’ve got you. Both of you.” SuA winks at you before walking towards the thrift shop.

You shyly look away as Ryujin punches your shoulder.

“Can you flirt with her when I’m not near certain death?”

~

“Of course there isn’t any electricity.” SuA quietly grumbles before flipping the light switch off. “Where did they say the mirrors were?”

“Up ahead, and to the left.” Siyeon says before following your instructions. “Here we are.”

“How many mirrors are there?” SuA says as she looks at the collection of floor-length mirrors. “Do we start smashing, or…?”

“Maybe if we summon her, she will appear from the mirror that was in her house.” Siyeon says before turning to a mirror hung on the wall.

“That’s a terrible idea that will get us both killed.” SuA tries to pull Siyeon away, but Siyeon pushes her aside. “Don’t do this, I’m warning you.”

“Too late.” Siyeon locks eyes with the reflection in the mirror. “Bloody Mary, Blood Mary, Bloody Mary.”

The lights above them flicker as SuA approaches the first set of mirrors. The reflection of the flashing lights nearly blinds her, but she manages to smash the first one with little difficulty.

“Do you see her?” SuA yells before smashing another mirror.

“Not yet!” Siyeon calls out before turning to the side. “Keep going!”

The lights flash with increasing frequency as SuA continues to break every floor-length mirror that crosses her path.

Why would anyone ever have so many mirrors?

Again and again, SuA smashes every mirror that she sees. And again, none of them seem to stop the flashing lights. She travels deeper and deeper as her hammer strikes every mirror in her path.

SuA’s deep into the back of the thrift shop when Siyeon screams in pain.

“Siyeon-ah!” SuA yells out before running through a different part of the store.

How many different types of mirrors are there?

“She’s… here!” Siyeon manages to get out before another scream escapes her.

SuA doesn’t have time to smash every mirror she sees - she has to find the mirror, and fast.

She flies through the store, to the musical accompaniment of Siyeon’s sounds of terror and pain, until she spots a mirror with the tiniest bloodstain on it.

“Guess the mirror wasn’t totally clean, huh.” She says to herself before the hammer connects to the mirror.

It shatters instantly, just as Siyeon goes quiet. 

“Siyeon!” SuA backtracks quickly, only to find Siyeon laying on the floor with blood coming from her eyes. “You okay?”

“I’ll live,” She mutters before slowly getting off of the floor, “but she won’t.”

Siyeon weakly points ahead of her, where a woman that matches Ryujin’s descriptions and the autopsy report disappears into a cloud of black smoke.

“You think she’s gone for good?” Siyeon quietly asks.

“As long as the mirror stays shattered, I’d say so.”

~

“I suppose I should say thank you.” You say as you approach the Chevy Impala.

SuA leans against the driver’s side door with a smirk.

“I suppose I should say that you’re welcome, but I think an apology is in order.”

She sheepishly looks away as you wave off her concerns.

“Don’t worry about the mirrors. They’re not worth the price of someone’s life.” You look over to the thrift shop. “Besides, it’s time that I let that place go. It’s just a collection of bad memories and poor decisions. Something more positive and welcoming should take its place.”

“You’re selling it?” 

“No, I’m giving it to Ryujin. She’s dreamed of owning her own coffee shop since she started working at that little cafe uptown.” You gaze at the keys in your hand. “She’ll make better use of the space, I know it.”

SuA tilts her head at you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Nothing that a pint of beer and a bit of therapy won’t fix.” You laugh to yourself. “How’s Siyeon?”

“A bit shaken up, but nothing major. Brushes with death are pretty common in our line of work.” 

“Well, for your sake and mine, I hope you’ll be a bit safer through your travels.” You bite your lip as SuA takes a step toward you.

“You’ll be thinking of me, even after we leave? How sweet.” SuA teases you before you retaliate.

“It’s not every day that I meet a girl as forthcoming, kind, and attractive as you.” You flirt back before taking a step towards SuA.

It’s in this moment that you realize how close you are to one another, and another step from one of you will cause your bodies (and hopefully your lips) to collide.

“If you keep sweet-talking me, I might not be able to leave.”

There’s a shred of honesty behind SuA’s flirting - she’s seriously considering staying for another night or two.

“Maybe that’s the idea,” You take a half-step forward, and you place a quick peck on her cheek, “but you have more people to save, no?”

“Unfortunately, I do, but I’m not ruining this moment.”

SuA pulls you closer by grabbing your hips, and before you have time to relax, her lips collide with yours. You immediately kiss her back as your hands land on her shoulders.

You only break off when you need air, and SuA looks at you with a proud smile.

“Maybe I’ll come back some day.” She lets go of you before pulling her aviators off of her head.

“Maybe.” You softly repeat as SuA climbs into the car.

Siyeon offers you a friendly wave before rolling down her window and handing you a piece of paper.

“For later, when you miss SuA.” She says before the Impala pulls out of the parking spot and heads back onto the road.

After the car leaves your field of vision, you look at the note in your hand.

Written in pen is SuA’s phone number, followed by a brief message:

For when you miss SuA, or if anything in this town ever requires our area of expertise. - Siyeon.

You smile to yourself.

Maybe you’ll call the Winchester girl and see if she’s free for a week or two in the future. Maybe you’ll call just to hear her voice and ask about her adventures. Maybe you’ll wait for her to track down your phone number and call you first.

maybe, maybe, maybe.

[papirouge]

Pro abortion advocates I’ve noticed have a huge overlap with the crowd of people who call their dogs and cats their fur babies or believe that humans are all terrible.

There was this video I watched of a pregnant woman who developed an allergy to their pet (I think it was a dog) while pregnant and her husband didn’t want to rehome it fast enough, so she rightfully called out how he was basically putting a cats life over her and their unborn baby. So she left the pet at a shelter where it did unfortunately pass away which is sad and I understand that losing a pet is hard but everyone in the comments were ALL basically praising the husband for divorcing his pregnant wife because to them, a cat was worth more than her health and the wellbeing of the baby.

It was really eye opening to see how much hatred this woman was receiving. There was blame on the unborn baby too on how she couldn’t just leave her home?? She was pregnant, and her health was being affected by their pet. Yet she was wrong for thinking about how this was affecting the baby that nobody cared to think about. There is a serious problem with how many people in society now do not value life and how serious pregnancy is. The husband clearly didn’t care. And clearly now, people value the life of an animal over other people. Idk maybe I’m just from a different culture and not very sensitive to this than the comments because I do like animals but it seems like in the west, pets are like children, siblings or family members? It’s just so weird to me. I can’t ever imagine looking at a cat or dog and see them as literal children. It’s creepy and dehumanizing.

Trash husband. Trash victim blaming ass supporters.

I like animals but people being so extra about their pets give me massive narcissist energy. You know, those people deifying animals precisely bc unlike humans, animals can't say to them "no", contradict or question their character.

Domestic animals are just pure unfiltered love, exactly like children, you're absolutely right. That's why both people obsessed with maternity and BABIES (not children) and "i love animals more than humans" types are major red flag.

And yeah, I think this obsession with animals is a very Westerner thing. There are pet everywhere in the world, but this borderline psychopathic obsession with animals that can be found almost exclusively in the West (especially cats) always came off super weird to me. My tinfoil is that the craze about cats (since ~2012) and the boom of social medias and meme culture was a psyop to distract millennials away from the 2008 financial crisis and potential militantism ("Occupy Wall Street") and dumb them down into intellectual anaesthesia. But I digress.

I hate that whenever there's a story of a dog who bit or mauled someone you ALWAYS have psycho defending the dog. Even when the victim is a child who's been mauled to death. I heard an elderly man lost his leg because of dog...

I like dogs, but the moment a dog displays the slightest form of aggressiveness to my children or any of my family I'll do everything I can for them to be put down. Animals will always be animals. I literally don't care if he's "family"

also those ugly dog shouldn't be anywhere near children and be required to permanently wear a muzzle.

Parents leaving them play with their own children should be reported to CPS idc

[boricuacherry-blog]

My first Jackson revelations did not sit well with those who adored him. Upon leaving my office late one night in the fall of 1993, I found myself surrounded by four young people who were waiting for me on the west side of the Paramount lot, by the employee parking lot. They immediately began to follow me and call me names, and I didn't understand at first. As I tried to cross Gower Street to get to my car I remember thinking, What is the matter with them? Then it dawned on me. These were Michael Jackson fans and they were quite upset with my reports - and with me. The next day the group had grown to about twenty Jackson devotees, and as they shouted at the first sight of me - 'Michael's innocent!' and 'Leave him alone!' - I realized I was going to have to find another place to park my car.

But things got worse. I came to suspect that the phone in my cubicle was tapped, and all fingers seemed to point to Michael Jackson's private investigator Anthony Pellicano, whose specialty, as he always bragged, was clandestine surveillance and counterintelligence. Pellicano called himself a 'sin eater' for his celebrity clients, and reporters were on perpetual notice to steer clear of Pellicano clients- or else. There had been too much clicking and popping on my Hard Copy telephone line and information I had spoken about only on that phone was coming back at me from people who I didn't think could have known any other way. I discussed my worry with my husband and we decided on a scripted plan to flesh out any possible eavesdropping.

My husband called me at the office at a predetermined time and we had a long, animated discussion about the 'Pellicano documentary' I was preparing. I exaggerated how explosive a program it would be. Of course, there was no such project in the works. Twenty minutes later my office phone rang again. It was a member of the Paramount legal team asking about the Pellicano documentary I was working on. I played dumb, said I was working on no such thing, and asked the lawyer where he had heard the information. She told me she had just gotten a call from the office of one of Michael Jackson's lawyers.

So my phone was tapped, the outside of my home was vandalized, my car was later broken into while it was in a secure location inside the Paramount gates; sensitive Jackson-related documents were the only thing taken. Paramount had a security detail escort me to and from work every day. I worried for the safety of my daughter, Jenna, who was living on her own and going to college back in New York.

I never looked at the Jackson saga as a celebrity story. I looked at it as a crime story, an investigation into possible criminal wrongdoing, just like so many others I had covered. I worked my cop sources, and they turned me on to more law enforcement contacts. I cultivated sources who served Michael Jackson in various capacities and those were close to the Jackson family. I made it a point to stay in touch with those sources.

-Diane Dimond

[anothersebastianblog]

Some people have been hating on Thunderbolts constantly since some "insiders" reported about his screen time being minimal. Even if that's the case, it never bothered any of them in other movies. Hell, people were like "haha going to the cinema for dumb money and two minutes of his screen time!". What's the issue now? People are too sensitive when it comes to Bucky. // Bucky/Sebastian has been in the MCU for 13 years, and he still continues to get sidelined for characters nobody really cares for, such as Ghost and Taskmaster. A lot of us strongly feel that Seb/Bucky is way overdue atp to have his own Bucky solo project or at least be a co-lead to Yelena in TB. Many characters less popular than Bucky are getting their own solo projects but not him. Even in the trailer, Seb/Bucky has one measly line while all the other characters are given more dialogue/interactions/action scenes. This is completely unfair to Seb/Bucky who has been in the MCU for 13 years and still gets disrespected/sidelined.

I know guys, i wanted a winter soldier solo project for ages and i basically watch their products just for him but.. they are a commercial franchise.. they focus and what matters for the bigger story and saga and what brings them money the most (some choices are questionable regarding this second goal ik) so… it’s understandable what they did with his character …

[iznsfw]

Tutor eunbi where she rewards you increasingly everytime you get an answer correct starting from clothed groping and ending up with creampie

(inspired by a jav that uhhh... my friend saw definitely not me)

[KWON-0927] "P-please be gentle!" Busty School Tutor Whimpers Cutely As You Go Down On Her Curvy Figure After A Rough Revising And Has Her Sensitive Nipples Played With! Never Gonna Fail An Exam Again!

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 1 - Kwon Eunbi

First Part of Dulce Periculum | Next Part

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

8,131 words

Categories | tutor!Eunbi, uniform sex, rough sex, nipple play, corruption, titjob, mating press, tit play, fingering, creampie, squirting

Start of Iz*Mas! This is my EIGHTEENTH Eunbi fic. Me writing too much Eunbi.

Anyway, enjoy this :)

There's the stab of overmorrow's claws that sink into your skin as early as ereyesterday. Add the fear that creeps into your heart when you look down into the textbook and realize there is a one-way path with this situation and it does not look safe at all. Everything goes downhill from here. There's the—

Three quick knocks pound onto your wooden door like silver rain on a rooftop. You close the textbook with jerky surprise, but you do not need to look into the eyehole to know who it is. The visitor is obviously her. It's obviously Kwon Eunbi, the smartest girl in your school.

You have requested her to help you revise for your exams, and accordingly, she comes to your home every Sunday since the start of September to do so. How you got so lucky to have such a pretty girl visiting you regularly, you'd like to say you have no idea. But you can only point to your report cards and feedback sections scribbled with dark red negativity. If the scathing words from exhausted teachers written on the back aren't enough to send the message, you will be straightforward: you aren't the brightest student.

You are quite average in other subjects, which is probably one of the two redeemable qualities about you. But English is just a ridiculous setup for failure. You do not like having people know you need help with it either, which makes your situation a bit more difficult than it already is if not for Eunbi being the sweetest girl in the world. (Besides being the prettiest.)

The fear partially washes away, like leftover combed seashells on sand. The phobia of failing has gone by a small surge, but a new one takes its place: one of Eunbi.

It's not that she's an overly strict and brutal tutor; in fact, she's as kind as a girl can get, and too pretty to be frightening anyway. But you are afraid of what you might do that can seem out of place if you want her to like you. If you want her to want you as much as you do her. It's such a stupid schoolgirl crush you have on her, yet you find no escape. Nor can you find a girl that can match the beauty she has, or a distracting enough video game to keep your mind off her.

