#to take the bite and harshness and reality out of the topics that are being discussed

[sapphire-weapon]

look at the year on that

does anyone have these guys' contact info bc i'd like to ask them for lottery numbers

[atangledfate]

Blaze and Lillianna seemed to stare at each other a long time, as if some unsaid words were being spoke. The sheep finally averted her gaze and placed her hands on the desk. She seemed to struggle to find the right words as if what ever Blaze had said struck a nerve. There was even a tinge of sadness in her eyes as if she was struggling with her inner most thoughts. That normal stoic mask dropping for a brief moment to reveal her inner emotions. But quickly as it fell she pulled it back on and returned to her duty at hand.

" I suppose you are right, how often do we rush in blind to reality only to have the weight of the world dropped on our shoulders. I suppose all we can do is face the consequences... no matter how painful those can be..."

She did smile at Poppys want to smack her and tilted her head to one side as she found it slightly amusing.

" Oh? i can't say i didn't wish the same on some level--- though i think for our own sake we should refrain from such childish antics. Plus i doubt the princess would enjoy watching us take a smack at one another..."

She took a deep breath as if clearing her head and stared at the two in front of her.

" No, It is fine--- Harsh words were spoken on both sides. Sometimes our blood runs hot... it's a very normal reaction. But i suppose this topic is at an end. I do wish you both well, and i pray this choice doesn't come back to bite us all in our tails..."

She sounded more genuinely concerned then spiteful, as she was considering the battle ahead. The nobles wouldn't take any of this kindly and would likely lash out in there own way. Blaze had to know that this outcome was inevitable the moment she made that choice to make poppy her bride, but Lillianna would do what she could to keep things from escalating to far. Chaos the thought of a war between the houses was frightening. Though she did doubt it would ever get that far---who in there right mind would stand against the Daughter of Flame.

" Of more pressing concern... your mother was unable to maintain herself for the full duration. I fear we may need to find some source of power to fuel the flame... the time of your ascension is quite far away, and we must keep the flame burning bright till then..."

she did give Poppy a glance but she knew it was not her place to explain these things to poppy. Though she did want to, but this had to be discussed all the same.

" Aside from that, the ceremony went well...we only had a few priests suffer from exhaustion after, and no one had to be taken to the infirmary. All in all things went well... however we should brace for the royal houses to throw a fit... if you haven't discussed a bodyguard for poppy you certainly should. I would hate to think of anyone trying something stupid but--- better safe then sorry..."

The feline nodded to Lillianna's general report of the ceremony. It was nothing she didn't notice and was already intending to contact Marine. She'd been looking for powerful artifacts to burn in the pure for almost a year now. She hoped she'd had better luck then she had so--- that was already on her agenda. As for the nobility, well she'd deal with them as they came.

" I have already chosen a protector for Poppy, though she tells me she is quite capable. I would pray its never tested... and even if it was, i'd rather have someone there to intercede on her behalf. I pray it never comes to that... but the Gentry do tend to be foolish at times. I do pray for there sake... they do not try it--- I would be... VERY displeased..."

The way Blaze said displeased, there was nothing but Malice in her tone. The feline was generally VERY calm and kind hearted. But her kidness had limits, and there was no mistaking the soft anger rumbling in her voice.

A Flame is a beautiful thing... but it will burn you should you defy it.

" If there is nothing else... then i have a trip to make to Sonic's world, and Poppy and Gardon have a Nanny to choose. Quite the Busy day ahead of me..."

" ...None... i've said my peace, and perhaps more then i should have. Either way, i wish you both well, and may the Flame Guide your Way..."

"Well, this isn't the first time I jumped blindly into something I have no idea about, at least not completely." Poppy knew the basic's everyone knew about royals. Keep the country running, peace talks, making laws, enforcing them, and all that jazz. The opossum just didn't know about the inner workings of how the long it takes to get that stuff done.

"Blaze is right. If ya stress about how long you got, then you'll forget to actually live ya life. Though if you're worried about how me kicking the bucket will affect Blaze, then I just have to make sure these are the best chucking seven years of her life. This way whenever she thinks back, she'll only have perfectly good memories." A large task, though Poppy was sure she could pull it off.

Poppy was going to avoid mention what Blaze was talking about reigniting an old fire until after they left as she was starting to suspect these two might have a deeper history than she knows of. The opossum didn't want to make things intense again after everyone just started to simmer down.

"To be fair, what person hasn't made a brash or foolhardy choice? Ya grow up, your mind change, and everyone always has that phase where they think they know better than everyone else and can make their own choices." Poppy doubt anyone could deny having at least made one choice that threw caution to the wind.

"Guess I owe ya an apology to you, and to Blaze. I promised to try and keep my cool though I let my temper get the better of me a bit. Still working that last little bit out." Poppy could at least say since getting here she's had her best record of keeping her temper calm. Helps everyone is pretty nice and chill.

"I say we call it square and call it water under the bridge," Poppy said, holding out her hand for Lillianna to shake. No point in letting this single interaction effect how they'll interact down the road. Something the opossum was sure would happen a lot now that she was gonna marry Blaze. "Even if I still kinda wanna smack ya upside the head," she said, chuckling at her joke.

[takamikeiigos]

• though keigo tends to be loud, seemingly carefree, and outgoing, he's convinced himself that hero work is his #1 priority and he has zero time to be getting all up in a tizzy about feelings

• this man probably doesn't even know what a long, meaningful hug feels like. but what does it matter because he's a hero, he doesn't have time to be mulling over that kinda stuff

• now don't get me wrong, keigo has all of the basic human wants and needs for love, affection, companionship, etc. but has managed to tuck those thoughts away deep in the back of his mind

• so he spends his free time alone watching movies by himself while eating takeout, or finding somewhere high on the skyline to perch upon while the breeze caresses him and gives him comfort while he's deep in his thoughts

• when it comes to his avian characteristics and needs, he knows many people don't understand so he tends to them himself

• long tiresome processes of preening his own wings, often getting aggravated when he can't reach a spot or can't get certain feathers to lay flat

• or when it's that time of the season and he continuously chooses to go through his ruts alone because he hasn't allowed himself time to slow down and properly take care of it, because he grew up too fast and exploring his own wants and needs was never an option

• let's talk about keigo nesting during a rut bc of pure instinct but suddenly coming to the harsh reality that he has no one to share it with

• ouch

• imagine the first time he meets you

• you think he's probably the most loud and obnoxious motherfucker you've ever met but he grows on you over time

• its only after spending a bit of time by his side that you realize little things about him that kinda break your heart

• he smiles and jokes around a lot, but when you catch him deep in thought or slipping you notice the vacant stares that make him seem far, far away

• or the fact that he doesn't touch people unless they prompt first, whether it's a high five or a pat on the shoulder, but his hands mostly remain in his pockets or by his sides otherwise

• so it breaks your heart even more when you go to give him a quick hug before checking out for the day and he completely tenses up, clearly not sure how to react

• it occupies most of your thoughts that night, before it finally dawns on you that keigo didn't reciprocate because he didn't know how to (not literally, of course)

• from then on you touch him more often - like gently putting your hand on his shoulder when you're reaching over him, or placing your hand on the small of his back when moving around him

• over-all you're in his space more, always standing a few inches closer so your shoulders touch or your hands brush

• but let's talk about that one time you both go on a mission together and keigo gets knocked around a lil bit

• you're finally able to catch up to him and the idiot is standing there covered in bruises, feathers missing and his hero outfit almost torn to shreds, and he has the audacity to smile at you like he didn't just get knocked into next week

• he tenses again when you run up to him and pull him into a frantic hug, worry ebbing from your entire being but grateful that he's still standing and alive

• but the exhaustion finally catches up to him and its then that his wall comes crashing down, his arms wrapping around you like he's clinging to you for dear life, and his head is resting on your shoulder, coming free of all those heavy thoughts he's been carrying with him

• things slowly change after that

• months later you two end up together, like two pieces of a puzzle that were lost but finally found, a relief of a perfect fit

• he texts you constantly - whether it's of things that remind him of you, or a picture of a cat he saw while on patrols, or even just to let you know you mean the world to him

• when you’re both together he almost always ends up being the one to initiate physical contact now, staying close in your space and his hand always rest against you

• on nights after a long day of patrolling, he'll come over and you'll put a movie on, cuddling close together on the couch while eating the most unhealthy junk food you could find to take the edge off

• you catch him smiling to himself one of those times, and when you look at him curiously, he shakes his head and laughs quietly

• "'s nothing baby bird, just nice to finally have someone to do this with"

• on another tiresome evening of patrolling, he flies through your bedroom window (you always leave it unlocked and open for him) and perches on your windowsill

• you can instantly tell something is bothering him by the way he's holding himself, his wings twitching and his body tense

• so you beckon him to come sit on your bed with you, thinking maybe a back rub will ease the tension. but when he finally sits down in front of you, the disarray of tangled feathers is the answer to your unasked questions

• you tell him to relax and he does, but when you hesitantly run your fingers against his feathers he nearly jumps out of his skin

• you pull your hand away as if it was burned and when you ask if you accidentally hurt him, he flushes and avoids eye contact

• "no! no, you didn't hurt me. they're just.. sensitive. 'm just not used to people touching them like that. but it.. it feels good"

• so you continue running your fingers through his feathers gently, making sure they're all in place and pulling the loose ones from his wings

• he’s all breathy sighs underneath your hands and you swear you hear him cooing every once in a while and your heart melts at the amount of intimacy and trust

• it turns into a ritual after rough days, and neither of you mind it

《《 NSFW 》》

• so look, i’m not saying keigo is a virgin but we're gonna keep going with this little needy & touch starved trend we got going. to each their own

• keigo loves being touched, but he also loves touching you

• i’m talking always pressing up against you when you’re both alone, face nuzzled in your neck while biting and licking, hands on your hips and squeezing

• clinging to you when you’re about to get out of bed, or sneaking into the shower with you bc he misses your warmth and is craving some skin on skin contact, his head nuzzled into your shoulder and his arms wrapped around you from behind

• tbh he’s probably still half asleep as he does this, too. you basically have him completely limp in your arms when you turn to start scrubbing his hair

• i’m getting a little off topic, huh?

• he’s always trying to get your attention, especially when he knows you’re busy

• he’s almost always breathless when things get hot and heavy, nearly falling apart over a make-out session

• but when you finally get him out of his clothes and on the bed where you want him, the experience is one you want to relive forever

• he’s got this wonton facial expression, chest flushed and wings puffed out, lips parted with unspoken pleas as you touch him

• the first time you even touch his dick he nearly loses it, head tossed back and fingers gripping the sheets

• "fuck.. fuck that feels so good dove, please don't stop"

• he’s so sensitive, his skin feels like it might burst into flames because of how worked-up he's getting

• the sight of him falling apart from a simple hand job is a sight to see, something you weren't expecting to get you going but it is

• you stroke him slow, your grip just loose enough where he ends up having to work for it, all the while you're gauging his expressions

• keigo is a talker, loud and completely unashamed of the filth pouring from his lips as he fucks up into your fist, his jaw slack and his brown pinched in pleasure and concentration

• "please baby, right there. god, you feel so fucking good, please don't stop. fuuuuck"

• when you decide to touch his wings out of sheer curiosity, you weren't expecting to his reaction to turn you on as much as it did

• keigo arching off the bed with a broken "f-fuck!", yanking you forward into a harsh kiss as he moans broken please and appraisals into your mouth, whining

• he finally comes in thick spurts over your hand, his hips stuttering as he thrusts upward to milk the final drops of his come, chest heaving and breathy pants falling against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair

• touch starved, needy, and sensitive

don't get me started on my man's going into a rut. whoo, good stuff.

sorry this is so long!! i got very carried away once i got into it.

if anyone wants to request anything, please do?? i would love that, especially since I'm trying to learn more about this beautiful bird-boy. nonetheless i hope y'all enjoyed!!

♡ ky

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 4

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, smut, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official

Lee Bodecker x Reader

Arvin Russell x Reader 

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! This chapter covers a little bit about her relationship with Arvin and some other things as well. I hope you all enjoy!

I also am having some writer’s block with my Obi-Wan Kenobi miniseries I was working on, so expect Part 3 sometime Sunday hopefully! So sorry for the delay on the final chapter.

Tags and Requests are OPEN

You had lost your virginity in the back of Arvin Russell’s pick-up truck. Your mom and you had gotten into a fight again- you don’t even remember what about. You remember she pushed past you to go outside, while you grabbed the phone dialing Arvin’s number. You didn’t even need to say anything. He just knew. He groggily mumbled out that he’d be there soon. And like the sweetheart he was, he was there in the middle of the night to come pick you up. 

Your mom didn’t even look at you as you came out of the house, your coat secured over your pajamas. She just stared out at the dark night and would light herself a cigarette, taking a long drag. He pulled up to your house in his truck and you’d hop in the passenger door. You sat flush with his side, while you cried silently. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped tightly around you, occasionally taking his eyes off the road to kiss your temple affectionately. 

There was a spot out by the lake. A small clearing you could get to by driving on an unmarked road through some woods. He would bring you there when you had to get out of your house. Sometimes, he’d just hold you or he brought a large quilt with him and you’d both crawl into the pick-up and lay together watching the stars as he held you close. 

Despite everything that happened, that boy has always been good to you. He was the kind of boy who you could wake up in the middle of the night and he’d show up in his pajamas to come get you no questions asked. You both looked a little silly. Him wearing his work coat and boots with his pajama bottoms and sleep shirt, and you wearing your coat over a nightgown you paired with whatever shoes you had by the door. 

He’d park the truck and pull you into his arms, holding you close and whispering to you that everything was going to be okay. He’d stroke your hair and press small kisses to your cheeks, not caring that they were salty with tears. You never doubted how much that boy loved you. 

He untangled himself from you for a moment so he could grab the blanket off the top of the backrest. He got out of the truck and you followed his lead, he always held out his hand to escort you down. You stood with your arms crossed over your chest and looked at the ground while he spread out the blanket in the pick-up. 

You’d both climb in and kick off your shoes, and he’d pull you into his chest, so you could rest your head on him instead of the floor of the truck’s bed- which was still hard despite the blanket. You’d rest your hand on his torso, aimlessly drawing shapes over his t-shirt while he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

Sometimes, he would try to think and come up with stories to make you laugh. Sometimes, you’d both just talk about your future, wanting to get out of this town. He’d make promises of taking you away from all your troubles and at the time, you truly believed he was your future. Other times, much like this time, you’d cuddle up together and enjoy the quietness, just enjoying the contact of being so close. He’d never press you to talk about your problems, but he was always there to just listen or if you wanted help he’d be there for that too. 

In-between the whispers of promises and comforting words, you’d both share kisses until before you knew it, you were on top of him, straddling his waist and his hands gently gripped your waist. His touches were always respectful, and he’d always wait for an okay before touching you anywhere. At the time, it was what you wanted. 

“I love you so much,” he’d whisper when you broke the kiss to catch your breath. He pressed his forehead to yours and made circles on your sides with his hands. You’d giggle at how his words made you feel, butterflies in your stomach and goosebumps rising on your skin. He’d smile at the sound of your laugh, knowing he was making you feel better. 

“I love you too,” you whisper. He leans up and connects his lips to yours again. They’re so soft and his body is warm. He sits up so his back is up against the back windshield and you’re sitting in his lap. One arm holds you close to him, his thumb delicately rubbing the exposed skin of your thigh, your nightgown gathering at your waist in this new position and the other hand holds your face as he kisses you deeply. His touch makes a soft moan escape your lips and it encourages him to grip your skin a little bit tighter. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs, running a hand through your hair, before ducking down to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. The action makes your hips instinctively grind against him and you feel his hot breath on your neck as he groans at the feeling. His arms hold your back and guide you so you’re laying back down on the blanket again, this time his body above yours. He holds himself up with one hand and moves his jacket over with the other for a pillow for you to use. He leans down and presses his lips to yours again. Your hands find themselves under his shirt, sliding up his torso, and you smile against his lips when he shivers at your touch.

“Please touch me,” you beg softly in his ear and almost immediately his body freezes above you for a moment. You bite your lip and nod, noticing his hesitation. “I want this,” you confirm, leaning up and kissing him again.

His hands push up the fabric of the nightgown and then slowly pull your panties off. He was moving like if he went too fast, you’d break. Your hands go to the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it off of him, and then you kiss him again with much more urgency, guiding his hand to in-between your legs. You moan at the feeling of his hand finding your clit and rubbing it in a gentle circular motion. Everything was just so slow and purposeful, and all very loving. He kissed your neck, biting and leaving small lovebites on your skin as he picks up his pace, sliding two fingers into you.

His fingers curl and move perfectly, he knows your body so well and he’s already memorized what makes you react to his touch. He kisses you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth, suppressing the moans that fall from your lips at his touch. He can have you falling apart just with his hands.

“Arvin, I need you,” you plead, feeling yourself getting very close. “Please.”

He pulls his hands away to pull off your nightgown, and he stares when your nipples harden in the night air. You were the more beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He also pulls off his own pajamas and his boxer shorts, tossing them somewhere behind him. His lips attach to yours again, one hand running down your side and the other cupping your breast, massaging gently. “Are you sure, baby?” he asks in a whisper against your ear. You can feel his length teasing your folds and it was driving you crazy.

“I’m sure,” you moan softly, running a hand through his hair. He’s very careful, sliding into you for the first time. It was his first time too, and he was worried about hurting you. You wince at the feeling and he pampers you with kisses until you’re ready for him to move.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, and your legs wrap themselves around him. The pain you felt shortly after turned into an immense feeling of pleasure and you moved your hips, silently begging him to move. He chuckles softly, and begins to move his hips. He’s so focused on looking at you, looking at your reactions, making sure you’re okay.

“You feel so good,” you praise, your nails gently marking his back. You did really, honest to God, love Arvin Russell.

“(Y/N) I love you so much,” his gaze looking down at you like you’re the only other creature in the world. Both of you were so dumbstruck by love, and the harsh realities of the world hadn’t torn you from him yet.

Even after you finish, he wraps you up in his arms, making the moment all about you. He was so attentive and caring. You worry that you took him for granted when you think back. No place made you feel safer than his embrace. He was the most selfless person you’d ever met and he would do anything you wanted. He made you the center of his life, and you were so thankful to have had him, even if the world got in the way.

But you didn’t know if Arvin was the boy you had thought you wanted. When you got a call to come pick-up Tommy, you never imagined that Arvin had it in him to inflict so much on someone. The boy who never once scared you, secretly held the ability to beat someone so severely. You were livid with your brother. You were absolutely furious- but this wasn’t something that surprised you about him. Arvin surprised you. He had this anger bottled down deep inside him, and you were scared of it. You were angry and confused.

You were mad he didn’t talk to you. He just went off and did it. It was shocking. He almost killed him. The beating was graphic, Tommy still not even telling you everything. You couldn’t bear to hear it. You could rationalize Arvin’s actions if it wasn’t your brother. It was someone so close to you, and it made you look at him differently. You were also so upset that he kept it from you. You wished he told you about Lenora, and about Tommy and his friends hurting her. But he didn’t. He kept it from you, and he handled the situation in the worst way possible.

For a while, all you would see when you looked at him was the cruelty he inflicted on your brother, even if you agreed the creep deserved it. But that was family, and you had a more delusional view of your family back then. You held a loyalty to them that they didn’t return to you, clearly. Not a day went by when you wished it could’ve turned out differently.

When he showed up at your doorstep, begging for forgiveness, his eyes full of regret, you couldn’t picture anything else than how he must have looked when he attacked Tommy. You can only see how horrible Tommy looked when you had to pick him up off of the ground and carry him to your mother’s car. You knew Tommy deserved it, but he was your brother. You can’t blame Arvin for his actions, and you see that now. But when he was sitting on your front porch steps for hours every day hoping you’d come out and talk to him, all you saw in your mind was the version of him that was sadistic enough to inflict that much pain on somebody.

You wonder if this is why you find yourself drawn to the Sheriff. You knew he had skeletons in his closet, but he was much more up front about his own demons than Arvin. With the Sheriff, his own personal devils were worn on his sleeve, even though he thinks the badge hides it well. With Lee Bodecker, what you see is what you get. Even if he had the secrets the town claimed he had, he was no good. His issues weren’t as nicely tucked away as Arvin’s. With the Sheriff, like yourself, your issues were right there on the surface. You could look at Lee and see the pains of his life. He was not nearly as good at hiding his wrongdoings as he thinks. With Arvin, he was good at pushing it back and hiding it away- and you saw now what happens when he choses to let go.

Arvin would linger in your mind occasionally- thinking about all that could have been with him. But your image of him is tainted, and you don’t know if you could love him again like you had when you were blissfully unaware of this side of him.

You aren’t even sure if this is the reason, you’re finding yourself so drawn to Lee. You had a hard time seeing where these lines were being drawn. Your train of thought hasn’t been rational, you don’t think you ever have been in your life. There’s just something about him that has pulled you in that you couldn’t explain. It was getting harder and harder for you to deny the feelings, as confusing as they were.

“Hi, sugar,” the blonde woman says when you open your front door. She’s wearing the nicest clothes, with white sunglasses, and an animal print coat. If she wasn’t in this town, you thought she’d be a Hollywood star or something. “Ain’t you a doll?” she chuckles, looking you over. “My big brother around?” she asks, looking over your shoulder to obviously peer into your house. The action makes you close the door slightly.

“Who are you looking for?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. You look behind her, a man standing on the steps with a camera around his neck accompanied her. The pair of them were a sight, and the two made your skin crawl.

“Lee!” she exclaims, “Lee Bodecker. Don’t he live here? I’m his sister, Sandy. This here is my husband, Carl.”

“One second,” you say quietly, closing the door and locking it, leaving them on the porch. You had an uneasy feeling about the pair of them, that you couldn’t explain.

You run up to his room and knock on the door. “Lee,” you call, obvious distress in your voice.

“What is it?” he asks, door flying open immediately, concern evident on his face.

“Some woman is here asking for you,” you inform him. “Said she’s your sister. Her and her husband are outside on the porch?”

He lets out a sigh, obviously annoyed that the pair would show up. He tells you he’ll take care of it and follows you back downstairs. He heads over to open the door and the two of them step into your house without waiting for the invitation to come in. You see that Lee’s jaw clenches at their actions. He’s upset they’re here. He’s upset they know about you. He doesn’t know what they want yet, and he doesn’t want to find out with you sitting in the room.

“Can you let the adults have some time to talk sweetheart?” Carl says looking over at you, asking you to get lost in your own house. It’s infuriating. Your fist clenches and you see Lee out of the corner of your eye react the same. Sandy shoots you a sympathetic look and Lee silently apologizes, and nods, his way of asking the same. You hold back from fighting with the stranger when you see Lee’s plea. You nod and head upstairs.

“She’s as pretty as a picture,” you overhear Sandy say as you head upstairs. “She your new sweetheart Lee?’

“What do you want Sandy?” you hear Lee ask with a heavy sigh. Out of respect for Lee, and just assuming it was personal family issues, you head to your room- missing the rest of the conversation. You think about how much you can’t wait for those two to get out of your house. You knew it was wrong of you to judge, but Christ that pair just made your skin crawl for a reason you couldn’t explain.

Sandy and Carl had no problem showing up at Lee’s doorstop asking for money. Of course, that reporter Henry Curtis showed up at their door asking for information about Lee, and Sandy didn’t tell him anything. However, she saw this as an opportunity to get something for herself. She thought by not letting the reporter in and sharing information about her brother she deserved a reward. Sandy knew was in the pocket of a lot of people and she thought by threatening to talk to the press she could get something out of Lee. So now, here they are asking for hush money.

“The only reason you’re not behind bars right now is because I chose to look the other way while you’re whoring yourself out,” he points out to her. “I’m letting you walk free and then you have the audacity to ask me for money? What? Because you wouldn’t talk to a reporter? Fuck, Sandy. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“You let me walk free ‘cause it’ll smear your image, Lee,” she points out. “You ain’t doing that out of the kindness of your heart ‘cause you love your baby sister. You won’t win reelection with a sister locked away for prostitution.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he spits angrily. “Don’t test me.”

“If you don’t think I’ll blab all your dirty secrets when shows up again, you’re stupid Lee,” she counters. “I think what I’m asking for is more than fair. Lock me up, I don’t care. I’ll make bail and you’ll never hold public office again.”

He feels pinned. All he can think about is getting these two of his sight and out of your house. In the moment, he cares more about that than the money. Fuck it, he thinks. Having this fight with her while you’re upstairs is not worth it. He gets up from the chair, and heads over to his jacket. He pulls a couple hundred dollars of the envelope in his inside pocket from his most recent visit from Brown. “This is for keeping your mouth shut, and for never coming back to this house- call me at the station instead if you need to see me,” he says, handing his sister the small stack of twenties. She nods, kissing his cheek, before they both leave the house as quickly as they entered.

