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baz-writes-sometimes · 2 years ago

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Punishment

Sub!Xavier Thorpe x Female OC smut

WARNING! If you are under 18 yrs old, do not read this piece. I do not take responsibility for anything if you proceed.

Masterlist is pinned on my blog. Check it out, cuz I can't link it.

Apparently, I cannot write short stories, so hopefully y'all excuse the abomination of a wordcount.

English is not my first language, please keep that in mind. And I sincerely hope this one shows up in the tags or else istfg. 😤

Xavier Thorpe was positively whipped by now and even his artwork couldn't help him get her out of his system. Even though he tried to, in more ways than one, nothing seemed to clear his head of the images she unknowingly burned into his mind. And it frustrated him beyond words, how oblivious she was to his suffering.

She wondered how in the hell was he able to do anything in here with this god-awful lighting.

Val got up from a desk, discarding the book she tried to read. Xavier’s art shed - a “studio”, as he called it, huffing in annoyance every single time he had to correct anyone who called it differently - was not the best place for reading apparently. Duly noted.

Xavier stepped back from the easel for like a hundredth time in the past half an hour, running his hand through his hair. He huffed in exasperation, glaring at the canvas he was working on like it had just insulted him. He glanced at her, noticed she was looking quizzically at him and quickly averted his eyes, almost as if avoiding her gaze.

“Can’t focus,” he mumbled. His eyes were now trained onto the mess of lines and colour splattered in an unspecified formation.

“Huh. Very, ah… abstract, I see.” Val hummed, standing next to him, unintentionally brushing his side with her arm and he hissed quietly, recoiling.

What in the heavens name was up with him today? She raised her eyebrows but shrugged it off, deciding not to say anything. Artist block must be like PMS or something, she figured. So instead, she took on exploring the rest of the space, leaving him to grumble under his breath behind her back.

There was a lot of artwork on every possible surface - some finished, some barely sketched out. Loads of tools and different mediums were scattered everywhere, mixed with empty cups, brushes and loose pieces of paper in between. There also was something on a table in the far corner of the studio that caught her eye. It didn’t look quite right - as if hastily discarded and half-heartedly covered with a piece of cloth. And, oh boy, it spiked her interest.

It turned out to be a sketchbook. She brought it closer to the light and froze, when her own face stared back at her from the paper. But this wasn’t the shocking part - her naked body, perfectly recreated in the act of riding a dick from the perspective of a person underneath her - that was. A pair of large hands were gripping her hips, digging their fingers into her flesh desperately. Xavier’s hands.

She leafed through the rest of the pages, finding loads of different sexual acts depicted with her at the forefront, with an occasional study of her face. She grinned to herself, quite flattered and embarrassed at how much she must have affected him to draw her that many times in a separate, dedicated sketchbook. Given his abilities, he definitely didn't use this solely as a study of human anatomy.

“Hey,” she called to him, smiling mischievously at him when she got his attention, “private porn collection?” She held the book higher so he could see it. Even in the dim lighting she saw his eyes growing wide. A deep shade of red flushed his face - she had never seen him so flustered and embarrassed before. He started towards her, yanked the sketchbook from her hands and shoved it angrily under some unfinished sketches.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” She stepped back, crossing her arms.

He kept running his fingers through his hair, agitated. And then he snapped.

“You, Val. YOU. You are messing with my fucking head. Can’t you fucking see that?” He grabbed the canvas he was just working on and shook it in her face. “I can’t focus on shit, I haven’t been able to paint a single thing for god damn weeks. I haven’t been able to get you out of my fucking head for fucking weeks!”

He threw it onto the floor in anger, where it laid, wet paint gleaming in the dim light. He sat down on a stool and hid his face in his hands, steadying his breath.

“I can not stop thinking about you.” His voice now soft, quiet. He rubbed his temples, clearly very frustrated. “I dream about you more than I’d like to admit, in the ways I’m too embarrassed to say out loud.”

“It’s just… I want you so fucking bad all the fucking time, Valerye.”

Valerye remained silent. This was not what she expected to hear. A lecture on personal space or not snooping around in other people’s personal belongings, maybe. But this? Of course she noticed how needy he was when they fucked… and when they didn’t. Yet, it never crossed her mind that she had this much control over him.

Xavier Thorpe was officially smitten. And it excited her.

Step by step, she slowly advanced towards him, a slight smirk curving her lips. She could see his darting eyes and sheepish expression. This was good. Very, very good.

“Tell me, Xavi.” She stopped in front of him and lifted his chin with one of her fingers, forcing him to look her up in the eye. “How exactly is this supposed to be my problem? Or… my fault?”

His breath hitched as he inhaled sharply, eyes widened. She was calm and methodical, but he could make out an underlying tone lacing her voice. A warning to be careful, not to play with fire. This made his head spin, he gripped the edges of the seat for comfort. There also was a lingering promise of danger, a sweet risk of getting burned if he leaned into the flames too much. He swallowed, his knuckles cracking, trying not to let his mind be overcome by the dizziness he constantly felt near her. Shifting on his seat slightly, embarrassed of the fact he was getting hard so soon, he tried to hide his growing erection by pulling his shirt down.

“It’s not–”

“No?” She interrupted in a sickeningly sweet voice. And then there was her knee in between his legs, pressing against his crotch. He froze and squeaked, heat spreading through his body at the sudden contact. “Are you sure about that? Because that’s not what you’ve just screamed at me, baby.”

Xavier’s breath quickened, grasping at the fleeting self-control, desperate not to give in and rub himself on her knee. She definitely could feel his growing erection and his face turned even redder.

“I don’t think you were nice to me.” Her face was inches from his, studying his expression, her hot breath mixing with his. His plump lips parted slightly, a dazed look in his eyes, that were trained on her mouth. The way she was smiling made his head spin.

He threw caution to the wind and lunged for a kiss - but instead of her sweet taste, he felt a sharp sting on his cheek as she slapped him across his face and his head got yanked to the side by his hair. He blanked out for a second but was swiftly brought back to his senses when Val’s knee pressed harder against his now rock hard bulge.

“I think you are a very bad boy, Xavi.”

“Oh god,” he whimpered weakly, earning a dark chuckle from her that tickled his strained, exposed neck. More pathetic sounds escaped his throat as she placed surprisingly delicate, wet kisses along the line of his ear, not letting go of his hair. He didn’t think he could get even more turned on, yet somehow she managed to push him further with ease.

He felt his seat being rolled backwards and his back hit the hard, cold wall, trapping him in front of his girlfriend.

“And do you know what happens to bad boys? They get punished.”

She bit his neck suddenly, hard and he couldn’t help himself any more. A twinge of shame shot through his chest at how little it took her to make him a desperate, whining mess. His hips rutted against her knee, the pain mixing with pleasure in an intoxicating way. His moans filled the cool air inside the art studio, clashing with his flushed, sweaty skin, making Val feel the wetness seep through her underwear.

Almost as if he sensed it, his hands flew towards her waist, pulling her onto his lap, digging his fingers into her flesh in a needy way. She moaned despite herself at the sudden contact of his hard, heaving chest flush against her, his hot, wet lips crashing with hers. Oh, he felt so, so good, so right.

But Valerye could not be having it. He had to be punished. She slapped him again and gripped his face forcefully. She watched him in bemused disbelief as his eyes rolled back momentarily with a pained but lustful groan bubbling in his throat. This fucker was enjoying it just as much as she did.

“You are positively filthy, Xavi.”

He smiled at her stupidly, which made a coil in her stomach grow tighter. She quickly grasped his shirt and pulled it over his head, trapping his arms behind him in the tangle of fabric. Now, with one distraction out of the way, she could go on with the plan that has just formed inside her head.

“And I think we have to do something about that.” She smirked, pulling his sweatpants down his long, lanky legs and chuckled at how eager he was to help, lifting his hips up to make it easier for her to undress him.

“Yes,” he whispered breathlessly, “yes, please.”

Xavier shuddered under her fingers caressing his chest, bumping the back of his head on the hard wall as he relished in the sensation - but whipped back it almost instantly when she stopped at his nipples and pinched them. Hard.

Again, and again, she toyed with them, a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she watched him squirm and strain against the fabric of his own shirt restraining him. She straddled his lap, leaned forward, and latched her mouth onto one of his hardened nipples. She could feel the heat emanating from his massive bulge as he bucked his hips, desperately trying to find any friction to comfort his throbbing cock. His moans got louder, raspier, needier, the longer she sucked and licked them, leaving sloppy trails of saliva on his burning skin. And just as he started to quiver, she stopped.

His face scrunched in frustration at the sudden loss of contact, only to fill with hope as his underpants got pulled down to join the pants somewhere around his ankles. Poor thing, she thought to herself, slowly taking off her skirt and underwear, watching his eyes grow wide when she came back onto his lap. His dick was rock hard by now, twitching just mere millimeters from her wet pussy. He could feel the heat just out of his reach and whimpered, lifting his hips in a desperate attempt to at least brush his tip against her - to no avail. She grabbed him by his throat, pushing him back against the wall, making his breath wheezy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, smiling at his dazed expression and she slithered her fingers into his disheveled locks. “You’re not being a very good boy. Think you’ll just… watch me.”

She pulled at his hair and grazed at his long neck, earning another strained moan from him. His eyes rolled back at the sensation of her teeth almost breaking his skin, following with a soothing lick over the pulsating mark she left. And when she moaned his name into his ear, his eyes snapped back to her, his pulse quickening, as he realized what she meant by ‘watching her’. His breathing almost stopped when his eyes laid on her palm, working her own wet clit almost on top of his swollen cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” a strangled string of words poured out of his mouth. His dick twitched again, involuntarily and tapped her hand and before he knew it, his face was stinging again, a red splotch forming on his cheek and tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Valerie almost felt sorry for him for a moment, until he pleaded.

“Do it again,” his eyes glossy with pupils blown out, burned into hers with a sudden despair. “Please, I’ve been bad.”

Xavier’s needy, faltering voice made her jolt with sudden pleasure and a new wave of wetness seeped out of her as she picked up the pace on rubbing herself. It didn’t go unnoticed, as his dick, now leaking, twitched once again, just as another slap graced his other side of his face. To his surprise, he felt drops of wet, thick liquid on his shaft and when he looked down at Val once again, his brain went hazy. He felt as if he could explode right here, right now.

“See what you’ve done?” She moaned, feeling her juices seep through her fingers in long, sticky strings, landing on his erect cock beneath her. With her mouth agape, getting lost in the pleasure, she locked eyes with him - and the pure lust she saw in them sent her over the edge in seconds.

“Xavier–”

He held his breath the entire time she writhed and moaned his name throatily over him. He desperately tried to ingrain the image in his mind in every single detail, every movement and every sound she made. Only when she removed her fingers from her clit, he saw how much they were drenched in her thick, glistening juices. Without a second thought, he leaned forward and clamped his mouth around them and sucked hungrily, lapping and slurping her palm clean. He looked like he had never tasted anything more delicious in his entire life.

Valerye’s face flushed with heat, as she felt fuzzy at his devoted action. He earned some ‘relief’. But only a tiny bit.

“Good boy,” she cooed and she could see his mind going places. She pulled her hand away - now coated with his saliva - and hovered it over his swollen dick. “I think you’ve earned a little bit of a reward.”

And with that, she slowly dragged her slippery fingers from his balls up, coating him evenly with her juices, ending at his pulsating, purple tip and enveloped it into her hand. With a steady grip, she started pumping.

Xavier forgot how to breathe. He felt like his brain went through a system restart and then, finally, a flood of long awaited pleasure crashed over him, taking over his senses. He spasmed and started trembling, a long, guttural moan followed by a slur of garbled ‘thank you’s fell from his mouth. He was bucking his hips in a frenzy, desperate to reach his release that was inching closer with every pump of Val’s slick hand. His jaw slacked, eyes crossed and rolling back under half-closed eyelids, he looked mad, completely out of control. He was so close, so fucking close–

And then she stopped. And did it all over again, and again, and again.

He never felt so desperate, so angry and so horny in his lifetime. His cock hurt at this point, his balls were on fire and his eyes welled up with tears but he didn’t want her to stop. When she let go of him once again, just as he was about to cross the point of no return, he cried out in agony.

“Fuck, no, please, no no no, don’t!” He wailed and whined in a high-pitched, cracking voice, pumping the air desperately, feeling the release painfully getting away from him.

“What's wrong, baby, you’ve had enough?” She teased, not doing a very good job at concealing her own trembling voice. The way he acted in such a frenzied despair made her want to rut herself on his thigh, face or cock - anywhere at this point. But she had one more thing in mind, before she would let him get what he craved so badly.

“Yes! No, please, don’t–”

His incredibly throbbing dick was in her grasp again, she was pumping him so fast he almost could not take this torture anymore. He was so over, and yet understimulated at the same time. He was making sounds that didn’t sound human no more, as he felt getting closer and closer to the dreaded edge, afraid that he might get denied the pleasure once fucking again. But then he felt himself being pushed past it, and she didn’t stop. His back arched, he lifted his hips up from the seat, head thrown back, howling in anguished pleasure, as he waited for this sweet, final release. And it came, seconds after she completely let go of him once again.

“Nonononono, please!”

Dull spasms tore through his body, as his cock twitched, coating his chest and stomach with impossible amounts of his seed. It didn’t bring any relief at all. Tears rolled down his face, as he sobbed from frustration and betrayal - she ruined him. He felt humiliated, degraded and completely corrupted. However, when she cradled his face, he leaned into her touch so desperately it made her heart flutter.

"You've been such a good boy, Xavi. So good." She caressed his splotched, stinging cheeks, wiping away the tears. He looked at her with those big green eyes, filled with so much need and torment - and such animalistic lust, she couldn't help herself but kiss him. He feverishly reciprocated, still sniffling.

"Will you be a good boy if I untie you?"

He noded frantically, babbling promises of his good behaviour. And he didn't lie - he awaited her next orders obediently after he no longer had his limbs constrained. He didn't even touch himself briefly. He was completely under her spell.

She ordered him to lay down on the floor, right on the discarded canvas and he didn't even bat an eye when his back came in contact with the still wet paint. He would do anything for her at this point. And just as he put his hands over his head by himself as a precaution, not to touch her without permission, she couldn't wait any longer. She climbed onto him, straddling him and aligned herself with his hard, hot cock, earning a whimper from him. He craved her heat, her wetness so bad.

"Val, please," he croaked. "Can I touch you? Please, I'll be good I promise."

She agreed. His large, trembling palms found their way onto her hips and grasped them as if his life depended on it. They followed her movements, as she slowly but surely lowered herself onto his dick. She felt him stretch her beyond imagination as she reached the base of it, her thirsty pussy relishing in the sensation of his hot, almost boiling skin. He moaned in the pleasure he awaited for so long. She was so wet again, so incredibly tight around him. He was starved for her.

As if she could read his thoughts, she moved up and down, setting a fast, delicious pace that made his mind go haywire. He threw his head back, eyes shut tight and brows furrowed. Gravelly, needy moans were falling from his mouth. The sound of wet lewd noises filled the shed as he began to lift his hips to meet hers quicker. He was numbed from the ruined orgasm but still desperately wanted to feel every single inch of her pussy, up to the very hilt of his cock.

She tangled her fingers in his silky hair and pulled, making him crane his neck backwards, his adam's apple portruding through his skin. He groaned, barely registering what was happening he was so focused on slamming his cock in and out of her and she didn't blame him. Moaning like mad, she latched herself onto his neck and bit him, over and over, leaving marks on him so everyone would know, who he belonged to. The pain, mixed with the gradually overwhelming pleasure was fucking with his head. He brought her down on his dick with so much force, moving his hips up at the same moment, she yelped when she saw sparks before her eyes. It seemed like he wanted to bury himself even deeper inside of her seeping cunt, even if it wasn't possible.

"You are such a good boy, you know that?" She whispered breathlessly to his ear and she felt his hips stutter, as a pained whine erupted from his chest. "Say you're a good boy, Xavier."

"I-ah–" His cheeks flushed red with embarrassement. "I am a g-good boy. I am, I really am," he whimpered, feeling himself inch painfully slow to the edge.

"I know, baby." His cock was getting even thicker, sending electrifying jolts through Val's body. "Cuz you're gonna make me cum. You're making me cum, Xavi."

His relentless, deep thrusts faltered and lost it's rythm as he felt, once again, as if his mind disconnected from his body, and a rumbling growl reverberated in his chest. He blabbered nonsense at this point, tears stinging his eyes as the frustration surfaced yet again. He was so turned on but nowhere near close to release it seemed. And now, she ground herself on top of him info her own high, smearing the cum from his ruined orgasm on herself as she rode him, chest flush against his, expertly rubbing her wet clit on his cut pubic hair, with his rock hard dick plunged deep inside of her. In other circumstances, just a mere thought of something of this kind would send him cumming all over himself - but now, it was not enough.

Xavier whimpered in despair, feeling her skin getting hotter to the touch with every roll of her hips, her walls clenching tight around his painfully swollen dick. He brought her into him and his lips collided with hers, swallowing her moans in a messy, open mouthed kisses.

"Such a good boy." She moaned breathily, her words immediately drank by him as he panted like a madman. "Make me cum all over your fat cock, Xavi."

He could finally feel his own, blinding pleasure rising up to the surface. His fingers dug into her hips, as he steadied her and and absolutely pounded her like an animal in heat, howling like one too. With every thrust, his abdomen glided over her aching clit.

"Let me cum too, V, please," he was getting closer and closer along with her. His voice needy, pitiful, face stained with fresh tears. "Can I cum?"

"N-no, not y--" Her voice drowned in her satisfied whining, as she clenched on Xavier's cock, her orgasm washing over her in repeated, delicious waves of heat. She kept moving and it drove him crazy, as he now had to force himself not to fall apart inside her fluttering hole as she still rode out her highs.

"Baby, please, I can't take it anymore, please let me cum, I'm begging you, I've been good, I've been good, please let me cu--" He wailed so desperately, tears in his eyes obscuring his vision.