Your heart aches with anticipation as you open the door. It is no big surprise to see that Eunbi looks beautiful. The pair of round black-rimmed glasses sits on her nose neatly, matching the color of her curled long hair. In addition to that, she is still wearing the school blouse and skirt, making her look like the perfect cute nerd in movies. It's a very usual and everyday outfit, nothing too model-ish or fashionable. But it still dumbs you down to nothing but admiration. How it wraps around her busty form and shows off her thighs oftentimes make you lose the answer to her questions even though it's on the tip of your tongue.

"Hi, oppa!" Eunbi says kindly. She is just a little younger than you, but definitely only by years. In terms of knowledge, she is way out of your league—she's miss Valedictorian, the biggest bookworm, writer of the year, and a good volleyball player. You... well, there's not much to go over.

She gives you a big hug. Emphasis on the "big." Her breasts practically push into your body and almost nudge you out of her embrace. The girl is adorably oblivious to it, only beaming with giddiness at seeing you, and hugs you tighter. Your breath sounds heavier than her giggle.

But wrap your arms around her a little too confidently. Her smooth back and taut stomach feel good under your fingertips. How much more if you were holding—

No. You can't think like that about her! She's your tutor, a completely innocent girl who doesn't deserve to be lewded by your thoughts depsite her insane body. But no matter how many times you remind yourself about it, you keep forgetting. Kind of similar to your relationship with sentences and predicaments.

But it is a different kind of forgetfulness when it's with Eunbi. Unlike the panic that grips you when you forget an essential fact while answering your test, you are blissful to delve in its ignorance. For a limited time, the world allows you to believe that she might like you. That you might have a chance with her. It's a little thing that makes you happier and sadder in the same breath, but you wear a big smile.

"Hi, Eunbi. Thanks for coming by so early!"

It's a statement free of sarcasm. You are glad to have Eunbi come by, especially when you are about to have a breakdown over English. But even with that aside, she's a beauty, and beautiful things are more than allowed in your home.

You lead her to your living room. Several of your textbooks, reviewers and fillers are already out and open on the coffee table. There is science... mathematics... history... they all make your head hurt more than any car ride could.

"Yeah, Miss Bae dismissed us early so I came here five minutes before time," she says with a giggle. But then her face suddenly loses its brightness and surges into fear. "I didn't disturb you, did I? I'm really sorry if I did! You know I could wait till you're settled!"

Oh, that cute downcast look. She is so painfully cute that you want to hug her again, and not just for the feel of her body. "No, not at all!" you say, calming her down. "I needed to work on revising early anyway. Will you help me a little more today? Maybe some extra time, too?" you add hopefully.

"Of course, it's my job! And you pay me very... abundantly." Eunbi gives you a cleverly-timed wink. "So I don't mind at all. Shall we start?"

She hands you the worksheets she has prepared. They're not too lengthy, and have her watermark: a clean red doodle of a bunny and her name in Korean. Nothing out of the ordinary. These letters in the questions aren't in Korean, though. Wait, why are they...

Oh dear God, no. It's English. English, the goddamned language you are forced to learn since everybody in the world knows it and writes it because one day, some stupid people decided to build the tallest tower in the world and made God angry. Or so you were told. But why couldn't you be the exception and go on without knowing the languages?

It's important to note that you are an overall average student. Not good enough to make the honors' list, but not bad enough to be one of the rejects sitting at lunch in the corner either. You barely pass exams, but something is still better than nothing. So, on other subjects, you lend in time to study without putting in much effort. However, this one is your weakness. While you still have hopes to pass in other subjects, the chances slim when you are put in the English spotlight.

You can never wrap your head around it. For example, why do "though," "tough," and "thorough" all have different pronunciations but are spelled nearly the same? Why does the menaing of a word or sometimes a whole sentence change your approach?

It is too broad of a language for you. You'd rather stick to the Hangeul characters you know by heart and say something in your native language. But you know Eunbi won't let that happen.

She sits there with her hands folded, patiently waiting for you to go on answering. But she notices the crease in your forehead and immediately knows what is going on; you have hit a rut, and she has to help you out of it. "Do you want me to go over some flashcards first?"

"I didn't know we were going for English first, but yeah, sure," you say, a little reluctantly. To you, flashcards are just the same as worksheets: difficult and senseless. So you do not understand why she thinks this will help. But hey, you're the student, she is the tutor slash teacher slash cutie. You have to trust her to do her thing well.

"Okay!" says Eunbi cheerfully. She brushes back long strands of curls behind her ear with another hand as she picks up a deck of cards with the other. She remains optimistic and bright-eyed throughout the first minutes of the session, even if you are the opposite. "What is a verb, and what does it do?"

The honey-colored card that invades your line of vision is hard to scrutinize. It is a basic question, really. But not for you, for in that second, every bit of the little knowledge you have about a verb dissolves to nothingness. Verb... verb... what the fuck is a verb?

You are stuck with nothing but a slacked jaw and an empty mouth. Even a third grader can answer this, so why can't you?

You look back at Eunbi with troubled eyes while her brown ones remain cheerful. Never lose your spark, little one. "Uhhh, I think—fuck, can I get a clue?"

"Haaah, oppa-ya!"

The little one has lost her spark. Your ignorance extinguished its heat. Eunbi bumps your shoulder with the force of both mock and real frustration. "There aren't gonna be any clues in the exam, y'know?" she scolds you. "You can't just go up and ask the teacher for a hint!"

You feel a little bad now. Your mind's habitual way of letting important pieces of knowledge slip from its grasp makes Eunbi feel bad, too. Because of it, she begins to doubt her own teaching ability. Is she not patient enough? Did she not choose the questions properly? All those things run in that pretty head of hers now that you have immediately failed to answer.

But it truly isn't her fault. She spends nights printing out your worksheets and reviewing your subjects beforehand, always trying to add a sweet touch to them with a scribble of encouragement on the margins. And you... you are just mind-numbingly forgetful and lazy. None of it is her doing.

But you want to answer the flashcard question with a little bit of help. At least just a tiny bit of help.

"But it's just a tutoring session right now, isn't it?" you reason with her. Look through those brown eyes and attempt to find a hint of patience she can use for you. It is only barely less than the forgiving glimmer that is there on the usual. "Just one hint can do."

You are desperate for it. They are not always helpful, but they do give you time to reflect on what you have studied. On rare occasions, they tap into long-forgotten memories of your other sessions with Eunbi. Sometimes they are about studying, sometimes they're about the little talks you have with her that aren't study-related. There's the right keyword sometimes to put two and two together. Only sometimes, but right now, all you have around that can be of assistance is a hint.

Eunbi is not dumb. She sees through your reasoning and understands why it makes sense. So, being the kind girl she is, she relents. You have the heavens and her parents to credit for making her so forgiving.

"Fine," she says sullenly. She looks adorable; her full lips are pulled downwards in a pout, paired with her spectacles. She looks like the perfect nerdy girlfriend. Oh, if only... "But if you still give no answer or a wrong one after this, we're going to review again. Do we have a deal?"

"I promise we do, Eunbi. With all my heart."

"Good oppa!" says Eunbi cheerfully, back to her normal self. "Here's the hint: it's what you, um, do. In that sense of the word."

Realization hits you, only by a little jab. "Oh! I think that's—um..."

"You just said a verb! Come on, you can do this!"

Then it hits you with unsure slap, as if it were doubtful that it hit the right victim. "The, the action that the subject of the sentence does—?"

"Ding, ding, ding! Yes, you got it!"

Eunbi claps happily, hugging you again. You are blissful, too. Maybe there is a chance of you succeeding after all. Maybe the path isn't so foggy.

"Do I get a prize for getting the correct answer?" you ask with much anticipation. Eunbi always has little treats for you to go by. After a particularly difficult mathematics session, she went with you to the café for a milkshake. Sometimes you would go out for a quick snack. But honestly, you'd take anything, just as long as she stays by your side.

But the Eunbi by your side currently does not look so sure of herself. You can identify well the look on her face because you wear it all the time: an expression of curiosity. You wonder what had gone on behind the scenes for her to look so insecure.

Her index fingers meet and part repeatedly as she gazes at you. Her eyes tell a story you cannot piece apart, but you can get the mood of it: a strange wistfulness left unattended to.

"It's all up to you, actually," she says, quietly, "and I just want to know what it feels like when it's from you. Just that."

"What do you mean, Eunbi?" you ask, with more confusion than ever.

"F-for your prize, you can touch my, um, chest."

"Huh? What happened, is your heart beating weird?"

"No, oppa, I want you to touch my breasts, pleaseee!"

She spurts out the statement with frustration and embarrassment. Eunbi's cheeks have grown bright red, and they only tone up when your hands start to fidget. You may have a hesitant mind of your own, but your hands have known what they wanted to do since the day Eunbi dropped that pencil and accidentally flashed you more than an eyeful. Ever since your eyes took in the beautiful yet limited sight of her breasts, you realized that there is more to Eunbi than a cute girl. And all the time, you thought that she didn't know of her own danger. You ignorantly thought that she is simply too young and innocent to find it out for herself, but she must have seen your provoked expression that day.

"Eunbi...?"

"Look." Eunbi pouts at you and unbuttons the first few buttons of her blouse. The two hills—no, mountains—of flowing cleavage rises into your view. "Does oppa want his prize or not?"

"Of, of course I do."

Tentatively wrap your deft fingers around Eunbi's tit. It feels even better than you imagined. Even with the partial cloth blocking you from its full glorious nakedness, its softness remains. You can feel her nipple harden under your thumb as you continue to squeeze her.

It is a new feeling to Eunbi, having a foreign hand touch where she is second most sensitive. Especially since she has not done any of this sex thing besides touching herself. And even the orgasms that had her whimpering and rocking against her pillow with desperation cannot compare to your fingers groping her.

"Mmm, oppa, that feels good." Her eyes close with all the pleasure you give to the softness of her heavy breasts. "So good... getting touched by you like this."

"Fuck, Eunbi"—your body inches closer to her busty figure, eager to press against its form—"I want to—"

"No, s-stop, we aren't done with reviewing yet!" Her weak voice sounds as if she is trying to convince herself rather than tell you off. With a reluctant look on her pretty face, she positions herself on the sofa normally, trying to proceed. "Don't be so greedy, oppa-ya."

"Seems like you're greedier than me, Eunbi. You were whining like a puppy," you counter her insult. While you understand that she still needs to go on with her job as a tutor, she does not need to pretend that her heart is burning with desire, too. Literally.

Eunbi crosses one thick thigh over the other and shakes her head with clear denial. "No, I'm not! I just... wanted to know what it feels like," she now confesses with a sullen look. "And, and I know you wanted to touch me for the longest time."

Longest time? Does she mean that she figured you out that day, too? Kwon Eunbi is not as oblivious as you originally deduced. She may be sweet and cute, yet she is undeniably intelligent. You might have not said anything verbally about it at the time, but it turns out that she read you like a book.

Eunbi hides her face behind your English textbook like a shy bunny, leaving only her eyes for you to see. "I thought that it would be nice if I let you, because you're really cute, oppa! And it can be motivation, right?"

"Smart girl, Eunbi-ya," you praise her. Her cheeks glow red. She hides her face behind the book even more.

But your cheeks are beet red, too. Did Kwon Eunbi—the Kwon Eunbi, straight-A student and the campus crush—just call you cute? How long has she thought that about you?

The tables have been turned and your back was, too. You were the unmindful one all along.

You are struck by how dumb you are. It's not like it isn't already a usual factor in your life, but you don't miss things like this. You can tell how someone feels right off the bat with just a look. You pride yourself with your certainty of the state of everything. But even when it's already outside of academic fields, she's bested you. Again.

Just how smart is Eunbi? You have never underestimated her intelligence. It is hard to when she is always on top of the honors' list and the first to announce that she's finished with the exams. But now you realize she notices little things, too, just like you.

A silence passes over the living room for a few seconds, but Eunbi proceeds to the next question anyway. The two of you are blushing too hard and are just eager to move on.

"Second question," says Eunbi, shoving a card in your face, "it is defined by Oxford Languages as 'a word or phrase naming an attribute, added to or grammatically related to a noun to modify or describe it.'"

You appreciate the sources from which she gathered the fancy definition, but the elaborate meaning just makes your head hurt. Why stretch a simple definition out to such flowery words? One particular keyword rings a bell, though.

"An adjective," you answer confidently.

"Yes! Give three examples."

"'Pretty,' 'small,' and 'smart.'"

Eunbi blushes then nods approvingly. She knows all those adjectives were about her since you keep giving her pointed glances as you list them. She flips the flashcard to show that you got the right answer.

"You're getting better at this!" she says happily. "Your next prize is you can touch my legs."

Eunbi does not wait for you to accept her prize. She swings both of her legs over your lap, pressing them firmly to your thighs. Just when you thought Eunbi could not get more dangerous, she has showed you up again. The skirt barely hides the roundness of her thick thighs, nor does it hide the shorts that hug them so tightly.

You do not hesitate this time. If Eunbi wants this, then you should give in. Your hand graces the toned muscles on her thighs, formed by her days as a varsity volleyball player, and runs down the rest of her smooth legs. They feel almost as good as her tits, although the only thing that can outdo them is her face. That pretty, pretty face that reacts almost instantly with parted lips and closed eyes. You watch her responses to your caresses with a few pants of your own; seeing her orgasmic reactions is a thing straight out of a JAV porn.

Her center moves against your thigh demandingly. You take that as a signal. Slip your hands underneath her skirt and feel for—

"Hah, no, no, no!" Eunbi's gasps sound like they're wrung out of breathless lungs. "We still have more questions... and the worksheets—mmmm!"

