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The Vampire Woman - 10

Read The Vampire Woman on Ao3 here!

Lena leads Kara around the lab excitedly, flitting around from place to place, barely turning around half the time to make sure she’s still behind her, still listening to what she’s saying.

“And this is something that I’m still in the early stages of, I haven’t even got around to making the prototype for it yet, but I’m hopeful.” Lena spreads the blueprints for a complicated-looking machine out across a desk for Kara to look at.

“What does it do exactly?”

“Well, If it all goes to plan, this is going to help map out damaged nerves in a person’s body and then this…” Lena pulls out a second set of blueprints, “is to help fix those nerves, or at least repair them to the best of our ability.”

Kara’s eyebrows shoot up at the sight of it, impressed and confused. She doesn’t really know what she’s looking at and all of the scientific calculations around the edges are going right over her head. “Wow, that’s impressive. It almost makes me sad that I don’t have a clue what I’m looking at.”

Jess snickers from behind her, “yeah, that’s how I feel when I look at it too, I’d move on though, if you stare for too long then you’ll get a headache.”

She leans back away from the papers, looking up to Lena to move them along to the next thing. “This is the final thing that I’ve only recently started working on. I started this as a project for myself. I’m trying to figure out how to make artificial blood.”

“Really? That’s awesome. The medical benefits that could come from that would be astronomical too, that’s incredible!” Kara’s eyes light up, already scribbling something down in her notebook. “Tell me everything.”

“It’s more of a pet project really,” Lena says, a little bashful at Kara’s reaction, shocked at the sudden outburst since she’s been nothing except quiet and respectful since she was brought down here to be shown around. “I haven’t gotten that far into it, I’m still trying to figure out how to get it to last in the body for a longer period of time. Usually, blood, when transfused, will last in the body for up to thirty-four days, all of my calculations only put the artificial blood up to last around two, maybe three days, so basically, I’m still a ways off yet.”

Kara shrugs, “I still think it’s awesome and if you’ve gotten that far already, then I’m guessing that you’re going to be able to do a good job of fixing those issues. You said transfusions though, does that mean you’re focus is on helping people who are in need of donations or is it mostly for yourself, so you have something to feed on?”

“Both really, I want to be able to use it as my main source of sustenance and use it for feeding eventually but it will never be completely sustainable because I simply can’t recreate blood to a T and it will miss vital compounds found in blood, however, I do want it to help people, that’s my main goal for all of my projects here at L-Corp. I want to make a difference.” Lena gesticulates with her hands as she talks and Kara finds her eyes drawn to them.

The movements are soft yet unpredictable, her hands making themselves into a claw shape from time to time, always facing the floor, not facing another person, each movement matching the rise and fall of her tone as she speaks. It’s intriguing to watch.

“That sounds amazing, you’ll have to keep me updated on that one. I think this might just be the thing I need to pitch to Ms Grant for my article, she’ll love it. Is that alright with you?”

Lena and Jess share a look, mutually deciding on whether or not they should try and spin Kara towards something different but really it’s as good as any of the things they’ve been working on. “Go ahead. It might spur me to dedicate a little bit more of my time towards it.” Lena smiles.

Jess scoffs. “Please, you spend all of your free time down here as it is.”

“I sleep because I want to most of the time, not because I need to, I can just skip out every now and again.” Lena counters.

Kara’s head rears up in shock. “You don’t have to sleep? I never asked you about that before.”

“No, not really. I can get by on about twenty hours of sleep per week, a lot less than your average human. I still usually try and sleep for a few hours every day, usually in the morning after the sun rises, but it’s unnecessary really so if I want to spend more time down in the lab, it’s a simple thing to sacrifice.”

Shaking her head, Kara brings a hand up to gently scratch the side of her face. “You couldn’t pay me to give up on my sleep, I get really cranky when it gets disrupted, something you’ve now witnessed first-hand, although I did also have a good reason for it alongside that one.”

“We don’t hold anything against you, everything you did was completely understandable.” Lena offers up, guilt creeping back up inside of her. “However, it might serve us all well if you make sure to get your forty winks before you come in for your other interviews just to keep everyone happy, we can tell you slept well last night because you’ve been nothing but pleasant.”