It happened in seconds. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking at it and lunging at his bruised neck.

"Cum," she commanded, as she bit him, still riding him through her aftershocks. This only solidified his fate, as the hair pulling has already pushed him past his limits. His breathing stopped, as he stared at at her with a pained expression and then completely exploded inside of her.

Unholy, guttural wails tore from Xavier's throat, his vision becoming blinded by what seemed to be fireworks under his eyelids. He convulsed, his torso lost contact with the canvas he was laying on for a second, then arched backwards stiffly, before he absolutely lost his god damn mind. His hips bucked so hard he lifted Valerye up several times, impailing her onto his dick so deep she thought he was going to tear her in half. He shot load after load inside her, filling her up to the brim, his hands bruising her hips as he pushed her down onto himself so hard his seed started to leak out, coating the base of his dick and her pussy in white.

He felt like he was on cloud nine, despite the dull pulsating pain he still felt in his loins. Both dazed, barely conscious, basked in each other's warmth and comfort, tired as if they had just ran the marathon twice. Xavier nuzzled into his girlfriend's neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, that was still intoxicating to him. His long hair stuck to his sweaty forhead and eyes but he couldn't bother to let V out of his arms to brush it away. He traced slow, delicate patterns on her back and chuckled when he heard her content sigh. He was lazily staring at her from underneath his heavy eyelids, studying her face in every single detail, almost as if he would never get to see her again. A smile lingered around his lips as she shifted on his chest, leaning into his embrace.

Xavier Thorpe was officially, completely whipped and he wouldn't have it any other way.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x oc #sub!xavier thorpe

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zaenaris · 3 years ago

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Headcanon that in the Bad!Toman future (all the futures from the original one to Manila), Inupi was kinda a hostage to keep Koko under control. Of course he chooses to stay with Koko, but he would have never been able to go away. Kisaki and Izana knew that the best way to force Koko to be a "good" member was to promise that Inui wouldn't have dangerous missions or too dirty missions. "obey and he'll safe"(In Bonten, Sanzu makes sure to tell Koko that he KNEW where Inupi lived "just in case")

The fact that during Tenjiku, Mucho says it is so annoying that Koko only listened to Inupi makes me think that it is possible what you said

Inupi and Koko always had this relationship where they always tried to be there for the other and protect each other, without communicating though! And that's the problem they always had and that have always been the elephant in the room until the recent chapters.

What breaks my heart is that in this panels...

... Inupi was very much aware of how conflicted Koko felt about his feelings for both him (Inupi) and Akane, but regardless the ambiguity of the situation and the difficulties he never gave up on Koko.

While what you said about Inupi being kind of a "hostage" to keep Koko under control (it is exactly what Mucho did in Tenjiku) makes sense, I also think that, in the other timelines where they grow up and became full-fledged criminals, they kinda had no other choice. They never had the chance to process their trauma over Akane's death, the original Black Dragon and its will be gone as well, etc etc. all topics they faced recently and only (as far as we know) in the current timeline.

Probably in the other timelines Inupi realized at a certain point there was no way to recreate Black Dragon as it was in the beginning but both Inupi and Koko knew no other life besides the criminal one; they've both been involved in dangerous business since they were young (Koko making money in illegal and dangerous ways, collaborating with adult criminals and Inupi during Izana's time as the Black Dragon president, where things degenerated). So I believe that on a certain level, Inupi would have been aware (in the other timelines) that he could have become/was a deterrent for keeping Koko under control but things would have been too big at that point. Koko goes where Inupi goes, it's a fact, but in the other timelines (assuming they never had the chance to solve the communication problems) Koko was still obsessed over money and while we know he's aware this can be used against him, he's aware criminals and punks approaches him for his money making ability, he really can't get out of it. In the other "bad" timelines I think they were both aware they were spiraling and there was no way back, but they got used to it.

And yes, I'm absolutely sure that Sanzu in Bonten was sure Koko knew he could have gone to say hello to Inupi at any time, just to be sure

(by the way, I loooooove reading fanfictions in the bad timelines, they have so much angst potential and exploring the characters in those moments that Wakui doesn't really explore that much is so interesting and fun 🖤)

Thank you for your ask!

#inui seishu #kokonui #inukoko #tokyo revengers #tokyorev spoilers #zae talks about tr

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regrettablewritings · 3 years ago

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Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagines #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer imagine #lucifer imagines #character ship meme #character ask meme #regrettablewritings #thanks for your patience by the way! i would've had this up last night but i went out with family for the evening!

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stephspurs · 3 years ago

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Hello my lovelies!! Part 3 sees a whole lot Amelia's beautiful brain & you get your first slice of interaction with the british boys - leading up to an all important Mykonos adventure (part 4 - out friday). As usual, please let me know your thoughts and feelings, and let me know what you want to see happen with Amelia and her story! Updates have increased to 3/week! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am!

Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 3. | parte terza

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 2081

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 30/07 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

It was the day after the final match and Amelia should be nursing a hangover due to the large amount of red wine she consumed with her Italian counterparts the night before. However, she finds herself at St. George’s Park before 9am, meeting one of her father’s colleagues who directs her to the recreation room that she remembers from a few days prior.

Standing outside the door, she assumed she was just waiting for her dad as agreed on the phone an hour earlier. As she was waiting, she could hear Gareth Southgate give a team talk to the players, praising them for their ability and pleading for them to bounce back from this defeat and use it to push on. The next voice she could hear was that of her father, giving them the tactical run through of the game. She listened to the points her father made, and both agreed and disagreed with some. Unexpectedly, the man sent to collect her opened the door and ushered her inside.

She stood at the back of the room, facing her dad and Gareth, whilst the team and other management staff had their backs to her. Making eye contact with her dad, he smiled slightly.

“Whilst I can offer you my opinion on the match last night, to better prepare you for the next time, there is no better opinion to learn from at this moment than that of your opponent. Amelia, would you please come up here” Dean really threw her into this situation, that again, she was not prepared for nor did she want to participate in. However, the 30+ sets of eyes that had currently turned around to stare at her didn’t exactly inspire a choice to be made here.

_____________________________________________________________

“Lads, this is my daughter. I taught her everything she knows, which was probably too much considering I can now recognise that it was her signature plays that the italian side used to their advantage last night. Treat her with respect, or I will let her at you. Which i’m sure you all saw a few nights ago in this very room” My dad spoke as I walked up to the front area, weaving in and around beanbags with players occupying them.

Standing in front of the Three Lions was more nerve wracking now than it had been when she was confronting her brother, maybe Fede did offer her protection as his bodyguard. Either way, she put her big girl pants on (figuratively speaking, literally she was wearing her official puma tights and Italian polo) and got on with it as if she was speaking to her team.

“Thanks Dad. Hey guys, I think the first thing I would like to say is that you’re allowed to feel exactly how you feel right now. There is no rush to ‘get over it’ or ‘push on and learn’. You need to feel this now, feel it throughout your body, understand the pain and then turn it into motivation.” I speak to the group, trying to accurately express how sincere I am to this group of heartbroken men.

“As for tactics, I can stand here and praise you for how good you really are but that's not how you are going to learn. You came into the game hard and fast.” I paused, understanding the innuendo just as it was flying out of my mouth. I pursed my lips and tried to hold my giggle in, however some of the boys seem to have the same sense of humour as I do. My brother, face of steel and eyes that burn into any man that tries to joke with me.

“Sorry, can’t help myself. So yeah, you took charge of the game from kick off and we were not ready. You had the aggression and desire to push from the start and that's what you did, Shaw, you really surprised me with that goal. Not because I didn't think you could do it but because I wasn’t anticipating you being someone we had to watch so closely.”

“Again, something you guys need to keep in mind is that it is literally my job to know everything about you and how you play the game, what foot you prefer, who you pass to, how long you hold the ball before you pass, do you like to assist or score...all of these things make a massive difference in each play we make.”

“The error you made came around the 25th minute of the game, we had settled into the game and did what we do best - we slowed you down. In Italy, in the Serie A, which is where most of my team play, the game is a lot slower. There is more skill and tactic used to ensure a favourable outcome. Again, i'm not saying you all don’t have skill, but the Prem favours pace over tactics and strategy. The only way we were going to be able to win was by making you play our game, but in your half of the pitch.”

At this point, all of their eyes are trained to me and the more senior players of the team, like Henderson, Walker, Coady, Kane, they understand what i’m trying to say. Gareth, my dad and other members of staff are sitting to one side, arms folded and a slight smile on their face at the simplicity of my approach to such an important game. I direct my next question to them.

“Can I ask - have you already selected your man of the match?”

“Off record, yes we have. Before I announce to the team who it is, can I direct the question back to you and find out who you would award it to?” Gareth poses back to me, interested to hear my opinion.

“While the obvious choices would be Kane, Sterling, Maguire - your players who perform week in week out and are consistent and no doubt deserve an award as such. I would recommend Declan Rice. Personally, he was the most instrumental in the match last night. Every time we turned to attack, he was there to stop it. He was a player I was confident that I knew the extent of his ability, when it was obvious that I didn't.”

The boys around him, Mason Mount & Ben Chilwell, offered him a gentle shove and ruffle of the hair, to show their encouragement to the bashful boy who seemed surprised at the praise he was receiving.

“The other player that I think deserves a bit of a shoutout, and not because of his hair, is Jack Grealish.” I spoke, looking around the room until we locked eyes. I wanted him to understand how serious i was about my next words.

“You are so dangerous on the ball, you are an asset as a team mate, you aren’t guilty with the ball, but you have the power behind you to score when the opportunity presents itself. The moment you were subbed on I pulled Jorginho to the side and told him to treat you like Chiellini and Bonnucci were handling Sterling and Kane. You were one of my players to watch, and for good reason”

At the end of the little session, I said thanks to the boys for listening and that I hope to see them again in a tournament. The only way to be the best is to beat the best. After a quick round of applause that made me feel more special than I am, I walked past my brother, gave him a quick ruffle of his hair and met my dad at the back. Gareth dismissed the boys and they all stood up, breaking away and grabbing some breakfast that was set up to the side of the room, for one last team meal.

“Mills!! I’ll get you an almond croissant and a coffee, come sit with me!” Walker shouted from across the room.

“Oi mate, she’s my sister not yours” Ben counters from the back of the line.

“Yeah she's your sister by blood, mine by choice.” Kyle firmly states and begins his way to one of the tables.

“I suppose i better join Kyle before he drowns everyone in his tears” i joked with the england officials i was standing with before walking over to Kyle and a few of his team mates.

“Sooo am I supposed to pretend I don’t know who you all are so you can introduce yourselves? Or do we just mutually agree that I know too much about each of you and not bring it up?” I question the boys, jokingly. They all laugh and I sit down in the space Kyle left between himself and John Stones. I sat there and got to know some of the boys on a less competitive level, working out who was a leader both on the pitch and off it. After listening to the boys joke around and just be mates, rather than teammates, I leaned over to Kyle.

“Hey, before I go, do you think you can introduce me to Bukayo? I want to speak with him for a moment.”

“Yeah sure, I'll take you over there. Why are you nervous? You've never been shy before” Kyle questioned back at me.

“I’m not nervous, I'm just hyper aware of the sensitivity of the moment. Last night would have been tough”

Saying goodbye to the boys, Kyle directed me over to a table that was sitting my brother Ben White, Kalvin, Ben Chilwell, Grealish, Saka, Sancho & Rashford.

“Hey boys, Ben, I just wanted to come say goodbye before I head off.” I directed towards my brother. He pulled up a chair and asked me to sit for 5 more minutes, claiming he deserved it after months of no contact.

“Ben here didn’t let us know he had a sister as smart as you...what happened to you Ben? Did you miss that gene?” Jack Grealish poked at my brother. With his signature scowl on his face, Ben White let his mates laugh at his expense.

“Oh don’t make fun of my brother Benny, that’s my job!” I joked back, setting the boys off again with my brother’s childhood nickname. It was nice to hear some laughter again from a side that looked so solemn the night before.

“No in all seriousness boys, I especially came over because I wanted to talk to you Bukayo - what you did was so impressive. In a final, as the last penalty taker, to take on the responsibility of the nation at the age of 19! Not many players would dare to do that. You have earned a lot of respect, particularly from the Italian camp.” I spoke with a smile on my face, directed at the young boy.

“The same goes for you two” Now looking at Sancho & Rashford.

Bukayo looked down at his hands & smiled, before getting up and walking to my side of the table. Anticipating what he was going to do next, I stood up and welcomed him with open arms. Grateful that he understood my message and was beginning to accept the praise he so deserved. Stepping back from the hug, I turned to address the group of lads one more time.

“If any of you fancy a change of pace and want to come over to the Serie A, just give me a call - Benny can give you my number!” I start to speak, before I'm cut off but my brother.

“Stop poaching my mates! I’ve already lost you to another country. I don't need to lose anyone else” He jokingly says while standing to walk me out of St. George’s Park. I know it was a joke but I can't help but think there was some truth to that.

It had been more than 3 years since I moved out of our family home to start my life in Turin, and not one moment had i regretted it or thought i made the wrong decision. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wished I was closer to my family, but I know I had to make that move to prove to myself I am just as successful as I hoped I would be. Not saying I have learnt everything there is to learn with the Serie A giants, Juventus, but maybe it's time for a new challenge? Maybe I can bring the strategic spin on the game to the fast paced action of the premier league?

Part 4. | quarta parte

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs, “A Chance.”

A continuation on the Dr. Krill lecture series about humans.

The room was large and echoing, voices raised up towards the ceiling, and despite their being enough room to fit more than three classrooms of the original size, there still wasn’t enough room to fit everyone, with some students standing or sitting off to the side. Cameras had been brought in to observe the lecture, and were being mounted as they watched, so other students from other universities could Audit the lectures.

A group of four students, two Vrul and two Tesraki sat together on the far right of the lecture hall. They had been forced to pair together for another one of their class projects and just ended up naturally gravitating towards what was familiar, sitting next to each other as they waited for the lecture to begin.

“Did you guys finish the assignment?”

“I did.” Of course the two Vrul had, that was to be expected.

The Tesraki looked down at their papers, work halfway finished because they had a tough time from telling what was myth from what was fact.

“Humans, dn not, in fact, cannibalize their young.”

“Where the hell did you hear that.”

“I had an older classmate tell me once, and I saw it in another news article.”

There was muttering, “Even we knew that.”

The other vrul shuffled their papers studiously, “Humans do not have hypnotic gazes that can paralyze their prey.” “Really, I felt for sure that that one was going to be real.”

The Tesraki’s ears drooped, “Well apparently, human stomach acid IS powerful enough to eat through metal.”

There was silence.

“No really, that can’t be true.”

The Tesraki nodded, “It isn’t a myth.” He sighed in frustration, “Everything I looked up about humans was true. Human bones are stronger than steel, the human liver can regenerate, humans can transplant organs from one human to another and it will work. Humans have a system of language that doesn't require the use of noise, it's called sign language by the way.”

One of the Vrul vibrated their antenna, “I am sorry to hear your search did not go well, perhaps if you had read more disreputable news articles it would have been better. Some of the major newspapers have the ability to contact better sources, which means their articles are most likely to be right.”

“Did you know the human jaw is powerful enough to bite off their own fingers, but humans don’t do it because number one, that hurts a lot, and number two, their brain doesn’t allow them to even consider it.”

There was a silence.

“Is that a fact or a myth.”

The other Tesraki sighed, “that is a fact.”

Just then the lights overhead blinked once and then twice. The students turned to look down at the room where Dr. Krill was making his way across the floor. Making his way in that unnatural and predatory way he had. His body moved with a fluid grace in comparison to the normal jerky movements of his species. His legs rolled one after the other in a wheel that kept him moving forward, never breaking. The shoulders on his body swayed slightly back and forth lending the power of his arms into the movement of his legs.

The way he moved his head around the room, seeming to focus on each one of them in turn rather than taking in the whole scene at once was…. Unnerving to say the least his helium sack sat mostly unused against his shoulders and upper back as he moved into the room. Not once since he had started here had anyone seen him use it.

He said it was too slow and made keeping up with humans difficult unless you were being dragged behind them.

It was…. Strange to watch…. How he never seemed to stop moving. Even when he spoke his four hands and his head moved to emphasize his points. When speaking to students coming up to see him, his body shifted in reaction to their words. His hands wide, then closed then open again, up and then down. His chin rose and fell in greeting to people and students he knew and to those he didn’t know so well.

It was a fascinating scene to watch, and one they were not entirely sure if they liked.

Dr Krill made a strange noise deep inside his throat, that over the speakers had the entire class turning to look at him. It was a strange sort of barking cough mixed with a hum. THey couldn’t have known that krill was imitating the way humans clear their throat when they want to speak.

“Students, I hope you all had a good week, and I hope you were all able to complete my first, and easiest assignment?”

There was a soft muttering around the room.

The doctor clapped both of his hands together, producing a sharp noise that brought attention back to himself, “Well, as I have said, today, as a special treat for staying….” He turned to look around the room before muttering, “And multiplying, apparently.” He frowned when none of the students seemed amused at his joke but continued, “I am going to be talking about the human fight flight or freeze response and the entire reaction of the sympathetic nervous system.”

Students withdrew their holopads to begin taking notes.

The cameras zoomed in on doctor Krill.

“We discussed last week how humans are technically considered predator animals, and they are as they eat and consume other animals daily. However, humans are not an apex predator as it isn’t often that they consume other predators. In fact, for the longest time humans were some of the weakest, and easiest to kill preditors for larger and more intimidating animals. In this way that lead to the development of the sympathetic nervous system.”

He turned around the room, and the two Vrul cringed back as his eyes seemed to fall on thim. His antenna were unusually still,

“The sympathetic and parasympathetic systems account for two sides of the same coin. The parasympathetic nervous system is responsible for the workings of the body when the human is relaxed. It focuses primarily on digestion, relaxation slower breathing and even blood flow through the major organs including the eyes. It has other properties too of course, but when a human is relaxed their parasympathetic nervous system is the one generally in charge during those times.”