He’s livid. Adrenaline is pumping and he can’t even think straight. He walks over to the window and looks through the curtain, watching the pair drive away. Sandy is driving while Carl looks to be adjusting the radio. He could punch the wall; he can’t even describe the feeling that overcomes him. He’s just overwhelmed, his mind is hazy. He feels like he has no control of his life and he just wants to drive off and never come back to this fucking town. He’s so mad at his sister for showing up here, and even more mad that she brought that fucking husband of hers. He’s pissed thinking about how Carl spoke to you and he’s angry at himself for not coming to your defense. This is who he is. He’s everyone’s lacky. Just letting everyone use him for their own selfish gain. He was complacent when faced with adversary, he always had been. He hates how he’s let himself fall this far down. He’s nothing more than a pushover.

You assume the pair left when you hear Lee close the door to his room, loudly. It surprises you and makes you jump. You decide to head over to his room and see if everything is okay. You get up from your bed and put your book on your nightstand, heading over to his room. You’re concerned and you know there probably nothing you can do to help. But he was so helpful and attentive when that reporter had you so upset. You needed to offer to return the favor at least. You only knock once before his door flies open, and he’s looking down at you. Anything you were planning on saying is lost and the look he’s giving you makes your mind go completely blank.

You don’t know who made the first move. It was like you both went in for the kiss frantically at the exact same time. The kiss was hungry and feverish. Both of your just pulling each other as close as physically possible. His hands run up your back and tangle in your hair, tugging gently, making you moan. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck and he uses his foot to kick the door closed.

“Fuck, doll,” he groans when he pulls back for air. Both of you are panting, and neither one of you know what you say. You both just look at each other wide eyed, your eyes scanning his wondering where the hell that came from. You don’t give yourself much time to think about it, pulling him in for another kiss by the tie of his uniform.

Part Five

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01​ @rosalynshields​ @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3

[remsmoonlight]

— title : a sweet truth

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : you get an overwhelming need to share with John how you feel, unable to keep it to yourself anymore, leaving only the good to follow.

— warnings : none, issa soft one

note: my first one shot back and it’s john of course! anyways i need to binge the movies again because this man’s voice was difficult to master this time around, now i will be getting to requests now i have indulged myself oops

                    ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The dull crackle that runs mindlessly beneath the audio of the radio is the only sound that can be heard illuminating the space of the bedroom where you and John lay contently together. He’d offered to repair the object, or even buy another but you refused stubbornly — remarking that it gives it a certain endearing charm. You had joked that it reminds you of him. In the sense that while it has a flaw, it was able to bring joy and amusement to a person’s life. It’s humbling to know that even the John Wick was human, that he had his flaws despite being difficult to witness them in the flesh.

It took a lot for John to bare the darkest and most damaged parts of his conscience. He couldn’t go another day where his mind leapt endlessly to conclusions, his mind conjuring haunting images of your departing body that would eventually come to pass — to him, it was inevitable. He fully convinced himself he was hallucinating when you had not retreated in fear, with the look of disgust cosying up to your reflection, but the opposite. He is still a man greatly feared by a whole world beneath yours, yet you still gaze upon him with nothing but warmth.

You will your mind to focus on the words from the small object, yet it’s the heat that is emitting from his body in waves that prevent you from fully taking in what is being said, its presence doing more to provide white noise than entertainment. The minor glint in your gaze turns upwards to drag your sight across the body that half lays on top of you.

Like vines, to be found in a twist of limbs that would be almost difficult to distinguish what belongs to who is a common occurrence, the sense of shielded from the scorching realities that the world bares boldly is an addicting concoction that you can only find with him. Your heart swells tenfold at the mere thought of him and being here in such a simple way that holds so much affection just for two people.

“ What ? “

The suddenness of his voice lifts you from your thoughts that run their own race, a shy lift of your lips can be seen twirling gracefully in response.

“ Nothing, I’m just thinking. “

“ Thinking? “ he asks you, a light hint of laughter gently coating the question with a feather-like touch. “ Are you trying to scare me? “

Eyes widen in response to what he says, a heavy burst of air plummeting to the soft mattress below the two of you. “ Don’t be so rude! “ A short chuckle trails behind your reply, secretly loving the cheeky side of his personality coming out to peek out.

You’ve realised that he has a warmth whenever you’re together, but even still he maintains an air of such seriousness you’re surprised he has not collapsed under the pressure of holding such a wall up with his bare hands, these moments are the kind that you paint mentally — a still of this moment in a thousand shades of gold. Upon your first meeting of his, you’d never associate that with him, with how intimidating and stone faced he was, it would be a honeyed lie if someone would have described him in such a way but here he is. Not a honeyed lie but a sweet tasting truth that you never want to be without again.

“ I’m sorry. “ he apologises as the amusement in his tones still very much present that would aim to refer to him as a hypocrite, but it’s not spoken with vitriol, his words directed towards you rarely contain any harshness. “ Tell me, I’m curious. “

It’s a minor debate that dances with only itself, zig zagging with a biro pen that creates a mess of lines converging at multiple points to create a tangle plot point that should not be as complicated as it’s being made out. Neither of you have muttered the L word, not even under your breath in passing and the one dominating emotion you can feel overwhelming your body entirely is incredibly close to it.. but is it too soon? Even as a description? It’s a fear you can feel tickling your neck from behind, whispering stained words of discouragement, but if you have learnt anything, it’s that hiding your feelings will be worse off in the long run. Never can a human being strive for the euphoria of authentic happiness clutched in their fist when they lock away their thoughts and their desires in a box to gather age and dust — leaving behind a hollow shell of what could have been had it the opportunity to bud and grow.

“ Well.. “ you begin, your sight lowering to meet the sight of his neck, unable to look him in the eyes fully and you approach the topic. “ I was thinking about you. “

“ Yeah? “

“ I’m just.. happy. More than I thought I could be and it’s you I have to thank. “ Your shoulders shrug as best they can from your position laying down on the bed.

“ I think I should be the one saying that. “ he replies softly, his words ringing truer than they could ever be realised to be as he leans down to leave behind a ghost of a peck behind your ear. It’s an action that is short and sweet.

Never did John imagine himself being rewarded for being the architect in more tragedies and more horrors than he could ever recall. Though, he soon realised your presence was rather the opposite, a ticket to a greener field void of bloodied bargains and death, and should he keep you in his life that would be an opportunity he would not let pass him by in a sea of missed chances left to drown due to his lack of motivation. He gazes upon you fondly in affection, a hand reaching up to draw mindless circles in the back of your hair, memories of his last bargain to leave his previous life playing before him as if an old gritty movie.

“ Stop it, John. I haven’t done a thing! “ your nose wrinkles as you refute what he says with a bashful glint that explodes in your gaze. After all the time you’d spent together and you still refuse to see yourself in the way John has painted you in —

“ You’ve done more for me than you realise. “

It feels like yesterday you shared your first kiss, fondly remembering how you’d mentally remarked that it’s so unfair that what is between you should be so perfect, a cruel joke were it not to work out. Though your heart is full of gratitude when you still tell yourself that not a worry should be had, your need for a physical reminder as you move your hand to his clothed back — bringing him closer as if to burn a permanent reminder into your fingertips.

“ I guess that’s why we compliment each other so well, huh? “

A wispy sigh plummets, your thoughts and emotions mixing more and more into a blend of intensity as you fully realise just how much you have fallen and adore the man who shares your bed. It has been such a long time you have had these emotions to this degree rouse from, what has felt like, an endless slumber. Yes, there had been a few who had caught your eye, but compared to the substance that has been created and nurtured from you both, they had nothing more than a water drop in a boundless and enduring sea. It’s a hope of yours that you don’t look foolish before him, getting so emotional over something like this, you scold yourself mentally — trying to pull yourself together before you completely crumble.

“ What’s wrong? “

“ It’s nothing, really. “ you shake your head, accompanying the almost denial. You want to let everything in your heart free, but the question is how to without scaring him off. There’s not much that can scare him, but you’d rather not throw a spanner in the flawless equation.

“ You don’t have to tell me, but it might help if you do. “ John lends a soothing weight in your hand as he interlocks your fingers together, leaving the choice completely up to you, refusing to force you to share something that is so personal to you. “ it’s your call. “

“ It’s nothing crazy.. “

The side of John’s brain that has been hardwired to jump to every scenario imaginable — good and bad, is running rampant. Itching to be prepared so nothing is able to disrupt the perfect day dream of a life that had only been made available through television shows and movies, now that he has it, every day he promises to never let it be ruined. Nothing good can ever occur from ripping away the first drop of water that touches a person starved of it for days, only a troublesome path of anger can walk that path on its twisted and turned limbs.

“ I think it’s time that I tell you how I feel, “ you state, your lips almost devouring your lips by how hard they bite them, a lost thought of how you have not drawn a drop of blood seeping into irrelevancy. “ how I really feel. “

“ Right? “

For the first time, John is completely unable to get a read of you. The apprehension that is emitting off you in strong waves is not something that comforts him fully, though the fact that you speak not from anger and have opted to stay in your current position as opposed to fleeing is the only source of relief he can continue to draw energy from. Curiosity is the only thing that dominates his mind, wanting desperately to hear the next part of your statement.

In his silence, your brows furrow purely from your own thoughts. Mainly in the wonder of how you can approach this while sounding as if you have capacity and are not obsessed with him as some are with their idols. You know that would be something that would probably scare him off. Your fingertips lay a random beat on the top of his hand, you nestle closer to him as to make yourself comfortable — this does feel like the right time. Should it not? You remind yourself that it is part of a plan that the universe has for you, that it is part of a bigger picture you are not allowed to know until the final moment.

“ I just, “ you pause, blinking as you gather your thoughts and your words further. “ It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything remotely close to this. “

Your words are like a cozy kiss goodnight before two lovers depart until the next time they see each other, a warmth that slowly grows in his heart overspills at the sentiment you individually wrap with each word you speak. He can’t help but tip his head ever so slightly, to take in every detail on your features — in his mind, nothing is more so perfect than this moment.

“ What I’m trying to say is, and you don’t have to say anything — “ the rambling leaves your lips so effortlessly, as if to savour the last few moments of normally before the inevitable confession. “ I can’t help but realise how much I am in love with you. “

His eyes widen instantaneously as his features follow suit, his lips part in surprise. With how your speech had begun, it should not have come as a surprise, yet to hear it from your lips is as pleasant as the final summer’s day, surrounded by warmth and an impenetrable energy that shields you from any harm that would befall you. He’d lived the life of a haunting ghost story that it soon became a belief that he was a monster, to hear you in this moment recite something so real is something that is difficult for him to wrap his head around. Maybe he isn’t a monster that has made its peace with the darkness, that there is more for him as a person.

The emptiness is soon replaced by a soft weight on your lips, he has leans down to join you — unable to fight the desire to savour the taste of him as you often do when you kiss. It’s a fight you have not yet one, and it’s a fight you imagine you would prefer losing. Time is no longer a concept, you’re too wrapped up in the concept turned reality that is John Wick, only are you able to concentrate on the burning that his free hand leaves as they slide up and down your waist. If this is a dream, neither of you want to awaken.

“ Who says I’m not feeling the same as you? “

[zodiyack]

Platform 9¾

Requested by anon: howdy, how are you? can you please do a story that follows the wizard theme? so tommy and the reader have a daughter and she has magic like her mother. she has a wand and can do spells and make potions and has spells books. and especially how tommy would react to it? Since he is a muggle and probably has never seen magic except when his wife does it. have a nice day. 💕

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female!reader, Thomas Shelby & Female!Reader + daughter

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, soft!Tommy

Words: 1,148

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @jenepleurepasbaby, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @stuckysslag, @marquelapage, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @psychkunox, @i-love-superhero, @stydia-4-ever, @peakyxtommy​, @babylooneytoonz​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

His little girl was eleven years old. Eleven fucking years old and on her way to the train station where she would be sent off to a school for people like her. At first, Tommy was hesitant to the idea. Not seeing his daughter, minus breaks, until summer? However, seeing the excitement on her face, as well as eavesdropping on his wife telling her stories about her time in the school, Tommy decided he would not be the one to hold his daughter back from it. Besides, being with people who were like her would make her feel normal, and that’s all he wanted for his daughter.

Now, on the car ride to London’s station, he felt a new feeling grip his gut like it were clinging for dear life. Y/n noticed his uneasiness and reached for his hand, offering her husband a warm smile when he turned his head slightly in response. Are you alright? She asked with her eyes.

He responded with sharp inhale. I’m fine.

Y/n dropped the topic, switching her attention to her daughter but not letting go of Thomas’ hand. “You’re going to love it there.”

“But I won’t be able to see you or daddy!”

Tommy’s heart ached at the panic in his daughter’s voice. She too would miss him greatly. That reassurance should’ve made him feel better, but it made the tugging feeling in his stomach worsen. His eyes even began to sting- not that he’d admit it.

“We’ll write to you, love.” His low voice quavered for a second, hinting that he was close to tears. Of course, Lavinia was too young to catch onto the voice crack’s true meaning, but the way his wife look at him, he knew she heard it.

“Your father is correct, my dear Lavinia. We’ll be sure to send you an owl whenever possible! Photos too.”

A happy gasp cued the glow of her eyes, the little Shelby witch already envisioning her opening letters during breakfast, then writing back in class whilst she listens for anything she should be taking note on. Her mother had already informed her of the letters, howlers, owls, everything. Her imagination was swarming with what she thought Hogwarts would be like.

Tommy couldn’t help but smile, his daughter’s joy spreading to himself. It was like an infection, spreading from his ears and eyes to his heart, but instead of curing the worry forming within him, it only brought more strength to the punch it packed. His smile slipped slightly, but nevertheless, he pushed through.

“Moving ones? Like the ones on your desk in your room?”

“Mhm!” Y/n nodded.

He thought about the photos Lavinia referenced. Moving photos, almost like they were in the exact moment once more, like the pictures, or also known as films, but in a photoframe. And magic.

They were minutes away from the station, and Tommy swore the pain in his abdomen had never nagged more than it did now. He’d nervously bite his lip, twiddle his thumb, glance over at Lavinia, a majority of his tells giving away the fact that he was most certainly not giving the road the attention he should’ve been.

“Thomas!” Y/n yelped as she gripped ahold of the wheel, leaning over and controlling the car with one arm until her husband was brought back down to earth with panic.

“Fuck!”

“Mummy, daddy said a bad word.” Lavinia dawned wide eyes. She’d heard him say many of the grown-up words before, but each time she still flashed back to the first time she’d said one and was given a lecture by her great-aunt Polly.

“Well, lovebug, you’ll just have to excuse your father this once. He did a silly.” Y/n gave her husband a side-glare as she sat properly in her seat again. “And no, that does not mean you can swear when you do a silly.”

“Unless you have good reason for it.” Tommy muttered with a chuckle. He only earned himself a small nudge from Y/n, which brought a teasing smirk to his lips.

The talk on the rest of the way was pretty small, only bits and pieces worth remembering...in the girls’ eyes. To Tommy, every moment with his girls were worth remembering. In fact, this very moment was one he wished never to forget.

He could quote their conversation word for word if asked to.

Lavinia looked both ways before frowning at her mother. “Mummy, there is no platform nine and three quarters.”

“That’s what the muggles see, lovie. But what we see...” She pointed at the brick wall that separated platforms nine and ten. “is right through that wall right there.”

A little smile crawled onto the lips of Lavinia and her mother, a knowing flick of her eyes and the sudden tight grip on her cart cued the preparation Lavinia held. She readied herself before squeezing her eyes shut and running for the wall.

Tommy’s eyes doubled in size. Sure, he’d seen magic before, after all, he was married to a witch, but seeing his daughter walk right through a wall as though it were nothing brought a race to his heart. He walked over, feeling the surface. Yep, indeed, it was brick.

He barely moved in time before Lavinia came hurdling back into the muggle world, a large grin on her face. “Did you see me daddy? Did you see me!?”

“I did, Lavi. It was quite impressive!” He swept her up into his arms, like he did when she was little, and pressed kiss after kiss on her cheeks, the baby-fat still evident in the way they squished with each peck.

“Mummy, help! It tickles!”

Despite her cries for assistance, she only received more attack kisses. Giggles filled their ears, and a harsh tug ripped at Tommy. He thought it oughta be gone by now, but he was incorrect.

Y/n stopped to look at her husband more closely. “Tommy, are you alright?” Concern traced her features.

“Yeah, I’m afraid I’m a bit...sad to see little Lavi go. Seems just yesterday she was playing with uncle Finn and Isiah, they were so little too.”

“But now I’m big, daddy! And I’m going to school so I can do magic like mummy!” Lavinia gave her father a toothy grin.

“I thought mummy said you can’t do magic out of school?”

“Not until she’s of age. Then we can do all the magic we want, isn’t that right Lavi?”

An equally as mischievous look made the mother-daughter duo look even more similar than reality. Tommy chuckled. Although Y/n had to keep him out of trouble, he’d be doing some protecting himself, and not just keeping boys- or girls, he doesn’t judge- away from his little Lavinia. She was going to school, she was going to become a properly trained witch. And just like her mummy, she was going to amaze him.

Or something like that.

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 37

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 16.9k(? i think?) ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: talks of torture, talks of past self-harm, nothing directly graphic all mentioned through conversation, graphic depiction of a panic attack ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act five ➻ part four

​​​

“I’m going to kill the king, Hyunwoo.”

“Y/N, you can’t… that’s going too far.”

“I don’t think we have a choice any longer.”

“We always have a choice, Y/N. It’s just about what you decide to do with that choice that matters. Think about why you’re doing what you’re doing, and what your intentions truly are. It’s not about revenge or payment for a crime — the crimes of his people cannot be put onto his shoulders.”

A sigh passes through your lips, one that sounds more exasperated than anything else, and Hyunwoo lifts a brow upon hearing the noise.

“This is revenge, Hyunwoo. He allowed my past to be taken, he created the law that allows the military to do that. Not to mention the other crimes he has committed — even if they are a result of him sitting idly by and watching them happen. I’m not saying Jisung is always right or that he is a saint for wanting to do this. But if Jisung won’t commit to doing it, then I’ll do it for him.”

“And we swore to find a way to get those memories back, Y/N. Don’t let this cloud your judgment. Don’t let your devotion to making Jisung happy decide your future. If this is something he wants, then he should do it himself and face the consequences on his own! It’s not a burden that you should bear as well. I know this is something you will come to regret!”

“Then you’ll have to stop me with force because I’ve already made my mind up about this. I don’t see Jisung getting in my way right now. But after all, isn’t this what he wants? He’s just too much of a coward to do the dirty work himself!”

“We both know where he stands on this, which is precisely why he’s not here. Just — please let us try one more time. I’ve spoken with a few of my off-planet contacts about this, and we have one last idea that might reverse the effects of the serum. You know how difficult this is; the military keeps such a tight wrap on everything about the serum. It’s near impossible to just get a spare vial, and even harder to examine how it works with test subjects while still being ethical. We are trying our best, I promise, just please hold out a little while longer. Jisung is getting things set up now… so please… just come with me and try before you do anything drastic.”

The man extends a hand, palm facing towards the ceiling and fingers outstretched for you to take. There’s hope in his eyes, a hope you haven’t seen from him in a long time, and that look is what brings your feet forward. You place your palm over his and curl your fingers tight around the side of his hand. He squeezes back as a small grin overtakes his lips.

“If this doesn’t work, then you know what I have to do, Hyunwoo.”

“I know,” he whispers. The hope in his eyes flickers a little, like a flame hit by a gust of wind. “In that case, I’ll do whatever I have to so that you don’t come to regret that decision.”

“Hey, get up. It’s go time.”

You wake with a start, not fully come out of the memory that paints the insides of your eyelids until you look around at your surroundings. Yeosang seems to be the one who woke you seeing as his hand is still outstretched to your arm. The sight of him brings you back to reality and reminds you of where you are and what exactly is going on. Jongho sits on your other side, dressed in nicer clothes than you’ve ever seen him wear before — a pleated and pristine navy suit complete with a bright yellow tie and hair gelled back on his head. Yeosang too wears a somewhat expensive garb although he appears more natural in the silk tunic covering his torso. His naturally dark roots are starting to peek through the blond near his scalp, accentuating the harsh part down the middle of his head.

Despite the fact that both look relatively harmless in this state, you know they each have weapons hidden somewhere on their person underneath that formal wear, just as you do with the knives strapped over your thighs under the skirt attached to your waist. Such an outfit like yours is something you hardly agreed to — it was moreso an insistence on Seonghwa’s part to at least dress the part (although he had to listen to some of your incessant nagging about how you could never fight in a dress so he had to settle on finding a substitute in the form of a jumpsuit with a skirt wrapped around the back. Yet the more you pick at the seams and touch the fabric, the more you recall the none too pleasant conversation you and Seonghwa shared as you were preparing to leave for the mission.

“Perhaps I do have an eye for beauty after all, or is it that you simply look breathtaking in anything?” Seonghwa stands in the doorway to your bedroom, not a mind for privacy as he watches you struggle to tug the zipper of your suit up.

“Can’t even breathe on my own, huh?” You huff out as you drop the zipper in defeat.

“I’ve already seen every inch of you, have I not? There’s nothing to hide that I haven’t seen before,” Seonghwa says through a laugh. He watches your cheeks flush with color before dropping his arms to his side and coming closer to you. He remains wordless as he pulls your zipper up for you, smoothing the fabric under his fingers down once it’s pulled up to your neck. “It suits you. Things like this, I mean. The silk makes you look… softer, yet the color combination of black and white makes you look lethal. Perfect definition of beauty, no? That something so delicate could also kill you? A wonderful dichotomy in my eyes.”

“Someone is in a poetic mood today.” You don’t hide the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem all too bothered by your show of faux-annoyance. Instead, his hands find your hips and turn you to face him directly, staring so intently into your eyes with his own dark ones that you lose the rest of your retort.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to go on this mission so desperately but that didn’t quite work out.” You’re quick to shake your head, already in the midst of denying his words before he even finishes his sentence.

“It’s alright. I’ll have Yeosang and Jongho there with me.”

“I would go if only Hongjoong would let me bu—” The thought cuts short as you place a hand over his forearm.

“Seonghwa, it’s okay. Hongjoong is right to have you stay here while you’re not 100% better. And you can both keep an eye on Jisung this way. We’ll bring Wooyoung back as quickly as possible, I swear.” Instead of consoling the man, your words seem to have an opposite effect as he drops his gaze to the floor.

“If I were stronger, this wouldn’t even be an issue. You should not have had to waste so much time having to look after my fragile and weak mental state when you could have caught up to the ship sooner and had all three of them back in one go.”

“This is what we’re working with, Hwa. It has nothing to do with your welfare. We still would have been too late regardless of whether that night had happened or not. So please — it will all work out and be okay. It has to.”

Seonghwa’s smile is quaint, a small twitch of his lips, then he’s leaning in to close the distance between your lips. You lift your hand to push hard against his chest, furthering that distance before he gets the chance to meet your lips with his.

“I just put on this black lipstick and you already want to mess it up? How rude,” you scoff. That isn’t a real reason, and you both know it, and you only solidify that further when you speak next before biting your tongue. “You shouldn’t push it right now. I still haven’t forgiven you for not fighting my decision to go with Jisung. Besides wasn’t the decision to… stop whatever this is mutual?”

“It was, of course,” he murmurs back, not quite meeting your eyes. “I am merely a creature of habit, so it will take some time for me to adjust to this change. But… Y/N, might I be so bold as to ask you something?”

“Hm, isn’t that a question right there?”

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” You regard him with a small nod but pull away so that his hands drop to his sides again. “Were any of the feelings you had for me something real and tangible? Not just because of what we are and that comfort of both being Sirens, I mean.”

You should have known he would bring this up eventually, especially with how the two of you are constantly dancing around each other and the topic. Still, you aren’t ready for it.

“I… don’t think I know the answer to that question, but even if I did, I-I might not be able to answer with complete honesty.” The smile that comes to paint Seonghwa’s lips is nothing short of sad and painful, not quite reaching his bright eyes with its usual mirth.

“It’s a conversation I wish for us to have one day, but I too fear that I might not be able to be completely honest either. Perhaps — perhaps we got a little too caught up in the heat of things without truly thinking about why we were doing the things we were doing.”

“Why did you do it then? I was the one who gave the initial push, I started things, I claim responsibility for that, but you pulled right back. So why?”

“I have found time to think about such things quite a bit lately since I was left in the medbay alone for so long; however, now is not the time to talk about that as it would take too long. Has Wooyoung brought you back yet?”

“No, not since the night in the medbay. But San very clearly said three days until they would land on Dorado, and it’s been six since then. They should be there by now, and the deals should have gone through. Wooyoung’s was to be immediate after all.” Seonghwa’s smile drops into a half-hearted scowl.

“Without Wooyoung on the inside, we will have no way of knowing where San and Mingi are.”

“Unless Jisung decides to be kind with his information.” You run a hand through your hair, mussing the already down tresses enough to be somewhat noticeable. “We’ll have to make do.” Seonghwa stretches across the empty space between you

“I won’t keep you any longer then. Tell the others good luck from me, and please… be careful? No unnecessary risks if you can avoid them. I’d like to see you all back in one piece.”

Reality swoops in on you as Jongho places a firm hand over your thigh.

“You alright? I can practically feel you thinking so hard.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Just… wondering about the mission.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jongho murmurs, squeezing at your leg a little tighter. “It’s a straightforward mission — easy in and out.”