Part of being a good tutor is to have the high ground, but not make it seem like it. But Eunbi is slowly losing the upper hand, all because of your fingers brushing over the center of her underskirt shorts and feeling for the insides of her thighs. She tries to be a good tutor. She tries with all the strength she has in her little body, but they cannot fight against your lingering touch. Nor can they resist the prods of your fingertips at what you think is her clitoris. You might be right; a sharper whine is heard from her.

"Noooo, why does it have to feel so good?" Eunbi whispers. She tugs at your shirt, burying her head in the nook of your shoulder. "Please, oppa, you have to answer some questions still..."

"Oh, fine," you reply with a kiss on her hair. "What's the next question, Eunbi?"

Her free hand shuffles the flashcards. "A word that represents persons, concepts, things, and places. Answer this right and you'll get a bigger prize."

Suddenly, you become the best student there ever was in English. You remember almost everything you and Eunbi have gone over during your sessions. It turns out that all you needed is the promise of Eunbi's body. The promise of the freedom to do everything good to that body that is just begging and pleading to be fucked thoroughly.

"A noun," you answer.

"Correct! You can put them inside me now!"

Swift and ready, your fingers travel through the sides of Eunbi's underwear and shorts and take pleasure in their destination: her hot, tight cunt. When your two fingers enter her, she practically screams. The virginal clamp of her walls is hard to navigate, but they are only a foretold joy for another part of your body. So you truly don't mind spreading your fingers and parting them. They bring another pro: Eunbi's helpless whines.

"Kiss me," she demands. "Kiss Eunbi, please. Kiss her neck."

Your lips arrive at her full tiers, only for a moment for they line down her cheeks, jaw, and neck. Her scent invades and controls your senses. She cries out needily, and she's honestly evil for it. So completely evil for enunciating her sounds with such desire and submissiveness, even if you're sure it's completely unintentional. But you fall victim to her anyway. You bury your face in her hair and kiss her hard, like you've always wanted to.

That's probably as true as the illustrious tits heaving up and down before you.

She's quite inexperienced, and it shows with the quiver of her form with every kiss you place, in addition to her constant whines, as if she weren't oriented originally to the feeling of being penetrated by your diligent fingers. But she wants it. She wants more of you playing with her body, yet she's hesitant, too. Should she abandon her job as a tutor and instead become your fucktoy for the hour? Or should she return to the former Eunbi—the Eunbi who smiles and claps for her oppa because he asked for her help?

"Come on, oppa. I have to, hmph, read another question. Please let me."

The good Eunbi still lives on. You're so impressed by it that your next kiss is one of tenderness rather than lust. "Good girl, Eunbi. Go on."

Her fingers grasp at the flashcards desperately, trying to keep them visible. "It is the topic of a s-sentence, and can usually found at the beginning or end of the sentence," she reads. There's a pleading glint in her eyes, and they send you a message: Answer this correctly, I need you.

You thumb her clit firmly, causing her to buck against it. It's a sign of her upcoming orgasm, and you are surprised that it will arive earlier than expected. But Eunbi hasn't been touched like this other than by herself. She's new to all this, you have to let her off the hook.

Rack your mind for the answer while Eunbi whimpers at your ever-so-constant thrusts. As you consider the possible answers that present themselves in your mind, she whispers pleads for more. Her thighs squeeze around your arm, telling you to keep going, even though your arm aches. You needed the exercise anyway.

"P-parallelism?" you say dumbly.

"No!" Eunbi shakes her head. "Now you have to stop, oppa. You answered incorrect—no, please, please slow down!"

Frustration wrecks your senses and sends your fingers furiously jabbing in the direction of Eunbi's slit. They do more than just jab. They dive into her and wiggle in order for the tiny hole to allow them in. Eunbi sobs as your kisses get harder, not knowing what to do when the orgasm rips through her body. How can she handle all this?!

You're being too rough. You know you are, yet you keep pistoning your digits inside her like it's an addiction of yours that you simply can't let go of. The sounds of her pussy slick with wetness and juices intoxicate you and send your impulsive actions into a flurry. Meanwhile, Eunbi's screams are becoming more and more concerning.

"No, it's not your prize anymore! It's too much, you have to slow down!" All those words yet she moves in accordance with your actions, giving you mixed signals. "I want more, oppa, but I have to be a good tutor!"

"The only good you're going to be is my good little girl," you declare. Teeth capture her earlobe then her neck. "And my good girl is about to cum, isn't she?"

Eunbi blushes at your words. She nods. She can tell from the way the heat is becoming borderline unbearable. It's dangerous, it's hot, and most importantly, it's wrong. She shouldn't have offered her body as your prize in the first place. She should have yielded to the temptation and resisted her lust. But they are all would've-could've-should'ves now. Eunbi is trapped in you.

She isn't sure if she wants to find a way out.

"Then cum for me. Cum for oppa, be good for him."

Her tummy is becoming too tight. She's scared, she's turned on, and she is very very close. "But oppaaa! I can't!" she sobs. "I can't, it's too hot, I can't I can't I can't—!"

She says she cannot, yet the stream of liquid sprays on your hands anyway. Eunbi's legs flail and spread, allowing you to furiously pump her core to climax. She screams the whole time, blinded by pleasure along with the heat. It pushes her nipples to erection and her toes to curl tightly.

You could have cum on the spot just from watching her cum. The climax electrifies her being and makes her shake from it. You never thought you could ever see Eunbi cum. The world is funny like that, bringing out the unexpected and hiding them once it becomes the opposite. You thought that her climax would be accompanied by quiet pleads. Instead, she cums hardly and violently. Her core holds onto your fingers and her clit twitches with need.

The flashcards have long dropped on her skirt. The worksheets are stained and wet from her squirt. It's all greatly unprofessional and low. But to you, she's still a good tutor. Still your good girl.

"You okay, Eunbi?" you ask softly. "Are you alright, sweet girl?"

She's shuddering like she's cold. Anyone would have offered her a jacket. You, however, offer her a kiss.

"I'm okay," Eunbi says, both to calm your fears of having hurt her and herself. Her eyes are closed and her mouth hangs slightly open to let out heavy pants. "Eunbi's okay."

"Glad to hear that," you say with a relieved smile. She smiles back tiredly. "Still up to tutor me after this?"

She nods. Of course she is. She is yours now, after all, although the two of you haven't been able to grasp at saying it out loud yet.

"Any last questions?"

"Yes, of course."

Eunbi lies back into your chest with a sigh of exhaustion. It's the happy kind of tiredness though. It was quite the surreal experience. In just a matter of minutes and only with your finger, she saw stars and still needs to be brought back down to earth.

Her whole body is numb. She needs to feel something. "The answer was noun, by the way."

"I thought so."

"Sure you did. What's a pronoun?"

That, you know. It's easy to remember since they are used so often. "Words used to substitute for names and things so they don't get repetitive. Examples are 'it,' 'she,' 'him,' and so on."

"Correct! Your prize is this!"

Her fingers stretch the garter of her shorts, and let its material fall to the floor. Her underwear follows shortly after. Your dazed eyes follow each slip and descent with longing. Then you realize that you don't have to long and wish for it like you did all those days ago. You can actually have it. She wants you to have it, and that fact alone makes it all the more exciting.

The storm of lust takes her down. She crashes on the sofa of your living room. You splay her legs apart to prepare her for the second taking. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she watches you fish out your erection, which already leaks with desire.

Then she looks up at you.

Kwon Eunbi looks up at you with bewildered eyes, with her legs spread apart and the skirt unable to do even the slightest bit of covering up. Her tits look even bigger from this angle, because they're squished up behind her black bra and by the blouse.

But most importantly, there's her pretty pussy to admire.

And to savage.

All she tells you before it happens is one, simple request:

"P-please be gentle."

You, however, do not reply. You can't make promises you can't keep.

After that, only obscene sounds come spilling out of the valedictorian's mouth. And it's all because of your dick rushing into her hugging walls, forcing them apart. Eunbi cries out, grabbing for anything to keep her sane, yet her fingers only discover the pillows of your sofa. They aren't strong enough to be immune to the dig of her fingernails in them, nor are they soft enough for there to be any comfort for her panicked hands. So she uses her thighs as substitute. She holds her legs and pulls them whenever the pain returns again, somehow unknowingly putting herself in a mating press position.

Her narrow textured walls embrace your cock with unyielding tightness. You were so unprepared for it that you have to calm yourself down before thrusting again. But how can you calm down at all with Eunbi's face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain, and her legs up in the air like that? Not to mention her round tits peeking through the unbuttoned fabric of her blouse?

"S-so big! Oh!" Eunbi flinches as you fire a harder thrust. Your cockhead pokes places even her long, pretty fingers can't reach. She feels so worked up, so utterly vulnerable that her eyes begin to water with tears behind her spectacles. "Please be gentle with me, oppa, you're too big!" she pleads once more. But it isn't the only beg she's going to ask of you this afternoon.

Consider being gentle. Consider engaging in loving, soft vanilla sex with her. But your cock says otherwise. It wants to dive into her with every bit of mercilessness you have, and corrupt this pretty little tutor more. And you are not one to withhold anything from what your cock desires.

But you settle for slow but hard drills first. Eunbi hums, full lips pursed as she tries to take the width and girth of your dick. Her senses still run high because she has just experienced an orgasm from you fingering her, so it's difficult to go through it all without sobbing a little. She's never felt this turned on before, and she is becoming a bit overwhelmed.

"Show me your tits, Eunbi," you ask of her. It's more of a demand, really. Their bounces are limited by the containment of them by her bra, and if you were to give in completely to your desires, you'd rip it straight off. But you want to see her take it off by herself. You've wanted to for as long as you can remember.

Slow down to let her take it off. It's a white lace bra, obviously a little too old and small for her since its clasps let go easily. Her heavy breasts spill from the soft cups and into your line of view.

If you were to use adjectives for Eunbi's bosom, you'd use three: round, soft, and pretty. Their areolas and nipples are pink, erect because of the arousal and the air. They begin to bounce repeatedly now that they are free from their fabric prison. You couldn't be more intrigued with their rising and falling movements. They are far more interesting than the rising and falling action of any stupid classic your English teacher requires you to read.

They drive you to strengthen the force of your pounds. Eunbi wails again. "Oppa!" she says. "Oppa, just let me ask you another question!"

"Ask it while I'm fucking you," you reply.

Her voice strains and cracks as she tries to speak. "What is a... p-predicament, and—oh, god!"

This is the only test Eunbi will ever fail. She cries because of the rough assault your cock offers to her virgin pussy, yet her walls still embrace it demandingly. They never cease with their squeeze, so she can do nothing but want to be subjected to your using even more. She wants you. She wants you to make her cum.

But being a tutor comes first.

"Oppa, please make me ask a question!"

The heave of your hips take a while before they get the message. You force yourself to a stop. God damn it, you were already so close. Screw school for cockblocking you.

Eunbi is both relieved and disappointed that you stopped. The tears that watered in her eyes have slid down her pale cheeks while the juices from her well-fucked pussy drip down the sofa like a waterfall. You've taken her so roughly that there are red marks of your hands on her legs. You feel a little sorry that you've treated such a sweet girl so harshly; she looks so spent. And to think that this is only her first time!

"I—I need to catch my breath," she says. Her eyes close while her mouth performs the opposite. It inhales sharp draws of breath that make her breasts heave and fall. You feel the slightest tinge of guilt that despite the rough session and the break the two of you are taking, you are still utterly turned on.

Lucky for you, there's only better things to look forward to in the hour.

"You were so big inside me, oppa," she moans. "I thought that I couldn't handle it... but I liked it so much."

Recall your earlier line and state it: "I thought so."

"I still have another question or two," she says.

"Hit me."

"Give three kinds of adverbs."

"Adverbs of time.... uh, place? And manner?"

"Correct. You've earned a tit...." Eunbi struggles to say it without getting flustered. "I'll just show you."

One gentle push from Eunbi and you're the one on the sofa now. Buttons are released and undone, and her two breasts wrap your length with its loving softness. It takes time for you to realize what is going on. So it hits you a little later to realize that Kwon Eunbi, your pretty little tutor, is giving you a titjob.

Where did she learn all of this? That she answers right after the thought touches on your mind.

"Does it feel good?" she asks nervously. "I tried to watch some, um, videos of it, but it always seemed so hard."

She moves her breasts up and down, trapping them in the jail that is the soft flesh squeezing your appendage and stimulating your senses. Her tits love the sensation, too, especially when Eunbu's fingers tap on her all-too-sensitive nipples. Whenever that happens, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, in a feeble attempt to calm her thoughts.

"You're doing great, Eunbi," you groan out. More than great, in fact. Her bosom does most of the work, but her expressions contribute to your wants and needs as well. Those watery puppy eyes and the stretched frown of her lips make you want to fuck her mouth. See how much she can take and how much she can cry.

Next time.

Claustrophobia never overtakes your cock. They enjoy the pillowy closeness of the tiniest spaces of Eunbi's boobs. Eunbi looks on with utter fascination. She has never done this before, and never even thought that this was a thing. So she's a little surprised at how easy it is, and how good it feels for you. The breathy groans you make as you slide in and out of her voluptuous chest make her core wet with need.

You get off more easily and earlier than you expected. Just a few more upwards thrusts and you've ejaculated all over her. Eunbi gasps surprisedly at the sticky white substance that sprayed so suddenly. There's spurts on her collarbone, chin, and bosom. She looks so satisfyingly dirty that your guilt for arriving earlier almost completely washes away.

Her eyes connect to your tired gaze. Then, she fingers the wet semen and circles them on her nipples. She bites her lip, whimpering a little, but starts to tweak her nipples to deliver shudders of pleasure throughout her body. A drop of cum is swallowed from her finger.