He turned to the projector, “Now assume you are an ancient human out on your natural habitat of the savanna -- without their adaptation the human’s natural habitat is warm and relatively dry with lots of open grassland and the occasional tree.” he flipped a picture on the projector and the class pulled back a bit in surprise at the picture that unfolded before them. It was a strange creature standing upright tall but remarkably hairy accept for on its face and hands, “This is a 3D rendered recreation of what early humans might have looked like based on skeletal remains found in their fossil record. The development of the human sympathetic nervous system likely started long before humans looked like this, but still the visual aid is one that I find compelling.” The class stared at the creatures thick face, heavy brow and sloping shoulders.

Humans today were much more graceful, though much less powerful than what this beast looked like. It was strange trying to determine which one was the superior. They supposed the current human, as its head size looked much bigger in comparison.

Krill pulled up a side by side comparison with his earlier diagram.

They recognized the modern human as he had been rendered in textbooks thousands of times since he had first been studied.

Very pale with his fine blond fur compared to the hulking shape next to him, with course brown fur that covered his entire body.

“Not the evolutionary changes that had to be made to get from this human.” He pointed at the hairy one, “To that one.” He motioned to the pale one, “The hips grew smaller, the spine took on a sharp S curve, the ratio of legs to arms changed dramatically, leaving the human with longer legs and comparatively short arms. The jaw and the face shortened, while the cranium expanded and hair receded across the body. The current human skeletal structure is finer and more delicate than its original counterpart, with a focus on precision in movement over power, which has become so important to their survival today.”

Dr Krill pointed to the picture of the old human, “This human tried its best to stay alive.” He pointed at the other human, “This human seems to be lacking in a lot of those same survival skills as he is constantly trying to get himself killed.” Krill sighed, “Modern humans are a little bit more complicated than their ancestors, but I digress.” Now imagine either on of these humans being faced with what might have been their natural predator on the savanna.

He flipped the image and the crowd gasped as a massive alien shape leaped up into a third projected spot. It was long and sinewy walking on four legs and a had a fur color like the tanned grassland. It’s eyes were face front, and on its massive paws there were huge hooked claws. Dr. Krill pressed a button to start the looping animation that allowed the creature to lope along with a sinuous grace that made the human lok clumsy and awkward in comparison, all three of the animations moving.

The creature opened its mouth and the entire class pulled back as huge razor sharp teeth glinted in the light, as it yawned, shook its head, and then continued walking.

“This is an African Lion, a female of the species weighing in at only 280 lbs. Now while some humans can weigh that much, a human of comparable fitness like our modern human weigh in at around only 210 lbs as an adult male. Now this female lion has a higher muscle to body mass index than the human, can run faster, jump higher, and bite harder. She has long and protruding K-9 teeth and retractable claws. The human has no chance….. or …. Does he.”

The class shifted slightly in their seats muttering

Krill waited for a long drawn out moment before, “No, statistically he is going to get his face eaten off, however, he does still have a slight chance.”

“The human will see the predator, and immediately upon seeing the body is going to flood the system with a hormone called adrenaline. Adrenaline is a natural high for humans that can result in increased strength, speed, and heightened visual perception. The Parasympathetic system is switched off for the sympathetic nervous system. The heart begins to beat faster as blood is routed into all the major muscle groups, those being primarily the legs. All activity in the internal organs shuts down as that blood flow is routed outwards. Blood can even be funneled away from the brain, despite that seeming a bit counter productive, causing tunnel vision in the eyes. Despite this, the brain begins to work faster allowing the human to see at more frames per second which seems, to a human, to slow down time.”

He turned to look at them, “Now a human has three opinions in a dangerous situation like this, either fight, flight, or freeze. All of these responses would have been adaptive in an environment like this with fight being, hopefully, the last response. Many predator animals are geared for a chase, so freezing will give a human a better chance of survival because if they run they will most certainly be attacked. ON the other hand sometimes this will not work, and being able to run as fast as possible is their only option. Backed against a wall and unable to run fast enough, a human has to fight. Some humans do not react in this order.”

He turned to look at the image, “The human body on adrenaline is capable of some wild and unbelievable things. The average human only uses around 40-60% of their body's natural strength. Systems in the brain will not allow more because if a human were able to use all the power of their body, they could rend muscle from bone. Well trained human athletes can use up to 70-90% of their natural strength, but during a time like this, the average human can be turned into a well trained athlete or more. In dire situations humans have been known to lift up to seven times their own body weight. During this time humans have been known to lift vehicles, wrestle wild animals, and throw large boulders. However, this does not come without a price, and the human will likely receive damage to their muscular structure.”

He turned to point at the pictures again.

“I heard a story about how a human choked to death a small mountain lion, and another man who fought off a shark. Humans are statistically unlikely to win a fight like this, but it isn’t impossible.”

He stalked around the room, “Humans do not just experience adrenaline when dealing with animals, but during accidents, public speaking events, and even in conflict with other humans. Expecting to be hurt, the human body has the ability to completely shut off its pain perception.”

There was a stunned silence all around him, and then an uproar.

Dr. krill seemed almost smug as he watched them react like that, and raised a hand for silence.

They quieted down, “Yes, you heard me, the human brain has the ability to completely ignore pain, until the danger is dealt with. The first surgery I ever did, on this human right here is a good demonstration…. If you do not want to see graphic images turn your head away now.”

Even if they had wanted too it was impossible to tear their eyes away as the image popped up on screen.

The class gasped.

There was a collective sound of disgust.

“That screwdriver had gone in through the front of his eye, broke through the back of the ocular socket and slid into one of the cortical folds of the brain. He WALKED into my surgery and conversed with me like a logical and reasoning person. He did not report any physical discomfort or pain, he did not scream or show any other signs of distress. His brain had completely shut off all response to the pain.”

He turned to walk around the circle.

“You see most of the time pain is a good thing, it allows you to know when something is wrong, but there are other times, dire situations like this where the ability to feel pain will only hinder the subject. If this human had been able to feel pain it is likely his thrashing and screaming would have caused more cortical damage than it already would have. I heard a story of a woman who fell off a cliff and broke both of her legs horribly, while she was still in pain, she managed to crawl her way off a mountain, and as soon as other humans found her she passed out as the pain got worse. Another human, who had been rock climbing, ended up with his arm trapped under a boulder and with no escape. He was there for days, but, in the end, he managed to cut off his own arm in order to escape.”

More horrified gasping from the crowd as they pulled away in shock and terror.

“These are just some of the most impressive stories. Not all humans will react like this. The vast majority of humans will freeze when they should fight, or run when they should freeze. Some will simply give up and curl into a ball, but there are other humans, like this, who under adrenaline can run like olympic sprinters, lift seven times their own size and fight better than the animals attacking them. The capabilities and the possibilities of a human under the influence of adrenaline are remarkable.”

His antenna vibrated just a little in amusement, “As you can imagine, humans do not experience this much these days, but psychological studies have reported that it is actually healthy for humans to experience the fight or flight response as it helps the brain retain that ability. For something to continue working you need to use it. Scientists say that exposing a human to a sympathetic response in a controlled environment is good for their mental health.” He sighed, “Of course this leads humans to watching horror themed movies, skydiving, and recreational fighting. Otherwise humans put themselves into controlled danger in order to feel what their ancestors felt a long time ago when they were being chased by large raging land predators, but when your species developed in an environment that hostile, it is to be expected.”

The group of four stared at krill, and by extension the animation of the real living human behind him. They tried to imagine the slim two legged figure winning a fight against the massive clawed beast, but were having trouble. Its teeth, which had once seemed so sharp, now were dull and almost useless. The nails on its hands, once considered claws were tiny, flimsy and pathetic, but….. It seemed strange, there was still something in the way it moved that suggested possibilities.

Humans were survivors where many other species were not.

Humans may not have had a very high chance.

But at least they had a chance.

#humans are space orcs #humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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ginanosakka · 4 years ago

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I Hate it Here

Masterlist

We Were Kids | Next

Moving you into Katsuki’s apartment across town took mere minutes, but everyday you spent there felt like years that you’d never get back. Everything felt too big and nostalgic, and the only thing grounding you to keep you from a panic attack, was Ryu being himself despite being pulled from school and transitioning to home school. He was just happy to be around his father all the time, immediately bombarding him with questions about his day the moment that he stepped through the door.

It wasn’t news that Katsuki wasn’t fond of comforting people, and the thought of him begging for forgiveness was laughable — but that brick wall you put up the moment you stepped through his threshold for the second time was driving him insane. When he was around, you were somewhere else in the house on the phone, or on the laptop you purchased and had shipped to his home as soon as possible. On the rare occasion he did see you for more than a few seconds, you looked drained of life. . and scared.

You were tough even when you two were young — the constant picking at you being quirkless might have made you think he thought otherwise, and he wondered if that contributed to your hardened shell now — but there was the rare occasion when something would break through your tough skin.

And it was always your father that did it.

Katsuki practiced his jabs that he tried out in training with Kirishima on the air, trying to make sure every moment was precise to recreate the amount of damage he dealt everytime. You had tagged along after phoning him and asking what he was doing, receiving the usual ‘I’m training and don’t give a shit if you come or not’ that you always took as a very hostile ‘yes’.

Usually, you’d make small noises of approval as he trained, and after yelling about you messing up his concentration but only getting a tongue stuck out at him in response, he had grown use to your annoying presence. Which is why he stole glances at you today when you were completely silent, and he found himself curious about why you didn’t even look at him as he trained. Bakugou was more aware of your every moment than you’d ever know, and he wanted it to stay that way, so he continued to only steal glances instead of confronting you.

“My dad didn’t tell me happy birthday.” There it was. The moment you’d break the silence and spill your guts to him with no coaxing needed from him.

That’s what drove him crazy about you; how you adapted to his pride and made being there for you so easy.

“He had Jun give me my necklace and money when I woke up, and I asked her if he made any plans to see me today. . She said he’s a busy man and I need to grow up. . Am I asking for too much?”

You looked up at him with every ounce of insecurity on full display, the kind of look he hated seeing on your face more than he hated seeing you in those stupid get-ups your mom bought you. Even he had said happy birthday to you, granted it was though text and there was no gift with it, but at least he had the decency to listen when you said that all you wanted was to hear two simple words from the people you cared about. It pissed Katsuki off even more that he knew you told your dad that’s all you wanted, and it didn’t take a genius to know that he didn’t do it on purpose. Now Katsuki had to be the one to pick up your broken pieces.

“Idiot, it’s not your fault that your old man is trash.” He grunted, turning away from you to stare at nothing so he didn’t have to see that stupid sparkle in your eyes when he said something nice.

That damn sparkle made his heart squeeze.

He was relieved to hear your soft laughter, “I guess you’re right. He’s better at bribing people than caring for them.”

If only he could tell you how true those words were.

“Shit.” Katsuki mumbled under his breathe, the realization of what was happening hitting him like a brick.

That day he went to your office, he hadn’t been there just to get a look at what you had accomplished, and the reason he got so riled up by your secretary was more than just being told he couldn’t see you. He had gotten a tip from Tokoyami that morning about a yakuza organization that was deeply involved in many missing people cases, and also suspects for the assasination of small business companies that were expected to outgrow large corporations.

That organization had your picture on the wall, along with pictures of those who were missing, and ones who had not gone missing but were on police watch due to the likelihood of them being taken next. Katsuki chalked it up to you being seen with him when he was a target for many villains due to his success in taking down and capturing villains with ease, and he let the most obvious point go over his head. He had just immediately wen to go see you to calm his nerves, not even second guessing his own answer that tied this back to the one man he had his own hit on.

The organization that had you targeted, acted under powerful businessmen in Japan. .

Your father was one of those powerful businessmen.

‘It all comes full fucking circle,’ Katsuki thought angrily as he picked up his office phone, knowing that he had to get his least favorite heroes on the case.

“I’m not asking you to take sides, I’m asking you to tell me the truth!” You hissed into the phone, and you could feel every ounce of your patience draining from your body and your tone.

It had been three days. Three days since you moved in with the father of your child, three days of feeling anxious and livid, and three days of trying to get in contact with your mother. For once, you could say that the least of your worries was Katsuki, and now it happened to be the life of your child again. You weren’t stupid — the moment Katsuki mentioned your safety specifically being threatened you knew who had put the hit out on you, and he wanted you to know.

It was your father’s way of warning you that if you even thought of exposing that you were his daughter that ‘went missing’,or tell them what he had done, you and Ryu will never know peace again. The knowledge that you were in his sights again and he still was just as ruthless as ever couldn’t even fully register in your brain, but you knew you had to do something. This was your baby’s life that was in danger again, and this time he isn’t living inside of you so you could have him with you at all times. You didn’t even know how to have this conversation with Katsuki when he didn’t even have the decency to tell you there was someone after your son while he sat in school. In fact, you were doing your best to avoid his presence so you didn’t cause a scene and scare Ryu half to death.

And your mother had the fucking ability to help you, and she decided this was the time to wave the white flag to involving herself in you and your father’s war.

“This isn’t something that I can tell you and your father not disown me too for, Y/N! Do you really expect me to risk my life too?” Your mother responded, and your grip on the phone tightened so much that you weren’t sure how much longer you’d have before it shattered.

“Yes! I expect you to risk your life for me, mom! I expect you to be a mother for just one damn moment in your life to save your grandson! If you can’t tell me what he knows and what you’ve told him, this will not only get ugly for him, but for you too!” You threatened with full intention of making it a reality.

“I can-“ as she spoke you heard a male voice in the background that made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach before the phone went dead.

You paced the floor with a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming with Ryu napping in the other room, but this situation could only be fully resolved with risks being taken. The company you put blood sweat and tears into — you had long since realized you never wanted to start an entire company, but it was the best thing you knew how to do to make money to give your son the life he deserved — was going to have to be put in jeopardy. Your life, and more importantly your son’s life, would be in immediate danger once you decide to wage this war.

It’s father against daughter, and loser loses everything.

“You were really going to go through this again alone? You really piss me off sometimes.”

You whirled around to the door of the guest bedroom you were in to see not only Katsuki, but Eiji also standing there. It didn’t shock you in the slightest how pissed Katsuki looked, but Kirishima’s deathly stare had you frozen in place. Even though you knew in the back of your mind that their anger was towards your father, you couldn’t help but feel weak when two very famous pro heroes had their murderous gazes on full display for you.

“You don’t have to worry,” Kirishima said and flashed you a hardened arm. “No one is going to touch you or Ryu on my watch.”

Katsuki grunted, “I’ll kill anyone that tries.”

(A\N: So who’s ready to see full on angst, romance, and a badass reader? Cause I am ^_^! Also the amount of love and insight you guys give me on this story is insane and I still can’t than you enough 🥺 I hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki i @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha angst #bnha x reader #anime x reader #bnha fanfiction #kirishima x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha kirishima #bnha kiribaku #kiri

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jombocostello · 4 years ago

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Fluffy Okuyasu Headcanons

Hello, could I get some fluffy Okuyasu headcannons? I feel like the wholesome little boi doesn't get enough attention from the fanfiction community 😔 -Okuyasu simp

Of course!! I love Okuyasu a lot, he was my favorite from part 4 for a very long time. And I agree, he deserves endless praise and recognition!

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-Before he met you, Okuyasu never really understood the feeling of being in love. Sure, he'd harbored crushes and he found lots of people cute, but when you show up in Morioh, he falls utterly head over heels. There's something about your personality that he adores, and from the moment he introduces himself to you he's determined to win you over.

-Doing that isn't too difficult. It doesn't take long for you to realize that you reciprocate those feelings, thanks to Okuyasu's endless friendliness and humor. You're the one who confesses first, to Okuyasu's shock and delight, and he immediately pours his heart out and tells you how he's felt for the past few months that he's known you. The pure sweetness and genuine love in his words nearly makes you melt, and you punctuate the moment by planting a kiss on Okuyasu's cheek. He instantly goes bright red and, after a moment of shock, leans in and presses a shy kiss to your lips.

-Dating Okuyasu is like a dream. There isn't a moment where he isn't completely in love with you. One of his favorite things to do with you is play video games; often, he'll head over to your place and play against you in racing games until the early hours of the morning. He's very competitive when it comes to games, and that doesn't change when he's challenging you. You're a fair match for his skill, though, so you usually end up tying. Okuyasu tells himself that he won't let you win, but he does on occasion, just to see you smile and hear you laugh in victory. It never fails to make his heart flutter in his chest.

-Okuyasu always wants to hold your hand. Whether in public or in private, he always loves to have his hand entwined in yours. He truly loves the feeling of closeness that it brings. Honestly, he just loves anything that makes him feel connected to you. Sometimes he wonders if it was a fluke that he lucked out and ended up with someone as wonderful as you, but hearing you say a casual "love you" as you head to your house after a night of hanging out always pushes that thought from his mind. He's positive that you're perfect, and that he's always going to love you.

-Something else that he really enjoys doing with you is cooking! He's a big admirer of Tonio Trussardi, the local culinary genius, and after some begging he managed to get a hold of some of Tonio's easier recipes. You and Okuyasu spend many afternoons trying (and often failing) to recreate a Tonio dish, and even if you mess up horribly somewhere along the way, you both enjoy eating the meal you've made together. Okuyasu will always hold on to the sound of your laughter when you realize you've forgotten an ingredient, or you got the measurements all wrong.

-When Yoshikage Kira's presence becomes known to the stand users of Morioh, Okuyasu's immediate instinct is to try to protect you. You're a fellow stand user, so you're equipped to deal with enemy stand battles, but Okuyasu is terrified that something might go wrong and he could lose you, just like that. Still, he's confident in your abilities, so he tries to keep his protectiveness to a minimum.