“Hopefully.” Yeosang is the one to hum the word but he doesn’t look at either of you as he speaks. “Once we’re in, I’ll talk to the main desk and ask for someone with Wooyoung’s general appearance. It’ll be a bit difficult because they will have given a new name — something a prostitute would have. I’m not sure how many people in there will have similar appearances to Wooyoung but we’ll have to do our best. You two remember what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Follow suit, wait fifteen minutes for you to pass through the reception area, then ask the same thing. A male short in stature with black hair and tanned skin. All prostitutes have collar so it won’t be Wooyoung’s defining feature any longer.” The recitation rolls off your tongue with ease after having heard Yeosang repeat it so many times by now. He nods in approval nonetheless.

“Remember there are cameras in each of the rooms. Don’t know how they use them but it’s something to be aware of. Hopefully, one of us will be able to come across Wooyoung, and in the case that you do?”

“We are to stay in the room with him for the allotted time, ping back to the ship and let Hongjoong know we have him, then wait for his signal,” Jongho responds. “His contact here on Dorado will be hacking their surveillance systems once we are certain that we have Wooyoung in a safe position.”

“Hongjoong sure seems to have a lot of contacts for someone who doesn’t trust people,” you murmur more to yourself than to anyone else, but Yeosang picks up on it nonetheless.

“His contacts are few and far between. This is one he has known since before he became a captain, so he holds a bit more trust with him. Back to the plan though, after his contact confirms our safety, you’ll crack a window and hop out hopefully unscathed. Remember that the Upper Echelon of Dorado is tight on security. Whoever gets Wooyoung out will have to be mindful of guards and try not to look suspicious. If any guards stop you, do not engage with violence. Simply do as they ask you to and tell them that Wooyoung is your slave. And one last thing: don’t forget we’ll be going in silent so keep a close eye on your wristbands. Understood?”

“Clear as day,” Jongho says while you offer only a hasty nod.

“Good, stay sharp then. We’ll be landing soon, and it’ll be go time immediately after that.” With that, Yeosang sits back and shuts his eyes, leaving you and Jongho to stew over the plan again in silence. At least until you decide you can’t take it anymore and turn to talk to the Berserker again.

“Are you nervous at all about the mission?”

A shrug.

“No more than usual. Recovering Wooyoung won’t be easy by any means, of course. It’s a step in the right direction, right? How are you feeling?” As though sensing your nerves, he pats your thigh a few times, and you simply stare down at the dirty floor beneath your feet.

“I feel a bit guilty in a way because I’m not too worried about the mission,” you admit, albeit quietly because you aren’t sure how please Yeosang would be to hear the words. “The only thing that is on my mind right now is how San is doing and if he’s okay.” Although you told Seonghwa otherwise, the sudden radio silence that Wooyoung has given you has made you anxious to an unspeakable degree. And not having the security of being able to see San through Wooyoung’s eyes is plaguing you more than you’d like to admit.

“I understand that,” Jongho says through a deep exhale. “I feel the same way about Mingi right now honestly. No matter how much faith and trust I have in Mingi, that fear always lingers and resides in me.”

“That’s how I feel about San. I shouldn’t be worried about him but part of me is just fearful that we won’t make it in time. That he’ll accept the serum before we can get him out.”

Jongho brings his hand up to take hold of one of yours, squeezing around your palm as tight as he can without hurting you.

“I know San better than I know anyone on the crew, besides Mingi perhaps. I’ve spent years at San’s side. He was the only person who trusted me at first and trusted me enough to let me in. That trauma he bears, the scars on his past, the red in his ledger, those lingering pains that resurfaced when the mutiny happened — I have felt them all. I spent months at the foot of his bed, taking what pain I could away for as long as I could, just existing to comfort him and help him get through even one more night. And in that myriad of emotions I felt from San, not once did I ever feel him desire to take it all away. Those scars he bears are part of him, and he treats them as such. Something like… small accessories on a bigger picture that he won’t let go of. So no matter what happens, I have confidence that San won’t let them win. He’s far too stubborn for that, his heart is too big, he has too much love in his body for such a thing. He would rather die before he forgets the crew, and that fact alone makes me confident that San will hold out.”

You are left in the wake of Jongho’s words for too long, letting them crawl under your skin and find a home there. You count the seconds that pass before your voice finds you again.

“I understand that.” Forty-one seconds. “It’s just the fear of him being hurt when I’m not around to stop it that is hard to get past.” Jongho’s smile is nothing if not soft and gentle, the epitome of understanding.

“In our line of work, that fear is always present. It’s always a possibility too, but at some point, you reach a point where you accept that sometimes, you won’t always be able to save someone from all pain. Just because you can’t prevent every ounce of pain doesn’t mean that you are doing something wrong or that you’re not doing enough.” Jongho pauses. Some emotion fills his red eyes and leaves them swimming with something unspoken. “There are some pains that we must allow to happen, no matter how much we wish to do the opposite. Even something as horrid as pain can be necessary and needed to move forward in life. Try not to dwell on it too much and focus on Wooyoung for now, yeah?”

“I’m trying my best,” you sigh and drop your head back against the seat. The second your thoughts begin to drift, you are brought back to another memory, this time one of Hongjoong’s dark office with Seonghwa at your side.

“You punched Jisung in the face?”

“Please, I let him off easy,” you huff back, ignoring the lieutenant’s slight shock in favor of finding interest in the wall.

“That’s not the important part,” Hongjoong cuts in from where he sits behind his desk. You shift to glance over the captain. “Does Jisung know anything about you being a Siren?”

“No, not that I recall,” you mutter after little thought. “I never slept with him or anything like that, and I can’t remember him ever seeing my back so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t know. Besides who would just see tattoos and immediately assume ‘Siren’?”

“Then his interest in you has nothing to do with you being a Siren?”

“Exactly, but why is that important? I can tell you why he wants me if that’s what you’re curious about.”

“We’re just eliminating suspicions right now.” Hongjoong shifts his focus to where Seonghwa stands. He wears a bit of a cocky grin as they stare at each other, both feet slung up on the edge of his desk and one brow raised. “See? Jin has nothing to do with this.”

“That doesn’t eliminate the possibility altogether!” Seonghwa retorts. A frown mars his otherwise pretty features, twisting his lips into a scowl so deep that you feel your own muscles ache at the sight of it.

“You live your life in fear of Seokjin. For what? Do you not trust me to keep you safe?”

“That isn’t it and you know it, Joong. I will not sabotage your plans simply because of what I am. That is why we keep my identity to be a closely-guarded secret yet our number one enemy knows of that identity. That is a weakness, and it’s one that you need to take seriously.”

“Why is that? Sheltering you would be more suspicious to the crew than anything else. Unless you would like to inform them of your identity? Allow me to call them all right this instant.”

“No! No, Hongjoong, I — fine. Have it your way. Keep believing that you’ll be able to fix where Jin went wrong by ignoring the issue altogether because th—”

“That’s enough.” You bristle at the tone of the captain’s voice even though he is not speaking directly to you. “I’m still on edge as well, Hwa, and I know you are as well. I know why you are too, but please have at least a little faith in me. Now, Y/N—” Hongjoong turns back to you now “—I’d like to ask about the nightmares you had that night.”

Your initial response is to inhale sharply and glance over at Seonghwa with panic boiling in your gut.

“Why do you want to know?”

All Hongjoong does is roll his eyes and drop his feet off the side of his desk. You purse your lips at the action, watching him with wary eyes as he shifts his position to prop his elbows up on the same wood.

“Seonghwa, you’re dismissed.”

“I — Captain?”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant. I need to speak with her in private.”

“Why is it something I cannot be present for?”

“That was an order, not a suggestion. Now go.” If possible, the temperature of the room would drop ten degrees. Seonghwa seems to want to retort further but he bites his lip instead. Then, he gives a quick bow at the waist and mutters a goodbye before slipping out of the office without any further issue. “What did your nightmares consist of?” Hongjoong repeats, arching a brow as he speaks this time as though it will get you to talk faster.

“You didn’t have to get me alone to ask me that, did you? What is this really about?” The questions flow without hesitation, and your second refusal to talk about the dreams draws a sigh from Hongjoong’s lips.

“Do you know anything of Seonghwa’s relationship with his mother, Y/N?” A beat of silence. You shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing away from the captain to find interest in something on the floor.

“I… did witness a few of his memories when the two of us were still with each other in the dreams, but — if you mean to ask me about his nightmares, I have nothing to offer. I didn’t see those at all.”

“No, he already told me all about those nightmares. I don’t need to know more of them,” Hongjoong exhales with a shake of his head. He draws his arms up over his chest as he talks, falling back to slump in his chair and letting his exhaustion shine through. “Initially, I was going to have Seonghwa go with Yeosang and Jongho on this mission. But now, that plan has changed and I will be sending you instead.”

“Why?”

“I can’t send Seonghwa down to Lynder unless I myself can be at his side the entire time. There is far too much of a risk if I am unable to do that.”

“Risk? Of what? He would be with Yeosang and Jongho, would he not?”

“Yet if even the barest whim overcomes him, they would have to listen to whatever he says because of his position as lieutenant. I am the only one with more power than him, and as such, he has to listen to me. If he goes to Lynder, the risk is of him abandoning the mission to seek out his mother.”

“That doesn’t sound like something he would do at all,” you counter. Both you and Hongjoong drop your chins at the same time, although yours is more of an accusatory and pointed action compared to the slumping defeat that comes over Hongjoong’s body when he lowers his head.

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

“A-Ah…” The sound of your dry swallow echoes in your ears. It’s hard to imagine Seonghwa — cool, rigid, stoic, gentle and calm Seonghwa — ever being so depraved and rabid as to harm himself as well as Hongjoong. Seonghwa, whose greatest fear is losing his captain. Yet the grave expression coating Hongjoong’s delicate features remains serious and deadpan, and you know every word is one that holds a memory that is painful to recall. He’s telling the truth.

“Have you ever had that voice in your head telling you to be cruel, Y/N?”

“Of course I have,” you admit through a whisper, like the words are going to break the threads of tension hanging in the air.

“Seonghwa has lost his will and his mind to that voice time and time again, and it gave him his reputation as the Lieutenant of Death. Mingi may be a slave to a childhood which bred him to be a monster, but Seonghwa? He’s a slave to his own consciousness, the part of him that spent years trying to be perceived as an Elitist so that he could hide what he really is, someone cold and calculated without an ounce of remorse or emotion. He put his own monsters under the bed, but now he can’t get them out.”

Hongjoong sits up a bit straighter all of a sudden. His gaze is still unfocused and hazy though, refusing to look you straight in the eye. Either subconsciously or through the fog of that revisited memory, Hongjoong lifts a hand to his neck and rubs idly at the skin there.

“My Seon—Lieutenant is strong, but strength isn’t worth a damn thing when the person you’re fighting is yourself. He admitted to me once that the thought of letting that voice win is more terrifying than the act of killing his own mother. So for that reason, I can never allow such a thing to happen. Seonghwa’s demons are nothing if not rabid dogs begging for a pound of flesh, and if he can’t fight them on his own, I’ll do it for him.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” Jongho yet again brings you back to reality, most likely a bit disturbed by the way you are squeezing his hand tight enough to hurt, but he takes it without complaint. “You keep drifting out of focus.”

“Yes,” you say, filling your chest with air when you remember to breathe properly again. “Everything is fine.” Rather than responding with words, Jongho just places his other hand over your joined ones and brings them to rest on his thigh. If you listen closely enough, you’re able to hear him humming a soft melody under his breath but the rumble of the transport car covers most of the sound up. Still, it’s a relaxing sound that brings you some much-needed peace of mind for the remainder of the ride.

And as it turns out, Yeosang wasn’t bluffing when he said the three of you would be there soon because you had barely started listening to Jongho’s soft song when the car comes to a screeching halt that leaves you lurching forward.

“Alright then.” Yeosang stands first, hands smoothing down the fabric of his tunic even though it’s still perfectly in place. It’s not against his nature to get nervous or anxious, but it is still odd to witness like this. He is usually stoic in an unsettling way yet the grim expression he now wears is only accentuated by the crude shadows cast over his face. “It’s go time. Let’s get Wooyoung back in one piece, yeah?”

With that, the three of you climb out of the vehicle to be greeted by a dark and pristine city with thick clouds of smoke billowing through the air below you. Looking over the lip of the road is like looking down a cliff with the dramatic fall to the lower portion of the city. You weren’t exactly prepared to see such a drastic difference between the upper and lower echelons, yet looking over that cliff is like looking into a different city altogether with wooden buildings and decrepit warehouses that can barely hold themselves together. Where you stand with Yeosang and Jongho feels like a different world altogether with roads lined with lights and technology, tall buildings made from wood with exquisite carvings detailing the sides. From what you saw of the city in Seonghwa’s memories, Lynder has not changed one bit since he was here last.

You can’t clearly see many of the buildings below your feet, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering which one could possibly be that bar where Seonghwa met Hongjoong, if it even still exists. Jongho pulls you away from the road by the arm, tugging you along behind him as you approach a new building. The swaying wooden panel outside the door is a dead giveaway, but it’s the absurd amount of lilies trailing over the railings that tells you what this place is.

“They weren’t bluffing with the House of Lilies name,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose a bit at the overwhelming stench. Yeosang has grown alarmingly still; he lingers outside the tall double doors with a hand hovering over the brass handles without budging even an inch for far too long. You could pretend to not know why he’s hesitating, you could act like he is merely holding you back and push past him in annoyance, yet instead, you find yourself laying a hand atop his shoulder and squeezing the fabric there lightly. “No matter what happens in there or what we find in there, we will bring Wooyoung out alive.”

Yeosang releases a shaky exhale that makes his shoulder quake under your fingers.

“I know we will.” He looks past your face to make eye contact with Jongho then gives a curt nod. “Here goes the first fifteen minutes of hell.” The Elitist pushes hard against the brass handles, and the door gives way to his effort.

If you thought the smell outside the House was horrid, you don’t even know how to describe the reeking stench of flowers that hits you with the force of a tsunami. It’s thick enough for you to feel as though you are wading through a sea of flowers when in reality it’s just a strange yellow haze hanging about the interior. Yeosang doesn’t let the smell affect him in the slightest; he walks inside without missing a beat, shoulders pushed back so far it nearly hurts to see. Despite that, he walks like a prince, like someone who knows how to act in high society with ease, and for the first time, you don’t see Kang Yeosang before you. Instead, it’s Kang Minhee, the forgotten prince of Aera, who walks before you and heads for the front desk where a middle-aged woman with dramatic hair and hefty makeup stands.

“We should mingle a bit and look natural,” Jongho whispers when the two of you stop just inside the doors. “May I?” He motions to your arm with a small smile, not saying anything else and leaving you confused.

“May you…?”

“Quit being dense and give me your arm,” he huffs back and extends his elbow for you to loop your arm through, and this time, you get the hint, hooking your hand around the inside of his arm. Yeosang shifts to look back at both of you as you pass, and you offer each other discreet nods before he returns to speaking to the receptionist.

You let Jongho lead the way for the most part since you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to be doing outside of “looking normal”, although even doing that is somewhat difficult. Jongho doesn’t stray far from the entrance area until Yeosang dips into a hallway and out of sight without looking back at the two of you. Moments later your wristbands buzz, signaling that it’s time for the first fifteen-minute countdown to begin. Jongho shifts to fiddle with his wristband while you keep your hand folded over his elbow still. It gives you a chance to glance around the whorehouse without the distraction of having to act normal, but frankly, there isn’t much to see beyond the bodies filling the foyer and mingling about the lounge before you. There are flowers everywhere — probably an overabundance of them, and they aren’t just lilies as they were outside. You can’t pinpoint whether those flowers are the source of the clawingly sweet scent stuck to the insides of your nostrils or not, but that yellow fog seems partially responsible to some degree.

“You seem to know how to look like you belong in high society,” you mutter once Jongho pulls his attention back to your surroundings. A huff of laughter leaves his lips.

“It’s not because I grew up that way. I was merely an observant child who wanted to grow up and have more than what I had.” A smile cracks his stony expression. “Isn’t that what all children want?”

“I—”

Well, you wouldn’t really know, would you?

Jongho’s expression softens as he realizes what he’s said and who he has said it to, and his gaze turns apologetic seconds later. He turns to flag down one of the workers milling about with drinks, taking two glasses of what looks like wine in one hand. Jongho angles one of the half-full flutes in your direction. You take the hint with relative ease despite the clawing scent of flowers still muddling your thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” Jongho says through what seems to be a sympathetic smile. “What do you think your childhood was like? If you don’t mind talking about such things. We have time to kill after all.”

You draw your lips into a tight purse, curling them around the edge of the wine glass and pressing an imprint of your dark lipstick there. Subconsciously, your hand tightens around the inside of Jongho’s arm as well, although the Berserker doesn’t comment on the added pressure as he simply continues to regard you with the same steely and careful gaze.

“I think it must have been rather sad,” you admit after some thought. It must not be the answer Jongho was expecting at all because his brows draw together in confusion. “What kind of childhood must one have for them to willingly sell away their memories by fourteen? The more I think… about that time — when they gave me the serum — I recall fighting the doctors but I don’t think it was because I didn’t know what they were doing. I’m certain that I knew my memories would be taken from me. It was the act of them strapping me to a chair like a prisoner that frightened me.”

This time when Jongho smiles, all you can see is pain in his deep red eyes.

“I would have given anything in the universe to have my memories taken away at that age too, if it’s of any comfort to you.” He pauses to swirl the liquid in his glass, watching the red liquor dance before his eyes under the yellow haze around your bodies. “Don’t think you’re weak for wanting to forget that past. No child should ever deal with pains that strong, even if you can’t remember what they are.”

“People like you… San, Mingi… the whole crew honestly — how can I not view myself as weak in comparison? People who were given the choice but denied it and rejected it unlike me, who apparently didn’t want to be left with some shred of dignity. What did I become with that fresh slate they gave me? All I could do then was be weak, but it seems like that hasn’t changed one bit.”

Jongho won’t let up with that devastating smile, and you are about to turn away so that you don’t have to see it any longer when he finally lets it fall.

“For what it’s worth, you are rather strong in my eyes. During your fight with Jisung, I’ll admit that I tried to ease some of your pain then. It’s not something you know about — the others know of it by now so I should have told you sooner and I’m sorry for that but I have a special mutation in my genes that gives me the ability to take away and absorb emotional auras. I inherited it from one of my grandparents so it’s something I grew up learning how to use and I carried that over when I joined the crew. I attempted to do that with you because you were in so much distress and I was worried but — b-but your pain was too much for even me to bear. So before you go around calling yourself weak, you ought to give yourself more credit. Just because the pains you bear are different doesn’t mean that they are any less than the pains the rest of us bear.”

Jongho doesn’t say anything more than that; he slings his wine back in one shot like it’s nothing then places the now empty glass on a waiter’s tray as he’s passing by. You don’t touch your own, mulling over the glass as you fall deep in thought. If Jongho could feel that much from you, then it begs the question of what else he might be able to feel from you.

Can he sense that I’m a Siren too? Would he be able to tell that Seonghwa and Wooyoung are Sirens as well?

Your mind shifts to latch onto something else he said. Your pain was too much for even me to bear.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Stand down,” he murmurs. “You need to pick your battles, and this is not one for you to fight right now.” Again you feel that pull of warmth coming from him, like someone is trying to pull something from your chest, but it retracts almost instantaneously. Jongho falters. His eyes squeeze shut harshly, face contorting with something that almost looks like pain in your eyes, but that lasts less than a second before he’s recovered again. It’s not enough to stop the onslaught of emotions coursing through your veins.

You had been too preoccupied at the time to think about that moment until now.

“That time — did I hurt you? When you tried to take it away, did I hurt you even a little bit?”

“Nothing you did hurt me, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault, I promise you didn’t do anything. It’s something I have done time and time again for others on the crew and something I would do again as well. It’s what I’m good at, and something I was born with for a reason. If it helps even a little bit, then why would I not take the temporary pain?”

Every fiber of your being is telling you to fight those words, to tell him that it’s not worth it, your pain should not be a burden he has to bear as well, yet no words fall from your lips. Your mouth stutters uselessly without saying anything, and Jongho just keeps smiling like nothing is wrong. The clenching in your chest is not fine, however, and you force yourself to turn away from him in the hopes it will alleviate that pain. Instead, your eyes travel to a head of bright red hair that is so starkly different than anything else in the room that you have to stare right at it. It would be nothing odd or out of the ordinary to you since the crew you are now part of has such a wide array of hair colors. It would be something you look right past without much thought.

And yet you find yourself staring right at it. Right at the girl who turns to look around the lounge with red hair sweeping through the air.

You jolt.

Something hits your shoulder hard enough to tip your drink over and spill some of the red wine onto the floor. Your hand retracts from Jongho’s arm to touch the knife hidden behind the fabric of your skirt. You’re forced to pull your gaze away from the girl, finding the man who bumped into you to just be a stumbling drunk man with little sense for spatial awareness and direction. Jongho wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you a bit closer to his body. The man continues on without any regard for you or the wine he just spilled. Jongho takes your glass with his free hand, discarding it at the nearest flat surface before redirecting his focus back to you.

“It’s okay, Y/N, everything is okay.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur back, but your gaze goes straight back to where that redhead just stood.

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Instinct tells you to stay put and continue on with the mission, putting that familiar face to the back of your mind. But again your heart is clenching painfully in your chest, racing so fast that you feel the pounds echoing in your ears, and you know you can’t let go of her that easily. Not when she’s this close to you.

“I think I did.” You pull away from Jongho to go chasing through the crowd after that red hair, but the Berserker moves with you in a rush.

“Y/N, we can’t get off track. There’s only six minutes until it’s your turn to go to the counter.”

You wave him off with a dismissive hand rather than responding with words. Moments later, you find your target again, just as she is turning to head for the hallway that Yeosang went down not too long ago.

“Soojin?” You throw the name out as a last resort, mostly a desperate attempt to see if you are right and your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you in this heady yellow haze.

She freezes in place. It gives you just enough time to shove past the crowd and get closer to where she stands. You close your fingers around her shoulder, tugging with as little force as possible so that she turns to face you. There’s not a doubt in your mind when you see her face. She seems to recognize you as well based on the way her eyes are blown wide as saucers. The girl — well, you suppose she would be a woman by now — glances past your shoulder to look at Jongho. Her throat rolls as she swallows around nothing.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Soojin whispers, bringing her gaze back down to you. She dips her head a bit then pulls away from you to head down the hall. You think back to Jisung — the threats and odd comments he made combined with the newly resurfaced memories of Hyunwoo lingering at the forefront of your mind, and you know without a shadow of a doubt that you can’t let her go this easily.

“P-Please, Soojin — I need to talk with you. It’s important, please, I have so many questions and no one else to ask.”

“I’m sure you do, little scapegoat,” she huffs back. “I actually have work to do though and a client waiting for me, so I’m not all too inclined to speak with you. I’m not sure why you came here, but I don’t think I have the answers you’re looking for either.” You don’t have a chance to keep her from leaving after that because she turns and leaves so quickly that it leaves you reeling. Jongho tugs you back by the arm, pulling you from the hallway and out into the lounge again before you can chase after her.

“What the hell was that?” He hisses under his breath.

“She — I-I knew her. She w-was my teammate, one of the p-people assigned to my unit in the military. I… I had no idea she ended up here of all places. Jongho, I have to talk to her, please, I have to. This c-could be what I need! If Jisung won’t tell me the truth, then maybe she knows something. She has to know something o-or else I—”

Your voice dies in your throat, but your unspoken desperation seems to reach Jongho nonetheless. The key to whatever memories you lost could lie in Soojin. Things happened so quickly at the end, perhaps she learned of something before leaving Eros with the others.

“She called you a scapegoat,” Jongho says. He swallows hard, Adam’s Apple bobbing with the motion. “What was that about?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten that far. You didn’t even think to question that part but it is odd and not something you recall her calling you in the past.

“I’m not sure why she would say that. All the more reason to speak to her and ask. Jongho, please!” You attempt to pull away from his grip as you speak. The Berserker doesn’t budge, too strong for you to fight like this, and he doesn’t let up even when you try to slap his hand away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He yanks you back to him and brings his free hand up to rest on your forehead. This time, you can physically feel the panic in your bones ebbing away and being pulled to your forehead where Jongho touches you. It’s a frightening sensation but the influence he has over you takes that fear away as well, leaving you in a daze of confusion because you know you should feel bothered right now but you cannot bring yourself to feel that way even as Jongho pulls away from you. His jaw twitches just a hair, not moving much beyond that, then he grits his teeth to hiss out his next words. “Wooyoung is our mission. You have to focus. You have two minutes to get up to that counter and do your job. We can try to track down your teammate later, but not on a mission like this.”

You have it in you to at least be angry enough to tug your arm out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch my emotions like that again. I understand you trying to take my pain, and as much as I hate that and despite the thought of you taking my pains for me, this is different. Emotionally sedating me for the sake of completing a mission better is different.”

You don’t give him a chance to reply before you’re heading off for the counter where Yeosang stood not too long ago. The woman who previously occupied the space behind it has disappeared, now replaced by a young man who must be younger than you from the looks of it.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” He asks as you sidle up to the desk.

“I’d like a room, an hour’s worth.” You fumble a bit with your pockets as you try to fish a credit chip out without exposing the knife strapped to your thigh, but the boy doesn’t look up until you slide the chip across the counter.