“I’ll have you know that I am always pleasant where possible and I was even voted ‘biggest sweetheart’ my senior year of high school.” Kara jests back, glad that the atmosphere is light and there isn’t a growing storm cloud overhead like there was the last time she was here.

“Of course you were, I could have actually guessed that because those garlic cloves you threw at me were whispering all of your secrets to me, each strike was telling me how gentle and kind you are.” Lena laughs at her own joke while Kara and Jess watch on, mildly amused by her finding herself so funny.

Jess begins to take them over to another part of the lab, purposely bumping Lena as she goes. “You have a weird sense of humour.”

“I know, it’s good, isn’t it?” Lena smiles wryly.

Shaking her head, Jess begins to speak, focusing her attention on Kara instead of the vampire with weird humour. “I think you’ll like this other thing that L-Corp has been working on, it’s a little different from the other stuff we’ve shown you. While we usually stick to medical equipment and work to progress a lot of space equipment, we have also been working on something else too.”

“That sounds promising, what is it?”

Neither Lena nor Jess get the chance to answer because there’s a loud, blaring alarm cutting through the room and the light suddenly switches from the warm yellow hue into the brightest white that makes Kara squint as her eyes are forced to rapidly refocus because of it.

Her hands fly up to cover her ears and she instinctively ducks despite there being nothing in the room to physically hurt her.

It makes her feel less silly when she sees Lena do the same out of the corner of her eye but it doesn’t take her long to figure out why Lena is also suddenly so close to the floor.

She’s on her knees, palms pressed to her ears and face scrunched in pain, leaning forward so much that Kara’s worried she might actually topple over and land flat on her face.

Kara finds herself reaching out to her before her brain can catch up to her and tell her that touching a vampire that is in pain and vulnerable could be a bad idea.

Her hand falls onto Lena’s back, rubbing in what she hopes to be soothing circles. “Are you ok?”

She gets no response but that’s not at all surprising. Kara’s eyes search for Jess, hoping that the woman will have answers to the vampire-sized problem knelt on the floor but she’s somewhere off to the side of the room and she’s talking into a phone that’s attached to the wall, talking rapidly.

Kara can’t tell what she’s saying at all, the overwhelming noise of the alarm drowning out her voice and any other sounds that Kara could hear before it started going off.

Her heart is beating like crazy, her breathing picking up and panic building up inside of her, bringing on a familiar feeling that she’s praying will go away because now is not the time for a panic attack, not only because she’s in an unfamiliar place, somewhere she already doesn’t feel all that safe, but also because Lena is clearly in need of help.

Blinking rapidly and trying to focus on her own breathing, Kara still manages to push her hand atop of Lena’s hand, which has now fallen to the floor, holding her up from falling all the way down, holding tightly to not only help Lena but to ground herself too. Her eyes fall closed for a moment and then the hand beneath hers is turning beneath her own and the fingers and gripping back at hers.

“Lena?”

“It hurts.” Lena winces. “We have to move, that’s the fire alarm. I can’t go out because of the sunlight but I have a fireproof room we can get to.”

Jess finally comes over to them, the phone abandoned. “It’s real, we have to get out of here.”

“One step ahead of you, Jess,” Lena says, using Kara’s shoulder to push herself up onto her feet and then pulling on the human’s hand to pull her up. “The door down there.” She points to what appears to be a steel door leading out of the main lab space. “Hurry.”

Kara lets herself be dragged by Lena, the cool hand in her own heated one refreshing instead of frightening. She can’t help but flick her eyes around the room as she tries to figure out how much danger they are in. There’s no flames or smoke down here but they are in a place where there are a whole lot of very flammable liquids so they are not safe here anyway.

Lena grabs the handle to the door, and it clicks open quickly, the door swinging wide under her unnatural strength where any human would struggle with the weight of it.

They don’t have time to think about that though, not now. To her surprise, Lena pushes Kara and Jess into the room before her, making sure they got in first before climbing in after them and pulling the door shut, locking it with a large latch on the other side.

It’s dark inside, so much so that they can’t see a single thing. It’s a good job that they have Lena with them, her vampire eyesight much better than their own, cutting right through the darkness to find a flashlight that’s sat in the corner of the room atop of a pack of bottled waters.