-These feelings are flipped on their head during the final battle with Kira. You, Josuke, and Okuyasu do your very best to look our for each other and be careful during the fight, but when Okuyasu is hit suddenly by Kira's Stray Cat, you're horrified. Despite protests from Hayato and taunting from Kira, you drag Okuyasu to safety and kneel down beside him. Despite knowing that you should be helping Josuke, you can't bring yourself to leave Okuyasu's side. You sob as you reach out and try to staunch the bleeding from his deep wound, but everything you try seems useless. Finally, in a last-ditch move, you just reach down and take his hand in yours. You know how much he likes holding your hand, and you pray that he can somehow feel how much you need him.

-When he opens his eyes and takes a sharp breath in, you instantly let go of his hand and wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. "Hey," he manages to say, his voice tired and raspy. "I'm still here." As tears stream down your face, you kiss him, again and again. You have so much you want to say, but you can't - you have to get back to Josuke and finish this.

-After Kira has been killed and Reimi Sugimoto's soul is freed, it takes a while for you and Okuyasu to fall back into some semblance of a routine. You often remember the feeling of holding Okuyasu, lifeless, in your arms as you heard Josuke fight for his life a mere few feet away. It's a horrifying memory, but having your big group of friends makes dealing with your feelings a lot easier. Eventually and Okuyasu get back to playing video games and butchering Tonio's recipes, and through it all, you're always holding hands.

#my writing #okuyasu nijimura #okuyasu x reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo imagine #jjba imagine #jojo headcanons #i don't think i'll ever get the headcanon format right but hey this is closer than ever before #thanks for the request! i was due for some okuyasu appreciation #also unrelated but i just found the purple tumblr color palette and i'm enjoying it immensely

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maeve-writes · 4 years ago

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Beautiful Hell

Inspired by: Beautiful Hell by ADNA

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (tfatws) x Reader (experiment/mutant!Reader) Rating: 18+, Minors DNI Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Summary: Your past shows up in an unexpected way thanks to Bucky Barnes. You just wanted to be... normal, not caught up in the life of a hero or worse, and yet you’re drawn to him, addicted to him even. You thought that part of your life was over, but your relationship opens up a whole new chapter that you’re not sure you’re ready for. a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. I have not written anything that wasn’t work related in about three years, so I’m a little rusty. This is just a dip of my toe back into the water. I’d like to continue this if there is any interest! Thanks for reading!

There’s very little that makes you upset these days. You have a great job, a cozy apartment, and wonderful friends. It’s taken a long time for you to find stability and even longer for you to accept that it was okay to have it. Most of that struggle was on your own, but you eventually found others like you that were dealing with the same inner turmoil and you’ve grown.

The group still meets twice a month, but now you run it. You see the same pain and anger in the eyes of strangers that you once held, you’ve been in their shoes and you want to help start their journey of healing and self discovery. You would never turn someone away who wanted help, who sought out the chance to better themselves, but six feet of muscle and adamantium shuffles into the recreation room of the local Boy’s and Girl’s Club, and you bend the already folded aluminum chair in half.

The squeak of the metal catches his attention and his brow knits together. His eyes dance between your face, the chair, and back again. “Cheap material,” you say weakly with a lift of your shoulders. You watch as he puckers his lips in thought and his hands are shoved into his jacket.

One of your regulars, Sarah, takes the chair from you and tries to right it once more, but finds it more difficult than you played it up to be. “Set up the rest, I’ve got this,” you tell her, happy to tear your attention away from the man. You reset the bars of the chair and unfold it, placing it on the floor to see if it will act as it should. It’s a little wonky, the bend leans it too far back, but it will hold you - it’s a chair.

You sit among the circle and begin. People sip their coffee and share their stories for the week. The new people introduce themselves, including him, but everyone already knows his name. He didn’t share this time, but you could tell he wanted to from the way his jaw clenched and the uncomfortable shifts in his sheet. You were like that once, you know just how he feels.

Two hours pass and the crowd slowly trickles out. You start the clean up, the putting away of the chairs. You move around the room and do your best to ignore his eyes burning into you - into your soul. “You could at least help clean,” you tell him without looking up from the sink against the far wall where you now stand. “Chairs still need to be put away.”

It takes a few beats, but you hear his heavy footsteps fall behind you and the eventual scrap of metal as the chairs are being folded. There’s a steady rhythm to his method, a clink of his metal arm against the chair, the screech as the chair is closed and his footfalls to the corner to put it away.

You finish your last coffee pot, drying your hands and turn to see the wonky chair in his hold. “Cheap material,” he repeats, looking down at it before he bends it back and forth. You see him trying to mold it back into better shape than you had earlier as your face grows hotter by the second. When he deems it “good enough,” he brings it over to join the others. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you reply instantly.

His head snaps around, blue eyes burning, “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not true,” you counter, “I’ve lied to myself for years.”

He turns to you fully and crosses his arms over his broad chest. He doesn’t find your attempt at what he thinks is a joke funny. “Who are you,” he asks again, his voice becoming clipped and impatient.

You tell him your name, your full name but it does not ring any bells to him. It wouldn’t, not in a way he would realize. “You saved someone years ago, not as… you, but as,” you pause and wave the towel you used to dry your hands, “you know.” You try your best to ignore how his body tenses up and you continue, “You killed his wife and his unborn son. You changed him. Changed everything, really. Somehow, I got caught up in it all.”

His hardened stare quickly shifts into curiosity and you force yourself to look away before you crash into the stormy blue. “They pumped us full of all sorts of stuff. A lot of us didn’t make it. I can still hear the screams if I try.” You grind your teeth to make yourself stop falling into that abyss. “But my dad raised me by himself, he taught me how to survive, how to be strong. He always told me: Girl, if you’re gonna go down, go down swingin’. And I forced myself to keep going, no matter what they did, I wasn’t going to let those assholes get the best of me.”

The towel was back in both of your hands now, pulled and stretched as you tried not to think about the pain and the loneliness that followed. “But eventually I was freed, just like you freed that other guy. I got a chance to be him now… but I didn’t take it.” The terry cloth ripped in half and your arms fell by your sides.

You dared to look up at the man and you inwardly swore. His face was so painfully beautiful, full lips were in a pout and his eyes twinkled blue in their sadness, in their empathy. “They wanted us to be something and I wasn’t going to let someone else define me. I ran for years, scared and alone. I had to change my life over and over because I didn’t want them to find me, then I realized I was actually doing what they wanted… I was being someone I’m not.”

You crossed the room to the trash can nearby and not too far behind he followed. The two of you began to toss half-eaten pastries and empty disposable coffee cups. “So, I settled down here, started to go by my real name and took any threat that came my way.” You watched him sniff at an uneaten danish, “Cherry, I think.” His shoulder lifts in a ‘what-the-hell’ kind of way and he takes a bite. “It took about two decades for them to stop,” you finish, “and I was able to finally start to live my life.”

He silently offers half of the danish to you, which you decline. “And when the world went to hell in a hand-basket, you what, sat here and lived your life?” The blow was meant to sting and it did. He didn’t know if you were gone in The Blip but from your recoil, he got his answer. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you obviously have the ability to help people, you should use it.”

“I do,” you reply, offended. “This,” you wave your hands around for the second that evening, “helps people. Just because I don’t strap on leather and beat up bad guys doesn’t mean I don’t make a difference.”

Bucky stills completely, even his breathing, and he looks down into the trash can he has been pushing around for you. It looks as though he wants to toss himself in it. “You’re right,” he says with a heavy exhale, “that wasn’t fair of me. It’s just… the world is running low on heroes, they’re now relying on a guy in a bird suit.”

“I thought that guy was your friend,” you ask with a tilt of your head.

When the corner of his mouth tips up into a boyish smile, you mirror it with a toothy grin because of how infectious it is. “Yeah,” he nods, “I guess he is. But I just hate being the only muscle.”

“You’re plenty enough for this hemisphere,” you laugh and reach out to pat his shoulder, when you feel the muscle packed there, you whistle through your teeth, “and maybe the other one, too.”

He laughs and rolls the shoulder you tapped, tossing off your hand playfully. “Yeah, well it wouldn’t hurt to have more because getting hurt hurts.” You two exchange smiles and finish trash detail. He ties up the full bag and prepares to bring it out while you work on putting a new one in the can.

You lead him out back to the dumpsters and he tosses the bag in after you open the heavy metal lid. When it falls closed again with a loud, ringing bang, you pull out a pack of sanitizing wipes and offer him one which he gladly accepts. “This might not be the right time,” he begins, eyes drawn to the large, smelly trash bin next to the pair of you, “but would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Who knew you were so romantic, Sergeant Barnes,” you tease to hide your fluttering heartbeat that he can undoubtedly hear. Under the pale yellow beam of the streetlights you can see the flush forming on his face that mirrors your own. “I’m free tomorrow around seven.”

Bucky straightens to his full height and his eyes sparkle brightly when that boyish curl makes its way back to his lips. “Then it’s a date,” he nods as you both pull out your phones to exchange numbers and you give him your address.

“Don’t be late,” you warn him, tone playfully serious, “I get angry if I don’t eat before eight. Bad things happen if I don’t eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a low rumbling chuckle, “I don’t plan to disappoint you.”

Your face splits into a smile and you lead your way back in, “See you tomorrow, Sergeant.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, his eyes trained on your every move. “And it can’t come soon enough,” he adds under his breath.

Your day goes by in a blur. Work is stressful but rewarding. Even though you love your job, your mind was not completely on it. Just past noon you received a text: Just seeing if this works. I’m looking forward to tonight. Have a good day. BB

It is unclear if he does not really know how texts work or if it is his excuse to send you one, but either way it makes you giddier than a schoolgirl. You reread it several times, answer a few work related calls and emails before you finally answer back: It works! I’m also looking forward to tonight. My day was good, but your text made it better. Hope yours is fantastic! xx

You are hesitant to hit send, but if you are going to shoot your shot, then you might as well go all in. Your phone doesn’t even go to sleep before you get another text in return: I’m about to see the prettiest gal in town, my day will be more than fantastic. How do you feel about sushi and bowling? BB

Of all of the things to do, especially together, you would not think of Bucky Barnes to pick that as your first night out together, but you had a weakness for sushi and your competitive side could never say no to a game or two: I haven’t been bowling in years, but I’m sure I can teach you a few things. xx

Oh, sweetheart, you’ll be learning a thing or two before the night is over. BB

You aren’t sure if you guys are talking about bowling anymore and that thought lights a fire in your belly. With a shaky breath you send your last reply: I’ll be happy to learn anything as long as I get to call you Professor Barnes and I can stay after class for extra credit. ;) xx

It isn’t until two hours after your lunch that you get your last reply from him: Looking up that reference sent me to the part of the internet that I’m still not used to, but I’m glad I did. You don’t happen to have a skirt and some of those socks that go up to your knees, do you? Don’t answer that, I won’t be able to make it through dinner. See you at 7. BB

You did happen to have just what he asked for and it was tempting to wear it, but you tucked the idea into your pocket for another time. Instead, you picked something more appropriate for bowling, a pair of navy skinny fit cotton dress pants with enough stretch to not rip when you bent over to toss a ball, a curve hugging camisole that was draped by a soft, cream colored cashmere sweater.

After messing with your hair for an hour, you settled for a messy bun and just finished your makeup when your doorbell rang. You call out to him to “hold on” as you shuffle through your apartment, trying to wriggle into your loafers on the way to open the door. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry,” you apologize as you pull open the door.

He’s standing in the doorway dressed in a canvas jacket over a plain black shirt, dark jeans over his long, thick legs and his normal boots top it off. “You look gorgeous,” he says, forcing you away from your lingering gaze as it continues to travel up and down his body like he’s the one for dinner. “These are for you,” he presents a bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile. “They’re beautiful,” you say wistfully, taking the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. “Thank you.” He nods and stands near the door as you finish putting on your shoes. “Let me put these in water and we can go.” “Take your time,” he says and trains his eyes on you. They follow you through the apartment, to the kitchen as you look through your cabinets for a vase. When you bend over, his head tilts ever so slightly which you can see out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to try and catch him, he just smiles innocently. “Need any help?”

“I’ll manage,” you laugh and eventually find a vase. The flowers are arranged not so elegantly into the glass, but you add water and place them in the center of your kitchen island. “Now, I’m starving and getting hangry.”

“Hangry,” he repeats. “That doesn’t sound good. I guess I should feed you before that happens.” He holds out an arm and like a magnet you are drawn to him and latch to it, maybe it’s because of the metal. Nevertheless, you walk arm and arm to the sushi hole-in-the-wall two blocks away, eating in a small booth in the corner to hide away from prying eyes.

You learn about Bucky Barnes for the first time. Like everyone else, you hear things from the news, from the internet, you try to shift through the lies and mess. But here you’re learning what he likes, what he’s learned, what he wants to learn. He doesn’t give his past up as freely as you did, it’s obvious he’s still coming to terms with it, but everyone travels at their own pace.

He learns about you, too. He asks you about things none of your past dates have asked. Hell, even your past boyfriends and girlfriends weren’t interested in half of the stuff Bucky manages to squeeze out of you. And you find it so easy to talk to him, so natural. You’ve only known him for two days, but it feels like decades.

Your hand slips into his when you leave the restaurant and head to the bowling alley. He laces your fingers together two blocks into your walk and you once again wrap your free hand around his arm. It pains you to move away when you have to go in and put on the bowling shoes.

“Before we begin,” he says to you as he watches you put your names into the computer, “let’s make a bet.” You finish entering the ‘y’ of his name and lift an inquisitive brow his way. “If you win, you can have one thing you would want from me.”

You twist in your seat and narrow your eyes, “And if you win?”

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, you watch it disappear with a pout, “I get a kiss.”

“You could just ask for one,” you laugh and slowly lean towards him.

Bucky, too, leans in and bumps noses with you, “Yeah, but it’s more fun if I work for it.” He sits back and winks, trying not to laugh at your deflated and deepening pout. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’re up first.”

You sigh heavily and pick up the bright green ball that you picked from the line waiting to be thrown. “Okay, if I win, then I get to wear that skirt and socks for you,” you say over your shoulder before you toss the ball down the lane. It rolls down the center and knocks down all ten pins as STRIKE flashes on the screen above you.

When you flop down in the chair next to him, he’s still staring at the spot where you stood moments before, gears still churning. “Hey,” you laugh, snapping your fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his daze, “are you okay?”

“Would it be wrong of me to lose on purpose,” he asks sheepishly. You roll your eyes and cross your arms and he lifts his own in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it, that’s no fun. Just know, darlin’, I don’t go down without a fight.” He steps up and takes the same ball you used and chucks it halfway down the lane before it, too, knocks down all ten pins. He turns to you, a smirk plastered on his face.

As much as you loved to have fun, you loved to win more. “Is that how it’s going to be,” you asked, getting up to pass him on the way to take your turn.

He laughs, pressing close as you both slow when you come into each other’s orbit. “That’s how it’s going to be,” he nods and rakes over his lip with his teeth. A challenge is set and you don’t back down. Strikes and spares are thrown by the both of you in between lingering touches and whispered sweet nothings.

In the hour you two have rented the lane, you managed two games and with one point over you, Bucky wins. He doesn’t claim his prize right there, it’s too public and there’s far too many people around. Instead, he offers to walk you home and you happily accept as long as you can wrap yourself around him once again, which you do.

You two try to take your time on the way back, enjoying the crisp evening air, but more so each other's company. The conversation from dinner continues as a flow of likes and dislikes between more sweet nothings. You’re lovedrunk by the time you’re at your front door and you don’t want the night to come to an end.

Reluctantly, you release him from your hold and he looks as disappointed as you feel. “Tonight has been wonder-” “I had such a great-” you both begin simultaneously and trail off together, ending in nervous laughter.

“Thank you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “for such an amazing night.”

“I should be thanking you,” he says, a hand timidly reaching out to rest on your hip. “I’ve been a little rusty at this kind of thing, but you made it easy.” His thumb traces the arc of your hip bone and you step closer to him. “But, you know, I might need some more practice.” You resisted to roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbles between the both of you. The distance closes by one of you, and you don’t care who, but you find your hands splayed across his chest, “I think I can help you out there.”

“That would be my second win of the night,” he grins down at you, his eyes trained on your lips.

“Speaking of my win,” he trails off. His flesh hand raises to your cheek and you instinctively lean into it. Your nose wrinkles at his chuckle but it doesn’t stop you from raising on your toes to close what little space there was between you.

You could sense his hesitation, the silent question of what was enough and what was too much. A small hum bubbled in your throat as you pushed your hands up his chest, nails scraping up his neck and into his hair. You could feel the shiver ripple throughout his body and his teeth came out to bite down on your bottom lip.

It was your turn to laugh now and he licked into your mouth in return, turning it into a whimpering moan. You could feel his triumphant smirk against your lips and you reward it with a tug of his hair. His hips instantly buck against you which throws you off balance, but he catches you with his metal arm winding around your back and pins you against him.

Your tongues slip and slide against one another, the taste of his sushi and beer choice mixes with your own. Your nails once again claw along his scalp and cause him to growl into your mouth. He surges forward with you in his grip and crowds you against your door, reluctantly breaking away for air, “We should say goodnight,” Bucky whispered against your kiss swollen lips.

“You can tell me good morning when you wake up next to me tomorrow,” you shoot back and roll your hips against his, causing both of you to react with a strained moan.

“Are you sure,” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush with your name on it,” you nod. You watch him debate the issue with himself before placing one last chaste kiss on your lips before losing his grip just enough to let you open the door.

You two stumble in, Bucky pulling you back to him, his mouth kissing along your jaw as you try to lock up for the night. You barely got the deadbolt turned when his teeth sank into your sink causing you to cry out. He instantly licks at apologetically and turns his attention to getting you undressed instead.

When your sweater is pulled over your head, you push off Bucky’s jacket, both falling to the floor near the door. Shoes are next to go, sloppily kicked off near each other and once again you two are drawn back together, tongues dancing. Your fingers twist into the short brown locks and his hands snaked down to your ass. He lightly cups each cheek, using them to bring you as close as possible, and even though your bodies leave very little room for air to pass through you still try to move closer.