"Eunbi-ya..." You're more than take aback. In a good way. "When did you get so dirty?"

"I had Sakuchan teach me." Her eyes close as she remembers what Sakura did to her. "She was a good tutor."

Sakura? Does she mean Miyawaki Sakura, the girl who wins a lot of the pageants at school? Oh. Well, the two of them do seem particularly close...

"Oppa."

You dash a look towards Eunbi inquisitively. "Yeah?" you ask. You can't believe her glasses have managed to stay on despite the rough fucking.

"I have one last question for you."

"And what might that be?"

Eunbi places her arms on your lap and rests her chin on one of them, tilting her head to the side. "Do you promise to treat me like your good girl?"

She's a seductive force to be reckoned with, one that was more of what she was born with rather than was taught. She climbs onto your lap like she has always known she's fit for it, and cages your sides with her beautiful legs. Her skirt lies on her thighs, a curtain disguising what is yet to come, while her hands drape themselves over your shoulders. They squeeze your tense muscles, yet your form never relaxes. Your body is too caught up with the lack of oxygen.

There she goes again with that pout. Downward tugs at the end of her plump lips, eyes glossy with the ghost of an innocence long gone. The specs allow her to see your hesitant face, so she spices the deal up.

"Do you promise," Eunbi says, "to make this memorable for me? Make it a good first time?"

Jesus, what was Sakura teaching her?

"Of course, Eunbi," is your answer. And apparently, the correct one. The only answer she'd take.

"Correct. For that, you can fill me up."

She has made plenty of requests over the time of the session: requests for you to go easy, to answer her questions correctly... too many to count. The word is starting to sound made up. But your head is only filled with thoughts of fucking her senseless.

Oh, you'll make it memorable for her, alright.

The tension breaks. You go wild, now that this second session won't be interrupted by academic questions. Those stupid questions that shouldn't dictate your worth, nor your future. Your job isn't going to ask you what time fucking Shakespeare was born. So why should you have to spend eternal hours studying for a test paper you're going to fail anyway? Why should you?

But surely there is no reason why you shouldn't fuck Eunbi. There is no reason why you shouldn't insert yourself inside the hole between those slick folds, see the pleasure run through her gorgeous face, and watch those exposed tits bounce. There is no reason for you not to grab her body and trap her against the sofa and take her pussy from between her widespread legs.

So you do it.

Switch positions. Grab Eunbi's shapely hips and turn around swiftly, pinning her down to the sofa. Swiftly enter her quivering form. She's still so hot and tight, you think, with a groan that mixes with Eunbi's moans.

Your brisk actions make her tense around you. She isn't sure if she is going to be able to take it again. Your erection still remains as large as ever. It penetrates her inexperienced body so well that she doesn't think she'll want any other dick to take her this way, even if she's only received one all this time: yours.

Her moans return. From there, you cannot hold back. You pound into Eunbi with gusto. She yelps everytime, squirming to make herself comfortable in this position and to bring herself closer to your cock. Not that it's leaving anytime soon; only a few inches exit with your in-and-out thrusts, driving your leaking mushroom head repeatedly to her cervix. Her cries are as constant as your drills.

You fight against the narrowness of her walls. You thrust in her with the intention to fuck her so good that you make them memorize the shape and length of your dick. Eunbi's tightness isn't a problem, though; it's easier to rub the texture of her walls this way. Easier to make her scream.

Her cum-covered tits now bounce freely. They've been released from the confinement of her bra and buttons earlier, so you are offered the pretty viee of them jiggling as you knock Eunbi up. Semen covers their nipples. It drips down to her toned stomach. You've been put in such a sex-crazed trance by them that it almost steals your attention away from her pleasured face.

Lopsided glasses remain before Eunbi's wide, fluttering eyes. You are using her thighs to pull yourself to her, and to spread them to allow more heavenly access. Her skirt has flown up to her taut tummy. She is such a mess for your cock in every way, yet you still find yourself wildly attracted to her. She's perfect, from her moans to her squirms, her whines and her cries.

"D-don't stop!" Eunbi tells you. There's no "please" attached to the starts or ends of her requests anymore. Her politeness has melted away. Its loss has allowed her to show that her screamed statement isn't a request. No, she's demanding that your thrusts don't falter nor pause. She's demanding for every might you have in your body to be delivered to her in the form of your pumping. "Make me cum, oppa! Make me... hngmph!"

You rub her wet pearl with your thumb, meriting a delightful pursed moan from her. You start to give it harsh and forced flicks. Eunbi responds with several gasped groans that sound higher than before. They're followed by raspier moans, which you didn't expect to love hearing from her. Her screams are better, though, you'd say.

Her celestial form writhes and shifts in its position on your sofa. Eunbi cries out everytime you swipe at her clit again, or throw a spank at her ass, which you only discover now is as equally deserving of appreciation as her tits or face. Every inch of her is perfect. Every inch of her deserves to be loved.

That is precisely why your hands touch everything. You lean over to take one of those pretty nipples in between your fingers and give it a firm squeeze. She sighs delightfully. After kissing her lips and taking in their strawberry bubblegum-like taste, you decide that it is time.

Grab her legs firmly, push them together, then shove them up in the air. Your stomach slaps the curves of her thighs while your dick joins her cervix once more. Eunbi's skirt has no purpose now. At least, not any purpose that is enough to hide her naked obscenity. But you care more for the yells that wickedly corrupt your heart that come from Eunbi's gorgeous set of lips—

For the panicked shake of her legs as your pounds obtain maximum strength—

For the severe cry she makes while her hands yearn and play with her breasts beautifully covered with your semen—

For the look of uncaged wildness in Eunbi's eyes; the one you recognize as the result of a freshly-broken innocence—

—are too much.

"Cum, cum— cumming!" she shrieks. Her whole body spasms and quakes, and you begin to have difficulties keeping her legs, which have been used even in the timespan of half an hour or so to spread for you, in the mating press position. "Oppa, slow down, slow down, can't keep—Ican'tkeepcumm—haaaaah!"

Paint the insides of the little slit with white while Eunbi renders the sofa fabric torn. Tears run down her cheeks. Her fingers, betwixt the red sofa blanket, have gone numb. Breathing becomes a chore; you're still going and going, draining yourself inside her to make the most out of it all.

Then, finally, slide yourself out. Eunbi's pussy has successfully been ejaculated on, just like her breasts and chest. You pray that the next time you find yourself inside her heavenly cunt, one of her name is already "mine."

Nervously, tentatively, lay Eunbi's legs down. Smooth her skirt back down on the pillows that are her thighs. The slightest whine escapes her mouth derived from the soreness. It's her first time, after all—it isn't going to be fine after just a few seconds.

————

"So, uh...." Strangely, you're the one asking the questions. now. Trading places with her, putting yourself in her shoes. Gaze at the exhausted Eunbi on the sofa and the anxiety returns to you. "You want anything? Frozen peas, a blanket, anything?"

"Thank you, but don't try to fool me," says Eunbi, smiling tiredly at what she thinks is your not-so-subtle way of trying to outrun responsibility. Unfortunately for you, responsibility can run nine marathons with the speed of twenty-seven horses.

She tries to spread her legs, but flinches when the pain hits. "You still have a test on T-Tuesday, remember?"

Of course. But you smile anyway. "I'm guessing you don't want another go then?"

A hopeful look passes over her eyes. "Do you still like me?"

Heart thumping against your throat, nod. "Yeah. A lot."

Eunbi nods understandingly. She asks another question that you are surprisingly ready for. "Are you still going to keep me stretched and filled up?"

"Of course. I'm still your oppa, aren't I?"

"And I suppose," Eunbi says quietly, as she looks down a little sullenly, "I'm still your tutor."

Understanding passes between the two of you, without words nor signs. You two dodge glances and avoid dialogue, and you're once again a little scared. You may have fucked Eunbi senselessly and impulsively, but you still have a massive crush on her. Has the sex ruined any chances of a relationship with her?

There's the stab of tomorrow's claws that sink into your skin as early as today. Add the fear that creeps into your heart when you look sideways at Eunbi and realize there is a two-way path with this situation and it does not look easy at all. Everything can go up or downhill from here. There's the phobia making your hands tingle, the shortness of your breath, the sweat on your face.

But there's also Eunbi's head on your shoulder, and her hands sliding into the comfort of yours. And although you still fear the depth the pierce of the future's claws can probe, the monster to whom they belong to doesn't seem so scary at all.

[sarahreadsfic]

*banging on table with a fork and a knife* none of the genshin idol!aus include the characters who are canonically performers (PARTICULARLY YUN JIN AND XINYAN) and i want to see one so here are some very barebones headcanons!!!

i think overall their music would be in a similar style to the kpop group dreamcatcher (please listen to them they’re incredible)! i don’t have a name for them yet and also this technically isn’t a reader-insert but like, it could be, i just didn’t include one!

yun jin: main vocal, lead dancer. she was classically trained prior to joining the group, and she’s known for her unique voice, impeccable vocal technique, and jawdropping range. basically an all-around incredible vocalist. she also writes a lot of the lyrics for their music. she’s really good with her facial expressions when performing, and can go from adorable to smoldering in an instant (there are MANY compilations dedicated to her duality). personality-wise, she comes across as very composed, calm, and mature - and in professional situations, she absolutely is - but as soon as the other members start goofing off, that facade completely falls away. it’s so easy to get her to laugh, and she has a really cute, playful side that comes out most often around xinyan. practically the entire fandom ships the two (they’ve known each other the longest and are constantly talking about how they inspire one another in interviews).

xinyan: main rapper but in the same way as dami from dreamcatcher and moonbyul from mamamoo where every time she sings people are completely captivated by how great her singing voice is too. i think in terms of vocals, when she isn’t rapping, she’s doing the adlibs and the really powerful belts or growls. she also does a lot of the composing and producing for the group (and the way she names her files is completely incomprehensible to everyone else - “oogah.mp3” “beat 5.mp3″ “hhhhh.mp3″ “THIS one whEEEW.mp3″). her stage presence and energy is absolutely unmatched. extremely talented with instruments and picks them up super quickly. she’s the most underrated member of the group within the fandom but everyone within the group is completely whipped for her. she also gets scolded a lot for jumping off the stage during their shows so she can interact more with the fans.

other members under the cut!

ayaka: i debated whether or not to include her. even though she’s not technically a performer, i feel like she belongs here as the group leader. she’s widely regarded as one of the best leaders a group can have; she’s empathetic, well-spoken, patient, and usually is the one wrangling everyone when they’re getting a little too chaotic. and while she’s easily respected by all the other members, none of them think she’s unapproachable in the slightest and will easily tease and mess around with her. she’s also lowkey really funny in terms of just making snarky/sassy comments that always catch people off guard because she’s otherwise very polite (sometimes she’ll answer some dumb question in a passive aggressive way that goes right over the reporters’ heads and the members will be trying their absolute hardest to stifle their laughter). performance-wise, she’s a true all-rounder and raps shockingly well.

nilou: main dancer, of course. she had the shortest training period out of all of them. she’s extremely versatile and has trained in many different dance styles since she was young, and she gets really excited about bringing new styles to the table. she always wants her choreography to tell its own story; whether that story complements or perhaps even contradicts the story told by the lyrics and music is up to the audience’s interpretation. vocally, i would say she’s sort of like jiu from dreamcatcher - her singing voice is high, soft, and airy. she’s lowkey hopeless when it comes to rapping. though she comes across as sweet and down to earth in real life, there’s an air of quiet confidence surrounding her. within the group, she’s very sensitive to the other members’ moods and is always encouraging or taking care of them - the others always say she’s the backbone of the group, and that she’s the best listener.

barbara: maknae (youngest member), sub vocal, lead dancer. her voice is similar to ive’s liz; it’s got a bright, bubbly, energetic quality to it. she struggles a bit with darker concepts just because she can’t help unconsciously smiling while she’s performing, since she’s always genuinely having fun! when the group first debuted, she was pretty shy and self-conscious about her skills, but she’s gotten more secure over the years and has become more outgoing because of it. she’s VERY motivated and fiercely determined when it comes to improving her skills, and probably works the hardest to do so out of all of them, spending most of her free time practicing their dances and taking vocal lessons. she also does a lot of livestreams to chat with fans, and still gets flustered easily at compliments. now and then, fans will see her busking on a street corner, but she always gets a little embarrassed when she’s recognized.

NON-MEMBERS:

eula: their main choreographer and dance instructor. she hates being in the spotlight, so she prefers working behind the scenes. she’s fairly strict while teaching and typically stone-faced outside of dancing, so she can come across as cold and intimidating, but the members all know her well enough to recognize her as a deeply caring and secretly soft person. she’s known for refusing to work with groups she hasn’t personally met, but she’s been with this group since predebut, and at this point she’ll put up with just about anything from them, honestly (she acknowledges their dedication and commitment. she has an extra extra soft spot for barbara because of this). while she doesn’t hold back from creating challenging and intricate choreo since she knows the group’s capabilities very well by now and has no problem pushing them, she always takes into account the feedback from the members, especially nilou.

shinobu: she’s their bodyguard that a good chunk of the fandom kinda simps over whenever she shows up in their airport photos or accompanying them to an event. there are a few viral videos circling around showcasing her quick reflexes and strength while protecting the group from a few fans that tried to get too close. the members themselves are pretty close to her, particularly ayaka, who always seems to get caught staring at her with what some might call “heart eyes”. yun jin and xinyan have a few selfies they took with her posted on social media, nilou is always seen giving her food or random snacks, and one time she came out of the airport carrying a sleeping barbara on her back. she’s been with the group since predebut as well, and she takes her job very seriously, even though the members often tell her to relax since they all consider her a friend. she can sometimes be seen at shows tapping her feet to their music.

that’s all i’ve got for now, lol. feel free to add on other headcanons!!