She heads right over to it, squeezing past Kara in the tight space and feeling guilty when the woman jumps at the brush of her front against the human’s back. The flashlight turns on right away luckily and she’s handing it to Jess before she can even think about it.

“Sorry it’s so small, I had to install one here and one up in my office as an excuse to not have to go outside when the fire alarm goes off, besides, when there’s a lab, it’s good to have a fireproof room nearby anyway. I am regretting not ordering a bigger one to be built though.”

Kara stumbles back and presses herself against the nearest wall, closing her eyes and so badly trying to focus on her breathing instead of the tiny space she’s trapped in. She was just barely focusing with the alarm going off and the lights sending her into a panic and now it’s almost like she’s trapped in the opposite situation.

It’s dark and the walls of the room are blocking out the sound of the alarm and she’s trapped. She can’t get out and the walls are all so close to her and she’s trapped. She’s trapped.

Then there are hands at her neck, clawing and grabbing through the dark and Jess’ face, illuminated by the flashlight, can be seen across the way from her, worried and mildly terrified.

The panic keeps rising and she can’t breathe.

“I can’t-“

“Kara?” Lena’s voice fills the air, dominating and soft. A juxtaposition if there ever was one, the only word that can be used to describe the woman at this point.

Her eyes open, searching for the green eyes of her attacker.

Lena’s not the one clawing at her neck. It’s impossible, she’s beside Jess. Those are her hands. She can’t breathe and everything is surrounding her, her knees weaken and she falls to the ground, back sliding down the wall as she goes.

“I can’t breathe.” She gasps out.

Her eyes close again but there’s a body on either side of her now, pressing against her sides, and a hand on each of her knees, now pulled up to her chest.

One hand is warm, the other cold. It’s a confusing sensation, one that Kara isn’t sure she likes but she can barely force oxygen into her lungs, let alone figure out how to speak and even if she could, putting her feelings into words is impossible when all her brain is capable of saying is, ‘I can’t breathe.’

She can hear her own wheezing, her throat working hard to try and suck down the air she can’t find. Her hands find the floor, checking it’s still there, her palms rock against it, proving to herself that it’s real and that down is down meaning up is up, she’s ok.

She’s ok.

“You’re ok.” Lena’s suave voice cuts through the air. “You’re ok, everything is ok.”

“We’re right here with you, Kara,” Jess adds in from her other side. “It’s just a panic attack, you can breathe, just focus on taking big deep breaths for us.”

Kara’s brain latches onto the words, repeating each one after it’s been said. Big deep breaths, she can manage that.

Closing her mouth, she sucks the air in through her nose, feeling her lungs filling up before releasing it through parted lips.

“Again.” Lena murmurs.

A second breath, another pull of air into her lungs, then release.

“Again.”

A third.

“Good, keep going.”

Lena’s hand starts a soothing motion against her forearm, rubbing back and forth in a steady, careful rhythm.

Kara focuses on it, sets her mind to think about that motion, thinking about how it feels to have those fingertips run across her skin, the ice-cold touch feeling warm as the friction of the movement takes hold, yet there’s still that cool sensation beneath it.

Slowly, steadily, it gets better. She breathes easier, her body feels looser and less tense, and she finally opens her eyes, greeted by a different kind of darkness from that which she was enduring before.

“I’m ok.” She mumbles. Trying to figure out her surroundings since she didn’t really get a chance to take a good look around before the panic set in.

The first thing she notices is that she’s leaning to one side, her shoulder pressed to something soft and her head tilted to one side, resting on the shoulder of someone else. Lena’s shoulder.

She snaps her head up quickly like she’s been burnt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was leaning on you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, are you feeling better?” Lena’s voice is soft, with a hint of a gentle tone mixed in with her normal neutral monotone.

Pressing her shoulders back into the wall and clutching at Jess’ hand that is still in hers, she nods. For a second she feels silly about nodding in the dark but ultimately she knows that Lena can see her, although she does then feel silly for feeling silly.

“Yeah,” Kara says, more for Jess’ sake than anyone else’s. “Are you two ok?”

“We’re just fine,” Jess answers. “We’re more worried about you, what was that?”