“Of course, of course,” he hums. “Do you have any preferences for pleasure tonight?”

“A male short in stature with black hair and tanned skin,” you recite back, forcing a smile onto your lips when the boy glances up at you. He tilts his head to the side. You swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth as the stare grows unsettling then he shakes his head and speaks again.

“Would you like someone more submissive or dominant?”

“Hm? Oh, um…” That wasn’t part of the plan. Surely Yeosang would have mentioned it if he had known they would ask. But what would he have said if they asked him the same? “Um, submissive is fine, I suppose?” The boy hums again then motions towards the hallway where Yeosang and Soojin both headed down.

“Your room will be on the second floor, Room 213. Please take the stairs at the end of the hall.” He passes a keycard your way along with your credit chip, leaving you with a grin and a soft-spoken, “Your courtesan will join you shortly. Enjoy.” You bristle at his words but manage to smile a little bit as you take both the card and your chip back. You leave the counter to head for the hallway, not pausing to look back at where Jongho might be, but you ping your wristband as you go. Nothing has come in from Yeosang’s side again so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t have Wooyoung with him by now. It leaves you and Jongho with more pressure and either more or less of a chance to recover him, so you can only hope for the best as you climb the stairs to the second floor.

Room 213 is empty as expected when you slip inside, and it’s free from that odd yellow fog outside as well, so you bask in the freedom and breathe fresh air deeply while you can. It’s a basic and standard room — much more like a small hotel room than anything else from the cabinet near the door and the double bed pushed up against the wall. There’s a metal sink as well close to the window but nothing else adorns the room leaving it rather dismal and simple. Not that you expected these people to treat the courtesans with even an ounce of respect; it’s still disheartening to think of Wooyoung being stuck in such a small and cramped space without a choice.

Whatever peace you thought you could have is cruelly interrupted less than five minutes later as a series of shy knocks reach your door. You blink up from where you sit perched on the edge of the neatly made bed. Is this how Yeosang felt waiting for his door to open? You inhale sharply, heart pounding mercilessly in your throat and choking you with the strength of an actual hand. And shamefully, you can’t even bring yourself to look at the door when it slides open, too afraid of not seeing Wooyoung standing behind it.

“Y-Y/N?”

You snap your head towards the door so quickly that your neck pops with the effort, eyes blinking open faster than ever, and even when your gaze settles on him, you still can’t quite believe he’s really before you. In that moment, the two of you merely regard each other with stunned stares like neither of you can believe this is possible, and in that time, the door slides shut again to leave you together in the all too small room.

“Wooyoung.” You bring yourself to your feet, standing on shaky legs as you face him. “W-Woo—”

He cuts you short by barreling into you with such force that it knocks the air out of your lungs. The metal around his neck scrapes against your skin hard enough to cut but you pay it no mind as he squeezes his arms around your waist and releases a heart-wrenching sob into your shoulder. Reason returns to you then, bringing you to ping your wristband again; although this time you tap it three times to alert the others that you have Wooyoung with you now. There is nothing more to do after that other than to hug him back as his tears soak your neck and shoulder.

“I-I didn’t — I di-didn’t want to lose hope b-but… fuck it was s-so hard not to and I was st-starting to think I wouldn’t ever s-see you again,” Wooyoung sobs. You almost want to cry with him if not for the small blinking light in the upper corner of the room that catches your eye and sends a surge of panic through you.

“The cameras, Wooyoung. They’re still on, we need to—”

“Y-Yeah, they’re — they only c-check if you hit the button by the bed.” Wooyoung pulls back from your shoulder, at last, rubbing at his tear-stricken cheeks so hard it makes his skin blossom with red. He pauses to catch his breath, or at least steady himself enough to speak without choking on his words. “That si-signals that you’re unsatisfied so they’ll c-check and see what’s — what’s wrong before sending a new courtesan.” Wooyoung puts his hand in yours and laces your fingers without hesitation. The touch seems to offer him some more comfort that helps calm his small hiccups and cries. “Is Y-Yeosang okay?”

“He’s alright, yeah,” you whisper back through a smile. “Misses you something awful, but he’s here too. He tried to get to you first, but they must have sent someone else to him. Jongho came as well. To get you. We came to get you, Wooyoung.”

Those words make Wooyoung’s eyes well up with sickening haste. He sinks to the bed before another sob forces its way out, and you sit down beside him like the mattress might collapse if you move too quickly.

“I’m so glad. So fucking g-glad. Being in a pl-place like this without Yeosang — it’s fucking hell.” Wooyoung sinks his teeth into his lower lip just to keep it from trembling.

“Have you…” Surely it’s not a question you have any right to ask, and part of you feels like Wooyoung did need your help but merely did not want to bring you to this place, even if just to watch through his eyes. Still, you swallow the nerves and force the question out. “Have they made you work yet?”

“It’s not important whether they did or not,” Wooyoung says through a weak smile, but that tells you all you need to know. It sounds too rehearsed and monotonous, like he’s been told to say this even if only by himself. “B-But what’s the plan? How are we getting out? Is someone coming to get us?”

“Um, we’re to wait the allotted time here until we get news from one of Hongjoong’s contacts here. He’s a hacker, and he’ll take care of the surveillance system so that we can open the window and get out that way. We’ll meet Yeosang and Jongho in an alleyway not too far from here after that. Then head back to the ship on a transport car.”

“Thought of everything, huh?”

“I sure hope so.”

“It should work just fine. We’re on the second floor though, so it’ll be quite the fall. Just remember to not go face-first.” Wooyoung’s smile is infectious, and you laugh along with his jest, hand squeezing around his. “How is Seonghwa doing?”

“A-Ah, I nearly forgot you knew about that. Um, he’s alright but Hongjoong didn’t think he was well enough to come on the mission with us.”

“Captain is up then? Yeosang mentioned he’d been out for quite some time because of his injuries. That’s great news that he’s up! I — he’ll be happy to hear that I have some info about where Mingi and San are being held too. I can tell him when we’re back on the ship. B-But Seonghwa is okay otherwise?”

“Yunho said there’s no lingering signs of health issues so he’ll be okay physically. I… I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to begin.” Wooyoung’s smile stretches a bit wider.

“I assumed you would. That’s okay though; we have a full hour to use anyways, so you can ask me anything while we have the time to be alone together. I would say we could do it later when we’re back on the ship but Yeosang probably won’t let me out of his sight for even two seconds from now on. It’d be best for us to get it all out now so we don’t have to hear him scribbling in that damn notebook of his.” Wooyoung can’t hide his elation despite the teasing words, and you know that getting to see Yeosang again soon means more to him than you could ever understand. Yeosang must be feeling the same way himself, waiting out this hour with painstaking patience.

“What happened in the days you didn’t let me in? You went quiet for so long I was getting worried.”

“Ah, we shouldn’t start there,” Wooyoung murmurs, glancing down at the floor. He pauses. The breath of hesitation leaves your stomach in knots. “Nothing you want to hear, I promise. That’s why I didn’t try to bring you in. It wasn’t anything pretty, but I assure you there was nothing they could do to hurt me physically. I’m too far gone for that sort of torture. It’s… over and done with now. More scars to add to my collection, and more for Yeosang to cry over probably. We’ll both be fine. You’re probably wondering about the whole connection thing and us both being Sirens and such, right?”

“I — admittedly yes, but looking back now it seems almost obvious? I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner, I guess. But yeah, specifically that connection or whatever it is. Yeosang said he didn’t know much at all about it.”

“Right, yeah, I don’t know much myself either, to be honest.” Wooyoung presses his lips into a pout. “It’s hard to say what exactly it is. Seonghwa’s books don’t really have anything about this sort of occurrence, but what I’ve gathered from it so far is probably all that Yeosang told you. ‘There’s no place in the universe that you can hide from each other’. Daichi told me that once.”

“He told me the same actually.”

“Mhm, I think he knows a bit more about it than he claims to. For me, I can almost hear you in my head when you’re in distress, even when you’re far away. Except it doesn’t sound like you’re scared or anything like that. It almost sounds as though you’re softly singing to me? Like… I’m on a boat with gentle waves and you’re singing to me through the water. When I’m asleep and dreaming and you reach out to me for help, I can close my eyes and find myself on a boat like that. A white boat on a black lake. And I hear you singing to me in the water, look down, and see a tiny flickering light through the darkness. For years I’ve had that dream.”

“Yeosang… he talked about you having such a dream. Swimming in a black lake and trying to reach someone but not being able to?”

“Yeah! Um, I’ve woken him up so much because of that very dream. I would have that dream time and time again before you joined the crew, desperately swimming to reach you but it was like something was blocking me from getting to you. Like I could never reach you no matter how fast I was. I would never be able to get in. Then suddenly — one night I did, and I woke up in a box of fabrics in the cargo bay.” Wooyoung shifts to look you in the eye, a weak laugh slipping through his lips. “That feels so long ago now.”

“I’ve been wondering how to thank you for that,” you murmur. “If not for that moment, I would have died.” The skin around your nails suddenly seems a lot more interesting, and you busy yourself with picking at it mindlessly rather than looking back in Wooyoung’s direction. He doesn’t let your hand drift far from his though before he’s tugging it right back into his grasp. His other hand finds its way atop yours as well, holding your joined ones together tightly.

“I didn’t do it to get a thank you. It was just… the right thing to do. It’s sad that we live in such a bad and awful society where you feel the need to thank me for doing something as simple as that.”

“Did you not thank Yeosang for saving his life once upon a time?” You dare to ask. Wooyoung is a bit startled at first, caught off-guard by both your sudden question and the content behind it, but he laughs loud and clear without restraint.

“For someone who claims to hate talking about his life, he sure does talk a lot, doesn’t he?” Wooyoung brushes his bang out of his eyes, pushing the strands that have quickly grown unruly and long to the side. “Yeosang never lets me thank him. Any time I’ve tried, he shut me down before I could finish. Honestly, he saved my life twice. Once when he chose me from that lineup of slaves and spared me a crueler fate, and once when he broke those chains and set me free.”

Chose… me…? Then it wasn’t Yeosang’s mother who picked Wooyoung out for him?

You don’t get to dwell on that thought for long because Wooyoung simply continues to ramble, more and more peace coming to his shoulders as he calms down further.

“Yeosang only ever thanks me. As odd as that is.”

“Did you — have you ever saved his life then?” You already know the answer to that question, but it’s already hanging in the air between you by the time you catch yourself.

“Yes.” Wooyoung is beaming by now, lips stretched wide as he grins. “I got him out of prison when they charged him with treason.”

“And that’s what he thanks you for?”

Wooyoung’s smile doesn’t falter even as he shakes his head in denial.

“He never claims to have saved me, not even once. Instead, Yeosang says that I saved him.”

“B-But why? Objectively he did save you, so why does he not acknowledge that?”

“Because, Y/N, there’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Yeosang and I loved each other for many years before. But just loving each other wasn’t enough for Crown Prince Kang Minhee to break my chains and commit treason. When ”I love you“ turns into ”I am in love with you“ and ”I am in love with the mere idea of you“, then Yeosang set me free. Even though I would never have asked him to do it, he chose to on his own accord. So he thanks me and says that I saved him because of that. Because I trusted him enough to put my life in his hands time and time again and let him fall in love with me. He claims it to be a difficult thing — allowing an Elitist to fall in love with you. But with Yeosang… he has only ever made it easy. There are times where it is difficult and frustrating, where I wish that he could be anything other than an Elitist, for fuck’s sake, times when I would rather break his neck in an absolutely non-sexy kind of way, but that’s part of love and loving someone. That’s why he’s grateful to me. It sounds selfish and egotistical to say, but after having him repeat himself for so many years, I’ve grown to accept that even if I don’t believe I deserve it.” Wooyoung speaks with a raw conviction that you’ve heard before. It’s the same tone Hongjoong used when speaking to Seonghwa in the medbay, the same tone Yeosang used when talking about Wooyoung and their past together.

Even if you wanted to formulate a response, you don’t think you would be able to because of how overwhelming the emotion in Wooyoung’s voice is. He’s had every opportunity to blame Yeosang for the misfortune in his life, claim that if only Yeosang hadn’t picked him from the start he would be better off, claim that Yeosang got him out of being a slave only to put him in a more dangerous position. Wooyoung could even blame Yeosang for not protecting him well enough to keep him from being kidnapped and tortured.

Yet not once has Wooyoung blamed him.

Perhaps you were being unfair in pushing the blame onto Seonghwa’s shoulders when he didn’t fight your decision to go with Jisung. Is it so wrong to want someone to fight for you? Yet Yeosang has fought every day for Wooyoung and continues to do so. Wooyoung, who has been through hell and tortures he does not wish to speak about, asked about Yeosang’s well-being before anything else. Yet if they were in your position — if Wooyoung were the one agreeing to go with Jisung to save the others, would Yeosang not drop everything to fight for him?

Your mind screams back at you, telling you that it’s different, the situations aren’t the same, the relationships aren’t the same, and you cannot compare yourself to people like Wooyoung and Yeosang who have had years to figure this out. And so, you don’t compare yourself to them.

Rather you compare Seonghwa and Hongjoong to them. How Seonghwa’s worst nightmare is not being able to save Hongjoong from himself. The sheer will and determination in Hongjoong’s eyes when he said he would never let Seonghwa’s demons overtake him. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps that is similar to what Wooyoung and Yeosang have. Neither are anything remotely close to what you have — had, your mind suggests ever so helpfully — with Seonghwa yourself.

“It may be selfish, but I don’t want you to push me away. I would rather be hurt and still have you in my life rather than to be perfectly fine without you.”

That memory slips through unannounced and unasked for, and the mere prospect of why it’s coming back to you while you’re having such thoughts scares you so much that you slam the door in that memory’s face and throw away the key before it breaks loose.

“But anyway that’s — I rambled a bit too much, that’s not the point, um, have you ever had similar dreams like those? The ones I had, I mean? Before waking up in my body or before you came to the crew, any time you can remember. I know you haven’t had much opportunity yet, but you’ve had a few experiences by now.”

“I can’t recall ever having those sorts of dreams. That dream you mentioned about the lake — I had a dream that I was drowning in a black lake the night you came to save Seonghwa, but when I wake up in your body, it’s simply that. All I know is falling asleep and waking up like a passenger in your consciousness. I don’t have any control like you’ve had over my body.” Wooyoung’s eyes are oh so expectant and pleading, and it twists something painful in your gut. You want so badly to have information for him, to be able to give him answers or even a hint as to what could be going on, but frankly, you have nothing to offer. “I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I-I feel utterly useless in this whole situation. I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me or my head, I just can’t remember at all and I don’t… You and Seonghwa seem to have this whole Siren thing figured out, how it works, what sort of abilities you have, how to use them. I, on the other hand, have so many gaps and missing pieces in my memories. I’ve had one or two moments where I consciously used some sort of ability, then Seonghwa tried to help me learn, but other than that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay!” Wooyoung rushes to reassure you, squeezing his hand tight around yours as he smiles again. “Y/N, please don’t worry about that. I don’t expect you to have an answer right now, it’s really okay. We’re gonna figure this out together now that you finally know what I am and we’ll be back on the ship soon. And I can help you understand more about being a Siren in general too! If we can get to the Dreamscape together, maybe Daichi will be willing to talk.”

“Last time I was there, he tried to kill me and told me that if I kept asking questions he would end my life,” you snort. Wooyoung’s smile drops into a grave expression that doesn’t fit his features.

“In the beginning — when I first started seeing Daichi, that is — he wasn’t like that. He wanted me to find other Sirens. That’s what ultimately made Yeosang choose Captain’s crew because Daichi had told me there was a Siren there. Then as more time went on, Daichi seemed to get more and more frightened by the idea of Sirens finding each other. He started telling me that someone dangerous would find me, someone I should guard myself from.”

“He warned me of the same when I first came aboard. But Seonghwa mentioned how Daichi’s job is to guide Sirens to each other?”

“That’s true, yes, but Daichi seems to have changed his mind along the way. I can’t understand why, but I’m sure it will make it a lot more difficult to find two more for Captain.” Your conversation dies a bit there, leaving both you and Wooyoung to stew over the predicament. According to Daichi, you spent years denying your identity and refusing to listen to him, so you never made an effort to find any Sirens like both Wooyoung and Seonghwa have been apparently. Still, it leaves you more curious than before, especially given what all happened in your latest escapade in the Dreamscape.

“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.”

“Did he ever tell you that we will always be able to come back to each other?”

“Come… back to each other? No, I’ve never heard him say such a thing before.”

“I remember seeing you in a dream before, not the Dreamscape but an actual dream. But that dream felt more like a memory, and I asked you about it once in the medbay. I know you told me no then, but does it have anything to do with what Daichi said possibly?”

“Hm, I suppose it could?” Wooyoung leans back and looks up at the ceiling. You can’t figure out what’s on his mind just through his expression, and what he says next doesn’t help much either. “But I don’t have any sort of memory like that.”

“You — you were wiped with a serum too, weren’t you?”

“Did Yeosang tell you that as well?” Wooyoung asks through a frown. “Did he mention how guilty he feels about that too? Probably, that would be very much like him to do so. Guilty for things that aren’t even his fault… but yes. Yes, my memories were wiped too.”

“I have another question. I’m sorry for asking so much all at once. Yeosang never gave me a clear answer though, so I’m still curious, but why haven’t you told Hongjoong about this?” Wooyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sinks his teeth into his lower lip and refuses to look your way for a bit. The silence drags but it’s nothing uncomfortable or unsettling. It isn’t like you’re on a time crunch right now either, so you’re more than willing to wait until he is ready to speak.

“It’s something stupid and selfish honestly,” he whispers after a bit. His other hand finds purchase on the bed, picking at a loose thread hanging off the sheets. “I didn’t expect Yeosang to take it so seriously, but now he’s adamant even when I try to tell him otherwise. Really it’s just that when I was still a slave, I didn’t always have to wear the collar. It dampened and muted my abilities so I couldn’t use them freely. Shocked me a lot too whenever I foolishly tried to use them without permission, leaving some really ugly and awful scars. Yeosang always treated the wounds when that would happen.”

His hand travels up to touch the band of metal hanging about his neck. You follow the movement with your eyes. You can’t miss the spreading scars underneath the metal as he shifts it, like little lightning bolts of pale skin hiding beneath it, and you wonder if that’s what you felt the first time you woke up in his body.

“I have a lot of scars from lots of different things. It shouldn’t be any different, and it shouldn’t even matter because it’s stupid and childish and I need to get over it. Even though the collar is dead and doesn’t work, like it doesn’t mute my abilities anymore or anything like that, just the idea of having it on keeps me sane. Being a Siren is both a blessing and a curse. Some abilities you’re born with are crueler than imaginable and can be used to do horrific things. The things I was forced to do with mine are not something I ever want to revisit again. So… I keep the collar on because the trauma I suffered while wearing it for so many years keeps me sane. Merely the idea of wearing it prevents me from using my abilities because I was conditioned into a state where if I tried doing anything while the collar was on, I would be hurt. When it comes to visiting you, it’s different because I’m asleep when that happens. And whenever people other than Yeosang or myself try to touch it, I get thrown back into the memories of his father taking it off me to use me as a weapon and I-I can’t — it’s too much to bear.

“I trust Hongjoong. I really trust him and admire him and respect him so much. As much as I do Yeosang even if it’s in a different way. But I have an innate fear of authority that tells me no matter who it is, the people who have power over me will abuse it. That if anyone above me knows I’m a Siren, I’ll be used again, and I’m afraid of that. So it’s not that I don’t want to tell Hongjoong. Just that as long as I have this collar on and as long as these demons linger at the edge of my mind, I don’t think I can ever tell him what I am.”

You want to express an apology for bringing those memories back or at least offer an ounce of consolation because you can almost feel the pain radiating off his body in waves. But the moment you reach out to pull him into a hug, the door to your room slides open out of nowhere. You jerk, and Wooyoung lifts an arm to protect the both of you, but you take the initiative in pushing him down to the bed. In one swift movement, you climb in front of him, one knee down on the mattress and the other stretched out in front of Wooyoung’s body. The blade against your thigh is cool on your fingertips, but you don’t pull it out quite yet. The flash of red hair before you stops you at the last second.

Soojin?

The girl is already halfway in the room, door sliding shut behind her, and the second it’s fully closed, she turns to twist the lock into place.

“W-Wait, we’re n-not supposed to lock the doors!” Wooyoung protests, leaning up over your shoulder to see better. Soojin levels him with a sharp glare. You reach behind you to push Wooyoung back enough so that he’s hidden behind your shoulder, matching Soojin’s stare with equal intensity. The girl steps closer to you, draws a single finger up, and stabs you hard in the chest with her dull nail.

“You and me need to have a chat after all it seems.”

“What do you mean?” You clench your fingers around the handle of your knife, still not completely at ease with the woman standing in front of you.

“What do I mean? I mean that my fucking client downstairs just tried to fucking murder me and gave me a message from Han Jisung of all people! Seeing you and hearing from that bastard on the same day after being free from that past for several years? That’s no fucking coincidence, Y/N.”

“Murder!? How did you — how did you get away?”

A laugh of disbelief escapes Soojin’s lips as she pulls back a few feet.

“I killed him, of course! What else was I supposed to do? I dumped the fucker’s body out the window for staff to clean up later. This sort of thing happens frequently enough for them not to question it, and besides, I told them it was a jealous worker so they won’t really care all too much about him. But what the fuck is going on? Why are you here and why did Han Jisung just tell me my time is up and try to have me killed?”

“I… I-I don’t — I’m not with Jisung, I know nothing about that at all. He—” You cut yourself short with a sharp inhale, eyes darting across the floor like it has all the answers in it. “Wait, he knew I would be coming here though. Did he know that you worked here?”

“Unfortunately, not by choice though. We ran across each other around a year ago in the city, and I mentioned working at the House in passing.”

You shift to motion back at Wooyoung and pull your hand off the knife on your leg at last.

“He was brought here against his will by Jisung. Well, whoever Jisung is working with at least. I only came to get him out. We’re — he’s part of the crew I’m working with now. Jisung knew where he would be and that I would come to get him.”

“And he’s still a psychopath when it comes to you then?” Soojin scoffs, brows knitting together to accentuate her disbelief. “He tried to have me killed just so that I would stay out of your business?”

“I don’t know, Soojin,” you exhale. “It doesn’t make any sense why he would do that. I already made a deal with him and he’ll get to take me regardless of what happens here.”

“T-Take you?” Wooyoung interjects. “Take you where?” His hand latches around your elbow and squeezes hard. You ignore the man in favor of maintaining your focus on Soojin, however, much to his dismay.

“Unless you know something Jisung wouldn’t want me to know and he couldn’t even risk the thought of us running into each other and speaking.” At that, Soojin tilts her head to the side in confusion.

“What could I possibly know that you don’t?”

“What happened before you left the crew?” Her confusion intensifies to a dramatic degree.

“Have you gone mad? Do you not remember or something? You were always a bit bad with memory, yeah, but has it gotten this bad?”

“Please, Soojin, I’m begging you please just tell me what happened before the crew fell apart. I know you called me a scapegoat for a reason, please.” You reach out across the empty space between your bodies, having to stand to reach her, but when you do, you close a hand around her wrist. Soojin blinks between where you hold her and your face without speaking for so long that you think she’s going to refuse you again.

“I called you a scapegoat because I thought you were in on Jisung’s plan at the time,” she says finally, pulling her other hand up to run through her hair. “You would’ve done anything for him so I thought that was just another part of it.”

“What did I do?”

“I should be asking what you remember happening instead.”

“What I remember is stealing documents and plotting to dismantle the military from the inside out with you guys but I fucked up. I know I fucked up and got caught and Hyunwoo took the blame for me and it got him fucking executed.” Soojin leans back, hand tugging out of your light grip.

“I know nothing of what happened after Ash, Juyeon, and I left Eros. But before we left…” It’s her turn to hold you by the wrist. She turns your arm over and exposes the inside of your left arm, right where that damned brand sits against your raised skin. “You didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t your burden to bear. You were the scapegoat, and that’s why the team fell apart, that’s why we all broke up and ran away. You didn’t plan to steal anything, nor did you plot a thing. Neither did Hyunwoo. It was all Jisung; Jisung wanted to dismantle the military and kill the king. When Juyeon, Ash, and I found out what he was planning to do, we brought it to Hyunwoo. All Hyunwoo said was that stopping Jisung wasn’t something he could do. So he told us to leave while we still had the chance and that he would take care of things. He would take the blame so that no one else would have to get hurt. But you didn’t want him to do that, so you ran off and carried out Jisung’s plan for him.”

“Which part? Did I k-kill the king… before Hyunwoo died?”

Soojin heaves a deep sigh.

“The last night we were all together as a team, you snuck out of the barracks and infiltrated the palace. You stole the documents Jisung wanted — whatever the fuck they were because I don’t even know why he wanted them in the first place if he was going to kill the king anyways — and you killed the king that night too. Everything went to shit. It all happened too fast for the rest of us to know what was really going on. You just came back to the barracks and turned the lights on and…”

You don’t realize how hard your head is pounding until the woman trails off, voice dying in her throat, and then it hits you will so much force that you feel your body beginning to lurch. You would fall over, most likely smack your head on the sink as well, if not for Wooyoung jumping up and catching you by the waist before you can fully go down. And thanks to him, all you do is hunch over and hold your head in your hands as a stab of pain sears through your skull.