“Bed,” he breathes into your mouth. You give him a quick nod. With a happy groan, he squeezes you by your bottom, picking you up to carry you to your room, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist.

Your small one bedroom apartment isn't anything special, but it is yours and it has the biggest, comfiest bed that you are in love with. Bucky easily guides you both there, not once breaking your kiss aside from grunting or growling from your teasing hair pulls or the rolls of your hips.

He climbs onto the mattress with you still wrapped around his upper half, crawling up to the pile of pillows near the headboard where he eventually lays you down. His weight settles above you, and normally, you would welcome it’s warmth and comfort, but at that moment, you want it to be rough and needy. “Bucky,” you whine, this time the one to break the kiss.

Flushed cheeks and blown pupils, he looks down at you, boxing you in with his arms on either side of your head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re wearing too much,” you tell him as you try to pull off his shirt, it makes it up to his shoulders before it stops. His laugh shakes his entire body and yours, which makes you pout in return.

“You’re wearing the same amount, doll,” he reminds you, looking down to see your breasts sway in your camisole. “Far, far too much, in my opinion.”

You roll your eyes and playfully slap at his chest, “Then do something about it.” He mutters something about impatience and sits on his knees between your parted thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head to toss it aside.

“Your turn,” he nods to your shirt while he works on the buckle of his belt. You hastily pull the top over your head and work on your slacks, wriggling out of them just as does his own. He sits back on his hunches and looks you over, laying spread out in a matching white lace bra and underwear set. Now at he’s down to his boxer briefs, you can see how big he his, how hard he is, and when his wandering eyes rest on your covered sex, you can see it twitch with anticipation. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t think your entire body could blush from embarrassment, but Bucky just proved you could. “That’s my line,” you return, taking in every inch of his exposed skin over hard muscle. Super serum or not, Bucky Barnes was a gorgeous specimen. When you two finally lock eyes once more, you both shiver. “Are you going to touch me?”

He lets out a shaky breath and reaches out to run a hand lightly over your damp panties, slick from your want for him. “I’m afraid I’ll never stop,” he replies honestly, instantly addicted to the needy whimpers you are giving him.

“I don’t think I would want you to,” you groan. “Please?” You feel his fingertips dance over the lace, tracing over the pattern and causing you to throb with need. “Bucky!”

“You need me, don’t you,” he asks, voice dropping to a low rumble that hits you right at your core and makes your toes curl. “You need my touch. Need me to satisfy that ache?” You nod desperately trying to sit up to pull him down on top of you, but he pins you down before you could rise. “Tell me,” he purrs.

“I need you,” you respond instantly. You’re rewarded with his fingers pushing the panties aside and begin to dance along the slick folds.

“You need what,” he goads. He finds your clit and rubs it once to draw a happy mew from you but stops much to your disappointment.

“I need you, Bucky. I need you to touch me, to kiss me,” you whine with a rock of your hips, trying to get him to move again, but he doesn’t. “I need you to taste me, to lick me, to fuck me.”

Smile on his kiss bruised lips, his thumb swirls around your bud and he sinks his middle finger into you with a groan. “You’re tight,” he hisses as he sinks knuckle-deep, “and dripping. Shit, you’re going to feel like heaven.”

You can’t focus on what he’s saying too much. The feel of his fingers pumping in and out of you feels good, feels right, but it’s not enough, even when he adds two or three. He works you open, your slick starting to run down his fingers, and he palms himself over his briefs. “Bucky, please,” your voice cracks, “I need more.”

He nods, he has time to take you apart with just his fingers later, but it’s been so long since he’s been with someone like this, someone he’s felt like this with, he needs it as much as you do. When he removes his fingers from you, you whine at the loss but it cuts off into a gasp as you watch him lap and suck off your slick from his hand. Bucky freezes, eyes narrowing, and for a moment you’re wondering if you did something wrong. “What? What is it?”

“Trying to stop myself from eating you alive,” he says through clenched teeth, jaw visibly flexing with the effort. You blink up at him, confused, but he shakes his head and forces himself to remove his boxer briefs. “I’m having you for breakfast,” he decides.

“Uh huh,” you reply absently, your mouth watering as his cock bounces against his stomach when it’s free. It’s long, thick, and leaking, trying to hypnotize you and very much succeeding.

“I’ll let you return the favor, sweetheart,” he laughs. His flesh hand spreads his pre-cum down his shaft and he pumps slowly while his metal hand pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Still with me?”

Blinking free of your daze, you stare at his lustful gaze and nod. He moves closer, hooks your legs over the bends of his elbows and runs the head of his cock along your folds. Your hole twitches desperately for him, “Such a pretty little pussy, so needy.” Your hands wrap around his wrists and grip at him tightly, hard enough to make him hiss. “You’ve been a good girl, I guess I can give you what you want.”

He pushes in agonizingly slow, the head of his cock sinking in what felt like centimeter by centimeter. You clench around him, trying to draw more of him in, but Bucky takes his time to bottom out. When he is finally fully seated in you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and apparently so did he. “Fuck,” you say simultaneously.

Your legs are positioned around his waist and he once again frames your head with his forearms, which, in turn, pushes him further inside of you. “You feel so good, doll,” he whispers against the ‘o’ of your lips. “So warm, so tight, taking me so good.” Your hands find their way up his arms and into his hair. All it takes is one tug that has him growling, “And I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy so good that it’s going to feel me all week.” He rolls his hips back as slowly as he originally pushed in, “And I wanna hear you tell everyone who it belongs to while I do it.”

He snaps his hips forward driving you up the bed and further into the pillows, a cry getting caught in your throat from it. His pace is brutal, skin slaps against skin, and his mouth seeks out yours. The kiss is sloppy, but hungry, just as primal as his pistoning hips. You hold on to him the best you can as the bed rocks, headboard slamming against the wall. Your nails trail against his skin, egging him on and drawing sinful noises from love-swollen lips.

His hips shift angles and eventually find that spot that makes you see stars. “Bucky,” you cry out breathlessly, uncurling your toes and removing your nails from his shoulder blades. He buries his face in your neck and marks you with his teeth and tongue as he relentlessly fucks towards your brink. “So… f-fuck- so close.”

“Cum for me then, sweetheart,” Bucky growls against your skin, snaking a hand between your bodies to work at your clit. “Show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” His thumb rubs over your bud once, twice and a white hot punch in your gut blossoms throughout your body as you let out a strangled cry of his name.

You can feel yourself clamp around him, working him impossibly deeper, begging him to fall down into the abyss with you. And he does, hard. He chases his bliss with you, your name a mantra spilling from his lips as he spills inside of you. He doesn’t stop until you’ve both become too sensitive to handle anymore. He pulls out of you with a heavy sigh and falls next to you on the bed onto his stomach.

“Holy shit,” you finally break the silence, “that was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his head turned to look at you with tired, blissful eyes. “Goddamn, yeah it was.”

You weakly reach around to search for his hand and eventually find it, he lances his fingers with yours. You don’t break eye contact when he leans over to share a few chaste kisses before collapsing again. “You’re fantastic, Bucky, and I want you to know that was the hottest sex I have had to date.”

His post orgasm bliss is shattered and replaced with a furrowed brow, “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“...but as hot as it is feeling you drip out of me, I need to shower,” you finish. You can see the relief wash over him and he nods in understanding.

“I’ve got a good memory,” he yawns and taps at his head, “that image is stored right here.” You fight a blush and slide off of your bed to head to the bathroom when seconds later you hear him do the same. He shrugs at your questioning look, “No need to waste water, right?”

You laugh as you turn on the faucets only to be crowded against the wall and your mouth is covered with his once more. The water splashing against your bodies and the echoing sounds of your moans drown out the repeated calls to Bucky’s phone. Mission. Suit up. SW

Answer your damn phone. SW

It’s the green button. SW

Green button and slide right. SW

Dammit, if you blocked me again, I stg. SW

Man, what are you doing in Soho? Yes, I’m tracking you. OMW. SW

a/n: To be continued?

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes tfatws #bucky tfatws #bucky barnes fatws #bucky fatws #Beautiful Hell bb fic

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nissanmaxima · 4 years ago

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Imagine Being in a Play with UA High

Foot Note: Hello dearies! I am back from the dead! I DO in fact have one for the pro heroes too and Class 1-B but I don’t know if I should just scrap Class 1-B cause like Shinsou and I haven’t found anyone who likes Tetsutetsu ;-;

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Summary: UA High School has decided that the students do in fact need a time for recreation that doesn’t involve peeping toms or the constant fear of being stabbed from behind. So, Principal Nezu has decided that there shall be a play! Yes! Hamlet! A story told around the world and shall be performed by the students of classes 1-A, 1-B and the other classes shall help with sets, costumes and marketing! Oh what fun they’ll have!

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Yo peep the banner

👓 - Without a doubt, Tenya would probably be the director and you would be the stage manager, just to be around him.

👓 - If, for whatever you reason you actually decide to actually be in the play, he would criticize you the least and be the hardest on Izuku or Todoroki or... Whatever...

👓 - You’d visit his dorm late at night so you could rehearse your lines and ‘practice’. It usually ends with his face as red as a tomato and a hard on as big as Mount Rushmore.

👓 - Trying on outfits that Momo and the support classes made in front of him will turn him into a blushing mess!

👓 - “Iida, do you think this is too tight?”

👓 - He turned around and saw the beautiful corset wrapped around your upper body, it pushed your breasts up, the sleeves of the arms so long they sank to the floor.

👓 - He took notice that you didn’t wear the wig given to go with the outfit. You told him it would mess with your edges. He took note of the light makeup.

👓 - In short you looked like a fucking queen. As you should.

👓 - He couldn’t fight the urge to just hug you. You looked so beautiful, and you were going to show everyone the beauty that he sees almost everyday.

Yo I said peep the banner

💥 - “I’M GONNA BE THE LEAD, NOT YOU DEKU!”

💥 - We all know where that was heading. Of course, his constant need for praise due to his own insecurity has made him the perfect role for the lead male. You’d be the perfect female role!

💥 - “Susu, you shouldn’t yell. We have to save our voices for once we perform-“

💥 - “Yeah yeah, just help me rehearse my line, idiot...”

💥 - Like Tenya, a late night visit would be an actual rehearsal but then it’d turn into late night kisses, kisses that led to slow grinding and that grinding led to something that almost woke up the entire floor.

💥 - Day of the performance and Bakugo’s got anxiety. Bakugo? The one who’s usually telling people to get it together and bring it their all? Yes that Bakugo.

💥 - You hugged him from behind and cooed in his ear. Whispering sweet nothings and telling him it’ll be okay. You felt him exhale and you let him turn around to face you.

💥 - He stared you straight in the eyes and leaned in. But before lips could touch, he was called to the curtains so he could go out. A smile danced itself onto your face before pushing him to go out.

BITCH I SAID PEEP THE BANNER

🥦 - We all know Deku would somehow get the lead. Maybe because of his dedication to be the #1 hero? I don’t fucking know. But you loved being his costume designer

🥦 - “Zuzu, is this okay?”

🥦 - He tried on the suit given to him. With your creativity and Momo’s... Literal creativity. The idea came to light. It hugged the front of his toned chest.

🥦 - You blushed at the sight. Yes Zuzu was your baby but whenever certain thoughts creeps into your head, you go into a daze. Nodding frantically, you told him the costume was fantastic.

🥦 - Unlike Tenya and Bakugo, you didn’t have any lines to rehearse, but you did like helping Zuzu with his lines once it’s time to turn in to your separate dorms. Sneaking past the other rooms, you’d bring snacks and little gadgets to pass the time.

🥦 - Believe it or not, Zuzu doesn’t have the greatest memory. As seen on stage when he was doing a scene with Bakugo and he tensed up. A wave of anxiety washed over his body and he started to sweat. He didn’t want to mess up in front of you.

🥦 - He looked around only to find you in the audience. You gave him a hopeful smile and two thumbs up, encouraging him to keep going even if he forgot his lines. After all, Improv is better than complete silence!

🥦 - The crowd cheered them after the play and everyone congratulated them, including you. A big confident smile adorned his face as he knew you were proud of the confident boy he had become.

Thank you for noticing the banner

🧊 - I feel like Shoto would be a supporting character in the play. His father, Endevour, would urge him to be the lead, making him want to play a supporting role even more, his rebellious nature showing even in the most relaxed places

🔥 - “Do whatever makes you happy, Sho-Sho! I think playing any role is amazing!”

🧊 - He decided on playing a supporting role. You, however, were in charge of special effects. Smoke, lightening, blood, etc. Shoto was curious as to how you’d work with the options given to you. How the blood would spray if cut a certain way, how the smoke would cover the stage, etc.

🔥 - Late night sessions were pretty chill. It’d start out like Midoriya and his end up as Bakugo. Other times it’d be just regular sessions with you helping Shoto practice his lines and show emotion.

🧊 - “Sho, I have to plan out these effects...”

🔥 - “I know I know just let me see this...”

🧊 - What you were most proud of for Sho was his ability to show more emotion. Sho wasn’t the greatest at explaining his feelings, if anything went wrong, he’d close off and try to cool off on his own. Cooperation wasn’t his strong suit either, thinking the he had to carry the show on his own when he didn’t.

🔥 - As for you, Sho was so proud of your confidence when it came to you putting your ideas and creative ability out there for everyone to see. Yes, you were wonderful at special effects. Behind close doors. When the show ended, everyone applauded you for your skills, especially Todoroki.

🧊 - Before going on stage, you hugged him, not knowing what to say. You just wanted to be around him before going to the back of the theatre to control the effects. Todoroki just hugged you back, not having anything to say.

🐙 - My Octo boy would be a backstage help and just all around helper when it came to moving heavy things. He’s a pretty simple guy after all. Not one for the glitz and glamor. He was pretty content with being just a helping hand.

🐙 - You, however, were a part of the marketing department and not to say the other groups weren’t as difficult but... Marketing is seemingly easy and a bitch once approached upon. Shoji commended you for your patience and skills with such a task.

🐙 - Considering your group had their own separate area away from the theatre, after finishing a meeting and planning for flyers, announcements over the PA and etc, you’d find yourself back to the backstage area of the theatre where Shoji was handling the crates.

🐙 - After rehearsals were finished, you two would stay behind and walk around the theatre and just chat. He was enamoured with you, simply by listening to you talk, it was adorable. After walking around the theatre for the millionth time, he’d take you back to your dorm.

🐙 - Walking back was probably the best time you two had together, right next to the late theatre walks of course. Being around Shoji when their lives were as hectic as it was a certain privilege you don’t ever want to lose.

🐙 - Somtimes, you’d find yourself stressed about marketing. When he’d notice, he’d come behind you, take his mask off and rub his face onto yours, as if a way to cuddle. A small smile would dance its way onto your face and the stress would seemingly disappear.

🐙 - “Thank you, ZoZo...”

#poc reader #bnha #izuku x black!reader #izuku x poc!reader #mha #iida x black reader #Iida x poc!reader #bakugo x black!reader #bakugo x poc!reader #todoroki x poc!reader #todoroki x black!reader #mezo shoji #shoji x black!reader #shoji x poc!reader #bnha x poc!reader #bnha x black!reader #mha x poc!reader #mha x black!reader

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hongism · 4 years ago

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 35

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 13.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, anxiety ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part two

It is nearing nightfall by the time you all return to the ship. Yunho has already gotten Hongjoong settled in the medbay with Jongho’s help, as well as set him up with an oxygen mask and an IV, and to be frank, the sight of the infamous pirate captain splayed out so helplessly was hard to see. Whatever you were feeling must have been increased tenfold for the man who stood at your side during the whole process because you could feel the panic oozing off his bones, a nagging sensation that fell on you as well. As much as he tried to help, Yunho asked him to let him and Jongho take care of it, and Seonghwa caved with a surprising amount of haste. For better or worse, you don’t have to stay long there before Seonghwa is pulling you out to head up to the main airlock. It can only be worse because of who is waiting for you there: none other than Han Jisung come to join the crew for inexplicable reasons unbeknownst to you right now. And that is why you shift to look at Seonghwa’s sharp side profile as the two of you walk to join Yeosang in waiting by the airlock.

“Why are we bringing him aboard?”

“We need Jisung for information, and it will be less of a hassle to have him aboard,” Seonghwa explains through a clipped sigh. “I don’t trust the man as far as I can throw him, but… at least I can keep an eye on him this way.”

“Why can’t we just have Wooyoung help us through the dreams instead?”

Seonghwa glances over at you, and your eyes meet for the briefest of moments before he looks forward once more.

“We don’t know how to communicate with him yet,” Seonghwa explains. His tone is a bit more gentle this time, nothing goading or forced but rather a genuine attempt to ease some of your bubbling anxieties. “You can’t talk to him, ask him questions, or consistently control his body long enough to figure out where they’re being held. Besides, they are locked in a cell, and you can’t very well ask a guard where they are. Until we learn more about this situation and your connection to each other, this is the best course of action.”

“Would Hongjoong let him on the ship?” You inquire. You can already assume the answer, and you’re only asking for some sort of confirmation that this is a bad idea, but Seonghwa presses his lips together to form a thin line.

“Hongjoong would understand how critical the situation at hand is.”

“Would you let him walk away without a fight too?” It is a bit out of line and far too bitter, but the words are already out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Seonghwa freezes in place, steps coming to a sudden halt whilst you just continue walking as though you didn’t say a word. You can feel the way his eyes glare holes into the back of your head, and the twinge in your chest that pains your heart surely does not come from you. A wave of pain hits you as you turn to look Seonghwa in the eye.

“Hongjoong is different,” he whispers. “You know that. It isn’t that I don’t love or care about you, because I do. I feel both those things when it comes to you, in ways I can’t even begin to describe, which is why I want you to be happy and have a chance at freedom.”

“With someone whom you don’t trust or know?”

“You know and trust him yourself, do you not?” Seonghwa counters without missing a beat. “Am I supposed to decided who you trust now? Was it not you who told me that I didn’t need to worry about you? Shouldn’t doubt your abilities? I’ve already told you that I am not happy about this situation at all, but still I will not decide this for you, even if you ask me to.”