“That was a panic attack that I thought I had managed to avoid until we got in here and then my claustrophobia kicked in.”

Lena’s hand is still moving on her forearm, the steady rhythm still going. “I didn’t think about that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, you’re not the one that set that alarm off.”

Jess squeezes her hand to get her attention. “Hey, what can we do to help.”

Kara shrugs. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do, we’re kind of stuck in here until the fire is out. Oh crap, there’s a fire, I hope it’s not too bad and that nobody is hurt.”

“Me too,” Lena whispers, more to herself than anything.

“Do we just wait for someone to come down here and tell us that it’s all clear up there or something?” Kara asks.

“Pretty much.” Jess holds her hand tighter.

Lena’s hand disappears from her arm and kara immediately misses the motion and the pressure of it but she’s back not ten seconds later, a bottle of water being pressed into her hand. “Here, drink.”

“Thank you, Lena.” She struggles with the cap for a second, her fingers still shaky but then Lena’s fingers are gently batting hers away and loosening it for her before guiding her fingers back to it once she’s done.

She takes greedy gulps of it, egged on by Lena’s happy hum when she’s drained half of the bottle. “Good, that will make you feel better.”

“How are you? You looked like you were in pain out there?”

“I was. I am very sensitive to noise. If I am prepared then I can usually drown out the loud noises but that alarm was unexpected and the frequency of it is just awful. There’s no point in changing it though, all of my employees recognise it and understand what it is, if I change it then it could potentially put them in danger.”

“You’re not in pain now though, right?”

Lena shakes her head and Kara can only just see the movement through the dark. “No, I’m not, the walls of this room muffle the sound of the alarm very well and it has given me the chance to adjust to it accordingly.”

“I’m glad,” Kara says and she actually means it. She might not have meant it quite as much before but after the woman just sat beside her, tracing a comforting pattern against her skin and allowing her to lean her full weight into her while she uses her shoulder as a pillow, the whole time doing nothing but being worried about her and getting her to breathe, she can’t hold any ill will against her, at least not as much as she did.

Every waking moment she seems to spend with the woman today seems to make her like her a little more, their trust building despite her brain telling her that it’s a terrible idea. Of course, she isn’t suddenly about to be best friends with her or be a hundred percent comfortable around her but now, she can at least spend some time with her without wondering if she’s going to be tackled f she turns her back.

Jess is shining the flashlight around the small space, looking around at what is in there with them but other than the bottled waters and the single flashlight, there’s nothing but a box of what appears to be protein bars, not exactly a gourmet meal. Hopefully, they won’t be trapped long enough to need those.

“How long have we been in here?” Kara asks, eyes following the path of the light as Jess moves it around.

“Not too long, probably about twenty minutes, maybe a half hour. Something like that. You were out of it for a little while.” Lena estimates, hand now tapping casually on Kara’s knee, foregoing her arm this time.

The taps are more annoying than the rubbing and it gets old fast so to stop her, Kara covers Lena’s hand with her own, holding it between her own and her knee.

Lena doesn’t pull away though, she just sits there and lets it happen, although if Kara could see her properly, she would see that Lena’s eyes are wide and her body is practically frozen, too afraid to move in case Kara pulls away.

The truth is that the touches she was doing weren’t just to try and make Kara feel better but were also because it’s been a really long time since she has touched another person in a way that isn’t violent or aggressive.

It’s not often people are willing to come into contact with a vampire and she’s more than a little touch-starved, Kara’s touch addicting to her lonely skin.

The warmth radiating from Kara is incredible in a way she wasn’t expecting when she started offering her comfort and she could feel Kara’s blood pulsing through her arm before, unconsciously finding herself tracing along the path it flows through up her arm.

The strangest thing about it is her lack of need to bite her though. Usually, she would be craving a good drink of blood after being in such close contact with a human, she even finds herself lusting for Jess’ blood from time to time because of their close proximity but this time it’s different, she just wants to touch her, to hold her hand and smell the citrusy scent of Kara’s shampoo while she rests her head on her shoulder.

Her lack of desire for Kara’s blood isn’t to do with taste either though, Kara’s blood was divine and she’d gladly go for a second serving, maybe even thirds, but now, it’s not even on her mind.