[ysljoon]

Personal Business|CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Assistant Reader

This fanfic is mature so please avoid if you are not 18+ this is also a yandere fic so there are sensitive topics. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, noncon sex, public sex, crying, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk (jungkook has a filthy mouth christ), creampie, assault?

Being the personal assistant to Jeon Jungkook definitely has been a rollercoaster of experiences, but after working with him for about 2 years now you’ve gotten used to his erratic behavior such as mood swings and unreasonable demands. Everyone in the workplace has admired how long you’ve stuck around, but the paycheck you receive every two weeks is too pretty to pass up. You saw the listing for the job on a job search website and the pay per hour almost had you pass out, but once you came into the office you realized you were getting paid so generously almost as a test to see if the money could keep you around and it sure has.

Today Jungkook was in an extra gruff mood for the day because he had plenty of meetings to go through and not enough time for proper breaks and that’s the least ideal day for him. He loves breaks as much as any other person, but just tenfold. Everyone in the office is allowed a 45 minute lunch break, but since Jungkook is the CEO he will disappear on 2 hour breaks and not a single person knows where he goes. Not even you and people don’t understand how since you’re practically his right hand. You pay no mind to his whereabouts since it doesn’t affect and busy yourself with whatever tasks Jungkook left for you to do. Today he left no tasks for you since he’s been cooped up in his office occupied with other business officials. You haven’t been able to meet with him to get a briefing for the day so now you’re talking with Taehyung at his cubicle while you share a small pizza he ordered for lunch.

“Taehyung, I’m telling you right now there is no way that Joon and the receptionist don’t have something going on! They’re always eyeing each other up and Namjoon is always requesting for her to come to his office. It’s highly suspect.” You explained your reasoning to Taehyung exasperated and took another bite of your crust.

“Listen Y/N, all I’m saying is that it’s way too obvious for it to actually have any worth. Anyways you know how Mr. Jeon feels about workplace romance; he absolutely abhors the thought and would probably fire people on the spot if he ever found out.”

You continued to have your disagreement with Taehyung for a little while more, but what you didn’t realize was that Jungkook was done with his meeting a while ago and was watching you on his laptop through the camera system and was frowning deeply watching you fraternize with your coworker. He was tired of watching you practically throw yourself at Taehyung when you were his and only his. Jungkook got up from his desk and strode to Taehyung’s cubicle to stop this foolishness immediately.

“Mr. Kim, is there a reason why you are holding up my assistant from her work and why the expense report I asked you to do isn’t done?” Jungkook had a look on his face that he wanted to wring Taehyung’s neck and he was very close to, but he didn’t want to scare you off. He had to have you in his possession before he got rid of anybody that even tried to look in your direction so for right now this was his version of playing it cool.

“I-I’m very sorry sir it won’t happen again and I’ll get right to it!” Taehyung quickly turned to his computer and fervently typed in his password to get to work immediately. Jungkook then turned to you and grabbed you by the arm to drag you to his office. You were shocked and stunned by this action because sure he had talked to you roughly, but had never put his hands on you. He swiftly pulled you into his office and slammed the door. He even fully shut his blinds. This started to have you scared. He had this look in his eyes that made your body start to tremble. “S-sir I’m sorry for not working! I just wasn’t able to get the daily briefing for today so I tried my best to get work done. I had a lot of free time so I thought to spend it with Taehyung. I’m sorry if that was wasting company time you can deduct it from my pay!” You were heavily breathing by the time you were done with your panicked spiel. Jungkook chuckled at your anxiety and strode towards you till you were backed up into the wall and at this point you thought he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“Darling, if you really want to make it up to me you can kiss me.” He purred in your ear and it sent sickening shivers up your spine. Your head started to spin when you felt him plant his lips on the column of your neck and work his way up to your jaw. You tried to shove him off, but naturally he was able to overpower you and he used his leg and chest to trap you between him and the wall.

“My dear Y/N, I hope you cooperate with me if you know what’s good for you.” He slyly grinned against your skin and started to passionately kiss you. To really show he was in charge he bit down on your bottom lip with force you have never felt before. It had you cry out in pain, but you were quickly silenced when you felt your boss reach under your skirt and start to trace circles against your cunt. He placed a hand against your mouth and gave you a threatening look you have never seen. It was so sinister it had you squirming away from his touch. You thought you could have gotten away but by the time you were able to slide past his body he was grabbing your wrist and slamming you down against his desk which sent things tumbling down to the floor.

“Jungkook, please stop, I'm so sorry!” You didn’t even realize you were bawling at this point, but he ignored your pleas and sobs and continued with his sinister acts. He grasped your wrists in one hand and with his other he slid your panties off and inserted a single long finger into your cunt. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight and wet for me.” He kept pumping his finger into you until he felt like he could insert another one into you. Once the second finger was deep in your hole Jungkook started to pick up the pace and you couldn’t even cry out to what he was doing to you. You felt numb and helpless and wanted him to stop, but your efforts were useless.

“Kitten, I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I make you fucking feel. I want to see you get dumb on my fucking fingers and cock that you don’t even know what to do with yourself. I want you to beg to have your dirty cunt stretched out.” Hearing your boss talk to you like this makes you speechless, but you listen to him because you don’t know what other worse things he can do to you. You let your body succumb to what he’s doing and you let out small moans and whimpers and this makes him let out his own grunts and groans in response. Before you can assess what’s happening when you feel his fingers slip out of your soaked pussy, Jungkook is shoving his cock balls deep into you and you gasp for air feeling the heavy pressure between your legs. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust and starts to pound into you. You cry out in both pain and pleasure from hearing skin slap against skin. You feel close to an orgasm and tears are rolling down your cheeks from desperation. “Sir please let me cum! I need to cum so bad! Please let me cum all over your cock.” You can’t even process the words you’re saying, you just want to have your release so badly. Jungkook slaps your ass and groans a ‘fuck yes baby’ and just seconds after that action you’re creaming on his thick cock. You feel your walls pulse around your boss and this brings him close to the edge and he’s losing control over himself. He starts to wild slam into your cunt and after a few more pumps he’s spilling his cum into you and you feel delirious from everything that had just happened. You hear him adjusting himself behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to even move at the moment. You hear his steps come close to you and you just lie there motionless while you wait for him to speak. “I can’t wait to bring you home with me princess.” After that sentence all you can recall is a blunt object coming in contact with your skull and nothing else.

Notes: thank you so much for reading I’ve been on a pretty solid hiatus and will crosspost what I have written on AO3 on to here too because I have some fics there that I haven’t posted on to Tumblr! If you enjoyed please like and reblog it really helps and you can also give me a Kofi.

[call-me-aesthetic]

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍��

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

[comicaurora]

Waaaaiiit you grew up an undiagnosed neurodivergent? I feel like I should have a tom of questions because I've recently begun to wonder if I'm neurodivergent too, but I can't articulate my questions at all. So I guess what I'm asking is, what was that like? How were you diagnosed? What's the story behind that? Are you comfortable sharing your experiences with growing up "undiagnosed neurodivergent?"

Big, big caveat that I have not been diagnosed with anything. Smaller caveat that it's looking about 98% likely that I'm very ADHD, which would certainly help explain

"she's very bright, if she would just focus more in class and be less disruptive she'd be perfect" on every single report card I ever got

I'm listening, I promise, I'm just not looking at you, and if you make me look at you I won't be able to keep listening

if I cannot doodle in class I will Die

did I miss the day where they passed out a handbook of social rules

nah coffee doesn't wake me up or disrupt my sleep schedule at all, if anything it makes it easier for me to focus, guess I'm just weird that way

I've finally finished the thing I was working on and I just realized I've been sitting cross-legged for six hours without moving, I'm hungry, everything hurts and I really need to pee

why do I feel so weird and bad AH yes I have forgotten to eat

didn't I make tea sometime in the last four hours

hey wanna hear me talk about the media that's been consuming my every waking thought yea you do here goes

there's a car a block and a half away whose brakes are squeaking so I didn't hear anything you just said

I tried doing the assignment you asked for but it was so boring I wanted to melt so I did this cooler thing instead can I still get a good grade

I already know how to play this music, this is boring, I'm going to play it twice as fast so I'll be done quicker and wait for the rest of the band to catch up, because that is how music works

"oh yea that person hated you for years for some reason, they talked about it all the time, you really didn't know?" no but thanks for letting me know I guess

what do you mean I have to put both my feet on the floor when I sit in a chair, do you want me to die

hey wanna hear some cool space facts yea you do here goes

I'm ten years old in a class of less than twenty people and I don't understand why a solid dozen of those people won't stop making fun of everything I do and say but I've at least figured out I have no way to make them stop so I'm going to try leaning into being proud of being weird even though I'm not really proud I just feel dumb and confused and alone but I can at least pretend I have some control over this situation because I'm receiving zero support because the school administration doesn't know how to address bullying that doesn't involve physical violence and I can't work up the nerve to even be angry at most of these guys even though anger would make things so much easier to emotionally handle because when they're not making fun of me they're friendly and fun to be around and that's really all I want from them and I don't want to push them away when they're being friendly to me because then they might start just being terrible and I'll be even more isolated and I don't even realize I'm scraping along emotional rock bottom for years until

I'm fourteen years old in a new school where I don't know anybody but nobody thinks of me as the designated bullying magnet and people actually act like they like me and think I'm new and interesting and fun to talk to and invite me into friend groups and social gatherings and the things that made me weird and hurt before are what's making me interesting and fun here and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop but it never does so

I'm seventeen years old at a high school class retreat and I'm clumsily trying to explain to the rest of my grade how much they've done for me just by being kind and I had a plan for what I wanted to say but the minute I got up on the podium it all turned into a blur and I still have no idea what I actually said to them but I hope they got the message

I'm eighteen years old with a close-knit friend group I still can't quite believe is real and I don't think I'll ever be able to explain to them how much they've done for me and I'm really worried we're going to splinter when we split up for college but we don't because sometimes people really do care about each other

I construct a youtube channel specifically designed to let me infodump all my directionless media enthusiasm into carefully-crafted serotonin machines so I can stop boring my friends to tears with them and start inflicting the infodumps on willing audiences that actually seek them out

I very gradually start processing that the fact that my life kinda sucked for several years had nothing to do with my worth as a human being and everything to do with the fact that I was stuck in a bad situation with a lot of other unhappy people, and that things being good now isn't some temporary fluke doomed to fail

I'm twenty years old and I see someone online mention "rejection sensitive dysphoria" for the first time and a whole lot of things about me start making more sense

Everything gets better and I'm happy, well-rested, and not alone

[sealeneee]

What are your Top 3 controversial Swtor opinions?

1. i am perfectly content with 99% of fights being easy as fuck and soloable. if i wanted to struggle i'd play dark souls or something. i do understand why people might not want it that way and it would be nice if there was a difficulty system implemented, but i know there won't be, so *shrugs*

2. i get why most subscriber-only things are that way, but why the fuck can't i as a preferred player who has spent a lot of money on swtor submit a bug report or a ticket directly in-game without subscribing??? that's just dumb. same goes for posting on forums. yes i know i can email support but i'm not sure they handle things like bugs or just account/payment issues

3. and the best/worst for last. doc is great and you guys are just mean. (/lh /hj) no, i know why he's disliked and I'd hate a guy like that irl without a doubt. but this is a game and i've probably slapped too many headcanons and retcons on him but even disregarding those,,,,,,, did you see the GROWTH??? the way he goes from "let's have casual sex" to "fuck i'm in love" and actually marrying you (i think he's the only companion to actually have a wedding)???? i love him and i know he's horrible but you can't stop me. YOU ASKED FOR CONTROVERSIAL YOU GOT IT

bonus one: all force-sensitive class romances for male mc SUCK. all of them are master-apprentice and that's fucking weird. vette's isn't but it has other fucked up dynamics. also malavai's romance kinda suffers the same fate in the beginning, you almost harass him jfc

[phoenixyfriend]

Re; Ahsoka and Quinlan being the same age, now I'm picturing Ahsoka, Quinlan, and Rex eventually ending up in a weird sorta thruple where Quinlan comes in and out of the relationship but the door is kinda always open for him? And Rex spends a lot of mornings eyeing the tangle of orange and brown skin on the other side of the bed like he has no idea how he ended up here but he's (mostly) okay with that tbh

Context: Commander Buir in chronological order

YES okay so this is wild to me that people are invested in this but like half the time-travel fics with Ahsoka in the same age-group as Quinlan have me wondering if I should ship them. Let me just. Ho shit.

So, okay, I've explored a lot of possible dynamics but there's something really engaging about how Quinlan, trained as a Shadow before the Sith came back, could react to a War Padawan. Ahsoka isn't really infiltration material yet, she's very much a frontline fighter, but she's got a lot more experience with a kind of consistent dark atmosphere that most Jedi don't. They get exposed to plenty of dark stuff, sure, but not the kind of all-encompassing "this is my life for the last two years" thing that is usually reserved for the long-term field agents like Shadows and Watchmen.

The War Padawans, for all that they were supposed to be just normal Jedi Padawans, were living in the kind of consistently negative environment that's normally experienced by those Knighted Sentinels.

So Ahsoka, while still generally pretty young in these AUs, is a very odd kind of person to be around, because she's spunky and vivacious and snippy and affectionate and snarky and knows how to break every bone in your body from harrowing experience as the only thing standing between death and thousands of brothers.

And Quinlan, I imagine, really likes that about her. She gets it, and she's still an energetic and loving and trying to do her best to be a good person despite everything. He gravitates towards her and she... well, she's not blind. She can tell he's interested. And she's not upset about that.