“Then what am I supposed to think? Right now it feels like you only want me gone so you can feel less guilty about going back to Hongjoong at the end of the day.” You turn on your heel, fully prepared to leave him standing there on his own in the heat of your unreasonable annoyance. Seonghwa closes the distance between your bodies with a surprising haste and grabs hold of your wrist, spinning you back around to face him in no time. You hardly have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air out of you by pressing you up against the wall of the corridor. You know what’s coming next before it happens, and it’s for that exact reason that you dip your chin to the side as Seonghwa moves in to plant his lips atop yours.

A dry and emotionless laugh escapes his lips instead, and you stare at the floor with eyes burning more than ever. Seonghwa slams a hand down hard on the space of metal beside your head.

“I should never have been selfish with you,” he mutters. You try not to think about how much bitterness his tone holds. “That was a mistake on my part. There is no security or certainty in a life like ours, nothing I can provide that would give you either of those things. I’m sorry for making you believe that I could ever give you something as certain as that.”

A thought dashes across the forefront of your mind, one that tells you to swallow the hurt nagging at your chest and take comfort in his body instead, but it doesn’t last long. You know better, and you know it wouldn’t fix anything in the long run. It will only make it harder on both of you if you let yourselves get any more attached before your inevitable demise that ends in you leaving with Jisung.

“Do you regret this?” Your voice could not possibly be more quiet than it is now. You lift a shaky hand to his chest, pressing your palm hard against the spot that now emanates the most pain. “Getting close and such?” Seonghwa shifts to place his hand over yours but hesitates at the last second. His lips twist into a strained smile.

“I do, but only because it is ending with you in pain. No, I don’t regret any of the time I spent with you, and I still mean everything I told you. Perhaps this is for the best. I am content with the time I got to spend with you, and I won’t ask for anything more than that.”

“All I wanted you to do was stop me,” you plea as though it will make him change his mind right here and now.

“There’s nothing to stop yet, Y/N.”

“Do you need me to show you how badly I don’t want to go for you to stop me?” Seonghwa exhales a deep heave of air and pulls away from you.

“What do you want more than anything else?”

“San back safely.” Seonghwa barely finishes his question by the time you’re answering, but in your mind, there is no need for any sort of hesitation. If Seonghwa is surprised at all, he doesn’t let it slip through; all he does is smile back at you. You only realize your mistake after the fact, stuttering in your next rush to speak. “A-And Mingi and W-Wooyoung as well.”

“What about after that then?”

His question doesn’t stump you because you don’t know the answer. You know what it is you want when this is all over. You want to rest, to stop running, for all this mess to be done with, and you don’t want to have to worry about your safety at every turn. You don’t want to wake up in a cold sweat afraid that the people you care about could be dead. You desperately want peace, but you aren’t brave enough to make the sacrifices that will get you there. Even so, there is no way you could admit it now because that would only make Seonghwa right.

“Your silence is answer enough for me.”

“That isn’t what I want with Jisung though,” you insist. “He is my past, not my future. I never let myself imagine a scenario in which I would see him again. I’ve made it this far with you all. I don’t want to leave you behind now. And even after we get the others back, I still won’t want to leave them behind either.”

“That may be the case, Y/N, but it’s — the truth of the matter is that no matter what, my first duty will always be to protect Hongjoong as his lieutenant. Perhaps that is why those lingering feelings of love are still present, but it also means that I don’t know if I can give you my love and promise to stop loving him as well. That’s — that’s beside the point though.” Seonghwa shakes his head, hand coming up to comb through his dark locks for a second before dropping back to his side. “If how I feel about Hongjoong is something you aren’t okay with, then I don’t want you to wait on me or my feelings. That isn’t what I want for you. However, this conversation can continue another time. We’ve kept Yeosang waiting long enough.”

There isn’t an opportunity to say anything more because Seonghwa steps away and returns to walking down the corridor without even waiting to see if you’ll follow. You have to jog to catch up with his broad strides, falling into step beside him with a bit more hesitance in your movements this time.

“Has… has Jisung learned anything yet?”

“The person behind all of this is still not guaranteed. Vladimir was merely an instrument for these plans, but according to Jisung, he said that there would be a special exchange on Dorado for Mingi and the others. Since you were originally the one they wanted, there is still uncertainty about what they plan to do with Wooyoung and San. Mingi, on the other hand, is set to be sent to a recreational facility on Dorado that specializes in Berserker training for pirate and bandit crews. They plan to reprogram him back into – into the Brute of Kebos, at which point he will be sent back to Vladimir. That’s apparently the bargain he made to agree to this plan. You were the prize meant for the other party but obviously, that fell through.”

“Why me of all people? With all the people on this ship, why am I significant in the slightest? Especially on Dorado of all places?”

Seonghwa shakes his head from side to side.

“Vladimir didn’t mention anything in the past few meetings Jisung has attended. We don’t even have the slightest clue as to why they want you, and still no word on who these people even are. Of course, the Ghost of Eros is valuable, there’s no doubt about that, but not this far from Eros and the Aurum system. And they certainly wouldn’t go to these lengths to get you.” His words die there, voice falling flat along with the sentence, and you watch him in silence for several seconds before he shifts to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It is evident that someone in the universe is looking for you, and they are taking great risks to get you.”

“They will have to try a lot harder than that if they want me.”

Seonghwa blinks back at you, eyes perceptive and searching as always. He seems to figure something out at that moment because his stare widens a bit before dropping to the floor without a word.

“What’s wrong?” You inquire, leaning closer to look at his face better.

“Nothing. Just a hunch. I’ll let you know if it becomes a concern later.” He shrugs off the concern and lets his hand fall off your shoulder to motion down the corridor. Yeosang has surely grown impatient by now, and it’s that thought that causes your steps and Seonghwa’s to increase in pace to meet him at the airlock. Only, once you finally reach that place, you find that he is not alone, and Jisung stands directly across from the taller blond, starkly out of place in front of Yeosang. You don’t need to visibly see Yeosang’s expression to know that the Elitist is glaring at Jisung – it’s evident in the way Yeosang speaks through his body with the tense shoulders and crossed arms, chin inclined just enough to be condescending, yet Jisung doesn’t seem phased by the man in the slightest. In fact, he just turns to you, eyes bright as ever, and grins from ear to ear like a Cheshire.

“Hey, little lady.” Something in the way he speaks those words with that smile that is branded on your brain and hand quickly darting out in your direction triggers a memory you didn’t know you had.

“Stop being a fucking idiot! You know I’m better than you, don’t you?” A hand stretches out towards you, writhing forward like a snake in the darkness, and you flinch away from the touch despite knowing that the man won’t lay a hand on you. “The next person who dares to say that to you will die a painful death.”

“J-Jisung?”

“I don’t care what kind of monster I become in their eyes. If I go to hell, so be it. They touch you, they die. Those are the rules, aren’t they? If anyone other than me lays a single finger on you…” Jisung trails off, lips twisting into a smile that is far too cruel for his gentle and precious features. “I will deliver a slow and deliberate death to each of them.”

Jisung’s hand is about to brush over your wrist – the one that bears the brand of your betrayal – when Yeosang steps between your body and his, hand coming up to knock Jisung’s own out of the way.

“It would be best for you to not cause any issues while you’re here,” the Elitist murmurs. He cocks his head to the side, maintaining that cruel and cocky air about his shoulders as he looks down at Jisung. “I’m not one for forgiveness, and you are merely here as a guest. Someone who isn’t important to the crew and has no place here. You would do well to remember that before trying to lay a hand on anyone in the crew.”

A scowl overtakes Jisung’s expression, and the man steps back to put some distance between himself and Yeosang.

“I knew her for five years. Perhaps you are the one who needs to remember your place, no?” Jisung jerks his chin forward a bit. “Or does the Royal Betrayer still think he has some impact and power over others?”

Yeosang might have lunged straight through Jisung’s throat for that comment if not for the way Seonghwa rushes to clamp his hand down hard on the man’s shoulder. He tugs Yeosang back with as much force as he can, but the simmering expression of anger on the lieutenant’s features is directed solely at Jisung.

“I would advise you to watch your mouth, Han. As acting caption, I decide your place on this ship, and that is as a guest. We need you for the time being but not in the long run, thus you ought to learn your place and remember that well.” Seonghwa plasters a stretched grin over his lips. “Now, if you would please follow me to the bridge, we can discuss in more detail the plans moving forward.”

He motions past Yeosang’s shoulder to the corridor leading to the bridge, but Jisung’s only response is to continue staring at you without saying anything for several seconds. Seonghwa’s gaze flits over to Yeosang, and the pair exchange a discreet nod before Yeosang shifts in your direction. His hand finds your arm, clamping down hard on the skin as he moves to pull you along, but another hand snakes out to push between the two of you.

“Is it not common courtesy amongst royalty to ask a lady before touching her?” Jisung bears a smile but venom drips from his tone in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

“I hate the military. Every single general and commander is corrupt beyond belief. There’s no circle in hell low enough for them. But those higher-ups? The royals who sit on their thrones and sip their expensive wine while prancing around like utter fools as the rest of us folk suffer and die on the streets… they’re the worst scum in the entire universe.”

Jisung has never liked people in positions of power, but his incessant rants about royals were always the worst to sit through because he could go on for hours and hours. Thus, it doesn’t surprise you to see him bearing such a disdain for Yeosang. Even so, you do find it a bit odd seeing as Yeosang is hardly in a position of power now, and he is no longer a royal so there isn’t much he could do with that nonexistent power.

“Think you can just take anything for yourself, is that it?”

“Han Jisung,” Seonghwa hisses, teeth so tightly pressed together that the air whistles through them. “I have no qualms tying you to a chair in the brig and extracting information from you that way. You should consider me to be merciful because if Scourge were here, he would have already dragged you there by your ankles. Learn your place before I force you to.”

One corner of Jisung’s lips tugs upwards as he grins at the lieutenant.

“Aye, aye, acting Captain.”

You can breathe easy again after that thankfully because Seonghwa manages to tug Jisung down the hall without any further disturbances. Yeosang stands completely still and watches the two retreat without saying a word for a short period of time.

“Your taste in men is questionable at best,” he grumbles after a bit, eyes continuing to bore holes into Jisung’s back.

“He just—” You stop yourself before any sort of defense slips out. It isn’t your job to defend him anymore. You have no need to protect him or say anything good about him at all. Yet even though you don’t need to, that inherent need to do so still resides in your gut. “He doesn’t like people in positions of power.”

“Is that so?” Yeosang hums to himself then shakes his head. “Come on. We can discuss the dreams you’ve been having and things you’ve noticed since coming on the ship while they’re discussing plans.”

It’s enough indication for you to realize that he no longer wants to discuss Jisung, and that is frankly fine by you. The silence it leaves you in, however, is not welcome. You don’t realize how vehemently you are rubbing at the brand on the inside of your wrist until Yeosang glances over at you and comments on the repetitive motion.

“You’re going to rub the skin raw if you keep doing that.”

“O-Oh,” you exhale, clenching your fingers into a tight fist and dropping your arms to your side. That’s all he says for the rest of the arguably short walk to his quarters, and he maintains a distance of several feet between you the entire time.

“You can sit on the bed as long as you don’t touch anything,” Yeosang mutters once inside his room.

It’s a basic and unadorned room, something you didn’t expect from a man who grew up surrounded by excessive lavishness, but for some odd reason, it is so inexplicably Yeosang that you can’t be too surprised. The blond heads straight for a small desk pushed into the corner of the room, one that sits beside a tall bookshelf similar to the ones you see in Seonghwa’s room. You do as told and sit on the corner of the bed so close to the edge that you practically fall off. There’s no need to be comfortable if you aren’t going to be staying for long after all.

“I don't need you messing anything else up so just stay put,” Yeosang says as he sinks onto the cushioned seat behind the desk. You pin him to the spot with a glare.

“Messing anything else up? What’s your issue with me?” You spit, arms coming up to cross over your chest.

“Hm? Does there have to be a reason for me to not like you?”

“I don’t get what your fucking problem with me is. Ever since joining the crew, I have done nothing that directly hurts you or puts you in danger, so what the fuck is your issue with me?”

“Is that so?” Yeosang arches a brow in your direction and matches your glare with one of his own. “If not for you, Wooyoung would still be here. Did you forget about that?”

That bites a bit too hard at your skin; it digs its way into your system and buries itself there to eat away at your bones. It’s the same guilt that has been eating away at you for the past few days, and you don’t need Yeosang to bring it up now and make it worse for you.

“Like it or not, I have a connection with Wooyoung and we have to work together to get him, San, and Mingi back.”

“I hate you,” Yeosang hisses. “I hate everything about you. And I especially hate your connection with Wooyoung. You are going to ruin him, and I hate you for it.” The tone he speaks with betrays the fact that there is more to it than that, but you aren’t particularly in the mood to have a tell-all discussion about all the reasons why Yeosang hates you. A pent-up confession, yes, but still not quite all there is to know.

“It’s not my fault that there’s something there. I didn’t ask for this, and I certainly don’t want it. I would be perfectly content being some damn Normie who didn’t have to worry about something like this,” you ramble without stopping to take a breath once. You blink furiously at the man as you catch your breath, eyes still blazing with uncontained rage when you decide to speak again. “It sounds like you are just jealous that you can’t be the one with a connection to him. Did you get everything you wanted when you were a prince? Is Wooyoung the one thing you can’t have?”

Yeosang lifts an old book off his desk and chucks it at the wall adjacent to him. It slams hard against the metal with a clang. You manage not to flinch in the slightest, staring Yeosang down with the same amount of heat as before.

“Allow me to have an ounce of jealousy! I got to choose absolutely nothing in my life while I was a prince, contrary to popular belief. Everything was selected for me, whether it was by my bastard father or the whore that was my mother. Hell, even my younger brother got to choose more than I did! I didn’t choose Wooyoung, but my love for him is one of the only things I ever got to choose back then. Does that let you just waltz in here and have this inexplicable connection to him? When fate told us that we were never even supposed to meet? I won’t ask for your forgiveness in this matter, because I have every right in the universe to be angered and jealous.”

“Then at least stop hating me for something I could not choose,” you demand, nose wrinkling in disgust as you spit the words in Yeosang’s direction.

“Protecting Wooyoung at all costs is the only thing that truly matters to me.” Yeosang lets out a deep sigh and looks down at the desk before him. “I’ll stop hating you when you prove yourself not to be a threat to Wooyoung’s safety.”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“Getting Wooyoung back in one piece would be a fantastic place to start, don’t you think? Do you not feel that same way about San?” There’s a twitch in the corner of your eye that won’t go away even after Yeosang finishes speaking.

“I don’t like what you are trying to imply with that, Yeosang.”

“Take it as you will,” the man states in response. He angles his sharp chin towards you, blond hair wavering a bit with the sudden motion. “Your feelings might still be a mystery to me, but I have known San for years. I know him well enough to see how clear his feelings are for you and what you mean to him. Is that not what is holding you back from our dearest lieutenant?”

A bitter taste of ambiguity resides in his tone, and it’s something that you cannot get out of your mind. Yet the more you think about it, the more confusing it seems to get because there is no clear answer to Yeosang’s question. All this time, you figured it was Seonghwa who was holding back thanks to how he feels about Hongjoong. Sure, there was a possibility of your past love for Jisung getting in the way too but the realization that you would have to lose this crew in order to go back to him quickly dispelled the romantic notion of returning to him. San was never part of the picture — at least not in the way you think Yeosang is insinuating.

“What do you mean?” You ask after several breaths of terse silence. Yeosang doesn’t answer quite yet; he returns to staring blankly at the wood of his desk, fingers of his right hand coming up to rub at the inside of his left wrist without reason. You’re well aware of what lies under the fabric of his black shirt, the brand on his skin that you bear on your own, and the losses that came along with such a mark.

“In order to give your all to someone,” he starts in a quiet tone, “you have to be willing to make sacrifices. I gave up a lot to save Wooyoung, but seeing the look on his face once we were finally free made all of it worth it. I would never go back unless it was to fully guarantee Wooyoung’s safety. You still haven’t found that moment with Seonghwa have you?”

Your eyes give away the answer to that question in the way your darting gaze slips to the floor and avoids Yeosang’s insistent aura.

“Seonghwa mentioned the deal you made with Han to gain his cooperation in this mess. And how you don’t truly want to follow through with your end of the deal, yet you’re doing it anyway. For what reason?” You open your mouth to respond only to realize that it is merely meant as a rhetorical question when Yeosang continues speaking. “Because you are guaranteeing San’s safety, you would go to a place you don’t truly want to go. You would do something that every ounce in your body disdains to an unbelievable degree simply because it guarantees one person’s safety.”

“I’m doing it for Wooyoung and Mingi too,” you counter with too much haste, and it betrays the truth about the matter and your defensiveness. Yeosang’s lips quirk up into a slight smile. You would almost say that the gesture seems genuine in that moment.

“You say that with your words yet your eyes tell all. It’s on you to recognize it.” He cuts himself short there and shakes his head a bit. “That’s all… that’s all beside the point, however, since this is supposed to be about your dreams.”

“And what exactly is it you need to know about my dreams?” You tilt your head to the side as you ask the question, arms coming up to fold over your chest in a desperate attempt to defend yourself from his scrutiny.

“Well, first of all, there’s something I’m curious about.” Yeosang shifts to pull something from the drawer, and when he resurfaces, he has a small bound leather journal in hand. “Wooyoung has had an incessant dream for years now — all the years I’ve known him actually — of a girl drowning in a black lake. He watches her head go underwater but can’t make out her features well enough to recognize her. He dives in to save her, swims to grab her, does everything he can to save him, but something always pulls her deeper and deeper. He can never reach her. He can never hear her screams. He can never see her face. All he can do is reach out for her hand and that’s it. But when you came aboard, that dream suddenly stopped happening altogether. He hasn’t had it since meeting you.”