“I spoke to the front desk when the alarm first went off, they don’t know anything other than that the fire is real and that the fire department are on their way. I can’t imagine that it can be too bad because they didn’t sound particularly bothered or scared.”

“Or they are just good at hiding their feelings and putting on a brave face.” Kara offers up, a little unhelpfully.

“Yes, or that.” Jess agrees, reluctant to believe that it could be anything other than a small accident. The best case scenario is that someone forgot to take their fork out of the microwave before turning it on, the worst case would be that there is no longer a building above them. “I told them that we were getting into the fireproof room anyway so they will send someone down to us when it’s safe to do so.”

Lena, feeling Kara’s hand wrap around hers more snuggly, allows herself to move more than a centimetre at a time and nods along. “So, do you have more questions for your interview while we are in here?”

“Not really, I forgot my notepad out there somewhere and it’s definitely not worth getting fried for.”

“We can agree on that.”

Kara’s fingers start tapping, the ones on her left hand against Jess’ hand and the ones on the right against Lena’s. “How long does it usually take for a fire to be put out if it’s just a small one?”

“Well, the fire station is just a couple of blocks from here so probably not too long.” Lena lets her head fall back against the wall. “I guess we’re in for a little wait though. I’ll have to get some cushions or something for in here though, maybe an electric lantern, it’s not at all homey in here and I’m getting a double dead butt.”

“Double dead?”

“Well, I’m dead so it’s a dead butt but since I can no longer feel it from how long we’ve been sitting on this floor, it’s now double dead.”

“Are you actually dead though?”

Lena shrugs. “I think so, I mean, my blood doesn’t flow anymore and my heart doesn’t pump so I’d say so, clinically anyway.”

“That’s…” Kara isn’t sure how to respond to that, she had no idea that blood doesn’t flow in vampires’ bodies, it does explain why Lena is always so cold though.

“Weird?” Jess chuckles.

“Kind of.”

Lena tilts her head, lips pressed together. “Fair enough. It is kind of weird. It’s weirder that I can’t remember what it’s like to feel my heart pounding in my chest or what it feels like to sweat. I almost miss it.”

That intrigues Kara greatly. That one word. “Why almost?”

“Because you can’t miss what you don’t remember.”

Kara feels her eyebrows lower and her lips pull down like she doesn’t have control of her own face, her emotions demanding to be let out. “I don’t believe that.”

“Why not?” Jess asks, genuinely curious.

“Because I’m adopted. I can’t remember a lot of my life with my parents before they died, before the Danvers took me in as their own, but I miss it anyway. I miss the family dinners I can’t remember and the bike rides there are photos of that I can’t place and the hugs that are nothing more than a ghost lingering in the back of my mind. I miss it and I can’t remember it.”

None of them were expecting that kind of revelation to come out but now it is and they have nothing to distract them from it. It’s a heavy admission, for Kara, especially for obvious reasons.

Lena’s hand tightens around Kara’s knee. “I’ll give you that one. I miss my family too, even though I can’t really remember them either. How old were you?”

“I was twelve, they got in a car accident, and neither made it. My dad worked with Eliza, my adoptive mom, when she heard what happened and found out that my only living relative, my older cousin, wasn’t going to take me in, she did it instead to keep me out of foster care. I got an older sister out of it, Alex, she’s two years older and the best sister I could ask for, it doesn’t stop me from missing them though.” Kara can’t stop her mouth from running, from telling these women her secrets.

Maybe it’s just the vulnerability that comes with having a panic attack in front of people she barely knows and having them take care of her but she finds herself wanting to tell them things. Maybe they’re passing into the tentative friend territory. Maybe.

“I don’t really know why I’m telling you all of this.”

“My dad cheated on my mom and they divorced when I was sixteen, I found out first because I walked in on my dad having a lady over to the house and they were holding hands on the couch. He begged me not to tell my mom but I did and they separated not long after that. My dad never forgave me, blamed me for telling my mom and I haven’t had a relationship with him since.” Jess looks down at her lap as she says it, not that she can see the faces of the other two women anyway. “Since we’re sharing, that’s my sob story, not as compelling as yours though.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. Their divorce isn’t your fault, you’re not the one who cheated and as someone that sheds light on dark secrets for a living, good job. Some people deserve to be exposed for the harm they’re doing. Bad things done in the dark are still bad things, even if nobody was aware of them before you exposed them.” Kara pulls Jess closer by her hand, tightening her hold.