ANYWAY, ONTO REX

So, Rex is... technically twelve. He hasn't exactly got a whole lot of experience with romance. He is also, up until the point of time-travel, legal property of the Senate and the Jedi Order, which means that Ahsoka, or at least her community, owns him. He was indoctrinated to serve her and that community. She also outranks him, for all that she usually lets him take the lead in the field due to experience. He's older than her physically and maturity-wise, but she's also had a grow-up-faster-than-you-should adolescence, and she has superpowers.

What I'm saying is, the power dynamic is fucked up.

(Unironically I spent hours last night realizing that it balances out a lot more than C*dywan does, which I'm censoring because by god do I not want discourse on this post. I like both ships, and don't want to argue about what's the most problematic. It's Star Wars. The only unproblematic ships are Bail/Breha and Owen/Beru.)

Here's the thing, though, because the main thing people seem to argue here is the age/maturity difference as a problem area:

The age difference in actual time is four years, which is smaller than the two main ships of the franchise (Han/Leia and Padme/Anakin, to be clear). The age difference in maturity is ??? We'll say that the clones started aging normally after they hit twenty, so the age difference in maturity is six years... which is still normal for SW ships.

(This is why I don't have any issues with the ship in a post-O66 context, once they've had a few years to move past the traumas and whatnot. The age stuff all evens out with time, they're a good team, and neither was grooming the other. It's not objectively any more problematic than most SW ships at that point, and I'm okay with that. They deserve to be happy if they want.)

But they get yanked away from all that structure of who owns what, who reports where, who has which rank, who's legally a person in the eyes of the Republic when they end up on Dagobah. Once they've registered when they are, the only remaining complications are:

He grew up in a cultlike environment and was indoctrinated to serve her (but has been replacing that indoctrination with genuine respect and affection for her as a person because they've worked together for two years).

She has superpowers (contextually not a big problem: we see several Force-Sensitive/Non-Sensitive ships that don't consider those powers a complicating element)

He's several years younger than her (canonically less of an issue than it could be: Cut got married and has kids) and has next to no experience with what a normal romance looks like except for hanging out on the edges of whatever the fuck his General has going on with the Senator

She's several years less mature than he is (...something of an issue)

So a lot of this is mostly okay. She feels weird about the fact that she's got more knowledge of romance and all that it entails. He feels weird about the fact that, despite her being older, he looks at her and sees someone that's still a little young, not quite a shiny. Except she is older than him, and he's seen her behead four people in a single move, and they've saved each other's lives more times than either of them can count anymore. He respects her, and the fact that she's babyfaced doesn't change the fact that, in terms of who they are as people and warriors, they're on a level playing field.

She still looks at him and mourns his lost childhood, and he still looks at her and takes a moment to see past the too-big eyes and adolescent proportions.

But they really, really care about each other, and maybe part of them is starting to recognize that there's a bit of a crush before they time-travel, but neither one wants to make a move. There's a lot of baggage on both sides, a lot of "but they're a child" and "but they're (literally vs functionally) below me in the chain of command, I can't take advantage of that" and all that fun stuff. It's the kind of situation where two people circle each other for ages without making a move, because actually making that move is terrifying on account of not knowing whether the other party knows they can say no, on top of the usual "what if it ruins our friendship?" thing.

What happens on Dagobah, though... is very tropey. They're sort of stranded until Ahsoka can fix the ship, and that takes time. The area is also very heavy with the Force, dense and heady with the energy it carries, and it's... actually really not great for Ahsoka. She keeps feeling like she's back on Mortis, and has nightmares from the trigger there, but also keeps hallucinating because she wasn't ready for the thickness of the energy (like Yoda) or still new enough to the Force that she couldn't feel how dense it all was (like Luke). She can't work on the engines as constantly as she'd like to get them out of there, and while Rex is a competent mechanic, he's not as skilled with it as the girl who jumped headfirst into lessons with Anakin.

Rex spends a lot of time holding Ahsoka and wiping her brow with a wet cloth while she's feverish and out of it. Yes we're going full Florence Nightingale romance here, let me have my fun.

They get the communications relay working earlier than the engine, find out the year is wrong, panic a bit. All is well. (It's not, but they're holding it together for now.)

Ahsoka keeps working on the engine when she's lucid. Rex keeps hunting up game and edible plants for them while she does. They cuddle at night, because it's not cold but it is empty of the people they care about, and they kind of want that reassurance of someone they trust and love at their back.

(Morai visits.)

(Daughter shows up in the nightmares, tells Ahsoka that age will not come for her beloved until the time is natural for it. The phrasing is dumb but she does manage to convey that the accelerated aging is no longer an issue, if it even was after they hit adulthood. Ahsoka is relieved.)

And, you know, emotions happen. She takes his hand while they're leaning up against each other. He kisses her forehead while she's having a bad spell. They cook together and tell jokes to keep sane and spar. They hug each other through nightmares and panic attacks. There is much blushing. There is much cuddling.

Once, they kiss.

They break apart, flushing and stammering and being very awkward about the whole thing, and make excuses to leave and panic about the fact that they!! Kissed!!!!!

A couple hours later they find each other again, and have a long and complicated discussion about why they like each other (war makes bedfellows, there's trust and affection and all that fun stuff) and why they're hesitant (age stuff, maturity stuff, prior indoctrination), and make the decision to take it slow. They cuddle, and kiss, and blush a lot because both of them are basically just dumb teens having their first real relationship.

They eventually leave the planet, make it to Coruscant, etc. It takes a bit for anyone except Obi-Wan to realize that something's changed between them. Most people didn't know them before, and Anakin's observation skills are currently at a very low ebb. But they sit together and hold hands, and flirt when they spar, and once or twice people find them kissing (both standard and Keldabe) in a corner while holding hands and then just smiling at each other like loons.

They end up rooming together because nobody has the heart to separate them after hearing about all the war stuff. Like yes attachment's bad, but these two do seem to understand loss of loved ones and recognize that they could lose each other at any time and death is natural and they won't lose their entire shit about it, and if even General Kenobi is anxious as hell about being separated from the people he fought side-by-side with for two years, then maybe it's just... really normal for those two to want each other's company, and everyone can just turn a blind eye to the romance happening.

They share a bed, but they only ever sleep in it. Like, there's some goodnight kisses and cuddles, but everything is very G-rated until they've had time to settle into being true equals instead of just the "well, I guess the power dynamics balance out? Maybe?" of before.

And just... yeah. Rex does not believe that he's in this good of a position whenever he has the time to think about it. He's got a girlfriend! A really pretty, smart, strong, skilled one! Who thinks he's a cool dude! How the fuck did a clone like him manage that? He wasn't even legally a person a year ago, how did he end up in bed with one of the most amazing people he's ever met? He spends multiple nights just staring at her while he tries to fall asleep, asking himself how he got here and just like... marveling at her. She's worth marveling at. He's in love and she's amazing and he has no idea how to handle it at all.

...yeah no I have a lot of feelings now.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Smart cities are neither, 2021 edition

The lockdown was a chaotic time for “smart cities.” On the one hand, the most prominent smart city project in the world — Google’s Sidewalk Labs project in Toronto — collapsed thanks to the company’s lies about privacy and land use coming to light.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/07/just-look-at-it/#ding-dong

On the other hand, the standalone vendors that promise smart city services that you can graft onto your “dumb” city saw their fortunes surge, as the world’s great metropolises sleepwalked into a surveillance nightmare.

From license plate cameras to facial recognition to fake cellphone towers to location data harvested from vehicles and mobile devices, city governments shoveled billions into the coffers of private-sector snoops in the name of crimefighting and technocratic management.

The smart city has long been criticized as a means of quietly transforming public spaces of democratic action into private spaces of technological surveillance and control. Recent books like Jathan Sadowski’s “Too Smart” (2020) make the case in depth.

http://www.jathansadowski.com/book

Books can set out a long argument and cite examples in support of it, but those examples need to be updated regularly and the critique likewise because the field is moving so quickly — as is the critical response.

This month, Harvard’s Belfer Center published “Whose Streets? Our Streets! (Tech Edition),” a long report by Rebecca Williams that revisits the smart city nightmare in light of the mass protests, lockdowns and other high-intensity events of 2020/1.

https://www.belfercenter.org/publication/whose-streets-our-streets-tech-edition

As Williams writes, the smart city always starts with the rejections of participatory dialogue (“What would we like in our neighborhood?”) in favor of technocratic analysis (“They will design data collection that will inform them to what they will do with our neighborhood”).

Technocrats don’t want dialogue about surveillance because the dialogue always leads to a rejection. The Sidewalk Labs consultations in Toronto were overwhelmingly dominated by people who didn’t want a giant American monopolist spying on their literal footsteps 24/7.

Detroiters roundly rejected a $2.5m project to put cameras at their city’s intersections. When Apple asked Iphone owners whether they wanted to be tracked by apps (switching from opt out to opt in) 96% of users said no.

The commercial surveillance industry runs consent theater — whether that’s grey-on-white 8-point warnings that “Use of this site indicates consent to our terms of service” or discreet signs under street cameras: “This area under surveillance.”

https://onezero.medium.com/consent-theater-a32b98cd8d96

Plans for urban technological surveillance don’t survive real public consultation. The people just don’t know what’s good for ’em, so the vendors and the officials cutting checks to them have to instrument the city for spying on the down-low.

This secrecy festers, and the harms it brings are not limited to spying on people and chilling democratic protest. Secrecy also allows vendors to get away with overcharging and underdelivering.

CBP procured facial recognition spycams that analyzed 23m people in public spaces and never caught a single bad guy, while Chicago PD murdered a Black child called Adam Toledo after Shotspotter falsely reported a gunshot at his location.

Secret procurements for defective technology wastes money and puts communities of color at risk — but they also create systemic, *technological* risk, because they embed janky garbage software from shitty surveillance vendors right in the urban fabric.

Vendors who lie about how well their facial recognition or gunshot triangulation works also lie about their information security, and these tools get hacked on the reg, leaking sensitive personal information about millions of city-dwellers to identity thieves.

This defective, sloppy spyware is also a dark, moist environment perfectly suited to harboring ransomware infections, which can see vital services from streetlights to public transit frozen because some “smart city” grifter added a badly secured surveillance layer to it.

Because smart cities are inherently paternalistic (because they always bypass democratic dialog in favor of technocratic fiat), they replicate and magnify society’s biases and discrimination, with a coating of empirical facewash: “It’s not racism, it’s just math.”

Williams cites many 2020/1 examples of this, from Baltimore’s 25:1 ratio of CCTVs in Black neighborhoods to white neighborhoods, to Tampa and Detroit’s use of surveillance tech for “safety” in public housing.

Meanwhile, in Lucknow, India, the technocratic solution to an epidemic of sexist street harassment was to surveil women (“to protect them”) rather than the men who perpetrated the harassment.

https://perma.cc/FU62-NBQF

All of this is driven by private companies who mobilize investor capital and profits to sell more and more surveillance tech to cities. The antidemocratic, secret procurement process leads to more antidemocratic forms of privatization.

Democracy is replaced with corporate decision-making; constitutional protections are replaced by corporate policy; and surveillance monopolies expand their footprint, fill their coffers and sell more surveillance tech.

And far from making police accountable, surveillance gear on its own simply gives corrupt cops a broader set of tools to work with — as in Mexico City, where the C5 CCTV project let corrupt cops blackmail people and extort false confessions.

https://perma.cc/87QK-3HZG

Williams ends with a highly actionable call to arms, setting out a ten-point program for analyzing smart city proposals and listing organizations and networks (like the Electronic Frontier Alliance) that have been effective at pushing back.

https://www.eff.org/fight

[anothersebastianblog]

They're all focusing on how "ugly" Bucky looks in the Thunderbolts trailer 😞

-

Some people have been hating on Thunderbolts constantly since some "insiders" reported about his screen time being minimal. Even if that's the case, it never bothered any of them in other movies. Hell, people were like "haha going to the cinema for dumb money and two minutes of his screen time!". What's the issue now? People are too sensitive when it comes to Bucky. I'm so happy that he is tagging along this constellation of people! I'm excited !

.

[meliorist-midoriya]

chasing the sun

synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au

warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.

word count: 11.7k

a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum​ for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt! 

important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

crossposted on Ao3

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden. 

He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.

It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.

(Oh, what he would give to join them.)

Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.

He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.

“Good morning, madam.”

“Good morning—”

He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to. 

That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.

A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.

Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.

The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.

“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”

He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward. 

A minute passed… 

Then another… 

Then five… 

Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.

(In his world, losing meant death.)

Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.

So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.

“You’re a new face in the palace.”

With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but). 

“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”

Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly. 

Two could play at this game.

Well, now, this was new. 

Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.

“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.

“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”

You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.

“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?

You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.

Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past. 

The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.

You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort. 

Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life? 

Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.

Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.

He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.

“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier. 

“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”

Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.

“I’ll live for you, then.”

And with a smile, you fall in love.

(Keigo falls even harder.)

【 ☀︎ 】

He should have known.

“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”

He really should have known.

“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”

Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.

“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”

Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him. 

(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)

The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.

How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.

(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)

The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.

“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.” 

Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.

“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”

The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.

Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.)  only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment. 

More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.

I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—

“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”

Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.

“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”

Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.

“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”

The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.

(He was.) 

“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”

Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.

“Done saying your prayers?” 

Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt. 

“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”

Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.

“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”

He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.

“Must you be so dark?”

“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”

The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.

I really… should’ve known…

“Keigo!”

Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.

“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in. 

It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once— 

No, for eternity.

The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens. 

That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.

They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day. 

But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.

“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.