“Breathe, Y/N, breathe for me,” he urges as you slump your weight back against him. “You need to breathe, okay? You’re hyperventilating. One breath every five seconds, slow it down, you’re okay.”

“Th-There was blood. There was blood, wasn’t there?” Looking at Soojin fills your vision with pure crimson, but it’s not because of her hair this time.

“Yes,” she whispers back, not daring to speak any louder than that. “You were… drenched in blood that wasn’t yours. And we were so scared you had been hurt somehow. I carried you to the bath and cleaned you but you didn’t have a single scratch on you.”

“O-Oh god,” you choke out. The red in your vision turns coppery as a different image takes over and a new memory swarms your head.

“What the fuck did you do!?”

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

“Let her go!”

“You ruined everything! How could you do this? Why are you so fucking useless? I told you to sit still and not do anything!”

The water spread to your nostrils and forced its way in as you struggled to find air.

“Jisung, release her right this instant!”

The hands around your throat just grew tighter.

Wooyoung eases you down to the floor when the rest of your strength leaves you. He keeps a hand at your waist, using the other to hold your head to his chest in a desperate attempt to control the wild tremors shooting through your body. You keep a hand pressed to your throbbing temple but it does nothing to alleviate the pain you’re in, one that feels as though something is trying to rip your head in half with their bare hands.

“C-Can’t remember more. I can’t, I do-don’t want to remember anymore, I — it hurts. It hurts too much, it hurts so much.”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to remember anymore, okay? You’re good, you’re done, no more. No more.” Even through the pain, you can’t miss the desperation in Wooyoung’s tone. His hand moves for your arm where your wristband sits, buzzing uselessly against your skin. “Y/N, what does this mean? Is something happening?”

You want to answer, You even open your mouth to do so. Yet the moment you do, the taste of that metallic soapy water fills your mouth and you choke on air.

“Y/N, please, what does it mean? Are we in trouble?” You think you shake your head but the panic in Wooyoung’s eyes isn’t reassuring and you aren’t sure you have any hold over the muscles in your body right now. “Please, do you know where our friend is?” He asks, directing his focus to where Soojin kneels in front of you.

“The brunette?”

“Brunette? No, no, I’m talking a blond?”

“J-Jongho,” you force out, gritting your teeth until your jaw hurts from the force. “Jongho… here too.”

“I saw that name on the register,” Soojin cuts in. “I checked it to find what room you were in and saw his name further down on the list.”

“Please get him and bring him. Please, I know you — we just need your help right now, please,” Wooyoung begs. His grip on your waist tightens a little as Soojin hesitates, and it doesn’t let up until the girl nods and leaves the room in haste. Wooyoung brings you back to his chest once she’s gone, matching your shaky breaths as he gently rocks you back and forth. “I can’t… know your memories or the pain you’re feeling right now, but I know what it’s like to suddenly be hit with memories you forgot you had. Ones that were suppressed behind an iron wall. I know what it’s like to have it slip out and hit you.”

“It fucking hurts.” You clench your jaw again, feeling a burn of pain up the side of your face with the movement. “Like someone is stabbing my b-brain with a da-damn icepick.”

“Are the memories painful?”

“I d-don’t know. I can hardly think straight. My head hurts. That’s all I can think about.”

“The serum… I’m assuming it’s the same one I was given back then. It can’t take away memories. Yeah, they tell you that it’s a wipe, but that’s only because they don’t want you trying to find those old memories. It can’t remove parts of the brain like that. They just use it to lock away memories but there’s no guarantee of it being permanent, so when you do remember something they tried to lock away, it hurts.”

“D-Does it hurt you like this too?”

“Yes, but I’m — pain isn’t something that bothers me all too much, and I’m lucky enough to have Yeosang nearby when it happens. I’ve got a prescription for the pain from Yunho too. We can… we can get you something long-term back on the ship.”

Another stab of pain hits as the door slides open, metal grating hard on your ears, but this time Jongho stands with Soojin. He rushes over to join you and Wooyoung on the floor in a panic, obviously torn between being excited to see Wooyoung again and your current crumpled state.

“Yeosang’s hour is up and he’s waiting at the meeting point. Captain hasn’t buzzed in on the contact yet.” Jongho reaches down to lay a hand against your forehead. You’re quick enough to turn your face further into Wooyoung’s shirt, inhaling the sickening floral scent that clings to his skin.

“Don’t even think about trying to take it away,” you hiss.

“I can’t take physical pain, don’t worry. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Here, something for the pain.” Soojin interrupts the moment to lean over you with a cup of unknown contents. “Fast-acting pain reliever. Every room has some in it just in case patrons get too out of hand. We keep it in the cabinets, I promise it’s nothing bad. It’ll numb you and make you a bit sluggish for a while, but it’ll also take the pain away.”

“Thank you,” Wooyoung murmurs as he takes the cup from her hands. He helps bring the cup to your lips, pushing some of the murky grey liquid inside into your mouth, and you struggle not to gag around the taste of it. He doesn’t stop until the entirety of its contents are drained into your mouth then tilts your head back to keep it down when some threatens to drip out the corners of your lips. An unknown hand comes down on your knee.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Soojin. “I didn’t mean to hurt you with this information.” You swallow hard only to choke a second later on the putrid aftertaste clinging to your tongue. Wooyoung lets you cough into his shoulder without complaint, passing the now empty cup back to Soojin.

“You couldn’t have known,” you murmur after escaping the coughing fit. “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t know what they would do to you after we left the planet,” she sighs through the quiet of the room. “I should have expected it honestly, knowing Jisung, but maybe I hoped he would be better than that. He always manipulated you so it only makes sense that he would try to manipulate your memories too. Do you at least know what happened a little bit better now?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah.” You try to pull away from Wooyoung and get up but his grip on you doesn’t let up. “My memories were taken away for a second time and replaced with something else. So instead of only losing fourteen years of my life, I lost eighteen and spent the last three years believing those manipulated memories to be real. I’m peachy.”

Another buzz from your wristband pulls your attention away, and Jongho glances down at his own too.

“Cameras are down.”

“Let’s go then,” you mutter.

“Are you okay to move? Don’t push it if you’re not strong enough.”

“We need to go now while we still can,” you protect, letting Wooyoung help you to your feet even if it’s on shaky legs. Jongho gives a curt nod then heads for the window, no doubt to pry it open. Soojin catches you by the arm before you can fully turn away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Even if you can’t remember all of it, there are still things I regret saying and doing to you. I should have known back then how much Jisung was manipulating you and not pushed so much blame onto your shoulders.”

“You can get out now with us, Soojin. While you have the chance.”

“And do what with that freedom?” She huffs out a dry and lifeless laugh. “Wander aimlessly? Ash and Juyeon are both missing in action. I have no clues or leads on where they might be or if they’re even alive. I don’t have anything left out there beyond the House.”

“I… if I hear anything out there about them, I promise I’ll send you a message. I’ll find a way to get news to you, maybe through my captain’s contact or something. I swear if I can help you get out of this hellhole I will.”

Soojin reaches up to ruffle her hand through your hair, mussing the loose locks more.

“You always were a good kid, Y/N. Too good for the life you were forced to live.” It hurts to watch her smile. It hurts even more to let Wooyoung guide you to where Jongho waits by the now open window. “Go while you can, you three. The medicine will wear off in a few hours, but hopefully, you’ll have access to something better by then. I’ll make sure you get out safely.”

Jongho dips through the open space first, hopping down to the pristine streets below with little issue.

“Send Y/N down next!”

You can’t tear your gaze off Soojin. You don’t know when you might see her again or if you even will, and it hurts to leave her behind like this but she just keeps smiling at you with bright eyes and blinding hair.

“T-Thank you, Soojin. Please stay safe, if you can.”

“Always.”

With that, Wooyoung hoists you over the ledge of the window and dangles you far enough down so that your fall is softened a bit. Jongho catches you by the legs, taking the brunt of your weight before you hit the ground. Wooyoung drops down beside you without warning a second later. As Jongho eases you down, you dare to glance up at the window you just left from, and it shuts slowly without a sign from Soojin inside.

Wooyoung rushes back to your side and loops an arm back around your waist when you start to slump forward again.

“That’s — that’ll look too suspicious,” you mutter, pulling his arm back to his own side.

“We just dropped out a fucking window. I’m sure that would look more suspicious.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Yet two steps later, you’re stumbling over your heels and Jongho comes to your rescue this time. He tugs your arm through his own as he walks forward without saying a word. You can only lean your weight on him and slump your chin against his shoulder.

“Thank you…”

Silence drapes over the three of you as you make your way to the meeting point with Yeosang. You aren’t in as much pain as you were earlier (Soojin wasn’t bluffing when she said fast-acting) but the medicine is already making you a bit groggy. It feels a bit like you’re wading through sludge just trying to walk a few steps, and frankly, Jongho is the only thing keeping you going at this point. Wooyoung lingers at your other side. Every once in a while, you feel his worried gaze find its way to your form. He might even be speaking to you at some point because you hear something that sounds vaguely like his voice through the radio static in your ears, but there is far too much on your mind and too much to think about right now for you to pay any attention to that.

If… if I killed the king before Hyunwoo’s execution, then who did I kill that night? Did I kill anyone at all? Was that memory fabricated? What have I been working towards all these years if that’s a lie?

Funny how your search for answers only left you with more questions instead. There are too many questions to keep track of and not remotely enough answers to them. You know you won’t be able to have those answers yet either, not while San and Mingi are still missing and Jisung is bothering you. Where would you even look for answers now? Jisung would never tell you a thing, Hyunwoo is dead and gone, and now you’re leaving Soojin behind.

The one thing that reaches your brain through the static in your ears is a dry and choked sob. You pull yourself out of your thoughts as Wooyoung disappears from your side. It doesn’t take much to guess why. You’ve reached the meeting point, the all too small alleyway where Yeosang waits for you three, and Wooyoung is running straight to him with reckless abandon.

“Y-Yeosang, angel, Yeosang, my god I’m—” Wooyoung’s voice dies in a cracked sob when he reaches the Elitist. His hands barely brush the man’s shoulders because Yeosang drops to his knees in front of Wooyoung, face hidden but no doubt bearing tears, and he balls his fists around the flimsy material of Wooyoung’s pants. He presses his forehead to Wooyoung’s hip, hands traveling further up to press against the small of his back. Wooyoung can only card a hand through Yeosang’s hair in response, but it’s enough for now. It’s enough for both of them like this, with Yeosang’s knuckles white from the pressure of clinging to Wooyoung, and you and Jongho maintain your distance as best you can to give them this moment.

“Are they happy?” You whisper to Jongho even though the answer is blindingly obvious before you. The Berserker’s lips twist into a small grin.

“I don’t think there’s a word strong enough to describe how they’re feeling right now.”

Yeosang pulls his head off Wooyoung’s hip and stares up at the man with tears on his cheeks and stars in his eyes. Wooyoung dips down to the Elitist’s height, pulling his face up to his own and slotting their lips together like nothing else in the universe exists around them. Again, it’s raw, as all emotions between these two seem to be, but it belongs to them and it’s something you can’t take away from them. When they part lips to gulp in desperate breaths of fresh air, Wooyoung places his forehead over Yeosang’s and takes the breath from his lungs like that. They don’t exchange words but there doesn’t seem to be a need for words either, not until Yeosang seems to catch hold of himself and come back to his senses.

“The car is waiting for us at the other end of the alley. Driver’s already pulled up.” Jongho nods when the Elitist drags his gaze over to where the two of you stand. Yeosang lets Wooyoung pull him back into space after that, unable to contain a smile as the Siren continues to press more kisses to his cheeks. You and Jongho trail behind them to the other end of the alleyway. Seeing them together like this makes it worth it. You knew it would and you were striving to bring them this moment, but seeing it unfold before you like this increases that feeling tenfold.

Once in the car, Yeosang sits Wooyoung down in one of the cushioned seats then drops to the floor between his legs even when Wooyoung protests and tells him to get up.

“Stop, that’s weird! It looks weird, Yeo, please! It looks like you’re trying to su—”

“Shut up,” Yeosang mumbles back as he drops his head to rest against Wooyoung’s thigh. “You’re the one who makes everything dirty. Get your head out of the gutter.”

Wooyoung obviously doesn’t mind all too much because he returns to toying with the Elitist’s blond locks moments later as you and Jongho settle into the seats beside the pair. And from where you’re sitting, they really do look like young boys again, more than just a former slave and ex-prince but also less than that. Just… boys who fell in love despite the odds set against them.

“I’m sorry, Woo, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, angel, I know. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You tune out of the conversation there. It’s far too intimate and personal for you to encroach on, and the medicine has you falling asleep in your seat anyways. Jongho seems to pick up on that, reaching over to pat your leg.

“Rest while you can.”

A hum comes as your reply as you slump to the side, head hitting the side of the car with a loud thud. Jongho exhales a quiet laugh and pulls you over to rest against his shoulder instead.

“’m sorry for snapping at you,” you murmur. You’re forcing your eyes to stay open long enough to get the apology out but it’s growing more difficult by the second. “I didn’t mean to, I was afraid… of her slipping out of my grasp but… that’s no excuse.”

Your fluttering eyes snap wide open when something presses down hard on your nose. You blink uselessly at Jongho and the finger he hovers over your face.

“Stop talking nonsense, yeah? Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?”

“Hm, no, I’m not.”

“Promise.”

“I promise I’m staying right here.”

“And we’ll get San back?” You mumble just before the drowsiness wins.

“We’ll get your San back too, I promise.”

✧✧✧ a/n: yall imma be honest this chapter feels like a whole fever dream and a half but i love it nonetheless she’s my Baby i hope you guys love her just as much and enjoy her <3 lots happened but also not a lot happened? i feel like the wc is so dramatic for Not A Lot but yaknow that’s life ! next chapter we’re getting juicy and bringing a part 16 move back bc teehee that’s what i do best u know me anywho let me know what u think as always i love u all im so happy to bring u guys this chapter and so excited for the coming ones!

taglist: @faeriewoobin​​ @sugarrimajins​​ @atinyinwonderland​​ ​@sparklychangbin​ @jeong-uwu​​ @jeonartemis​​ @anothershorthuman​​ @xxbluestrifexx​​​ @haotheheckk​​ @noonawriter​​ @lostscenarios​​ @nlost21​​ @mirror-juliet​​ @okokokok123-45​ @purple-aeon​ @theoinkypiglet​ @toothlessshiber​ @atinyarmyx1​ @simpforhyunjin​ @hwangwoosan​ @vampire-jimin​ @softyubi​ @drumboydowoon​ @chatsgotmytongue​ @just-a-starfruit​ @babydolljo​ @scintillating-souls​ @khjssss​​ @rawrrainn​ @hewwo-from-the-other-side​ @icekdy​ @eggteez​​ @bangtanxberm​​ @uglychildd​ @lucymultistan​​​​

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[lvrexe]

i love your blog so much with the Tobirama theme 👀 i'm sure we'll hit it off <3 can i ask you a scenario for Tobirama (of course) with his childhood best friend for whom he has feelings but she's getting closer and closer to another man, and Tobirama is afraid of losing her... with a little angst and fluff if possible <3 thank you so much, and feel free to delete my request if you don't feel like writing it 🖤

—Oooo! I like this ask..! I was thinking of turning this into a long-ass fic, but I already have so much on my plate with some personal fics and a few requests before, so it’ll be a small drabble. And then it turned into a long drabble. Basically a mini-fic.

—wc: 1.1k

There were very few who could actually get close to Tobirama, he understood that; his demeanor and harsh words weren’t the friendliest attributes. And yet, you stuck around when he was a kid. Your clan had created an alliance with the Senju, and the two of you often saw each other on the battlefield. The two of you had brief conversations; they were simple conversations; combat, training, checking in on each other’s well-being, any topic that related to the latest battle at the time. The conversations were short and direct, he wasn’t one for much small talk, but he enjoyed them thoroughly. More than he would with others. It was safe to say, outside of his own brother, you were the only one who he considered a close friend.

As you grew older and the village Hashirama envisioned was formed, you worked alongside Tobirama, often aiding him in perfecting any new Jutsu he created. While technically just work, Tobirama valued those times spent with you. He felt a warm, buzzing feeling bloom deep within his chest every time he saw you walk through the door ready for work.

He made the mistake of dismissing that.

One day, you were late. Unusually late. He had gotten concerned, but curiosity piqued his mind; you weren’t one to be late, so why the sudden change? He pondered why you hadn’t shown up. Eventually, after a good half hour, he decided he would check up on you. First, he checked around the Hokage residence, you weren’t there and any of the shinobi he asked failed to see you either. Secondly, he checked your house. You weren’t there either. But you had recently left, he had spotted the smoke of the recently blown out candle. Okay… He had some information. You couldn’t have been far.

He was right. One family had started up a restaurant nearby and you adored all of the food there. You had mentioned it once and he remembered. As he turned the corner, he managed to spot the back of your head at one of the tables. You erupted out into a laugh before silencing yourself with a bite of your food. You were with someone. His stomach twisted and churned, his chest tightened uncomfortably. He took a step to the side. He dreaded the truth, dreaded who you were with. He knew by the chakra he sensed, but for once, he didn’t want to accept the facts.

Across from you was the head of the Uchiha clan, Madara Uchiha. His expression was muted, but it still showed delight as he gazed upon you. His mouth began to move as he continued on talking to you, a conversation Tobirama couldn’t hear over the other tables and the crowded streets. Whatever Madara said, it caused you to snicker and lean forward into the table.

Tobirama wasn’t an idiot.

He may hate the Uchiha clan, specifically Madara himself, but he knew how hard it was to get Madara— or any Uchiha, for that matter— to lower his guard and intimidating poise. Especially in public like this. Just how long had this been going on? When did you even approach Madara when he wasn’t by Hashirama’s side? Or was it vice versa?

Tobirama snapped back to reality and realized he had been standing in the middle of the streets in front of some shop. He shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought of you and Madara together. He jumped off, heading back to his work. He had a Jutsu to perfect anyway.

It didn’t take you long to notice a slight shift in Tobirama’s attitude. It wasn’t obvious to most, many would just assume it was normal behaviour, but you knew better. You didn’t spend half your childhood by his side for nothing.

He was sucked up in his work, brushing off many as he focused on whatever new Jutsu he intended on creating. He had even started to brush you off. That stung a lot more than it probably should have. He didn’t even have time outside of his work for you, or anyone. It was a simple routine of work and then straight home, with the occasional detour to grab materials or food from the shops in Konoha.

It became blatantly obvious he was avoiding someone; and that someone is you.

You allowed it to drag on for a week before you had had enough with his overly-moody behaviour. Once the sun began to set and Tobirama was wrapping up his most recent works, you pounced at the opportunity to interrogate him. It had taken some time, with Tobirama dodging each question of yours or making poor excuses, but you managed to pry the answer from him.

“Fine!” he blurted out, giving in to your persistent questioning, “I’m trying to give you your space to hang around that damned Uchiha.”

His answer surprised you. Tobirama wasn’t one to strike you as the jealousy type, and yet, he here was admitting that he was jealous. And jealous of an Uchiha at that too. It seemed funny to you.

You did your best to muffle your laughs; you understood it was rude to laugh in his face about his feelings, especially ones like these. But your attempts failed you and snickers and giggles escaped your lips. With each laugh, you squeezed in an apology before you burst out in another fit of giggles.

Tobirama stared in utter disbelief that his own childhood friend was laughing at his feelings, almost as if she was mocking him. “I…” he murmured. “Are you laughing?”

“Oh Tobirama,” you managed to say, “Madara and I may be close, but he doesn’t like me in that way. And neither do I like him in that manner.”

“So then… why must you hang around him so much?” he inquired.

“What? Can’t three co-workers not hang out?” you shot back, “Or did you just assume it was a date?”

Wait… Three? Tobirama pursed his lips as he went silent with thought. He narrowed his eyes as he remembered that day. His brother, Hashirama, had been missing from his office. A shinobi told him that he had gone out for lunch. He assumed the lunch was with Mito, but it could’ve been a gathering among friends. Embarrassed by his own rushed thinking and conclusion-jumping, Tobirama averted his eyes, huffing as he turned his head. “I… Oh, I see… So my brother was with you two?”

You gave him a nod. “Hashirama wanted to invite you but you had said you were far too busy to join,” you explained.

Tobirama blushed and huffed. “I.. I see, then,” he murmured. “So you and Madara aren’t close?”

“Not without Hashirama around, no,” you assured him. “Now, are you done being jealous of an Uchiha?”

“I was never jealous,” he replied in a snappy tune, “Especially not of an Uchiha.”

[lovestrucked-again]

Delirium VII

Summary: After being kidnapped and claimed by the notorious mafia leader, he offers you a 7 day period where you’ll be given the option after of staying or leaving. Until then, you’re stuck, whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Mafia leader X female reader   Word count: 2.7k

Genre & Warning: SMUT, fingering, Explicit content, mafia gang, possessive, toxic, yandere like personality, humiliation, multiple orgasms, rough, orgasm denial, begging, orgasm control, praise, teasing, sex, Chastity belt: locking item of clothing designed to prevent sexual intercourse or masturbation

a/n: HELLO IT’S BEEN A WHILE. This is pretty heavy i think as well.

prev | next

Day 4 - 6am

“Get off my bed,” you growl, pushing his body stiffly.                                  

“Baby it’s my bed.” He mumbles quietly, his eyes casted away from yours.

“Fine, I’ll go sleep on the couch. You can stay here.” You snap back, grabbing a pillow and the only blanket off the bed.

“Y/N..” he sighs, “I’m sorry okay? I didn't mean to be so harsh.”

Ignoring his attempt of an apology, you gather the blanket and throw it over your shoulder while bringing the pillow under your arm. “Yeah, well you should’ve thought that through earlier.”

“Can’t you just stay with me for a bit? I have to go to work later and I won’t get to see you all day.” He pleads.

With your back turned to him sitting at the edge of the bed, you stop and sigh. It’s 6am in the morning and he’d probably leave by 8am at the latest. Your heart drops a little as you think about spending the day alone again without him. Maybe I should stay.

Taeyong watches as you drag yourself back onto the bed, burying yourself under the blanket; trying to seem like you were still angry.

“Are you still mad?” He asks, forcing back the smile that’s creeping up on his lips.

You don’t bother moving under the sheets, instead, you feel the mattress bounce as Taeyong shuffles around. In a quick movement, the cover’s removed from your face and your met with his face right in front of yours – a plastered smirk on it.

He pushes your body down against the sheet when you attempt to push him off, placing his hands on your shoulder and then sliding his hands to the back of your hair, bringing his lips to the sides of yours; gently kissing.

“Tae-”

“Later please? I just really need you right now.”

Without a chance to respond, his lips crash onto yours violently, muffling your cry of surprise. To your shock, his lips move with bruising force, his tongue darting into your mouth. Your eyes flicker open quickly and you catch the glimpse of the lust and longing in his eyes, sparkling with a glint of terror.

“Fucking hell.” He groans, his quick to remove the sheet covering your naked body, throwing it onto the floor in a hurry before his hands slide to your breasts cupping them, squeezing and kneading them repeatedly forcing them up into hard, round balls of flesh. His lust seems to overpower all his reasoning and he forgets the reality as you whimper when he grabs too hard. He moves down, beginning to lick and suck on each breast, growling as he slobbers over them desperately.

His hands and mouth work feverishly on your breasts, squeezing, pinching, sucking, biting and licking the two round fleshes until they’re sore and aching. His hard cock lays between your bellies, squeezed and rolled between them as his mouth seeks and finds yours and his hands grope your breasts and pussy. He grinds his body down against you, bringing his tongue into your mouth once more as he crushes your breasts in a painful vice-like grip. His hands slide over your breasts, then down between your legs, cupping, squeezing, and fingering your sex, pinching your pussy lips and gliding over the moisture at your entrance.

“You like that baby?” he asks, “Look at me.”

You can only sob out a cry in response, unable to control your voice as you pant with pleasure and arousal.

He twists you over, slapping a hard hand onto your round ass, squeezing it with delight as he presses himself into you, then he rolls over, taking you on top, his hands squeezing and mauling your smooth ass cheeks as he now shoves his tongue into your mouth. He reaches down and grips his thick cock, pressing it against your slit, rubbing it around the moist area as you shiver and moan.  

You whimper with new strength, but your legs are still too close and prove difficult for him to fit his cock into you. Cursing, he rises to his knees and grips your thighs, “baby open your legs up a little more for me,” he hums, nudging them slowly, exposing your slit to his eyes.

He presses a finger against it, punching it through your pussy lips and down your hole.

You scream in pain and whimper even louder at the roughness as you feel him enter a second finger, moving in a scissoring motion to widen you.

“Y/N you remember our safe word?” Taeyong asks, pausing only a second to let you respond.

“Traffic lights?” you whisper, just barely audible.

“That’s right,” he hums stroking the side of your face with his palm, “use it if you need to okay?”