Lena huffs out a little chuckle. “You’re here for a day and you’re already getting all of our darkest secrets, you really are a good reporter.”

“If it helps, you now have mine too, and I can assure you, none of this is going anywhere near that magazine. Can you keep a secret?”

Both Jess’ and Lena’s ears prick up and they are nodding furiously, hungry for whatever information Kara is about to bestow upon them.

“CatCo kind of sucks for the hard-hitting articles and it’s not the best news outlet by far. Don’t tell my boss.”

“And here I thought she was about to admit to a carjacking or something fun,” Jess complains, good-naturedly.

“Oh, you know about that?” Kara jokes, tone light and laughter barely concealed in her voice.

“Of course we do. You can’t keep secrets from us.” Jess bumps her shoulder into Kara’s.

“I’ll have to trust you to keep that to yourselves then.” Kara chuckles, waiting for the muffled laughter to die down before asking her next question. “Does anyone else have anything else they want to get off of their chests? This is a safe space, the room of secrets, fireproof and all.”

Lena snorts. “I didn’t realize that when I built this room it was a double design, keeps fire out, keeps secrets in.”

In the time that they’ve all been talking, Kara’s hand is still atop of Lena’s her fingers fallen between the gaps of the vampire’s, her warm ones heating up the cold ones as much as they can do and Lena’s cold ones keeping her nice and refreshed. “I wouldn’t know, you built it.”

“I’ll have to go over the old blueprints to see how it works,” Lena says, amused. “Although, I do have one more secret.”

“Do tell,” Kara says, waiting with bated breath for the confession of a vampire.

“I’m a really big fan of pizza to the point where every once in a while I will order one and eat the whole thing to myself and have a side of garlic bread. It leaves me offside for a solid week after but once or twice a year, I put myself through it because it’s so good. I always arrange for the whole week off in advance. I’m sorry, Jess, I never told you that before.”

A hand flies up to Jess’ chest. “I am so offended that you’re willing to tell Kara, a woman you have only met a handful of times, but not me, your faithful assistant of many years. It’s just rude.”

“Kara’s less likely to make me give up on my masochist diet.”

“I’m not going to stop you. I’m going to join you. I love pizza too.”

“Me three. I’m really craving pizza now. Where did you get that one from before? The one after I passed out from having my blood drawn.”

“The place up the street. Marco’s, I think.”

“We should get one after this,” Kara says, thoughtful and suddenly hungry. Not hungry enough to touch those damn protein bars though, hell to the no.

Lena hums. “We should get three, and fries, and onion rings, and garlic bread.”

“And mozzarella sticks,” Kara adds. “This is making me salivate just to think about.”

“This is the strangest week of my life and given how long I’ve lived, that’s really saying something.” Lena sinks back against the wall further. She was already partially leaning against it but at this point, she doesn’t give a hoot about decorum. “I need a nap.”

“Me too.”

“Me three.” Kara chimes in. “You should add hammocks in here, I love a good hammock.”

“Me too.”

“Me three.” Lena laughs. “I’ll add that to the list.”

Four long hours. That’s how long they spend in that room and by the time an L-Corp employee comes to let them out, Jess and Kara have to run to the nearest bathroom because they need to pee that badly.

On their way up to Lena’s office, after they have relieved themselves, they get to take a look at the damage. It’s not overly bad but it doesn’t take a person with more than four brain cells to tell that it’s going to be pricey.

It’s also blaringly obvious that it was deliberate. A few of the offices on the first floor have had the windows smashed in and gasoline was thrown through which was then lit on fire. Since it was at the back of the building it wasn’t immediately clear how bad it was to the person Jess spoke to on the phone.

Lena is not going to be happy about this.

“That looks really bad, Jess,” Kara announces once they are making their trip up the stairwell, slightly out of breath because the elevators have been temporarily shut down since the fires got close to the wiring and they have to get an electrician out to check that they are safe before they can be used.