“I’ve – I’ve never had any sort of dream like that. Just… one dream about seeing a man with dark hair across a black lake. But h-his back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. For all I know it was some random person and not Wooyoung.”

“And the other one?” Yeosang asks out of the blue. He arches a brow, eyes searching yours for answers, and you’re a bit taken aback by the question since you don’t recall mentioning a second dream to anyone other than Wooyoung. Ah… “He mentioned that one day in the medbay, where the two of you were late to the meeting on the bridge — you woke up shouting his name and asked him something odd.”

“Well, yes, but that… I had a dream about seeing Wooyoung in chains and the same collar he has now, but it didn’t feel quite like a dream. Moreso a memory than anything else.” Yeosang draws his lips into a tight purse.

“I can’t help you there.” The dismissive nature of his tone sends a sudden spike of rage through you, and you level the Elitist with a harsh glare.

“What do you mean you can’t help me? If that truly is a memory, then I deserve to know what my own past is as much as Wooyoung does!”

“I — calm down, Y/N. I’m not saying that I am choosing not to help you; genuinely I cannot. I don’t know anything about that. Wooyoung’s past — the one prior to when the two of us met — I have no knowledge of it, and according to everything he’s told me, he doesn’t either. Before the batch of slaves he was in came to Aera, their minds were wiped. Just as yours was for the military.”

Several years back, there had been one night in particular with your unit where all of you were up late in your bunks to exchange old ghost stories and legends, but something Hyunwoo had said at the time stuck out to you the most then.

“What do slaves and soldiers have in common? The cost of their service is worth more than a lifetime.”

And at the time, you hadn’t known exactly what that would mean in the long run, but now you think it makes quite a bit more sense. You sacrificed fourteen years of your life to join the military and be their property. Gave up an entire lifetime in service to the crown, and for what? You were no less a slave than Wooyoung must have been. How many years did they steal from him?

“Wooyoung knows fairly little about his time before coming to the palace on Aera. Even saying fairly little is being more than generous. Perhaps the only thing I genuinely sympathize with as it concerns you is that. Your pass was stolen from you, and there is no guarantee that you will ever get it back. While my childhood was far from pleasant, it always pains me when Wooyoung asks to hear about the times before him because I know that he doesn’t that. There is no ‘before me’ for him, just the day he stepped off a slave vessel and greeted my family.”

“You don’t mean — how long exactly have the two of you known each other?”

“Since we were nine years old,” Yeosang replies, a soft and genuine smile painting his lips. “Fourteen years. We’ve spent over two-thirds of our lives together, yet it’s still not enough to take away the fact that Wooyoung has a chunk of his life missing entirely in memories.”

“Were you… his master?” Your mind can’t move past the fact that they have been together all this time, through the years that Wooyoung was a slave and onwards. You haven’t had anyone be a steady rock for such a long time; the longest you’ve ever spent with someone to your knowledge was four years at best. But fourteen? That is the amount of time missing from your own memories. Is it possible that you had someone the way Yeosang and Wooyoung had each other for so long? A foundation in your life meant to ground you?

“No, never. He was assigned to my side, yes, but my mother was his true master.” Yeosang’s expression grows grave in that moment, and you know the look in his eyes well enough to guess that it is a sensitive and touchy subject that you should avoid. Thus, you shake your head ever so slightly to dispel the curiosity and move to a separate question.

“Then how did the two of you come to be here together?” You know a vague telling of the story of Kang Minhee, the Royal Betrayer who abandoned his dying father when it was his time to take up the crown, but nowhere in those stories is another person mentioned. No slave, no Wooyoung, no trace of any other name besides Yeosang’s original one.

“My father was sick, and the stress it put on my mother’s shoulders made her more cruel. I couldn’t bear to see her harm Wooyoung anymore, and thus I did what I thought was best and set him free in the night. Told him to go off and gain passage on a merchant’s ship to get off the planet. Then, as a stroke of vengeance against my mother, I stole documents concerning one of her many affairs and threatened to bring them to my father so that he would know she was a cheap whore on his deathbed. But even princes can’t get away with such things. My mother swapped the documents and told the guards that I stole highly confidential war declarations among other things instead, and thus I was charged with treason, given my brand, and stuck in jail.”

“Obviously you got out,” you murmur, leaning a bit closer as Yeosang tells his tale. “And met up with Wooyoung at some point.”

“Wooyoung is the only reason I got out. Rather than leaving the planet as I asked him to, he caught wind of how Kang Minhee had been placed behind bars for treasonous actions, and he thought it was because I helped him escape. He made a deal with a pirate crew to help gain my freedom, and Wooyoung personally set me free after six torturous nights of separation. I… being apart from Wooyoung for even that long was worse than treason itself. As my assistant, Wooyoung had a bed in my room so he could be at my side no matter the hour. He came with me anywhere and everywhere, even when it came to shadowing my father on his military tasks.”

There lies an unspoken cry of desperation in his words. You aren’t too dense to miss it, but the acknowledgment of said cry leaves a searing pain in your chest.

Yeosang drops his gaze to the desk. Something melancholy and sad takes over his expression, like he’s turning the pages back in a book and revisiting older chapters of his life that are less than pleasant, and for a moment, your heart goes out to him. The person he has had in his life for fourteen years — no doubt someone he never parted from even for a week — is no longer by his side. Again you feel that pull to bring Wooyoung back if only for Yeosang’s sake, for the sake of a faulty Elitist who found something more powerful than sheer reason and logic.

“We’ll get him back, Yeosang,” you whisper. “I’ll make sure of it.”

…

Your eyes open to a thick and palpable darkness that leaves you more than a little disoriented for several seconds. The scenery refuses to change around you even as you blink against the shadows to adjust to the shifting light. You blindly feel around for Seonghwa’s presence, stretching your hand out to find his form since the two of you were supposed to come to the Dreamscape together, but you can’t find him anywhere around you.

“Seonghwa?”

“Y/N,” he exhales, bringing an immediate wave of calm over your shoulders. A hand brushes over yours in the shadows, and you clasp tight at the fingers without second thought. “Something isn’t right.”

You don’t need to be a scholar or have infinite knowledge about this place to recognize that, but Seonghwa’s confusion brings a knot of panic to your gut.

“Where are we?”

“The Dreamscape but…” Seonghwa trails off as something collides with wood, echoing a hollow sound, and his body stops moving immediately upon impact. “Hold on, there’s — it feels like a door.” Seonghwa fumbles around a bit at the wood before the panel slides open, disappearing into the side of the wall, and pale yellow light filters over you. You can’t see past Seonghwa’s broad shoulders, but the slight pulse of his fingers squeezing yours tighter doesn’t bring any relief to your bones. He keeps you there behind him even as he steps into the dimly lit room.

A small fire crackles somewhere ahead, the only sound in the den of silence you’ve entered. When you at last step around Seonghwa’s back to stand at your side, your heart practically stops dead in your chest because of the form that sits before the fireplace.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks before you have a chance to get anything out. None other than Daichi sits in front of the fire, hands clasped tight over his lap as he watches the flames dance before his eyes. Upon hearing, Seonghwa’s question, the old man jerks his chin to face the two of you. A heated glare greets you before anything else, along with a rage you haven’t seen from the man in a long while.

“I warned you, Kazuya.” Unless you’ve suddenly occupied another unknown form, there is no way that Daichi is speaking to you, and the way the old man’s gaze shifts to your companion only confirms that suspicion. Umiko, Tsukio, and Kazuya? What significance are those names supposed to hold? “I told you both, in fact. I said not to go looking for more Sirens!”

Daichi pushes up from his chair all of a sudden, seeming to grow in stature without warning as he looms over the fire, and crude shadows twist his features in ugly shapes and patterns.

“It is your job to guide Sirens to each other,” Seonghwa hisses as he pulls forward to match Daichi’s heat.

“And yet I told you not to do exactly that! It may be my job, but it is not my duty to do so. I too am allowed to have free will.”

“Then we have the same luxury! Who are you to keep us from finding others of our kind? Have we not been alone for long enough? Was it not you who guided us to find each other in the first place?”

“That was a stroke of faulty luck!” Daichi counters, and it causes Seonghwa to falter a bit. “Let this serve as a lesson in cruelty, boy. This place, this Dreamscape, it is mine to shape and mold. I have let you walk around too freely without consequence.”

If Seonghwa has anything else to add to the argument, he does not get the opportunity to say it because Daichi pushes forward, body contorting and melding into a blur before your eyes as he steps through the fire and out of sight. You can hardly stand and gape at the scene that just transpired in front of you for long though; new voices rise to your ears, soft and warm tones that speak in hushed whispers. You turn as Seonghwa does, finding two new forms who seems utterly oblivious to your presence in the dim room. A young woman, hardly older than thirty by the looks of it, and a tall child with jet black hair stand on the creaking floorboards near the door. They don’t face you or even spare you the slightest of glances, too caught up in their own little world to breathe in your direction.

“Darling, it’s time to run off to your hiding spot. Your favorite one, you remember?” The woman combs a few long fingers through the boy’s hair, brushing it off his forehead. “I’ll count down from ten, and by the time I’m done, you must be completely hidden. You know what to do, my angel.”

She nudges his shoulder once, and it prompts the boy to lunge into action, little legs working hard to dash through the room and out of sight before she can even begin counting.

“Ten…”

“Seonghwa, what is this?” You murmur. Your gaze is so transfixed on the scene unfolding before you, and Seonghwa seems to be in a similar predicament but his face wears too much concern for you to feel at ease in this place. There lies an odd tension in the air, one that tells you this is not some fun child’s game that the mother and her son are playing.

“Thr—”

“Where the fuck is he?” The door jerks and wobbles as it is flung open, and in its place stands a man nearly as tall as the doorframe with similarly dark hair and a fair complexion. His brows are so closely knit that you can’t see the skin between them, evidence of the rage that falls off his body in waves.

“Donghy—” The sharp and resounding smack of an impact too cruel for words interrupts her, and you turn away with a gasp on your lips. Seonghwa’s body jolts forward in their direction, but you snatch him by the wrist before he can move far.

“Th-They can’t see us, Seonghwa,” you huff out, unable to look over your shoulder again. “They would have seen us by now if we could do anything.” Seonghwa offers no response but his hand tightens into a clenched fist that causes his knuckles to bleed white.

“Where is that little brat? I finally worked out a good deal on the bastard, a quick trade for slave traders.”

“I – I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. H-He ran away earlier because I was yelling at him!”

“Did the fucker break another of your dishes?”

“No, no, he just – he wouldn’t shut up while I was trying to read. I… I don’t know where he is. I went out looking for him but couldn’t find him anywhere!”

“You’re just as useless as he is! Can’t even keep the fucker inside for two seconds while I go out and get the money for us?” Seonghwa tugs his arm out of your grasp, pushing away from you as best he can, and you follow him blindly to another door off to the side.

“W-Where exactly are we, Seonghwa?” You inquire, falling into step beside him. “What’s going on? Is this — is this a memory? Wooyoung’s?”

“No. It’s mine.” Seonghwa twists at the waist. You inhale so sharply that the air burns your throat and lungs, eyes blown wide at the shock of the revelation. A single long finger reaches out to point down to something near the fireplace, and you squint hard at the spot before realizing that a small vent sits at that exact spot on the wall. “I hid in that vent for four days to avoid my father at age six. By the time those four days were up, the slave dealer he had made a deal with had grown impatient and left the planet. And my mother took the brunt of my punishment for me.”

Seonghwa turns back to the door before him and pushes through it. You follow close at his heels, hand hovering over the center of his back. The memory seemed less than pleasant for him, and you didn’t miss the disdain in his tone as he spoke about it, but offering comfort right now feels a bit out of place. The scenery shifts as you pass through the door, but only enough for you to realize that these doors aren’t going to get you anywhere. You now stand in a different house, one that is much more run-down and decrepit from the looks of it. The young boy – the young Seonghwa, to be more accurate – stands in the doorway at the front of the room, rain soaking his skin and dripping from his dark bangs. There isn’t time to look around and take in the surroundings more because the same woman from the first memory comes rushing into the room.

“What do you think you’re doing, Seonghwa? You’re supposed to be at the military base training with the other recruits! Why are you here?” She stops in front of the boy and clasps her hands tight around his shoulders. All the boy can manage in response is a small shake of his head, and silence envelops the pair for so long that it grows uncomfortable.

“I-I was rejected,” the young Seonghwa says at last. “They… they turned me away. I’m s-sorry, Mother, I’m so—”

“Shh, my angel, it’s alright. Let me see your face.” The woman stoops to be eye level with the boy, hands reaching up to cup his face. As she lifts his head, you get a clearer look at the state of his face; it’s littered with bruises along with a split lip and a cut along his cheekbone where the skin has broken. “What happened!? Seonghwa, honey, wh-what happened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The boy shrugs his mother’s touch off with a huff of air.

You shift to look at the real version of Seonghwa by your side, but his gaze remains locked on the scene unfolding in the room with glistening eyes that hurt to look at.

“The other recruits… at the time, they took me to an alleyway and bean me down like a dog,” he explains over the discussion between his memories. “All because I was born in a lower class, born in the Slums, not one of the Elitists who came from the Upper Echelon like them. Not good enough for the military even at age ten.” He exhales a loud scoff, teeth sinking into his lower lip so hard that you think he’s about to bite straight through the skin there. Seonghwa says nothing more; instead, he pushes back through the door you two just stepped through, only to welcome a new scene that causes him to freeze so quickly that you knock against his back.

“Go, Seonghwa! Why can’t you just go?” His mother is on her knees before the figment of his memories, an older version of himself that is not much taller than the one you just saw. “Do what they want! For my sake, if nothing else. They offered so much money for you, more money than we’ve ever seen in our lives. If you would just go, they’ll give it to us! I’ll have enough money to live happily for the rest of my life without having to go out on the streets and sell my body. Don’t you want that for me? Doesn’t my own son want me to have that freedom? Ever since your father passed and left us alone, I’ve been suffering so much. Can’t my angel just go with them for my sake?”

“I – I don’t want to go with them. They want me to – I don’t want to sell my body to them, Mother. I-I’m too young, please.”

It’s not the response the woman wants to hear, and she throws her hands down on her son’s shoulders, shoving the boy back until he stumbles and hits the creaking floorboards harshly. The Seonghwa at your side doesn’t let the memory continue past that point. He steps around you, fists clenched tight by his side and chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. You aren’t sure how much more of these memories you can take, and that feeling must be increased tenfold for Seonghwa since this is his life he’s being forced to relive. There doesn’t seem to be an end in sight, this cruel torture of Daichi’s making returning again as you follow Seonghwa back through the door. This time, however, you step out into a rainy street, cold droplets painting your skin and sticking to your white gown.

There stands another Seonghwa in front of you, one that is a bit more like the real one who is at your side but still holds a bit of youth and innocence to his features.

“It was pointless to try to keep you safe,” a voice hisses through the din of the rain. It’s his mother again, and this time she stands in a doorway completely shielded from the rain as her son takes the brunt of the barrage from above. “This was the only chance I had at a decent life. I could’ve moved to the Upper Echelon with all that money, but you just had to go and ruin it for me. Like you always do. You should never have been born! Look where it’s gotten me! That plague my father had was passed down to you and I have suffered every day because of it. I should have thrown you to the wolves the moment I learned what you are. You won’t be my fucking problem anymore, though. Go! Get out of here and don’t ever come back! You are not my son, you never have been, and never will be!”

“Imagine a child’s worst crime being that he was born to a world that didn’t want him.” The man at your side shifts to look you in the eye now, face contorting with disgust as he watches his memory play back. “All because I was born as a Siren. I spent sixteen years of my life being hated and turned away because of what I was. Even by people who didn’t know my identity. No one wanted me, and the only ones who were willing to pay for me were people who wanted me for my body and not what or who I was. And then…”

Seonghwa turns away with a smile. He pulls back once more and reaches back for the door behind him. You follow him without comment, unspoken curiosities at your lips as you step into a room full of overwhelming noise and the stench of alcohol. A bar, no doubt, and one that Seonghwa recognizes in an instant based on the way his shoulders fold back and he perks up at the sight of it.

“And then I found Hongjoong,” he whispers, dark eyes swimming with waves of emotions. You mimic his line of sight to find a near unrecognizable version of Hongjoong standing before a run-down bar counter with a mop of long brown hair styled in a messy mullet that runs down the back of his shoulders. And sure enough, another version of Seonghwa stumbles in as well, seemingly a continuation of the last memory with the way his hair is damp and sticking to his forehead.

“Are you the one looking for recruits?” He pants as he comes up to the counter, stopping beside Hongjoong’s form.

“Depends on who’s asking.” Hongjoong offers a shrug and swirls his drink around a bit, watching the golden liquor inside jostle. “And it seems like some morally right asshole is asking me now.”

Seonghwa pushes his shoulders back a bit and frowns at the man before him.

“I ask that you give me a chance.”

“Then prove yourself. Are you truly prepared to do whatever it takes to be a pirate? Especially one on my crew? If you know how to shoot a gun properly and could kill an innocent with no qualms, then I suppose you could join the crew.”

Seonghwa moves in a flash. His hand snatches up the pistol on Hongjoong’s left leg and lifts it to the young captain’s temple, pressing the cool barrel against his skin without a drop of hesitation.

“I asked for an innocent, and I am anything but that.”

Seonghwa’s arm shifts to point the gun at the bartender across from Hongjoong, and he doesn’t even blink before firing the gun just to the left of the man’s head. The din in the bar falls to a hush at that, all eyes moving to where Seonghwa stands and where the bartender has now fallen to the ground in a state of shock. An airy laugh leaves Hongjoong’s lips, and his head tilts back in amusement.

“You’re hired. Here, old man, some extra credits for your troubles as well as another drink for my new companion here.” Hongjoong slips a credit chip across the counter, eyeing the bartender with wary eyes as he pulls himself back to his feet. The din behind them picks up once more without any issue. “What’s your name and age? You hardly look older than me.”