“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.

“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”

“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance. 

Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.

“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.” 

Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.

“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”

“Harsh.”

The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town. 

A sleepy, familiar town.

Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give. 

They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.

“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.

There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.

“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.” 

Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.

“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”

“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”

“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.

“God, her ginger candy was the best.” 

“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.

“That was ages ago!”

“And you still react like a little boy!” 

Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.

(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)

He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.

“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”

“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”

“Wonderful job of being annoying.”

Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.

“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”

“What?”

“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?” 

Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.

“Not so little anymore, Granny.”

“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”

“Granny!”

“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.

“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”

Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.

“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”

The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.

“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”

The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar. 

(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)

However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.

“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—” 

The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other. 

“...Keigo?”

Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”

His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.

“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.

“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”

“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”

“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.” 

Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?

“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”

“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.

Probably both.

(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)

A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.

“...Did we just get kicked out?”

“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you. 

Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.

Talk.

“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do. 

Nice going there, Keigo, really.

“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”

You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?

For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.

“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.

“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” 

“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt. 

“What, so, we both had boring lives?”

Far from boring.

“...Yeah, I guess so.” 

You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.” 

“And how would you do that?”

“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”

“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”

“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, coming.”

Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.

(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)

For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.

He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.

“You still suck!”

“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”

You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape. 

This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.

Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.

The joy he now knew was to be found in you.

“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”

“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”

And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?

“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.

“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.

Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?

“Lead the way, then.”

There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on. 

He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—

The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.

“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Like you’d ask me first.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.

Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.

(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)

Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.

“Keigo?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.

“Will you come home?”

Home.

A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.

To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.

To him, “home” meant you.

So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.

“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”

He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer. 

Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.

“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”

Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.

One, two, three, one, two, three… 

Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”

Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.

And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.

Dreamed, even.

What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.

He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.

(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)

Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.

One… two… three… 

“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”

You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.

“—but don’t.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.

He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.

(Would it ever end?) 

How long has it been since the first shot?

(Too long.) 

Would he live to see the sunset?

(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)

The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death.  What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.

Something like the will to survive.

The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.

Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—

The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building. 

Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!

In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city. 

Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right. 

If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth. 

He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.

“Hey, man.”

(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)

Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.

“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”

“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?” 

“Shut up.”

“You know you don’t want me doing that.”

(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)

Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement. 

Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—

“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”

Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.

“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.

“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”

“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”

Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.

“Ah—”

“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.” 

Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.

“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”

“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.

“Just a couple more times.”

“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.

“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”

Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.

“I won’t.”

“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”

“...Just do it yourself.” 

“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”

His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.

“Kei...go?”

【 ☀︎ 】

Waiting was agony.

You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you. 

Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.

All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies. 

If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.

Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.

(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)

Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?

Then, they came. 

A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.

There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.

How many men did they lose?

(Too many.)

You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.

One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped. 

And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.

Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.

It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.

It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.

It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.

Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.

Keigo would never get to go home.

He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms. 

(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)

He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.

He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.

A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.

A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.

A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.

The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.

“Everything good with you, Professor?”

“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.” 

Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was. 

He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better. 

He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.

The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.

(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)

All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.

At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.

With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load. 

Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all? 

No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox. 

Hell, he expected them to.

What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?

Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message. 

A schoolwide email? Okay, th—

The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.

“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”

“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you. 

The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.

A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.

After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.

Will be missed… 

Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he? 

Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture). 

All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.

The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping  void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.

Professor Takami had work to get done.

Keigo could mourn later.

Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind. 

As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.

Did you go through this too? When he—

The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.

【 ☀︎ 】

When did I…?

He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise. 

I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?

He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around. 

“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”

“What…?” 

“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”

Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.

“Three.”

Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.

It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.

Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.

He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.

Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.

Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.

His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.

“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”

He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.

There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront. 

A flower shop, in this secluded side street? 

“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.

“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.

Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.

“Uh—”

“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”

Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.

“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”

She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch. 

Right on time.

【 ☀︎ 】

A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.

Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.

“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.

It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

Keigo.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.

“One…”

I want to see you.

“Two…” 

I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.

“Three—”

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.

It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.

“Y/N!”

The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.

The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.

He was home.

notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (3)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

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...

There was no latent natural chakra here. The air and environment were dry as a bone, meaning the only chakra he had access to was the stuff produced on his own. Kakashi is not entirely sure what impact this will have on the 1000 or so ninjutsu he has memorised. He suspects it might increase the chakra cost of external and area affecting ninjutsu. Any jutsu that relied on there being natural chakra present in the environment to supplement the user’s own chakra would be harder.  So, no large destructive or transformative ninjutsu. No earthquakes or earth walls, no freezing large bodies of water or creating whirlpools, most wind techniques would be out. Fireballs should be okay as they relied primarily on the shinobi’s chakra pool, but controlling large quantities of fire would be tricker. The same reasoning applied to lighting techniques, chidori would work fine but anything bigger might cause some strain. As long as he wasn’t aiming to wipe out a Division’s worth of enemies, he probably wouldn’t notice the limitation. Large-scale destructive ninjutsu had never been a specialty of his anyway. And he still has chakra to reinforce his body alongside genjutsu, taijutsu and the sharingan.

Well, he is pretty sure he still has the sharingan …

The only way to confirm his theories was to do some field testing.

Thus, Kakashi waits for Iori to do her final rounds and, just before the night shift starts, he ducks out of his room. It is at this time that the nurses would be at their most unobservant, tired out by ten hours of work. It is late in the evening, meaning most of the hospital staff  have left the building. It makes it ridiculously easy to steal down the halls, unnoticeable even in spaces lit by bight florescence.

After discovering that a Quirk Registry was a literal list of bloodline abilities stored on a digital database accessible to any medical professional, Kakashi has decided to stop applying Konoha’s information security standards to the hospital.  He is still a little weirded out by his execution of what was probably the easiest heist of medical information he had ever carried out. 

A few days of stalking Doctor Wada around the hospital at opportune intervals led to him discovering the man’s office. After that Kakashi hides in a corner and watches the man work. Because no one here had any sense of environment/spatial awareness, he has no trouble keeping in the man’s blind spot even with a limp. Thus, he can memories how the doctor goes about updating his patient information, which is all digital and stored on the computer, involving a passcode, a name and navigating through several screens worth of readouts and icons; all of which were infinity easier to understand when compared with the readouts produced by the computers in Konoha’s research division, encoded as they all were.  Three days later and he has access to all his medical files and the files of every one of Wada’s other patients.

Tonight, Kakashi has the time to properly read them. Hopefully, there would be no complications with his eye, and he could clear himself for experimentation. His chakra levels were good enough for it.

‘Name: ‘Kakashi [no surname]’/ Address: ‘[n/a]’ / Sex: ‘M’ / Blood type: ‘O’ / DOB: [n/a] /

No family or medical proxy located. Hospital billing to be covered under City of Hosu Villain/Hero Collateral Damage Register.

Quirk Factor: ‘Sharingan’ [Primary Effect: n/a]; [Activation: n/a] [Type: emitter] [Secondary Effect: passive regeneration]’

Kakashi scrolls through his report, committing the information to memory, eyeing the many notes on his physical and mental wellbeing, listing his various broken bones, sprains, and other injuries, most of which Kakashi is aware of, all of which were well on their way to recovery.

'...Early concerns expressed over collapse of right lung and damage to respiratory system are being reassessed due to passive accelerated regeneration....'

Ah yes, he vaguely remembers something going straight through his chest during the fight. He examines the surgeon's notes which recommend close monitoring and an extended hospital stay alongside various medications.

'...Additional concerns over potential complications due to prior injuries/scarring (see attached report)....’

Hmm, he skims over a note describing older scaring around his chest. The report has flagged quite a few of his past scars and bone breaks as concerning and evidence of past physical stress involving combat. Not too far off the truth. Something to keep in mind if they ever asked him about his past. Honestly, he is somewhat impressed by the thoroughness of the report and the efforts gone through to keep him healthy. Linked is to medical notes are details of the two surgeries he had undergone while unconscious alongside various other actions the hospital had taken in their bid to keep him alive.

‘Primary quirk factor confirmed by the patient as single-ocular quirk ‘sharingan’��located in the left eye. Quirk most likely to be a passive emitter type with line of sight or eye contact as an activation requirement. Quirk effect is unknown. ‘Sharingun’ was restored during surgy under the supervision of Sueno Manzo and predicted to retain its function upon recovery barring further complication.’

‘Patient exhibits the symptoms of memory loss, apathy, and confusion suggesting a case of post-traumatic amnesia. If quirk has a memory storage function as is typical of ocular quirks then there may be a link between the quirk effect, damage to eye, and memory loss symptoms. Diagnosis requires a second opinion. Requested consolation with Neurologist and Ocular-Quirk Specialist still pending.'

‘Secondary quirk or mutation factor ‘regeneration’ increases patient’s metabolism and bodily functions, resulting in increased cell repair and recovery. Without a baseline for recovery speed predicted recovery timeframe is unknown.’ 

Well, ‘predicted to retain its function’ was good enough. All the major concerns raised by the doctor were linked to memory loss that didn’t exist. Kakashi ducks out of the office, heading back to his room. It was interesting to know that his recovery rate was considered abnormally fast. Fast enough to be considered a ‘quirk’ in its own right. No doubt a side effect of chakra use. It was a well-known fact that shinobi with developed coils recovered from injuries faster than civilians.

He would have to keep this in mind when engaging the locals in combat. The people here would have slower recovery rates when compared with Konoha’s civilians, who still had chakra even if their coils were underdeveloped. He wouldn’t want to accidentally kill someone misjudging their ability to heal from an injury.

…

...

With patience born from his many years of field experience, Kakashi waits for the next shift change before sneaking out once more. His destination is the hospital’s roof. Guarded by one solitary security camera- which he had disabled two days ago and had yet to be fixed- it is the only place he can go and be reasonably sure not to be disturbed for any length of time. Generally, cameras were pretty useless against any shinobi who could pull off an academy level transformation or a basic genjutsu. Even when the cameras were hidden, most shinobi moved too fast to be reliably picked up on film. He is not sure if that reasoning applied here, seeing as the technology was significantly more advanced.  Regardless, as he was recovering and conserving both energy and chakra, avoiding them is his best bet. Most of the cameras he notes are on the outside of the building, placed in plain sight with no care taken to keep them hidden. He wonders if there is a purpose to that. Enforcement of compliance through a display of observation? Are they decoys and there is additional security hidden somewhere he wouldn’t think to look? Is he falling into some sort of trap sneaking around so obviously and gathering information? It was hard to answer these questions when he has no baseline to draw from. As he had yet to see evidence of extensive security or traps in the building he is proceeding with his plan.  

It is early morning when he ducks out onto an empty roof, having stolen the key from what he thinks are the hospital's maintenance lockers the day prior. The air outside is cool, devoid of the stench of disinfectant that had been clogging his nose for the last few weeks. He hated how smell played havoc on his sensitive nose, blocking his sinuses.

Shielded on one side by a taller, windowless section of the building he has a good view of a wide two-lane road where the occasional vehicle would enter or exit the building. At night the area is quiet save for the hum of a distant activity, probably more of the engine-run vehicles, which were irritatingly noisy and commonly used by the people here.

The sky above him begins to lighten. Soon the sun would peak between the tall glass-covered buildings opposite the hospital. The artificial structures shimmer, reflecting the whitening sky. A trip into the busier sections of the ‘city’ is still impending, all his attention being focused on scouting the hospital and absorbing as much information about the place as possible first.

The first test he does is an attempt at summoning his nin-dogs. He has a few ideas on how he might reverse summon himself between worlds or, at the very least, send a message to let people know he was still alive.

Quickly, he bites his thumb, crouches, touching the roof with his palm and pumping in the required amount of chakra. For a second, he thinks it might work. Lines of inked fuinjutsu characters blossom under his palm, spiralling outward, absorbing the chakra. However, instead of activating in a puff of summoning smoke, the energy disperses, sinking into the dead, chakra-less concrete, the seal failing. Frowning, he uses the remaining blood on his thump to sketch out a simple storage array. It activates, sealing in a loose piece of brick without a problem. No, it wasn’t the fuinjutsu that had failed but the nin-dog summoning specifically. There went that plan.

Somewhat disheartened, he begins unbandaging the left side of his head. Just as the sunlight begins to peak between the buildings opposite, he opens the sharingan.

The chakra drain creeps up as the world around him snaps into sharp focus. Every crack in the brick, every mote of dust, every wisp of cloud, is clearly outlined even as colour is dulled to increase contrast.  Kakashi glances around and waits, letting the image of the foreign skyline burn into his brain to be forever stored and remembered in crisp detail.

After a few seconds without significant pain, he lets out a long breath and prepares for the mental strain of activating the Kamui Sharingan. The process brings with it flashes of memory, Obito’s scared face twisted with hate, and a blurry battle. The memories were all faint and far off despite having the Sharingan active at the time. He rubs his chest in discomfort. He thinks he knows who might have stabbed him now. Obito…He releases a tired breath and shoves all the uncomfortable revelations off to the side where they wouldn’t bother him. There would be plenty of time to ruminate at a later.  

Kakashi lets the first stage of Kamui activate, making sure there is nothing in his eyeline. He doesn’t want to accidentally destroy the stairway that led back into the hospital by sucking it into a different dimension. After confirming that the technique is stable and the charka drain is manageable, be prepares to pull himself through, ignoring the beginnings of a faint headache. Despite it being a brand new technique, Kakashi is nothing if not a master at reverse engineering ninjutsu on the fly to suit his own needs. The world warps and shimmers, his chakra levels take a nosedive, and his eye aches.