You give a gentle nod and he takes that as his cue to continue. You watch as he spits onto his hand using it as a further form of lubrication for himself before he presses his spit-wet cock head against your pussy, rubbing it up and down your slit. He peels your cunt lips wide, drawing a sharp cry of pain from you.

You lay there whimpering, and sometimes gasping and crying out in pain as he brings himself deeper and deeper into you; the feeling of his cock still unfamiliar. He begins driving his cock head into you, stretching and straining it as he works the front part of you open again. He can feel your heart racing against his.

You clench your eyes and teeth, forcing yourself to bear the momentary pain as you shudder under his body. Taeyong seems to notice the amount of hissing and whimpering amounts to more than your usual and he stops for a moment. He props himself onto his elbows on either side of your head, trying to stay still as his cock pulses inside your walls, still deeply buried in you.

Slowly you begin answering him, bringing your hands up and around his neck, relaxing. He draws himself back before thrusting himself forward again desperately and you hiss in pain.

“I know baby,” he says into your ear, his breathing ragged, “It’s going to hurt.” You yelp and nod as he moves again, watching your face. The pain won’t last long, it’s because we haven’t did this in a while. You think, attempting to ease your mind.

He supports himself onto his arm and pumps into you now, holding back with much slower strokes, trying not to hurt you as much. As his movements become more steady and unrushed, you moan, feeling him hit your exact spot and you spread yourself under him, giving him an even deeper angle, your knees coming up. His cock sinks to the hilt in your trembling belly as he grinds himself into you. He runs a hand through your hair as he grins at you, “Tell me you love me baby.” He groans, keeping his pace, “Say it baby.”

“I-I love you.” You whimper, your body bouncing as you try and form the words. Saying them aloud made you feel indifferent, you weren’t totally against saying it and it did seem somewhat true honestly. But you couldn't tell if it was love or if it was the caring nature you had been offered for the first time.

He beams down at you as he rolls his hips from side to side, grinding himself into your soft underbelly, “Tell me you want me.” He snarls, sucking against your weak spots on your neck.

“I-I want you,” you whine, “Fuck Taeyong,” You pant in discomfort, gasping for breath as the world reels around you. You scream as he jerks his cock back and punches it back into you with a savage stroke. Your head smashes back against the mattress and your body shakes in pleasure as his pecks turn into bites - a little harsher at the side of your throat.

His body begins to rise and fall as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of your tight, straining pussy lips. Your feet jerk, twitch, and flop as he drives his huge pole down into your body. You feel his cock inside your belly, feel it stroking against the walls of your pussy, jabbing against the very bottom, the base of your tunnel, perhaps your womb.

He growls like an animal as his body rubs and grinds against yours, and his hands continue to roam, stroking roughly up and down your body. They jam underneath you and cup your round buttocks, yanking you upwards to meet his strokes, increasing the state of his frenzy and the force of his piercing thrusts. He begins fucking you harder and harder, pushing in faster and faster. His breathing becomes harsher and more ragged as his hands yank you against him with the remaining amount of energy he has left. With a final push, he lets out a long low grunt of pleasure, feeling your body tremble under his as you scream just before him.

***

“We should get up.” You hint, playing with his fingers around your waist

“Now?”

“You have to go soon.”

“I can be a little late.” He assures, nestling his face into the crook of your neck as you laugh.

“Your boss won’t mind?” you hum, a little surprised.

“Baby,” Taeyong lets out a chuckle before he speaks; his breath against your skin, “I am the boss.”

It doesn't completely shock you that he is the boss. While you are unaware of his exact occupation you do recall how you first met him. Jaehyun had bought you to Taeyong and it seemed he had a higher power of authority.

“W-What do you guys do?” you weakly murmur, afraid that the question might trigger something.

Taeyong remains unphased, “Just a bit of stuff here and there.”

“Oh.”

“C’mon, let’s get up now.” he says, changing the topic before you’re able to ask anymore questions.

Taeyong holds a hand out to you, helping you ease off the bed. Feeling slightly self-conscious standing fully naked, you attempt to cover yourself discreetly. He doesn't seem to notice as he walks over to the wardrobe, pulling out what looks like a belt.

“Baby can you try this on for me?”

“What is it?” you ask, trying to see the item behind his back.

“It’s like a belt, I just wanted to see if it would fit.”

“Now? I’m still dirty and I don't have any pants on.” You tell him, confused.

“I just want to see the rough measurements, it’ll be quick.” He comments, helping you in to the leg holes.

Without looking at it too closely you quickly pull the flap between your legs and fasten it to the belt. It’s still somewhat embarrassing to stand so openly naked in front of him, your nerves gnawing away at the way his eyes seem to be focused at your lower region, devouring your pussy.

When the sides clip into place it makes an ominous click sound and you panic. You pull at it confirming the worst, it’s locked in place. You glance at him and his expression seems to say it all. You follow his gaze, watching it flicker between the pants which lock you in and the key between his hands.

"Consider it as a lesson.” He says with a devilish grin, swirling the key around in his fingers.

You take a step towards him, moving awkwardly when you start to feel something rub against your clit. "Taeyong.” You warn, your heart dropping with the familiar nervous feelings, “What is this?”

Taking another step towards him, intending to grab the key, you’re bought to an abrupt halt. You feel something poking at your entrance, slowly beginning to move and enter you. "What the hell?" you whimper, moving to lean against the wall as your face screws up in the strange discomfort.

"It’s a chastity belt, it has a built in vibrator." He chuckles, “better behave baby.”

"C-Can you take it off?” you whine, slowly falling to your knees on the floor as you clench down and attempt to push at the probe. "OH!" you yelp.

With every movement, you feel the rubber finger massage against your clit, sending waves of sensations through your body. The vibrator seems to slip inside a long way into your walls, adding to the torment. Your back falls flat on the wall as you lean against it, supporting your weight as the toy sensitises your pussy. You watch him press a button on what looks like a TV remote and the instant shiver that runs down your spine lets him know it works.

"Setting two." He states, watching the scene unfold. Satisfied with its effect he presses another button and you began to wriggle, feeling the vibrator buzz to life as he pushes another level up.

"Fuck,” You gasp, not daring to move. Squirming around on the vibrator moved the rubber thing over your clit so you choose to stay still. To relieve the pressure between your legs you part both feet and thighs.

"Baby you should put something on, the delivery I ordered for breakfast will be here in 15."

"I can't move." you tell him, irritated that he was only telling you this now.

"It's up to you. This thing has ten settings and you're only on three. I have to go take a business call now so you can answer the door naked or dressed." It’s an agony of pleasure taking a few steps and the thought of walking out the room to open the door was so very daunting.

You watched him flabbergasted as he approached you, giving you a gentle peck on the forehead and a pat on your ass before he exited the room and presumably into his study. You scrabble at the lock but it’s useless. The stimulation was building up and the pleasure would soon be a curse if you had to hold this for any longer. The vibration was becoming more and more intense and you were almost so close to cumming.  

The time passed agonisingly slowly. You begin breathing heavily and desperate for an orgasm. It doesn't seem to matter with who or how many or how you did it but you needed a release. With much effort, you cling onto the sides of the wall, crawling to Taeyong’s study.

Sure enough, he’s seated casually against his chair, speaking into the phone at his ear.

“Give me a second,” he says into the phone before muting it. “Did you need something baby?” he hums the knowing satisfaction hidden behind his innocent expression.

“T-Taeyong can you please, take this off.” You whimper.

“I will after you let me finish my call.” He tells you.

“Please.” You whine, gripping at the sides

Taeyong puts a finger to his mouth, telling you to keep quiet as he unmutes himself, “Sorry, yes you were saying?”

You groan quietly and fall against the wall, focusing on the pulsing that only stimulated you but never let you reach your high. Taeyong watches you as well, struggling to stay focused on the topic with his client as your body trembles.

“Fuck me,” You curse, feeling the vibrator heighten yet again. “Fuck me.”

Taeyong whips his eyes to your parting mouth, staring as you form the words and that seems to break the little amount of will power he has left.

“Sorry Johnny, I’ll have to call you back later something urgent just came up.” You look over to Taeyong, watching him push his chair back and striding over to you. “Baby I swear to hell.” He starts.

“I really need to.” You gasp, biting on your tongue as you feel the tip of the vibrator moving in and out of your entrance. “If y-you don't get th-this off me,” you moan, “I’ll go f-find the m-man from next door.” You threaten, obviously not seriously meaning it but saying it in a tone that Taeyong finds believable.

“Don't you dare.”

The doorbell rings and you make a small motion, attempting to stand straight. When he grabs your jaw harshly, turning you to stare right back at him, you realise it was probably a button you pushed too soon. His eyes narrow, rigid, cold and harsh. You draw in a deep breath, the burning stare that would last as long as it takes for him to think of the most brutal pleasurably painful thing he could break you down with.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He growls, “I’ll get it.”

_____

a/n: I warned you :)

[mandoalorian]

Fix You [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: This was requested by a few people! Just a short one as I only planned on "Those Three Words" being a one shot. But I know a lot of people wanted closure for Maxwell and the reader and I understand the pain of cliff-hangers so here we go!!!

Warnings: hospital, very very brief mention of illness and suicide, mention of the loss of a loved one, Maxwell is mean but it's completely justified.

I love to write soft! Maxwell but, he is a 'villain' and so it's definitely important to me that's still displayed to some extent in my fics.

Word count: 1.6k

Rating: 13+

READ PART ONE HERE

MASTERLIST

"Mr Lord, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"But she's awake! I felt her hand move, I watched her stir!" Maxwell exclaimed, a mixture of excitement, worry and panic rising in his voice. A group of about eight doctors and nurses gathered around your bed and closed the curtains so Maxwell couldn't see what was going on. "Please let me stay, I have to stay with her."

"Sir," the nurse sighed, shaking her head. "It's hospital protocol."

"Do you know who I am?" Maxwell spat angrily. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Mr Lord, I really don't want to have to call hospital security… but if you're giving me no choice…" the nurse's hand dropped to the pager on her belt and Maxwell curled his fingers into a fist feeling nothing but anger and defeat.

"I'll be outside." he mumbled, slouching his shoulders and slowly leaving your hospital room. He sighed, leaning against the cool wall.

Looking around, the corridor was completely desolate. Maxwell wiped a tear that had fallen from his eye, taking a deep breath. It was going to be okay. You were the strongest person he knew. You had fought many tougher battles before. He tried to remain certain that you would get through it— only he wasn't. How could he have hope?

Maxwell Lord had loved and he had lost, over and over again. To the point he had completely shut out the possibility of any attachment to anyone, until he met you. He had lost his father to suicide at the tender age of sixteen, and then lost his mother to a fierce illness when he was only twenty five. He was a divorced man who had lost custody of his son. He'd lost so many people, he had been so close to giving up himself. You were his light. His angel. You changed him for the better.

He couldn't believe how it had all gone so wrong. How the fight had even started. If he lost you now, he would never have been able to forgive himself.

"Mr Lord," the same nurse from earlier came out of your room, along with the other nurses and doctors who were checking on you. "She's awake. She's… lightheaded, tired, but she's here. You can go see her." the nurse granted with a quick nod of her head before scurrying away.

Maxwell froze up. Now was his moment to make amends. What if you hated him. He felt the tears of guilt begin to well up in his eyes again and tried to shake the feeling away. Cautiously, he entered your room.

You were sitting in the bed, propped up by pillows. Your hair was in your face and your eyes looked heavy, but nothing beat the feeling of seeing the small smile that crept up on your lips when you saw your Maxie. Maxwell stood at the door, his eyes glazed with tears. You were wearing his pale blue suit jacket over your hospital gown, the one that he had left for you, and he swore in that moment you were the most beautiful he had ever seen you. You were alive.

"Maxie," you whispered, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You weakly held out your arms, ushering for him to come forth and sit next to you. Maxwell sat down on the edge of your bed and took hold of your hands which were now warming up nicely. Maxwell gulped. He had so much to say, so much to apologise for, but no words could come out. "Are you okay?" you asked him with a croak, your hand coming to cup his cheek. He nuzzled his face into your hand and another tear slipped from his dark brown eyes.

"Was so scared of losing you," he admitted, closing his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look at you. Look at the way you were tubed up and the cuts and bruises along your body. The blame was stirring up within him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." you promised him, smiling tiredly.

"You're always so good to me," he sniffed. "Even when I don't deserve it."

"Of course you deserve it." You told him, knotting your eyebrows together and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"You almost died." Maxwell faltered.

"But I'm still here, aren't I?" you chuckled. "Cheer up. I thought I got you out of being such a grumpy old man." you nudged him playfully and Maxwell smiled a teary smile.

"I love you so much," Maxwell whispered, nudging his nose against yours. "I can't wait to take you home. I will fix all of this darling, I promise."

You nodded slowly. "Okay, thank you." you uttered.

The next few moments were filled with silence. Both of you gazed into one another's eyes feeling nothing but love and relief. You asked Maxwell to bring you a few changes of clothing and toiletries from home and he assured you that he'd be quick to return.

When Maxwell exited the hospital, he was greeted by an abundance of news reporters and flashing cameras practically blinding him. "Max! Maxwell Lord!" they cried as they flocked towards him. Maxwell dropped his sunglasses down and pushed through the cameras. "How is Y/N? Are you injured? The crash looks really bad? Are you paying for Y/N's health insurance?"

Maxwell scowled at the ridiculous questions, carefully manuovering through the crowds of people to try and get to his car. He'd have to drive himself home, something he didn't feel comfortable with but he wasn't about to ask Jeeves and, at the end of the day, he was doing this for you. And that was enough motivation he needed.

"Maxwell Lord, is it true that y/n is in critical condition?" a news anchor from NBC quizzed, shoving a microphone in Maxwell's face. Maxwell's head snapped to face her.

"What?" he glared sourley, anger and bitterness dripping from his tongue. He snatched the microphone from her hand, earning a small gasp to escape from her lips. "Right, is everyone listening?" Maxwell asked, raising his voice and speaking into the microphone. The crowd of journalists and paparazzi piped down to hear what the CEO had to say. "I want you to all stop with these disgusting and invasive questions. We are people too," Maxwell pointed his finger at one paparazzi. "Do you have a lady in your life?" he asked. The paparazzi nodded slowly. "And how would you feel if dozens of people were pestering her every fucking day? To the point she's afraid to leave the house or she has to triple check and make sure the doors are all locked before she can go sleep at night?" Maxwell felt the rage build up inside of you when he remembered how anxious all these people he was now confronting made you. But he had to remain calm. He knew for a fact his little speech would be broadcast on national television. The paparazzi blinked nervously. "My question wasn't rhetorical." Maxwell spat.

"I'd be upset, sir." He replied timidly.

"Upset is a fucking understatement." Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest. "This is your fucking job, harassing people? Ruining their lives? Look at yourselves! You all need a reality check. Next time you go anywhere near me or my partner you will be hearing from my lawyers. And I'll have you know, I have the best fucking lawyers." Maxwell threatened. "Am I understood?"

Maybe it was the bite in his voice, or the way he used his harsh business tone, but the crowd backed off in an instant. That was the power of Maxwell Lord. You had changed Maxwell Lord. Softened him, sweetened him… but when people were trying to hurt you, he knew his power. He knew he could and would ruin their lives.

Your recovery was slow, but sure enough, you did get better. It was difficult at first, but with Maxwell's fierce and defensive nature, the paparazzi and the news reporters began to stay away from you both. Once discharged from hospital, you were bed bound for a few weeks. Maxwell took time off work, giving you his full attention. He tried to cook you soup, but when that failed, he'd order you whatever take out you craved. When you fancied homemade food, he'd call the chef over? He did the chores that you usually did, like laundry and vacumming. You loved seeing Maxwell become so domesticated; you didn't know he had it in him, it almost made you feel a little smug. There was something about seeing a billionaire businessman angrily scrub grease from a frying pan that satisfied you. When he wasn't pottering on around the house, he was in bed with you.

He used this time to show you how much he really truly loved you. You wanted for nothing. He'd gently stroke your skin, give you soft kisses and play with your hair. And those three words you craved to hear, there wasn't a day that went by when he didn't say them.

"I love you."

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!) ~ @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal

[animemangasoul]

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.

Chapter: 1/10

"No luck?"

Mace sighed.

Walking through the door only to come face to face with his former Padawan sprawled across his couch especially after the trying day he's had only served to make his shoulders tighten further. "What are you doing here Depa?" he asked doing his best to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

His fellow council member raised a single eyebrow in reply.

Mace sighed again, hand running over his face and pulling at his chin. "No," he finally answered. "No luck." And if voicing his failings didn't already sour his mood, seeing the flash of disappointment in Depa's eyes drove it home.

"There is nothing wrong with Obi-Wan," she huffed. Her annoyance bleeding into the force as she observed him go about preparing his own afternoon meal along with hers now that she'd decided to make herself at home in his apartment.

"I know," he said, bringing out cups and plates while he waited for their dinner to heat up; not even contemplating asking Depa for assistance as he well knew by this point he could never make her set a foot inside the kitchen after that 'incident'. "But with his prior records and Qui-Gon,"--the Chalactan woman snorted in disgust and Mace paused to send her a warning glare. "having repudiated him," he continued doing his best to clam down on his own anger when the words leave his mouth. "Not many are willing to take a second look."

Walking over to sit by the dinner table Depa sighed; the force muted with her sadness. "It's a cruel faith being stripped of your future because one man has decided to upend all traditions because he thinks himself some kind of force whisperer," she dragged the last words out rather mockingly inciting a snort from Mace which then resulted in him trying and failing to give her another stern glare.

Annoyed as he was with the other man, insulting him was not a productive endeavor. Still, he couldn't fault his former Padawan for her bitterness towards his old friend. Qui-Gon certainly did parade around as if he was the only man blessed with the true gift of the force. "Hopefully young Kenobi still has a future as a Jedi," he said, setting down their plates. "I just need to find one Master who is willing to take him on. He only needs a year or two before he is ready for his Trials."

Depa hummed in agreement but the force swivelling around her was still leaking uncertainty if only a little. Clapping his former student on the shoulder, Mace let encouragement wash over her as he sat down. "Do not worry yourself," he said letting go when he the tension finally eased out of her body.

Companiable silence falls between them after that, the worry for Obi-Wan still lingering in the air but for now, both willing to put it aside to share the little time they rarely get to spend together to its fullest. It's only after the table is cleared and Depa has found her way back to his couch that she speaks on the topic again.

"How is he by the way?"

Staring forlorn at the dirty dishes and missing the good old days when he could make little Depa wash up as part of her training while he excused himself for a short nap, Mace shook his head and made his way over to the opposite coach, leaving the dishes for tomorrow. "He's doing well," he said, folding his legs under him. "All things considered. He's healing."

Depa pursed her mouth. "He's the Sith-killer and we can't even give him an automatic knighting because--" She bit her tongue before the words slipped out, but Mace knew very well what she was going to say.

'Because Qui-Gon is still alive.'

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had both survived the battle of Naboo. Survived the Sith. And while Obi-Wan had accomplished a feat no other, saved his master and come out alive; baring the heavy injuries sustained both men, by saving Qui-Gon Jinn the young man had unknowingly sealed his own faith.

Not that Mace wasn't immensely grateful his old friend had gotten away with his life. But--

With Qui-Gon alive, Obi-Wan could not be Knighted without taking the Trials and to everyone's horror the boy's Master was not willing to wait for him to be ready for them.

No, Qui-Gon had made it quite clear how little he thought of his student's well being when he so cruelly disregarded him in front of the Council, repudiated him and thrown him away in hopes of training young Anakin Skywalker. Mace stomach coiled in disgust just thinking of that day. That moment….. With Qui-Gon standing in the middle of the room, an uncertain Anakin next to him and a distinct lack of Obi-Wan by his side. Qui-Gon had declared for all to hear that he would be training Skywalker and if that could only come to be with Kenobi out of the way, so be it.

Obi-Wan hadn't even been there to defend himself. Submerged in a bacta tank as he was, fighting for his very life and---

Clenching his fists, it's all Mace can do to carefully release his anger into the force and close his eyes against the onslaught of memories. Obi-Wan's clear eyes staring up at him from a hospital bed in abject disbelief, having woken up to a broken bond and a hair distinctly lacking a familiar braid.

The fact Qui-Gon hadn't even had the respect, the heart to tell the poor boy face to face. That he had unbraided his hair while Obi-Wan was still….. That he hadn't explained anything. He…. Mace was a Jedi,

"He…. repudiated….me?”

Mace hadn't known what to say. Standing there in the Halls of Healing, staring down at the too sickly, too skinny, too haunted man in the hospital bed. Mace hadn't known what to say.

What could one say in the face of absolute devastation?

So he had just stood there, seconds ticking by, eyes unable to break away from the dull blue-gray ones of young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Unable to speak, unable to console, unable to utter the words he knew would shatter whatever remained of the fragile sense of self-worth the kid had left.

Finally, as the auburn haired man swallowed thickly, looking away, Mace regained his speech.

Sitting down heavily in the chair stationed by the bed, he'd folded his hands under his chin and lowered his voice into an almost gentle hum. "Yes, he did. In front of the council, a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh."

That single word crumbled something in Mace he hadn't known he ever had.

Kenobi looked so small. Thin fingers clutching at the white covers, bottom lip red from being gnawed bloody, hair damp from recently having been brought out of the bacta tank and eyes swimming with such hopelessness it left the Korun man's heart with dull sense of ache he didn't quite know how to deal with.

Mace Windu was a Jedi. Controlling and releasing his emotions into the force was by now a habit as easy to him as breathing.

Nothing got under his skin, nothing pained him for long. He was focused, he was disciplined and by all accounts he was never brought to the edge of absolute fury. But looking into those gray-blue eyes. Seeing young Kenobi trying so hard to keep himself from crying. Watching the young man chest heave in futile attempt not to collapse in on himself. The destruction of a bright light, of a hopeful child ruthlessly turned into a broken young man at the hands of someone who should have known better---

Mace was a Jedi and his emotions did not rule him.

They did not. And yet, and yet….

So he pressed his fingers against his knees, nails biting into the skin beneath his clothes and he looked Obi-Wan Kenobi dead in the eyes and firmly; without pity, laid out the decree of the council. Explained what precarious position the kid found himself in; all the while being oh so careful not to let his voice catch on the lump choking him from within.

Now that Kenobi had been repudiated he was no longer a Padawan and if the council had followed the Jedi Code to the letter, he should have been expelled or relocated to the ServiceCop or the AgroCorp the minute Qui-Gon had disowned him, but this wasn't an ordinary situation and Kenobi, well, Kenobi was anything but an ordinary Jedi.

So, "with your unique circumstances," Mace had said, hand resting by the kid's knee just in case the proximity dispelled the harshness of Obi-Wan's new reality or even brought the kid some semblance of comfort. "the council has concluded that you will be given six weeks to find a new Master to complete your training and 'if' that Master is deemed acceptable by the council." Mace did his best to emphasize the 'if' for it meant any young Knight trying to do Obi-Wan a favor while having nothing of their own to actually teach him were automatically ruled out; force knew the kid had plenty of friends who would step up to the task (just the thought of recently Knighted Quinlan Vos boldly declaring himself Obi-Wan's new Master gave Mace a headache. If the sheer embarrassment didn't kill Kenobi, Quinlan's teachings surely would.) "Then your apprenticeship will be transferred to them until you're deemed ready for your Trails."

Obi-Wan had nodded, fingers tracing unknown patters on the cover. "I assume you have already spoken to a fair number of potential Masters?"

There is a certain ease to his voice, the raspiness behind it the only thing giving away how hard the kid was trying to cover up the burnt edges of his anguish. Even after Mace had seen with his own two eyes how Kenobi; as soon as the visible grief of his former Master's betrayal had run its course, gathered himself up. Taking a deep breath and then as if it was an artform storing away his emotions, carefully and meticulously behind unreadable eyes until a hurt child once again transformed back into a composed young man.

It was…… concerning the ease with which Kenobi could look as if his entire world hadn't just been shattered into pieces.

"I have." he had said in answer; swallowing down the bitterness of his own failure and watching as Obi-Wan's fingers darted across the knuckles of his outstretched hand (that Mace had yet to move) almost as if unconsciously seeking out comfort; only for the young man to then realize what he'd done making him flinch away. Mace nearly scowled in distress 'What had Qui-Gon done to this child?!'. "Unfortunately I have yet to find a Master willing to take on a Padawan your age," he managed to finish.

"Ironic isn't it?" Obi-Wan muttered, self deprecating amusement dancing in his eyes. It took Mace a second to grasp the context behind the words but when he did, a sardonic smirk pulled at his lips.

"Yes," he said. "It is."

For it was. To be rejected for a child too old to become a Padawan, only to turn around and find yourself the one who is now too old to be anyone's Padawan. Ironic indeed.

And so very awful.

They had talked about nothing of note after that. Obi-Wan content in pretending nothing outside the four walls of his room existed and Mace wanting to indulge him, just this once.

Still, even though he regaled the kid with stories, particularly of that one time Master Yoda had kidnapped him to lure five other Masters away from a council meeting, his brain was still running through potentially willing Masters for the child he was so unwilling to give up on just yet.

"I would take him if I could."

Depa's words managed to bring him back to the present with an abruptness he wasn't ready for.

He blinked, once, twice. Then sighed deeply as he closed his eyes. "I know."