“Um, Park Seonghwa, sixteen.”

“Kim Hongjoong, sixteen.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be a pirate captain?” Seonghwa asks, head falling to the side in curiosity. Hongjoong pushes himself to his feet and steps around his barstool. He stands far shorter than Seonghwa, but that doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest as he crowds Seonghwa against the counter. The taller boy grabs the wood and leans back over it to put some distance between him in Hongjoong, inhaling sharply as the other pushes further in. Hongjoong’s hands fall on either side of Seonghwa’s and effectively pin him to the counter. Seonghwa has to tilt his head down to see Hongjoong properly, eyes wobbling as one corner of Hongjoong’s lips twists upwards.

“Are we going to have a problem with authority, Seonghwa?” The words are like honey on Hongjoong’s tongue. The taller simply gives a sharp shake of his head. Hongjoong hums to himself, tongue peeking out to drag over the front of his teeth. “I think we’ll get along quite nicely then.” Hongjoong leaves him with one more cruel smirk before pulling back completely and returning to his seat. He motions to the empty space beside him, which Seonghwa fills almost immediately. The bartender returns at that moment, setting new drinks on the counter with a hushed whisper.

“Keep mum about the alcohol, I can’t be going out of business now.”

Hongjoong just smiles and flicks another credit chip over to the man, then raises his glass to Seonghwa.

“To a new partnership.”

“Cheers,” Seonghwa echoes in a mumble, mirroring Hongjoong’s motion.

The man at your side cracks the slightest of smiles.

“To think that at the time, my worst nightmare was merely existing.”

“And now?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

You hardly realize how lost in the memory you are until something resounds behind you, almost like a voice crying your name in the darkness behind that door, and you don’t pay the man at your side any notice before turning to face the wood. It’s clearer now, the voices behind it, the soft mumblings that blossom into something loud and bright, and once you realize who those voices belong to, you waste no time in grabbing the handle and pushing your way into the memory. Seonghwa must notice your movements because he follows close at your heels, although this time it isn’t one of his memories that you step into. It’s something different, something you can’t quite recall but you recognize the faces strewn throughout the room nonetheless.

You’re suddenly back on Eros, home with your unit, all of them except for Hyunwoo. Jisung stands over a table that is littered with maps and old papers as the others stand around him.

“Why are you leading this when it’s not your place, Jisung?” Juyeon is the one to pose the question, and you can’t keep from just staring at his features to drink in the sight of him since it’s been so long since you last saw him before you like this. “We all agreed to appoint Hyunwoo as leader, even you.”

“Hyunwoo isn’t here, is he?” Jisung snarls, reeling on his friend with a fire in his eyes. “He’s off mooching with the generals because they love him so fucking much! He doesn’t have to worry like the rest of us do; he’s no pathetic runt like the rest of us are.”

“Careful there, Jisung,” Soojin scoffs from Juyeon’s side. Her hair is just as bright and daring as you remember, a stark red that stands out against her skin and accentuates that natural beauty she always held. “That’s your inferiority complex slipping through.”

“What she means is — listen, Sung, I know you want to get this done, but we can’t make plans without Hyunwoo. And frankly… no one is going to follow you.” Juyeon exchanges a quick glance with the woman at his side, then another with the youngest of your troupe, Ash. “Let’s call it a night and wait for Hyunwoo to come back.”

Jisung doesn’t get to speak another word. Juyeon leads the way out of the room, disappearing into the darkness along with Soojin and Ash, and suddenly it’s like you and Seonghwa are left alone with just this weird figment of Jisung. A noise echoes from the corner. You shift to find the source, but when you do, your throat closes in on itself. It’s you. Some version of you, at least, one that you can’t even recognize well because of how young you seem to be. Wide, doe eyes that hold no hurt in them, features not marred by the harshness of your life that followed. Even if you don’t recognize this memory, you know for certain it isn’t one that happened after the ordeal with Hyunwoo and the king.

“You aren’t allowed to leave,” Jisung mutters, barely sparing your younger form a glance. “You can’t leave, Y/N. Out of all people, you have the least right to walk out that door. You’re just like me, just a runt who isn’t good for anything. The two of us need to stick together.”

“What’s the plan then?” She asks, and Jisung grins back at the girl.

“I’ll explain everything.”

“T-This isn’t right,” you choke out, reaching for Seonghwa’s arm. “This never happened. I don’t — I don’t remember this at all.” An odd sense of impending doom overwhelms you as you watch yourself approach the table beside Jisung, and you decide right then that you cannot handle being in this place any longer. You stumble backward, hand hitting the door hard and shoving against it in a desperate attempt to get out of the room.

The new scene you find isn’t any better than the last. Jisung sits in the middle of a monotone room, arms and legs bound to the chair under him. Some tall old man stands in front of his chair and Hyunwoo is at his side, looking as alive as can be, so much so that you choke on air and fall to your knees in an instant. Seonghwa’s hand finds your shoulder and clasps at it to offer some sort of comfort. In the corner opposite where you’re kneeling, the younger version of you is drawn tight into a ball with arms folded around her knees. Hyunwoo pulls away from the man beside him to come closer to the young girl – you, the innocent and young you who didn’t know how cruel the world could be at that point.

“Don’t watch this, Y/N,” Hyunwoo says as he folds an arm around her shoulders.

“Why is this happening? What’s going on? Hyun, I don’t understand why – why is he being punished?”

“Jisung was out of line. He… killed fourteen people. That wasn’t the mission, the mission wasn’t to kill anyone. It was just a simple recon mission. No one was supposed to die, especially not innocent people.”

“And why then are fourteen people dead?” The old man asks. The question is obviously directed at Jisung, but all he offers in response is to spit on the general’s feet with a sneer. The man swings his foot up, catching Jisung in the chin with a sharp kick that sends the younger sprawling across the floor in his chair.

“I did nothing wrong! All I did was get rid of more competition that would stop us later on. People are afraid of us now. Our team is gaining a name for ourselves at last, and you fat fucks in power feel just as threatened as the rest of society, don’t you? We’re fearsome now. Ruthless, bloodthirsty, cruel. That’s what we’re known for.”

The old man presses his foot down hard on the side of Jisung’s face and leans over his body.

“That isn’t what you’re supposed to be known for. You are part of the military. You are supposed to obey the law and uphold the rules like everyone else. Not murder innocent people who weren’t even in the crossfire!”

Jisung’s eyes blaze with unbridled rage, bringing a bit of a crazed gleam to his dark orbs.

“They called Y/N a runt! A useless slave! I’m supposed to sit back and allow that disrespect to happen? They had to pay for their crimes! They were far from innocent.”

You turn to Seonghwa, desperate for him to help you to your feet and get you out of this hell, but as you move, his face bleeds to white. Next thing you know, the ground disappears out from under you and you enter a freefall. A brilliant blood-red moon shines above you, taunting you with its glow as you drop, and it grows smaller and smaller the further down you fall. Your freefall only stops when you collide harshly with a body of water, and the black waters swallow you up and pull you under with no resistance. You thrash against the darkness, fighting your way to swim back up to the surface, but it’s to no avail because you can’t move. Something constricts your throat, chokes the air out of your lungs, and you watch helplessly as air bubbles float up to the surface without you.

Something sharp closes around your ankle. Looking down offers no help because of how dark the waters are. You have no time to tug away from it before it pulls you down further, and the red light of the moon grows fainter and fainter with each passing second. As a last-ditch effort, you push all the air in your lungs into a scream that rings through the water. And that must do the trick, because as the sound pulses through the lake, something blindingly bright appears above you like a small beacon of hope in the night. It grows larger as it swims closer to where you continue to sink, and just as it starts coming into focus, whatever has a hold on your foot lets go of you as though burned. Hands wade through the murk to cradle your face, soft thumbs combing over your cheeks, and the light dulls just enough for you to see the face of your savior.

And when you do, your heart nearly quits functioning right then and there because it’s none other than Wooyoung who floats above you, hair bright and glowing a soft lavender around his head. His cheeks are puffed full of air and his eyes are so wide that they look like round gems in the glittering light. He doesn’t speak, nor does he give you any indication whatsoever of what is going on; all the man does is slip his hands lower to fold around your waist before he begins to swim back up to the surface. The lack of air in your system has you reeling and dizzy, along with the overwhelming confusion that radiates through your body as well.

When the two of you finally breach the surface of the water, you are close to losing consciousness. The sudden intake of fresh oxygen keeps you conscious for now, and you let your body go completely limp in Wooyoung’s grasp as he pulls you to the edge of the water. The light from his hair fades back into a muted black, wet strands clinging to his forehead and neck. You only bring yourself to use your muscles again once you reach the shallows, knees coming to rest on the sand so you can sit up straight and face the man. He doesn’t wait even a second before clasping your face in his hands again.

“I know you,” he chokes out, voice too thick with emotion for your liking. The statement is startling enough as it is, although you have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t merely mean he knows you as Y/N L/N. “The girl who appeared in my dreams for years. The – the one I couldn’t reach. I can finally see you. Y/N, I…”

“Wooyoung has had an incessant dream for years now — all the years I’ve known him actually — of a girl drowning in a black lake. He watches her head go underwater but can’t make out her features well enough to recognize her. He dives in to save her, swims to grab her, does everything he can to save him, but something always pulls her deeper and deeper. He can never reach her. He can never hear her screams. He can never see her face. All he can do is reach out for her hand and that’s it.”

“I finally found you, Umiko.” Something about the way Wooyoung speaks and the glistening tears in his eyes brings you to tears yourself, a choked sob forcing its way out of your mouth for some reason unbeknownst to you. The moment leaves too soon.

A hand grasps your shoulder and yanks you back before you know it, tearing you away from Wooyoung’s grasp. Your attacker solidifies it with a kick to the center of your chest, and you slam back against the shallows. Daichi stands above you, a rage to his aura that you have never felt before. That’s all the warning you get from him. He swings his foot back down at your head this time, and you roll away from the attack only to be swung at by his fist.

“Why are you doing this?” You yell as you dodge the powerful attacks as best you can.

“Tsukio is the Siren I warned you about, you fool!” Daichi shouts back, heel clipping the edge of your shoulder. The comment puts enough confusion in you for him to gain the upper hand, and he hits the side of your head with the back of his hand. “Do you not remember? ‘Someone near you is a dangerous threat, one that you’ve never encountered before. You must be careful. Guard yourself wisely.’”

Daichi pushes you flat against the sand and clasps his hands around the middle of your throat.

“Tsukio can find you anywhere, even while far away! This mental connection you share, this link — the two of you are a dyad, a yin and a yang, a pair that cannot be severed. No matter how far apart you are, the two of you will always be able to come back to each other.”

“Come – come back? W-What do you mean?” The pressure around your throat increases just enough for you to cough, but you continue to push words out of your mouth like your life depends on it. “Did I know him before? Did I know Wooyoung somehow? That d-dream. Was it truly a dream or w-was it a memory?”

“I’ve always told you that you were something unique and special, Umiko.” Daichi squeezes harder, and black spots fill the edges of your vision. “You assumed I meant that it was your identity as a Siren and were too bitter to listen to anything I told you. Both you and Kazuya should not pry for more answers. I will tell you absolutely nothing.” With that, Daichi pushes your head under the water, and it’s just deep enough for you to not be able to breathe. “Consider this to be your one and only warning, Umiko. Next time, I will end you.”

You jolt back into a state of full consciousness by choking on air and throwing your body upright. The room swirls for several seconds before coming into focus, and you find yourself seated on the floor beside Seonghwa’s bed with no recollection of falling off at any point. There is a body in front of you and another on your left side, but their faces don’t process in your mind until you’ve caught your breath a bit. It’s Jongho at your side, who presses a hand to your sweat-slick forehead with so much concern in his eyes that it’s overwhelming, and Yunho is knelt by your feet with a similar expression of concern.

“Wh-Why are you here?” You ask, throat burning from the few words. Yunho glances over at Jongho, and the pair exchange unspoken words in their eyes.

“You pinged all our wristbands, Y/N. Called through the comms and said you needed help and that Seonghwa wouldn’t wake up,” Yunho murmurs.

“Where? Where is Seonghwa?” Yunho motions towards the bed on your right, and you peer over the mattress to find Seonghwa sitting at the opposite edge of the bed with his head in his hands and elbows propped on his knees. Yeosang is in front of him, squatted to be eye level with the man, and he rests a hand atop one of Seonghwa’s knees.

“Seonghwa… when we came in, his body was in a state of shock, and his heart w-wasn’t — he was completely unresponsive. I almost couldn’t get him awake at all. On top of everything else we’re dealing with, why does this have to happen too?” Yunho drops his chin and exhales a shaky laugh. It’s a haunting reality that Seonghwa almost died in his sleep because of Daichi and his warning, but nothing ever felt quite as real as it did this time. “This must be some sort of bad omen.”

Yunho drops a hand to your leg before pushing himself to his feet. He steps around the bed and makes a beeline for Seonghwa now, leaving you in Jongho’s care for the time being.

“What the hell happened?” Jongho asks once Yunho is out of earshot.

“I… it was – just a bad nightmare.” You can’t look Jongho in the eye when you speak the lie, too ashamed to even be lying in the first place, and it’s only when your gaze wanders around the room a bit that you realize one person in particular isn’t present. “Where’s Jisung?”

“We saw him to a spare bedroom after dinner, so I’d assume he must still be in there.”

“He didn’t come out with the commotion?”

“What could he do even if he did?” Jongho shrugs a bit and lets his hand drop to your shoulder. He makes a good point in his statement, and it’s enough to shut you up and not prod the subject further.

“I need Seonghwa to the medbay with me so I can run some sleep tests and make sure everything is normal in the brain and heart,” Yunho states, peeking over to where you and Jongho are still seated. “Y/N, I’m a bit concerned about you not remembering calling for help, so I’d like you to—”

“No,” you interject, swallowing roughly. Yeosang looks at you over Seonghwa’s shoulder, and your eyes meet for the briefest of moments. He inclines his chin a bit as though trying to tell you something, but you can’t decipher what the hell he’s trying to say in the slightest.

“Jongho, you help Seonghwa to the medbay with Yunho. I’ll stay with Y/N for the time being.” Yeosang’s suggestion seems to catch everyone off-guard, including you, but based on the look in his eyes, there’s something else going on so you can’t find it in you to fight it. Jongho glances down at you.

“Is that – will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Jongho, I promise,” you murmur back, placing a hand over where his rests on your shoulder. “Go with Seonghwa and make sure he’s okay first. I just feel exhausted right now honestly.”

“Okay, if you need anything—”

“I’ll call you, Jongho. Okay?” You press a weak smile onto your lips. The Berserker seems content enough with your words, and he helps you to your feet before stepping around the bed to do the same for Seonghwa. You sink back onto the mattress almost immediately, watching with a heavy heart as Jongho loops Seonghwa’s arm around his shoulders and helps carry the man out of the room. You wait to speak again until after the door slips shut and leave you alone with Yeosang. “What happened?”

“You didn’t call the others right away,” he says, tone so quiet you have to lean in to catch it. “Wooyoung called me asking for help.”

“Wooyoung — he what? In m-my body?”

“Yes, I thought – I thought it was a joke at first but he confirmed it was him, so I came over as quickly as I could. He said that you were crying out for his help so loudly that he passed out to come to you. Did you go to his body?”

“I was unconscious the entire time. But Wooyoung… he came to me in my dream.”

“Wooyoung was brief in his explanation to me, but he seems to think that it can only happen when one of you needs help too. He only heard you when you needed him, and he said that just before you came to him the first time in the cell… he was crying out for some sort of help. Then you showed up.”

“No, I don’t mean that he came to my body in my dream,” you say as you push yourself further onto the bed and face Yeosang head-on. “I was drowning in a black lake, and Wooyoung saved me.”

“His dream?” Yeosang’s expression melts into one of shock. He draws his lips into a tight ‘o’ then stares down at the floor. “He mentioned finding someone. He kept ranting on and on about how he finally found her. I was trying to get him to focus on the issue at hand, but he just wanted to talk about that.”

“But he didn’t wake me up. How did he help then?” Perhaps he was trying to pull you out of the dream before Daichi interrupted. But Wooyoung couldn’t have possibly been in your body at the same time that he was in your dream, so it must have happened after Daichi attacked you since Yeosang said Wooyoung mentioned finding you.

“It wasn’t about helping you, Y/N,” Yeosang whispers. He glances down at the spot where Seonghwa was just seated. “You asked him to help you save Seonghwa.” It hits then that as you were fighting for your life between drowning in a lake without relief and being attacked by Daichi, your subconscious was only worried about whether Seonghwa was okay or not. “He had to take control to call for help, but before he called me, he pulled Seonghwa’s body out of shock at least enough to get his heart going again. He stalled the shock long enough to get Yunho over here after talking to me first. He called the rest through your wristband after. Something must have happened on his end though because as soon as he finished speaking, your body dropped and went unconscious again.”

“Did Seonghwa mention what he saw?” You inquire, but a large part of you is too afraid to hear the answer.

“You weren’t with him?”

“We… were separated at some point.”

“He didn’t say anything about what he saw, but he was too shaken up to even speak. One would think that based on the visceral reaction his body had, it was something far beyond his worst nightmare.” Your body moves before your mind does, and you are suddenly on your feet again upon hearing Yeosang’s words. He regards you with a puzzled stare for a moment, eyes watching you move around the bed and to the door on unsteady feet. “Where are you going?”

“I need to talk to Jisung. I… I have some questions about my past.”

✧✧✧ a/n: hi hi HI guess WHO yeah its me its been a minute im SORRY this chapter just did not want to cooperate no matter what every time i sat down to write until today it was like No. but then i hit my stride and wrote like 6k today oopsie anyway hi info dump im so sorry about how much info there is in this one and sldfjlsdkf there’s a lot of backstory and symbolism and im afraid it’s a Mess but it iz what it iz so we’re rolling with it and im kinda delirious so that’s All i’ll say so yeehaw let me know how you feel what you think i love u all!

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