 A field of unmarked stone appears in place of the hospital roof, displacing tall buildings with uniform blocks of grey, white and black. An eternal, unchanging landscape, dimly lit despite there being no light source, stretches out in all directions. The Kamui no Jikūkan, time–space dimension. There is no signs of destruction or the battle he now vaguely remembers occurring before he had been ripped away from the Elemental Nations altogether. He wishes he could recall how it had ended. Had Obito re-joined the fight with Madara? He hopes not. He hopes he at least managed to take Obito out and give his allies a better chance. Obito was his burden to shoulder after all.

As he tries to dig up something useful from his patchwork of memories relating to his battle with Obito, a faint secondary chakra source catches his attention. The thread of chakra is distance, connecting to something very far off. Obito’s eye? A lingering connection between the two eyes was the only thing that made any sort of sense. He vaguely remembers how he had been in the process of activating the Kamui no Jikūkan when the area had been flooded with demonic chakra.

This is good…If it is Obito, and Obito is still in the Elemental Nations, then he might be able to reverse the collection and pull himself back. The only problem with this plan was that he would need the same amount of chakra to return or risk killing himself. In other words, he needs a lot of chakra. Far more than he has or will ever have access to naturally. As he is the only being with chakra here, this is a problem.

Kakashi lets out another tried breath, “Always a problem…” the area around him remains silent. He knows the theory behind chakra draining and collecting seals. With a bit of patience and self-discipline, he would be able to slowly build up and store the chakra needed to return.

Well, he would definitely be breaking his record for lateness by a long shot. He runs calculations and comes up with a depressing year-long wait time. And that was if he dumped every ounce of his chakra into the seal the moment he got it. Obviously, that would turn him into a comatose vegetable and, as nice as he thinks these people are, he doesn’t trust them to look after his unconscious body for a year. So, it would be double, maybe even triple, that time.

Three years of waiting in this weird unknown word unless someone on the other end of the connection figured out how to bring him back. He had seen Naruto pull of miracles before so…maybe there was hope? Though, everyone might just think he had died given how badly injured he had been just before his disappearance. If that were the case, then no one was coming for him and he would be on his own for the foreseeable future.

“Mah, what a pain.”

He crouches examining one of the plain blocks, massaging the area around his eye. It stings and he is beginning to feel chakra fatigued. He can almost imagine the familiar names of the memorial stone etched into its surface. By the time he returned, the fourth great war would be well and truly over, assuming time moved at a similar speed between here and there. He supposed it was fitting. He wouldn’t be Kakashi if he didn’t let the people he cared about down one last time.

He lets out a long sigh and reverses the Kamui technique, letting himself fade back to his new world and reality. 

The chakra exhaustion hits him like a landslide and he stumbles onto one knee. His eye, which had been aching since he initiated the Kamui no Jikūkan, is now wet. The wetness turns out to be blood, which is pooling like tears and running down the left side of his face.

Maybe he had been pushing it, using the full Kamui after wasting a bunch of chakra on summoning when he had barely been at half his capacity to start. That, and he was obviously still healing.

Blearily, Kakashi wipes his face with the back of his hand heaving himself back upright. He has dealt with way worse. With one last glance at the sun now shining brightly from between the strange buildings of his new temporary home, he heads back inside to find something sterile to clean his eye with.

He collapses back into his hospital bed where he causes a stir as the nurse checking in on him notices the blood soaking through his hastily applied bandages. He lets them fuss in contemplative silence.

NEXT

[calebdumes]

not a prompt just a little ear worm i got while reading queen’s shadow

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: t (mentions of vomit)

word count: 2k

~

“No.” Kanan said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“Kanan, please I don’t think you realize what’s at stake here. We have to do this.”

Kanan folded his arms across his chest. “Then you’ll have to do it without me.”

“We can’t do it without you.” Hera pleaded.

Sabine looked between the human and Twi’lek with round eyes, trying to ignore the pit that was forming in her stomach. She hadn’t been part of the Ghost crew for very long but she had been around long enough to know that whatever was going on with Hera and Kanan, it wasn’t good. They hardly ever fought and when they did, it was nothing like this.

“Uh,” she interrupted. Sabine didn’t really want to get in the middle of their squabble but if they were fighting over a potential job that involved the whole crew, she needed to know about it. Especially if Kanan – let me jump off the roof of this building in the middle of a firefight and roll away without a scratch – Jarrus wanted nothing to do with it. “What exactly is this job?”

Hera turned away from where Kanan stood fuming. “There is a senatorial aid who has been accused of treason against the Empire but they were able to escape before being arrested. My contact, Fulcrum, wants us to extract them before the Empire finds them.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Zeb said from beside her on the acceleration couch, resting his purple elbow on the holotable. “We’ve done jobs like this before.”

Kanan scoffed and turned away from them, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hera shot him a concerned glance before saying, “We have but this one it time sensitive, if we don’t get the aid off of Coruscant before they are arrested, any Senator with rebel sympathies will be in danger. The whole rebellion could be destroyed before it can begin.”

“So let Fulcrum send someone else,” Kanan snapped whirling around on her. “I know there has to be other cells, let one of them do it. Not us.”

Hera reached out and placed a hand on his arm that he shook off. She blinked at the rejection and the pit in Sabine’s stomach grew. “The Ghost is uniquely equipped for a job like this.” She said. “And you know I can’t tell you about other cells if there are any. For your own protection.”

“Kriff my protection Hera!” He spat. “I’m not going back there.”

“Millions of people could die if we don’t do this Kanan.” Hera fired back, her lekku stiff. “Please,” her shoulders drooped, her melodic voice going soft. “I know what I’m asking you to do and I’m begging you, just this once, please trust me.”

Kanan’s face was like stone, his eyes cold. Sabine felt a shutter run down her spine. He gave Hera a curt nod before stomping from the room. Even from the lounge she could hear the dull thuds of things being thrown.

Hera collapsed down next to her. “Well, that could have gone better.”

Sabine looked over at Zeb’s puzzled face before asking, “What’s his deal with Coruscant?”

“That’s his story to share.” Hera rubbed at her temples. “But needless to say, he’s not a fan of the planet.”

“I’d say.” Zeb grumbled. “Is he going to be alright for this job?”

Hera sighed. “He’s going to have to be. The free galaxy is depending on it.”

-

Kanan’s neck prickled as soon as the Ghost exited hyperspace, the familiar ball of city planet filled the viewport. He could feel the hum of his holocron buzzing at the back of his mind; it’s not quite sentience calling out to him in warning. Master Kenobi’s words echoing loudly in his ears.

Do not return to the Temple, that time has passed.

Sweat beaded his forehead as Hera angled the Ghost down to the surface, slipping past the blockade of Star Destroyers

“Freighter Dawn Catcher, this is the Prosperity. State your purpose and transmit lading permit.” A voice rang out in the enclosed space of the cockpit, the Core accent so sharp that it made Kanan visibly wince. Hera shot him a look before responding.

“Transmitting landing permit now Prosperity.” She said, her eyes snagging on how Kanan’s hand shook on the armrests. “We’re are delivering a scheduled payload from Raada Agricultural Distribution.”

There was a pause as the Ghost was scanned and their landing permit was confirmed. “Landing permit confirmed Dawn Catcher. Follow along assigned descent vector and dock in landing bay 389.”

Hera flipped off the comm and continued down to the surface. Kanan could hear Sabine and Zeb’s gasp of amazement as the surface of Coruscant unfolded before them, endless buildings and skyscrapers that rose up from the depths of the planet like shining chrome plated jewels. He felt Sabine grab on to the back of his seat as she leaned forward for a better look.

“Hey!” she pointed to a sand colored building that was just a mere dot on the horizon. Kanan felt his heart lodge itself in his throat. “Isn’t that the old Jedi Temple?” she asked.

The Force swelled around him, sharp and familiar. He could feel the faint tendrils of the vergence the Temple sat on prick at his shield but they were too far away for it to do much that make his stomach roll with nausea.

He didn’t want to be here. Every atom of his being seemed to be revolting against the planet. His breaths dragged through his lungs in ragged pants, his blood rushing through his veins, spurred on by waves of adrenaline. He shouldn’t be here.

Caleb…you must run!

Kanan flinched violently in his seat. He was vaguely aware of Hera speaking but a thick fog of memories had fallen over him. The heavy heat of blaster fire seared his skin, the smell of fire and oil curled in his nose. The pained screams of his people rang loudly in his ears.

Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret.

“Kanan?” Hera’s hand landed lightly on shoulder, making him jump. “We need to move.”

Kanan blinked, clearing his vision to find that they had landed. The bright sky was just a faint pin prick of light at the top of the long shaft that bore into the planet leading to the fathomless depths below. He nodded, pushing down the bile that threatened to climb up his throat.

This is Master Obi Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place.

“Zeb, you stay here with me and unload the supplies. Kanan and Sabine will head to the warehouse and recover the asset. Move quickly.” She told them, her words barely washing over Kanan. “Avoid detection.”

Do not return to the Temple.

His hands flexed at his side, reaching for a weapon he hadn’t carried in years.

“Kanan?” Sabine asked when he didn’t move.

“I’m coming.” He mumbled. He checked the charge on his blaster before following her down the ramp and stepping foot on his home planet. They moved quickly and silently through the dark and dirt streets of the Coruscant underworld, his senses on high alert.

Any second now they would find him, the stupid lost padawan. Too dumb to ignore Master Kenobi’s warning. They would find him and then…

Kanan shuttered.

Fulcrum’s spy was waiting for them at the mouth of the warehouse, trying and failing to look unbothered. The Rodian waved them and hit the door control, closing them off from prying eyes.

“You got the crates?” Kanan asked in a strained voice. Any second now they would come. He could hear the heavy tread of the Clones. They were coming for him. Any second now…

Kanan’s heart thundered in his chest.

“You got the credits?”

Sabine tossed the Rodian a bag that he caught mid air.

“They’re over there.” He pointed on long suctioned cup finger over to two crates sitting on a hover stretcher. “Take them and get out.”

The journey back to the Ghost seemed to last forever. More than once they had to backtrack to avoid a stormtrooper patrol that was stopping to question the poor souls that were in their way. The whole time, the Force was screaming at him, making his whole body tremble.

Run Jedi. Run.

If he didn’t get off this planet soon, Kanan feared something far worse than death was coming.

Any second now…

Zeb was waiting for them when they finally made it back. He waved them on urgently, spotting a group of white clad soldiers marching their way. “C’mon let’s go.” He hissed, smacking the door control as soon as they were on board. “All Specters on board.” The Lasat called out to Hera.

The Ghost rumbled beneath their feet as Hera took off, rising up the wide shaft. Kanan climbed the ladder to the cockpit, leaving Sabine and Zeb to deal with their new cargo. He blinked as the bright sun grew as the rose. Any second now…

“Are you okay?” Hera asked him as he fell into the co pilot’s chair. Adrenaline coursed through his body, sweat dripping down his back. Any second now…

If he was capable of laughing he would have. Instead he jerked his head and managed to ground out, “I’m the furthest thing from okay Hera.”

She gave him a sympathetic look before swinging the Ghost around and slipping into the traffic lanes leading space.

The Temple filled his side of the viewport. Kanan screamed in pain, clutching at his head as the Force tore it apart.

The vergence pulled at him, no longer warm and inviting but dark and twisted; corrupted beyond recognition. He could feel the death of his people burning though his mind, their pain bleeding into his veins like poison, stealing the breath from his lungs. So much hate, so much anger. Kanan was drowning in it.

Until he wasn’t.

Kanan sat hunched over in his seat with Hera kneeling beside him, the bright blue tunnel of hyperspace casting the cockpit in an eerie glow. His breath was ragged, echoing harshly in the enclosed space.

“Kanan?” Hera placed a hand on his shaking knee. His stomach revolted.

Springing from the chair, he ran to the ‘fresher, his knees colliding painfully on the metal floor as he choked up bile. The last thing he remembered was Hera’s cry before everything went blissfully dark.

-

Hera sat on the edge of the bed as Kanan slept. She dragged a wet cloth over his forehead, feeling the heat that radiated from his skin.

This was her fault, she thought numbly. She should have never asked him to do this but at the time, she was so sure the benefit would outweigh the risk. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Kanan moaned in his sleep, worry lines creasing his skin. Hera leaned down to kiss them away. “It’s alright love.” She whispered softly. “You’re safe.”

His teal eyes blinked open, wide and bright with fever. “Hera?”

“I’m right here, love.” She cupped his chin gently, the soft hairs of his beard tickling her palm. “you need to rest.”

“I can feel them.” He gasped, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “They’re dying.”

Hera’s heart shattered. “I know but it’s over now.” She stroked a thumb over his cheek. “You’re safe.”

She repeated the words until he drifted off again, his face slack and finally at peace. Hera sighed and leaned back against the bulkhead. There was a soft knock on the door followed by Sabine’s quiet voice.

“Hera?”

“Come in.” Hera called back. The doors swished open to let the young Mandalorian into Hera’s cabin. She looked at Kanan’s prone figure on the cot and frowned.

“The aid is all settled. We should reach Dantoonie in a few days.” She reported softly.

Hera nodded. “Good. I’ll let Fulcrum know.”

Sabine hesitated, still watching Kanan closely. “He’s Jedi isn’t he?” she asked.

“Sabine,” Hera sighed. “It’s not my place to say.”

“That’s why he didn’t want to go to Coruscant.” She carried on as if Hera hadn’t spoken. “That’s why he’s like this now? He’s a survivor.”

“It’s not my place to say.” Hera repeated more forcefully. “I’ll be out in just a minute okay?”

Sabine bit her lip in response before leaving, the doors sliding shut behind her. Hera ran a tender hand through Kanan’s sweaty hair.

“I’m sorry love.” A tear slipped down her face. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”