Depa shifted across from him. "His time is nearly up."

Mace tensed. "He still has two more weeks left."

Now it's her who uttered "I know."

A suffocating silence once again wrapped itself around them. This one hinging on uncertainty, worry and concern. Emotions that swiftly were released into the force and yet lingered in the room like an unspoken blemish. Finally Depa spoke. Her words nothing but a whisper but holding all the strength of an ocean slamming against the shores of Mace's stability.

"You could take him."

It's not a question, not quite a suggestion either. It's more like…… a promise.

Mace startled, eyes flying open. "What?" He had expected much from her, maybe a suggestion of one of Kenobi's little Knight friends taking him on, which he would have soundly rejected but not this. This was unexpected to say the least.

Depa only shrugged away his incredulity. "You could take him as your Padawan learner. He would only need a year or two at most like you said and Kenobi is mild tempered, level-headed and a quick study, you would get along great." She said it all with such casualness and certainty Mace couldn't help but stare.

Crossing her arms and folding her knees under her in a mirror image of him, Depa lifted a single eyebrow. "You cannot tell me you have not considered this?"

Mace bit back a wince. "Of course I have. Unfortunately that doesn't."

Depa cut him off. "Why not?"

If there was anyone who feared him less than Depa; excluding their green troll of a Grandmaster, Mace had yet to meet them. And now watching as she stared him down, Mace was torn between pride and indignity. "You know why." He gritted out, mindful to keep his voice even. "I'm Master of the Order. I will not have the time to train him properly. My duties are on Coruscant. Young Obi-Wan will need someone to go on missions with him, look out for him and I'm afraid I cannot do that."

If he'd thought his words would discourage his former student, he was wrong. Now she looked even more resolute than before he'd made his argument.

"May I remind you Obi-Wan is Senior Padawan. He does not require someone to hold his hand every step of the way." Here a ghost of a smile grace her lips. "He is only a year or so away from his Trials, Mace. He is supposed to take solo missions by now. You just need to oversee the remaining of his training, help him polish a couple of things and he'll be ready." Her eyes flickered with something too fast to detect. "Please Mace, at least think about it."

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Obi-Wan deserves someone who can devote their time on him," he said yet the idea running through his mind with possibilities.

Kenobi deserved better than what Mace could provide. Especially after Qui-Gon. Especially after the countless setbacks, traumas and horrors the kid had been through. He didn't deserve a Master who wouldn't always be there even if the kid only needed minimal help at this point. "I may not be what he needs?"

Now Depa was glaring at him. "Maybe it's about time people stopped assuming what is best for Obi-Wan and started giving him the chance to choose what he thinks is best for him? And maybe it's about time he received the knowledge that he is actually wanted for once in his life?!" The last words are said with such vehemence Mace is momentarily stunned.

Quickly as the anger came it vanished, leaving behind a sheepish smile and mildly apologetic eyes. But Depa did not take her words back.

Mace couldn't find it in himself to scold her. After all, wasn't that the root of Obi-Wan's issues? How everyone kept assuming what was best for him, never once listening to what he wanted?

Would it be wrong for Mace then to lay his cards on the table. To ask? The kid did not have to accept; although Mace would be disappointed if he didn't. But to ask, he could do that, couldn't he? Let the kid know that he wished to train him, had always seen the potential in him. Might have taken him on from the very beginning if Depa hadn't still been his Padawan. That he would see him to Knighthood if Kenobi let him. What would be the harm in that?

"When he's released from the Halls of Healing where will he go?"

The abrupt change in topic makes the Korun man blink up at his for Padawan in confusion.

"Without a Master," she continued eyes glinting with something. "He will be relocated to the Initiate dorms will he not?"

Mace was already shaking his head before the question had fully left her lips. "No."

"No?"

He nodded. "He will move in with me until a Master chooses to claimed him as a Padawan."

Now the glint in Depa's eyes are all but twinkling like stars but why…..

Mace own eyes widen in realization.

Oh

He hadn't thought much of it. Having just assumed Obi-Wan would stay with him until a Master stepped forward to accept him. Hadn't even contemplated putting the traumatized young man with the Initiates. In a way, he had already made his choice days ago, hadn't he? And of course Depa had see right through him to a part he hadn't even been aware off.

If he was a lesser man, Mace might have flushed red with embarrassment having essentially claimed Kenobi as his own Padawan without knowing. But he was Mace Windu, Master of the Order, so all he let himself get away with was a huff and a slight twitch of his mouth. "Looks like my mind has already decided what my head has yet to conclude."

Depa answering smile is teasing. "Seems so."

The relief that hits him at those words is almost staggering. Knocking into his chest and nearly toppling him back against the headrest.

He'd been worried, angry, concerned and at his wits end these past couple of weeks. Knowing he was letting Obi-Wan down every day he was politely rejected by another Master who'd seen Obi-Wan's records, heard of his repudiation and refused to take a chance on him. Knowing Qui-Gon repudiating him had essentially sealed the young man's faith. Feeling disgusted by the false rumours of Kenobi's insubordination, and having to go see him every evening watching the light flicker out of his eyes as each shred of hope he had of being a Knight was torn away from him.

In the end it was all so very simple wasn't it.

The minute the kid had looked at him with those eyes, Mace had known.

He would never let him go without a fight. Not Kenobi. Never Kenobi.

It didn't matter how busy his schedule was he would make time for Obi-Wan if he accepted him. No longer would he stand by and watch those hunched shoulders trailing after the rigged figure of one Qui-Gon Jinn. No longer would he stand by and let the kid be used to wash away someone else's darkness.

Obi-Wan Kenobi would be his Padawan.

Overwhelmed by the sheer sense of calmness that washed over him, Mace momentarily closed his eyes and breathed. Releasing all the emotions clinging to him into the force. Worry, anger, fear, concern, care and most of all pure, unwavering protectiveness.

If he had something to say about it, and he did. Qui-Gon would never step a foot near the kid ever again.

"Do you think he will take to Vaapad as quickly as you did?" He asked as his composure fell into place and his eyes sought out his former student.

The startled laugh that burst out of Depa made a sharp smile twist at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe Soresu is more is speed," she lightly jabbed back.

Tilting his head; playful for those who knew to spot the miniscule changes in his expression, Mace glared. "Don't you even think about interfering Kenobi's lightsaber studies behind my back."

Depa looked amused. "Wouldn't dream of it."  But then the mirth vanished and gave way to contentment. "It would be nice," she said. "Finally having a Padawan sibling."

Mace found himself smiling, gentler this time. "It would."

They share a smile before Depa is on her feet, making her way to the door. "Best to inform Obi-Wan of your decision as soon as possible," she called over her shoulder. "He'll be out of the Halls in three days time."

Mace stared and stared. And then, stared some more.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he said out loud, not quite believing she managed to manipulate him so thoroughly . "You came here today to coax me into accepting Kenobi as my apprentice."

Depa doesn't look back at him, but she doesn't have to. The Force danced around her with mirth and shades of guilt for having deceived him. The Korun man could only let himself shake his head, heart tugging with pride at how much his little spitfire had grown while also frowning in realization. "Depa." he said firmly, but his former Padawan was already palming open the door.

"Don't be like that Master," she said turning back to give him a final look, the familiar title she only used sparingly coming out of her mouth with overflowing warmth and fondness. "We both know I only guided you to the decision you wanted to make all along."

She was right. Still,

"I don't like to be manipulated Padawan mine."

She only smiled. Mischief in her eyes and a single dimple creasing her left cheek before she was gone, vanishing out the door.

Mace was left sitting alone in his living room. A mirroring smile painting his lips and chest for the first time since Naboo filled with nothing but anticipated flicker of hope.

To go from being repudiated one day to being the Padawan of Mace Windu, Master of the Order few weeks later….. Kenobi would have hell of a time trying to compute the insanity of the news coming his way tomorrow.

Mace hoped Obi-Wan Kenobi he slept well tonight for both their sakes.

The next couple of weeks would be….. Hectic to say the least.

The end

Believe it or not the idea that Depa's preferred form is Soresu is half the reason why I wrote this fic. Just her taking Obi as her unofficial baby brother and helping him on his path to becoming a Master at Soresu makes me all giddy, so here you have it.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

[katsidhe]

could you share the descriptions of the answers? I'm bad at answering these quizzes cause I always get like 3 answers that fit but in different circumstances so I like seeing all of the descriptions

Yeah sure! I too wish uquiz gave an option to see all the result descriptions... alas. 

anyway here’s a wall of text, go nuts. 

DEAN-CODED DEAN GIRL

You might just be the hero of a YA fantasy novel or an action movie, because you have Big Protag Energy. You’re self-centered and extremely giving at the same time: you expect and demand absolute loyalty, just as you provide the same. Your love can move mountains, but if you’re not careful that same love can be suffocating or controlling. You’re volatile: you’ll cut a bitch and you don’t care who knows it. You’ll kick their ass. You’ll kick their dog’s ass. You’ll kick your own ass. You have a one-liner for every occasion. Your friends like you but would describe you as “a lot.” You’re magnetic: your charisma and sheer bull-headedness mean you stand out in every room. You’re polarizing, and you know it, but that doesn’t bother you: you know you’re right, and even when you’re wrong, you’re at least entertaining. You’re very “do as I say, not as I do:” you’re a bit of a hypocrite, but, like, in a fun way.  

Holotypes include: Dean Winchester (Supernatural), Thomas Jefferson (Hamilton), Sirius Black (Harry Potter), Kathryn Janeway (Star Trek: Voyager), Katara (ATLA), Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED SAM GIRL

You are a charmer and a people-pleaser. You’re charismatic to a fault, when you want to be: whether consciously or not, you have a razor-keen sense of how others see you, and you mold yourself to expectations. You can either talk circles around most people, or you come across as so fundamentally honest that you gain everyone’s trust without trying. Your affable persona is built on a rock-solid sense of purpose. You have a steadfast, deadset fixation on your goals, which you know in your heart to be worth any cost and any sacrifice. Armed with iron conviction, you’re a rebel with a cause. Is it paranoia if they really are all out to get you? When you inevitably win, the whole world will know your name. Your strong sense of self will carry you through any hardship. Your friends look up to you, but they don’t always “get” you. 

Holotypes include: Lucifer (Supernatural), Eponine (Les Mis), Count Olaf (A Series of Unfortunate Events), Prince Zuko (ATLA), Samwise Gamgee (LOTR), Karkat Vantas (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED CAS GIRL 

Like all Dean-coded people, you are charming and affable, and you talk a big game. You might be the class clown or a popular athlete, or otherwise one of them cool kids, but underlying that public persona is a certain quiet idealism. You keep your strong convictions close to your heart, even when far from home or beset by strife. You’re fiercely loyal and you crave being around people, but you can see when your friends need space, and you can get along okay on your own. You’re not afraid to change your opinions if new information comes to light. Strangers find you easy to get along with: you tend to go along with the group, and you’re a team player no matter what needs to get done. Your chill-to-pull ratio is sky-high.

Holotypes include: Ahsoka (Star Wars), Meg (Supernatural), Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson), Ginny Weasley (Harry Potter), Boromir (LOTR), Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

SAM-CODED DEAN GIRL

You come across as level headed, but you’re never more than an inch from going off the rails. Your highest values are love and personal loyalty, but you’re pragmatic about it, and you try very hard not to put unfair expectations on other people, with varying degrees of success. You spend a lot of time dealing with expectations; it’s something you either grapple with, or lean into to use to your own ends. You value your own sense of identity, but that identity can get subsumed by your loyalties. You can easily get pulled in or suborned by strong personalities. You keep secrets, both from yourself and from others. Who you want to be is at odds with how you see yourself. People meeting you for the first time might say you’re aloof. You have lots of strong opinions, but you usually keep them to yourself… unless provoked. Careful; you bite. 

Holotypes include: Mary Winchester (Supernatural), Harry Potter (Harry Potter), Aragorn (LOTR), Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Julian Bashir (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Katniss Everdeen (Hunger Games) 

SAM-CODED SAM GIRL

Gifted kid (diagnosis). You were and maybe still are an outsider, and because of that you’ve had to learn to be self-sufficient and confident in your own abilities. You’re a fiercely independent overachiever, and you’ve fought hard for every inch. Somewhere inside you is a hot, long simmering rage born from the injustice of the world, but it’s buried very deep. You’d be more than content to be alone for long periods of time. You have sometimes crippling perfectionism: if you aren’t succeeding, it’s your fault for not trying hard enough. You’ll pick every kind of intellectual fight and throw yourself into playing devil’s advocate just to improve your understanding: you see the gray areas in everything. You’re aggressively big-picture. You want to, no, you MUST change the universe, but you don’t need to take credit for it. Your few friends might describe you as callous, but you know you’re just being realistic: you’ve got a harsh, clear-eyed sense of the world. No pain, no gain, and really, if you do the math, no single individual is all that important in the grand scheme of things.  

Holotypes include: Kevin Tran (Supernatural), Jean Valjean (Les Miserables), Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars), Neville Longbottom (Harry Potter), Frodo Baggins (LOTR), Dirk Strider (Homestuck), Luke Castellan (Percy Jackson)

SAM-CODED CAS GIRL

You have a strong sense of how the world ought to be, but you have no overriding vision or big master plan: you take life day by day to fix the little things you can. You have very few close relationships, but those you have you treasure dearly. You support your few friends unconditionally, but you tend to be emotionally distant with acquaintances. You may be a bit of a pushover. You often find yourself put in the position of mediator. You loathe conflict, so you avoid it unless absolutely necessary--but once you’re truly angry, you’ll stop at nothing to see justice done. You’re a diplomat and an advocate: you are deeply idealistic, but you’re nevertheless strongly grounded in a pragmatic sense of achieving what you can. Philosophy is action, action is philosophy; you like meditation and self-improvement and have probably done at least one juice cleanse. Both friends and strangers describe you as quietly dependable. If you can’t see the trauma, the trauma can’t see you! That’s just science!

Holotypes include: Sam Winchester (Supernatural), BJ Hunnicut (M*A*S*H), Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Aang (ATLA), Luke Skywalker (Star Wars), Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson)

CAS-CODED DEAN GIRL

Much of your identity is tied up in a set of core beliefs - to the point where those beliefs might be strong enough to override your identity. You’re not beholden to any outside system. If you’re comfortable serving a larger common goal, it’s because you believe in it wholeheartedly. You’re action-oriented: you act first, and think later, or possibly never. You judge your friends solely based on what they do, and you tend to hold people accountable for any unforeseen consequences of their choices. You have strong personal loyalties. You’re not at the center of your social circle, but your friends trust you implicitly and the leader of your group tends to confide in you. You don’t seek power, but you’re also not afraid of taking charge, and you may find power thrust upon you. If you do find yourself in a position of leadership, you struggle with going too far or taking your friends in an unexpected direction. Whether you’re fighting in a war or making yourself a sandwich, you go hard in the motherfuckin’ paint.

Holotypes include: Castiel (Supernatural), Javert (Les Miserables), Captain Rex (Star Wars), Kanaya Maryam (Homestuck), Worf (Star Trek), Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter)

CAS-CODED SAM GIRL

I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re a bit weird. You are spacey or odd or otherwise out of step with how people think you should act, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter what they think, because if you’re sure of one thing, it’s that you should never mold your unique identity to other people’s expectations. You live internally: you’re all about grand, world-changing concepts, whether they be philosophical, artistic, or mathematical. You are grounded in the reality that you are one person and one viewpoint among many others, but that doesn’t stop you from writing your nine-hundred page thesis on the topic you’re passionate about. You can justify just about anything by the virtue of your personal convictions arising almost entirely from within yourself. Your identity can get swept up in your big ideas. You’re easier to sway with logic than with emotion, but you don’t feel the need to confine yourself with such terms: you operate on both vibes and flowcharts. You move through the world with the assurance that you are the master of your own fate, and you are unburdened by worrying about the opinions of others. You won’t let yourself feel pinned down by one social group; you float in and out comfortably, depending on how you’re feeling. Friends and strangers describe you as “spooky.”

Holotypes include: Azazel (Supernatural), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Aaron Burr (Hamilton), Princess Azula (ATLA), Yoda (Star Wars), Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

CAS-CODED CAS GIRL

You are chaotic and excitable. You’re swayed by the drive to explore: the greatest good is to understand the universe and your place in it. You’ve got big ideas, and you’re drawn to new experiences, but you don’t necessarily understand what’s going on. You might be a part of a bigger social machine, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be defined on its terms: you’ll self-actualize if it kills you. You identify new objects by licking them. You can see the strings of the world; what will you choose? You’ll take the reins and see where they take you. You say you’re following your own path. Your friends say you don’t know what you’re doing. Pragmatism? Never heard of her. A dream is a vision is a reality; ideas are the world writ large. You might be a prophet or a visionary. With your head in the clouds, you’re sometimes divorced from both reality and consequences. You’re usually on the outside looking in, and you don’t want to be. People think they understand you, but they definitely don’t. Your friends and enemies describe you as impulsive and mysterious. 

Holotypes include: Raphael (Supernatural), Uncle Iroh (ATLA), Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars), Gandalf (LOTR)

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 4]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“there’ll be a next time...right?“

Corpse and Cora have found a nice secluded picnic table outside the restaurant, out in the sun rays’ path enough for the warmth of the day to be caressing their skin while simultaneously being a safe distance away from the other people enjoying their lunch. Their meal has just arrived, bringing a large grin to Cora’s face.

“So?” She asks as she chews the bite she took without waiting even thirty seconds. Her feet are on the bench, legs crossed, elbows rested on her knees as she chomps down, happily perched in front of him.

Corpse is enraptured by her. He’s staring a little, desperately trying to keep it subtle, hands still holding the small bag of food as he peers at her, a hood over his dark curls. Even in this quiet little part of town, he still doesn’t feel safe showing his whole face - no mask, no eyepatch, no privacy and sense of security. But as his eyes take in his lunch partner, her calm aura and leisure attitude, he can’t help but admit that his heart quickens a little. The girl moves with the grace of someone not afraid to kick ass and he is simply awestruck by her beauty and outward powerful aura. He’s never before been so captivated by a person - someone so different and so similar to him simultaneously.

Swallowing nervously, he reminds himself that she has taken on the role of his checkpoint, something like a friend, a hand to hold if he starts feeling anxious. Even if it’s just for today, he appreciates it wholeheartedly. It’s more than he’s ever been offered by others. That type of comfort is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Surprising himself when his hand reaches out to touch her free one, he’s surprised yet again when he finds the touch so familiar and welcoming, so natural.  Despite it being just a brief movement, his knuckles softly brushing against her wrist before withdrawing and returning his focus to his meal, it is so meaningful and soothing, he’s afraid he might get used to it. Addicted to it. 

Half expecting a comment or a look, he is taken aback when she doesn’t give any sort of reaction. No movement, no expression change, just curiously watching him while she eats, waiting for his response to her previous dubious question.

 “So?” He rumbles softly, fishing out his lunch from the confines of the little paper bag. He isn’t sure what type of answer he should be expecting but he’s sure he won’t be disappointed regardless.

“Tell me about yourself! You’re not all rumbles, fear and BONES, right? You’ve gotta have a personality under that black hoodie.” She says enthusiastically, her eyes glimmering as though she’ll dig the answers out of him with her gaze alone. He’s not sure whether he’d prefer that or not. He doesn’t like talking about himself but he has an even stronger distaste for the idea of her seeing some information he’d rather keep hidden. Good thing she doesn’t seem to be capable of telepathy, but even that wouldn’t be too odd for her.

His cheeks flush faintly and he looks down for a moment to take the first bite of his food, buying himself some time to think and formulate a proper sentence. He racks his brain, looking for what would be the most vague yet satisfactory answer. 

What am I? I mean, all she stated is true, I definitely am all that...but I have a hard time coming up with what else I am? What else makes me me?  Youtube? Anxiety? Suicidal ideations hidden underneath liquor?

“I um...dropped out of school at, like, thirteen.” He finally speaks, mumbling around the small bite he worked on swallowing. 

Cora’s eyes widen and her brows shoot up. Now he is nervous, his anxiety slowly starting to creep in as he’s worrying if he has said something wrong. Or something that she could be disgusted by. 

Who would want to talk to some grown ass man who couldn’t even make it to highschool? How fucking sad is that? She has all right to judge me for it. 

However, unlike everybody else in his life who’s given him a frown of pity while internally thinking of how absolutely fucked up he had to be to drop out so young, Cora spared him from the pitiful glance he has grown to hate so much. Instead, he sees something alike amazement on her face as she sips her drink before saying:

“Damn dude, that’s intense. I mean, it sucks cause I can’t imagine you had a normal childhood if you’re bailing from school that young but, nowadays, who among us actually had a real childhood? Very few, I’d say.” She grins, putting down the soda can, her eyes leaving his for only the briefest of moments instead of the familiar awkward eye-contact avoidance he’d face when this topic would be nudged during a conversation. Still, the relief and skepticism in Corpse can never end their war so easily - there’s still that shred of doubt that she’s just good at hiding her pity or judgement. Nevertheless, she continues, “You’re doing well for yourself, you’re in an ok place right now, right? Isn’t that what matters?.” She concludes, touching his fingers as a form of yet another subtle reassurance. 

He looks down and finds himself ever so carefully curling one of his fingers around hers, just briefly before he draws back fearfully. “Yeah...guess having an apartment in a shitty part of town, and a car that seems to attract criminals could be considered ‘doing okay’.” He smiles faintly under his hood and she laughs, that bubbly little noise that he is slowly realizing he wants to hear more of. 

“You got a car, that’s more than I have.” Cora pokes her tongue out with a little growl before leaning down to take another bite of her lunch. “So, you like music and aren’t a narc. What else you got up your sleeve?”

Corpse smiles a bit and takes a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I like video games too.” 

That seems innocent enough, right? Everyone likes video games...or people tend to be okay with them, at least. Video games are fun.

Another bright, sun-like smile. “Yeah? Well in that case I’ll have to kick your ass in Mario Kart some time.” She threatens playfully. 

So she might want to hang out, he thinks to himself, the thought causing his heart to do a little flip and he smiles an almost shy and timid smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

“What do you do for work?”

That question catches him off-guard, causing his eyes to widen a bit. He doesn’t know if it would be better to lie or just tell the truth. He narrates stories on the internet and makes and puts out music people have constantly been telling him wouldn’t be enjoyed. He doesn’t see how that would leave a bad taste in her mouth exactly but because of his inability to stop himself from overthinking he doesn’t want to run the risk of repulsing her. Then again, he doesn’t want to lie either, he’s been so honest with her thus far, why would he derail now and because of such a simple question. That’s why he chooses to answer truthfully but keep his answer relatively vague: “I do online work and make music I haven’t released yet. I honestly dunno if I ever will.” That last part felt like a harsh hit of reality coming on too suddenly, forcing him to look away from her to gather his composure and put it back together.

“I bet it’s good. You’ll have to let me hear it when you get something done. I’ve got a clearly refined taste in music, but I bet you already figured that out.” She exaggerates a wink, reaching over to wiggle the straw in her drink. 

Feeling a bit less tense now, he clears his throat and picks up the conversation once again. “What about you? You keep asking me all these questions, but all I know about you is that you’re a klepto with no car.” 

That signature bright and bubbly laughter leaves Cora’s chest, sending Corpse a millisecond away from swooning over her completely. “I’m actually a starving artist. I’m a pet photographer and I'm going back to school for advertising graphic design. When I’m not off goofing around with people getting their dogs birthday documented, I’m working at ye good ol’ Starbucks, serving all the...” Her voice lifts to a higher pitch and is now coming more from the back of her throat as she takes on the most preppy tone she could muster, “Beckys their venti mocha caramel frappuccino with TWO extra pumps of caramel, but with SOY because they’re all on a diet. Funny how that works, no? All those women with the exact same order and exact same attributes - I almost laugh whenever one of them walks in. You can smell them from a block away.” 

Corpse chokes out a laugh as he covers his mouth, hiding his half chewed bite from view. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. Then again,  he can’t help but acknowledge the warmth that has spread across his cheeks at how she giggles along with him. “And to be fair,” Cora quickly interrupts herself, “I am not a klepto, I just really liked the belt I found and thought forty five dollars was a rip off.” She smirks, finding herself absentmindedly looping her pinky with his. Corpse doesn’t look down, doesn’t comment, doesn’t want her to know he noticed, because maybe she’d put an end to their so small yet so meaningful contact. Instead, he smiles a little and swallows the last bite of his lunch, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and he briefly entertains the idea that he maybe wasn’t the only one awestruck. 

Anyhow, that thought gets pushed down real quick when he considers how absolutely out of his league she is, and how...well, how he’s in absolutely no league whatsoever. The world has done plenty to prove that to him real fast. Corpse sees himself as a nobody; he believes he doesn’t matter and everybody likes to remind him of it. But, as Cora’s pinky curls a little and one of her thumbs brushes against the arch of his wrist, all that bitter venom in his cold soul starts to slowly ease up, loosening its typically firm hold of his mind. Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would matter to someone. Someday.

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

[darkromanceblackburn]

I have a request, since they're open! Anything with the Collector x Reader x Chromeskull. I love that pair! Surprise me with what happens. Preferably angst.

The Collector x Reader x Chromeskull- Hazardous Toxicity

Authors Note: Getting some practice with angsty scenarios and these two see to fit the picture, because what’s not toxic about being in a relationship with a serial killer, neverthless with two of them.

Warning: Toxic Polyamorous Relationship

Words: 2.2k

You had a peculiar taste in men and that went with the fact that you didn't like routine or having a normal relationship with a normal guy with a normal job and a normal hobby. Normal wasn't an adjective or characteristic you were attracted to.

If you could describe what your preference in men was, you would start by saying that you always liked them older, maybe because you had enough of going on dates with guys your age that talked about the same topics; college, sports, nothing that would really spark a certain interest, but alas you were glad at the end of the date they preferred to remain just friends. Easier to get out and not make an awkward scene and probably explain why there was no chemistry.

The past relationships you had were to put it nicely, acceptable. The guys always let you take the lead; you ordered the food, you decided what movie to watch, what to do on a certain date. To be always in charge was tiring and you felt kind of empty. There was no excitement what so ever.

So, imagine the actual relationship you were having now. Never in your life would you predict that you would end up in a polyamorous relationship with two men that were much older than you. It was just a fantasy, one that turned out to be real.

To say that your partners were quite unique would be just an easy saying; they always stood out of the crowd, maybe one of the reasons you were so intrigued by them, but they were that type of standing out like 'He's so handsome and fuckable type'. Well, in your opinion, yes, but in your friends and people that knew you, they were downright intimidating. Possible another plus in your attractiveness book.

They had that certain vibe that if they wanted to crush someone's skull, they would do it, not that you minded because, in a certain twisted way, you felt protected because Lord helps the poor soul that would have the guts to hurt you.

At the beginning of the relationship, everyone said that you should be careful, be vigilant because you don't know them well; they were mysterious to say so, never putting all the cards down for you to see, making your stay on your toes and your mind always to wander to their personas. That was what made you be drawn to them, they excited your mind and the intimacy?

You never knew how much pleasure exists, nevertheless with two men like them. They always made you crave more, your legs turning to jelly and mind a mess, all morals flying out the window and letting your carnal instincts take over.

Everything was perfect because you felt cherished, they always treated you with all kinds of surprises, and sometimes it felt like they were competing for your affection and attention; the perks of having two alpha males.

They also had their differences, despite how similar Jesse and Asa were. Jesse was an extrovert, while Asa was an introvert. Despite Jesse being mute he always found himself teasing you, be it at first using the electronic reader and later on suggestive signing after you got better with ASL. Asa could speak very loud and clear but chose not to, only if he had something to say, which always was accompanied by an authoritative tone, more or less.

Both are very highly intellectual and that showed; Asa being a successful entomologist at the university and the many degrees and diplomas on the wall of his office spoke for him, not to mention how much he knew about history and art. Jesse was nothing less either, with running a successful chroming company, being a highly respected and feared CEO and it always amazed you how much he knew about information technology.

So basically your type was experienced, tall, intimidating, and smart.

After being for some time in the relationship, your known one always said that they were controlling you, which at first made you confused about this statement, wondering from where they deducted that.

Maybe you were a little blind, not able to see how they chose for you what to wear, what to eat, how you should do your hair. You saw them as a suggestion, but the ones outside begged to differ.

There also came a hard time when you were having trouble at your job, the economy was going down, your boss had to cut salaries and you couldn't afford to pay rent, not to mention that you needed to over-work; extra hours staying at work meant less time spending with your lovers.

They suggest that you should move in with them, switching from Asa's house to Jesse's depending on when they weren't working, plus they made you give up on your job, explaining how the money wasn't even covering how much you worked.

You agreed; maybe the lack of sleep, too much frustration, and injustice conducted you to agree with their proposition.

They took care of all your needs, be them material, spiritual or physical; they delivered it. You couldn't argue on that, but slowly, without you realizing it, they made you be dependent on them, seeking them whenever you felt like, but you were always the submissive, they owned the power and you only basked it what they emanated.

The apex of this relationship came when darker secrets came out because your curiosity got the better of you, not going to work that left you a lot of time to think and brown-noose into their stuff and business; the biggest mistake of your life, much worse than entering this hazardous relationship.

The first time your eyes looked over a photo-album of Asa's, you expected to see family photos, since he never brought this subject, you were interested in it, but seeing all the gruesome photos, you never thought a human could be shaped like this? This had to be some sick joke, right? But it wasn't.

You haven't told Asa about it or tried to question him, making sure you put the album exactly where it was. You debated if you should tell Jesse since Asa had to do some entomology related work for the weekend and you stayed by Jesse's house, but he had to go to work too, something about an unannounced meeting, leaving you to spend time all alone into his enormous house, so again curiosity got the best of you.

If you thought that Asa's photo album was gruesome, then the tapes you found in Jesse's Chrysler inside the glove box and trunk were sure going to give you nightmares.

You were pacing in Jesse's living room, drinking some whiskey to calm your nerves because you were sure that a breakdown was going to come, then it hit you. All the missing people, the murders on the news; you played detective and pin-pointed everything.

It all came down to you, the harsh reality; all the false sense of safeness and affection, it was pure-down manipulation, the undercover controlling that you were too blind to see because you were like a love-struck puppy to them.

The solution was simple; break up this relationship.

That's what you did, you wrote down a quick note, not explaining why you were leaving them, you just wanted to getaway. You left Jesse's place and walked for half an hour. Where? You didn't know, you had nowhere to go because all your friends left you; some that decided you were a lost cause, others too afraid of your men.

You had so much money just to stay at a cheap hostel for some days, but it was better than sleeping in a bus station on a dirty bench. Maybe you will go back to your parents? You didn't have a plan in mind.

The first night you couldn't sleep, not only because the bed was very much uncomfortable and the people in the room next to you were making too much noise, but because you felt like they were always watching; you were getting paranoid.

The next day, you managed to get some sleep in the morning, sleeping until it was the afternoon, the growl of your stomach waking you up. You walked to a cheap restaurant across the hostel, and as you took the first bite of the scrambled eggs and a little too burnt sausages, you grimaced.

Too accustomed to five-star meals and champagne, doll?

Alas, you swallowed down, reminding yourself that luxury wasn't an option in your current predicament. You sipped on the bitter coffee, the taste as truthful as the relationship which you ended, the dark liquid waking you up, and everything pouring down on you; it was only a game. The affection was only a camouflage for the twisted intentions, the protectiveness only possession.

After sitting there for hours and the waitress telling you that if you wouldn't order anything else you should leave, you walked back towards the hostel, walking upstairs to your room, entering and closing the door behind you, you were ready to hit the bed again, only to stop dead in your tracks when your gaze meets long black-clad legs, eyes moving up over the black clothes and wide chest and stopping on a bone-chilling chromed skull mask.

The bald head and tall frame of the mad was a dead giveaway to who he was, and when you heard heavy footsteps behind you, you knew who the second person was behind you, but your mind didn't want to acknowledge the scenario.

"Going somewhere?" the calm and familiar voice asked behind you, feeling Asa stop behind you, just a few inches away from his chest to press against your back.

'Piggy has been naughty.' Jesse signed, making your gut twist at the nickname he gave you.

"I-I...." you didn't know what to say, afraid of saying anything when your eyes saw Jesse twirl a large knife, clearly amused by your face that showed fear.

"You what? Trying to break things off without a specific motive?" Asa asked into your ear, gloved hands grasping your hips into a bruising grip, fingers digging into your skin behind your shirt.

Of course, they found out you were sneaking where your nose shouldn't be. Asa knew where everything he owned was, so it was no surprise when he found the photo album a little out of place, and Jesse? You cursed yourself for forgetting that he had security cameras all over his place.

Jesse moved off the couch and stalked towards you, looking down at your form and at this moment you really hated how tall and imposing of a figure he had. You were turned around and pressed to his chest, your eyes ready to meet Asa's face, only to be masked by a black-foam mask, making him look so very menacing, like a very dangerous spider.

You felt Jesse trail the tip of his knife up and down your thigh, his masked face pressing against the top of your head.

"You know what I am most curious about?" Asa asked, pulling out a knife of his own and trailing the blunt edge over your neck, the cold blade making your breath hitch.

"Any person in your situation would have called us in." he answered for you.

That's when it hit you, your eyes widening. Any person in their right mind would have gone directly to the police, telling them everything, you had enough proof to put them behind bars for the rest of their lives, but you hid out like a rabbit, ready for the wolves to find you.

"Aren't you such a loyal pet?" Asa murmured in your ear, the knife nicking your collarbone a little, feeling his hot breath and rough texture of his mask hit your skin.

'Someone has a little crush.' the electronic voice from Jesse's phone spoke, making you more aware of what was happening.

"P-Please....I won't tell anyone." you whispered, closing your eyes as you felt Jesse move his knife up and down on your inner thigh.

"I'm sure you won't. It would be a shame to kneecap you, queen bee." Asa said, sadistic promises behind the cruel words.

You whimpered at the nickname, one it used to make you smile brightly and nuzzle into his chest, feeling so loved and appreciated, but now it made you sick to the stomach.

'Very big shame to destroy such a cute face.' Jesse added, pulling his knife away only for his nitrile covered hand to come up and cup your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin.

"Are you going to come home with us or do we have to train you through?" Asa asked, question rhetorical and by Gods, you didn't want to find out what it means 'training' in his mind.

Swallowing down, you nodded, doe-like eyes on his obsidian ones, his plush lips pulled into a winning lop-sided smile, then his lips pressed against your forehead, making you tremble a little.

Asa pulled away from you, walking towards the door, opening it. You were pushed forward by Jesse, who wrapped one long arm around your shoulder, making sure you wouldn't try to run away, not like you would get too far away.

As you passed the small reception you saw the owner of the hostel dead, into a pool of blood with his guts out.

This was a warning that this was not a childish game.

The meaning was simple; Try breaking things off with them and they will break your legs.

[psychemeanscure]

PART 30

They are in the middle of a topic with her parents about the time Zilo finally convinced her to experience the Nightclubs of Mexico for the first time where she ended up knocking out a drunk stranger humiliating a girlfriend in front of a whole crowd and of course, who would rather talk about it proudly other than the inviter himself yes it is. She cannot believe that her foster parents will actually invite the young Alcaziar. If only she knew he’ll be much closer to them than now, she wouldn’t rather have introduced him back then.

“You did that, mi hija? If It was me, I would also do much than that. You did a good job, honey...”

A grand compliment from her mamá followed by laughter around her for she can only think of a silent grudge in mind, stern look wishing to throw Zilo on its own grave. ‘Aish. This dimwit.’

Including, the prudent man who’s chuckling beside her. “I can’t argue more. If you could only saw what happened that time, I am the proudest. She did a good job indeed.”  

She’s lying if it didn’t make her fluster because she did that she needed to hide her bashfulness by glancing her dinner plate instead. Though not long before a realization slip into her. A sudden frown which came so easily, a piercing lobe ready to kill someone in an instant. “Wait, what?! You were there?”

He can only purse his lips in-between, learning how deadly her stare at, taking a bite of his steak instead. He was busted. How table shifted in a snap that it was his turn to get cornered yet not wanting to face his defeat, he restrains his composure, reminiscing the moment he witnessed everything right in front his eyes. An unbothered Jang Taeyoung responds to her. 

“Uhm, including you dancing your surprisingly infamous moves after smashing someone with a bottle. Yes, I was there.”    

She can only torture her own spoon and knife. Fisting both of it as if literally choking the man who’s currently talking to her. She’s been holding enough. If not because of her parents’ presence, she can definitely make an outburst already. But enough is totally enough. Processing every single detail that had been unwanted to her knowing for years and would possibly still if this dinner would have not happened in the first place. A deepening exhale she needed to ponder, a bloodshot eye obligated to stay hidden. A masking coldness finally responded onto his belated actions. “Let us talk.”

A pure emphasis of three syllables she firmly put into words at last. “Honey? Is there’s something wrong?”

That subsequently noticeable to her parent’s eyes. “Uh. Mamá, I think a little misunderstanding is---“for Zilo trying to cover up, ended up being jolted by the harsh dumped she did with her utensil. Turning to face her parents with a subtle smile. “No. Nothing serious, mamá. It’s just that I and Taeyoung here, needed only to discuss something important. Isn’t it?”

 Coping how she wanted it to be for so he played along, curving the same decisive smile as her. “Yes! yes, it is. Actually.”

 “Oh, is that so? Then you better be.”

 Giving her foster mom another of her smile, she responded. “Definitely, Ma. So, if you’ll excuse us please.” Before turning a glare attention to the one she assumed accomplice. “Including you.” Gulping for his safety, he tried to defy. “Wait what? Sis, me? Why do I have to be drag as we--- Ah, ah, ah. “

But it was too late, for Zilo been literally dragged by Sung Eunyoung already. Pinching his ear as he has been towed with them outside. “O-Ouch! It hurts, eh?” finally releasing from her hold, he complains eventually while rubbing his now red ear. “Shut up. You owe me otherwise. And when did my mom become your mom, huh? Ugh.” Bringing her arms crossed as she targeted the two of them this time. “Now,” her first word, eyeing between the currently grumpy youngster and Jang Taeyoung who remained cool on his own, tucking both hands in its pockets.

 “Care to explain to me what was happening, huh? You, two?”

 “Hey! Don’t ask me, you ask him.” the swift defense of Zilo indeed, the moment her sight stop at him by which he’s been answered with her piercing stare. Jang Taeyoung, needed to blow out an air. “I was supposed to, alright.”

 “What?”

 “I was supposed to when I said I’d like to tag along.”

 “Then, why didn’t you?”

 A smirk came to him flawlessly. “Well, you teased me. You even dared to decline my request so… might as well make use of it against you, right?”

 “Seriously?” shrugging off, he beat her by his words. “I told you, you never know.” For she can only groan in frustration. “And you knew about this.” Passing her accusing anger to Zilo instead. “Hey, I just learned about him few days ago as well!”

 “I’m not buying it.”    

 “I swear, Sis. The last time we’ve talked, I don’t have any idea at all. Cross my heart, I’m innocent. ---- Hey, back me up!”  a matter of truthful excuse from the youngster himself actually as he intended to ask Jang Taeyoung even to prove his innocence. Just to be ignored. “Well, except for being chess buddies. Yes, he is telling the truth.” butting a different back up instead.

 “Damn it. That’s a foul!”

 Just to receive the smug face of his brother. “Chess buddies? And few days ago, you texted me--- yah! You, dimwit! Come back here!!”

 She cannot continue her sentence anyway for Zilo taking the chance to escape, sprinting back inside her parents’ home. “Mierda. Yah! You still owe me, you cul---“for she dared try chasing, only to be gripped by her loco. “Let go…”  

 A warning she hoist to convey. Just to simply responded by a chuckle. “You’re laughing?” a sarcasm she needed to voice out. Shaking his head with quirkiness, he replied. “Screws on you. Like who’s talking now?” a playful parallel he wanted to tease. “Tss. Shut up and let me go.” A consecutive warning, she obliged to embark yet rather felt the rubbing circles of his thumb on her hand. Before she knew it?

 She was already trap by the softening sight she least expected. “I’m starting to doubt, Sung Eunyoung.” Stared by the globes that seems to dive into the depths of her soul. He succeeded.

 “What really beat you into anger,” he went to caress her shoulder. “was it because I was late to tell you about it?” chills of his touch that just flows onto her veins so naturally. “Or was it the fact that I intended to scratch you with my presence?” coming closely as he lifts her chin up, “Admit it, Eunyoung...” filling the last space between them, he continued.

 “You waited for me.”

 And it was a statement. ‘He doesn’t know.’ Of course, he doesn’t. How can he when he’s been absent to her all those years. Drown by the trances of their long stares. Dazed by the concealed feeling screaming to break free. Not until she has been reminded by one sensible thought in mind.

 ‘He played to me. He played to me, otherwise.’ Fighting the last pride of herself, she avoided his gaze. Averting her face to look sideways, she retorted. “I bet Zilo told you that nonsense.” Denying the truth for her own.

 “He didn’t tell me anything.”

 “Liar.”

 “You are.”

 “Don’t be so full of yourself, Jang Taeyoung.”

 “Am I?”

 For to shut her eyes, is her last resort. “Enough.”

 “You sure?”

 “Jang Taeyoung.” The piercing coldness innate her. But too late as Jang Taeyoung already towering over her. Caged by his emanating presence, admitting her obvious defeat. She has lost. “Look at me, Eunyoung.”

 But she didn’t for the next thing she knew, it was his softest touch waking her up to reality, once again meeting the eyes of the man who creates chaos of her whole being. The reason of her vulnerability.

 “All along, I thought it was the guilt that holding you back to me when it was actually you waiting for me.”

 The drizzling rain, answered for her. It was too sudden that Jang Taeyoung needed to dragged both of them to a nearest shade. Except for the fast downpour of skies, it was their heaving hearts that’s left in deafening silence. Stuck by the sight of his intertwining hold which only help her unrevealing emotions to surrender. Is she ready though?

 He needed, to look at her. Right before a chime from her parent’s doorstep broke it. Just as how she glanced to the person behind it. “Mamá.” Pulling away from his hold, leaving Jang Taeyoung halfhearted.

 “Mi hija, Taeyoung. I think both of you should need to continue your conversation inside. It’s raining cats and dogs already.”

 They had to look at each other for a while before turning back to her foster mom. “Sure, Mamá. We’ll follow. “Smiling to the both of them, “Alright, then.” Her mom answered.

 “And oh! I already ask our housekeeper to clean a room. This rain might stay long. The three of you should better stay for the night. Zilo already went up first as well.”

 Reminding them another, before finally deciding to go back inside. Entertaining their unresolved tension once again, she broke the silence. “W-we…” for she had to clear her voice the moment she’s been stare by his awaiting lobes. “I think we should go back inside.”  

 As quickly as her words, she turns her back to go ahead of him too late for his gripping hand swiftly taking her wrist, making her go back close to him. “Hear me out tomorrow. Will you let me?”

 His straight request as all she can do is agree.

“Okay.”

[yoonki-boonki]

Hey, just saw your txt drabbles post. Can you write a yeonbin drabble with literally any theme that is maybe not an au. Like the first thing that comes to your mind but preferably not angsty xD

Thank youuu

here u go ~~ hope u like it!! "Do you think he knows?" Yeonjun asks Beomgyu as they munch on snacks in between practice. They both have been working extra hours to perfect their moves, their facial expressions for the upcoming performances- straightened fingertips, stable feet, a smile, a wink here and there for the fans.

Beomgyu shrugs, "I don't know," he takes a sip of water, flips his hair away from his eyes, "why don't you just tell him?"

It resembles a slap against his cheek- hearing those words. "Wait," Yeonjun squints his eyes, opens and closes his mouth before continuing, "you don't think this is lame? That it's a losing game?"

"Uhh," the boy stretches his sore muscles, mulls the answer in his mind for a bit, "-no? Why?"

And it comes as a surprise, Yeonjun wonders if Beomgyu even understands what this conversation is about, wonders if he should laugh it off, pretend it was never about -this-, still, "Pursuing a romantic relation with a member is a dive into the deep end."

Either Beomgyu's not interested enough, painfully tired or Yeonjun's too nervous about this topic, "Yeah," the younger shrugs once more, "if you refuse to talk about it, address it like adults- sure."

And it's stupid, it really is, but it fills Yeonjun with hope- that unstable, rooted in emotion rather than facts type of hope. The one that clogs his head with air, takes him somewhere high above the clouds where he becomes one with the sun.

"What if I did it today?" he says, and his breath gets caught up in his throat.

Beomgyu seems to notice the adrenaline that has taken over the latter, the wide eyes staring back at him, the recklessness of it all. He laughs, "I dare you."

That's the thing about the sun- it burns. Yeonjun can feel it in the place of his heart, "-shit," and then again, "shit, -shit- okay, okay." It hits him like a wall, a reality check, there is a chance this might work out, there is a chance he has been wrong all this time. The possibility sizzles addictive at the pit of his stomach. He can't say no to it. He's going to do it, he knows it. "But how?"

Now Beomgyu looks more woken up, excited at the turn of events, "Taehyun's at the studio, I can text Kai if he wants to get food with me."

It sounds like a plan, and Yeonjun's freaking out a little bit by now, "But what do I say? What if he hates the idea of it?"

Beomgyu already has his phone out, swiping the screen from the shade of pitch black to Yeonjun's ominous future, "Then you move on, laugh it off, tell him it was a dare."

Yeonjun thinks he might be losing vision, the nervousness lulling him into a state of disorientation. Then, Beomgyu's phone ding's and the boy's standing up from the floor, reaching for his hoodie. "You go, tiger, it's your time to shine!" Apparently, that's all that it takes in the younger's point of view.

Yeonjun uses his last piece of mind to stare the latter down, giving him his best unamused facial expression as the younger leaves him, waving goodbye with a glint in his eyes. It's now or never, huh? 

It takes Yeonjun about fifteen minutes to gather courage, figure out, then absolutely forget what to say, how to go about this situation, to lock the practice room's door and head to their dorm.

When he walks inside their shared space- it's quiet. Yeonjun hopes Soobin hasn't gone to sleep, then hopes he has -hopes he has moved dorms, countries-, then rolls his eyes, tightens his own fist and reminds himself that it's going to be alright. Either way. 

The knock on Soobin's door goes unheard, so the boy takes a breath and slides open the door, peeks inside. Soobin's in his bed, headphones on- those awfully big ones that require some kind of trained balance to keep them put-, he's in a pair of light blue pyjamas, staring at his computer screen. Then Yeonjun looks a bit more, looks closer and there are unshed tears in the boy's eyes. He must be watching dramas again. 

Soobin whips his head to face the older, goes to wipe the tears away- embarrassed. "Did you want something?" Yeonjun remembers he should have taken a shower before coming here, changed out of his workout clothes but it's too late for that. He puts on his most teasing smile, enters the room. 

"Crying again?" he says, but there's no bite to it, some might even say it comes out similar to adoration. 

Soobin shuts the computer, takes off the headphones as Yeonjun climbs next to him in bed, "stop," he whines.

It makes the older laugh, a moment of peace before his nerves rush back to torture him. "Soobinie," he starts, and can't make himself look at the other, "I need to tell you something."

He feels the boy shift beside him. Soobin takes his hands in his, and they're wider than his, a bit cold to the touch, "Is something wrong?"

Maybe. "No," Yeonjun replies. "No, no, nothing's wrong, I just-", and his mind goes blank. There are a million things he could say right now, a million ways he could act, but everything's out of place- Yeonjun feels out of place. What if this ruins their friendship? What if the rejection stings in his heart so much it becomes distracting? What if he says - it was a dare! I can't believe you thought it was real!- and each word grips a piece of his soul out of him.

Soobin pulls them both down, takes Yeonjun by his shoulder and pushes him beneath the blankets, covers them both up until their shoulders, "It's alright, you can tell me," the younger boy says. 

And suddenly they're face to face, and Soobin is wearing fondness all over his features. Yeonjun melts. He doesn't want this to be a dare, wants this to be real. Either way.

He half-whispers, voice going raspy, "Remember when we debuted, and then the next week you got so sick I thought you might just turn green?" Soobin nods. "I fell asleep by your bed three nights in a row- I was so worried."

"I- uh-" he pauses, "-and then a few months after that when you noticed I was draining myself, always at the practice room, you brought me water, stayed with me to make sure I wasn't being too harsh on myself," the older boy adds. 

"I remember."

"Soobin, I think-," Yeonjun flexes his jaw, his gaze drops to where their bodies disappear under the blanket. Allowing himself to dream of becoming an idol was difficult, telling his parents about it was even more. Training, debuting, too, but - this... He bites his lip, "I think those were the first times I thought I might like you a bit more than a group member, a friend."

And then the clock ticks somewhere in a room next to theirs, the bed sheets rustle, Soobin's breath echoes in his mind, cars pass by the building, the lamp flickers, Yeonjun's heart beats is in his ears, and it's so loud in this silence, and, and- 

Soobin pulls him closer, nearly strangles him against his own chest- Yeonjun's face uncomfortably rests against his neck. It's alright. The same hands- now three times warmer- are on his nape, holding him, petting his hair, brushing along the lines of his shoulders. 

Yeonjun wants to laugh, he feels confused, bewildered, "What are you doing?", but Soobin shushes him. The strokes against his skin become heavier until finally, something feels odd, and Yeonjun frees himself, looks at the younger. 

"Why are you crying?" he asks- scared of the answer- noting the hot tears streaming over the boy's cheeks. 

Soobin shakes his head, then laughs, his lips reddened, eyes puffy. "I-", he tries to say, "I'm so happy you said that," and the sun inside Yeonjun's body shines brighter than before. 

He goes to lightly hit the latter on the chest, "you scared me," but they're both laughing, and Soobin's pulling him back into his arms. "-shit, you scared me so bad," he says against the fabric of the blue pyjamas.

"I'm sorry," and Yeonjun can barely make out the words under all the sniffling, the dizziness. He feels Soobin plant a kiss on top of his head, goes limp. Wonders if anyone would notice if he slept in Soobin's bed from now on, figures he doesn't care, the others wouldn't either. It's alright.

I also posted this on my AO3  (its a bit angsty isnt it? T-T but .... its also cute, right?....)