“I know. Hopefully, the CCTV has footage though. It’s probably just some kids messing about and getting themselves into too much trouble. We haven’t had anything like this happen in a while, I really thought we’d gotten past it.”

“What do you mean? There’s been things like this happen before?”

Jess nods, breathing heavily and struggling to get the words out as they keep climbing up the stairs. “Yes, unfortunately. Lena’s designs are well coveted, people want them and quite often that means they will threaten and blackmail and attempt to extort her for them. The cops always end up taking out the people stupid enough to try anything but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“That’s awful, if there’s anything I can do to help, an article maybe, let me know. The offer is on the table but I don’t really know a lot about this kind of thing so I don’t think I can be all that helpful.”

“You’ve changed your tune. We don’t even have to force you to be here anymore.” Jess points out her sudden change of heart.

With a sigh, Kara comes clean. “Maybe I’ve seen a different side to you guys.”

“Lena’s not a bad person. She’s done bad things and she’s probably going to do them again at some point but she’s not a bad person.”

“I’m seeing that. I’m still struggling to figure out where Lena starts and the vampire ends. It was her vampire side that attacked me all those times, I could see it in her eyes, it’s like they’re brighter when she’s acting out, I didn’t see that today.” She has to be honest with Jess, there’s just something about the woman that makes her incapable of hiding her feelings.

Jess takes her time thinking, assessing what she could possibly say to that. She has her view of Lena, and yes it’s probably skewed but she also understands Kara’s point of view and why she’s confused. She’s seen two very different sides of the same woman. One obnoxiously kind and caring and the other absolutely terrifying and full of aggression. Only one is the real Lena.

“Well, I’m still going to be with you the entire time. Just you wait and see though, in time you’ll see her for the person she really is.”

“I hope so, if she really is the person I saw today, the one in that stupid little room, then I think we’ll get along just fine.”

They casually wander into Lena’s office, finding the vampire sitting at her desk with a glass of whiskey beside her open laptop.

“Do you usually drink in the middle of the day?” Kara questions.

“Only when I’m scouring through camera footage to try and find the assholes that tried to burn down my building and put my employees in danger. If they want to start shit with me then that’s fine but if these idiots think that they can put the lives of innocent people at risk then they have another thing coming.” Lena fumes as she keeps her eyes pinned on the screen, a much brighter green than they were earlier.

Kara shares a look with Jess, one that asks if she’s seeing what she is seeing too.

She does. That’s the rage of the vampire right there.

“Why does that mean you have to drink?” Jess questions.

“It helps me think.”

Kara jumps in, not wanting to be in the same room as an intoxicated vampire. “It will make your reaction time slower, you’ll be better off drinking water.”

“Or I could drink…” Lena pauses mid-sentence, catching herself. Her eyes dull slightly. “Water, yes, water sounds good.”

Kara does not want to think about what she was about to say. There are more layers to this woman than an onion, one she isn’t sure she wants to strip back and investigate, especially since she saw such a nice side of her today.

Maybe it’ll be worth getting past this part of Lena so she can find the person Jess is always talking about. The Lena that Jess trusts. She makes it sound worth it.

Lena has to be worth it. If she isn’t then Kara has no clue why she’s here.

Read a whole bunch of chapters early on Patreon here!

#cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp #supergirl #kara x lena #kara leaned in #kara danvers #kara zor el #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #wlw #vampire au #vampire!lena #vampire lena luthor #chaoticsuper #lesbian fiction

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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 1 year

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Scenes in Haven: Solas and Ava

Another individual scene. Picture this like talking to Solas when he’s standing outside those houses in Haven. I did my best to recreate his speech patterns and style of storytelling, so I hope you can easily hear his voice saying the words. He and Ava have a discussion about spirits and her powers. Enjoy! Link to the AO3 side, as always! (x)

"Hey, Solas… you know stuff about spirits, right?"

The elf in question turns to regard you inquisitively (ha, inquisitively). His eyes are too keen, too knowing. You think you may regret this conversation later. “I’ve spent a great deal of time walking the many paths of the Fade, varied as they are, and I have met many Spirits in my travels. There is a great deal I still do not know, but I will offer what insights I can.”

‘Draste’s tits, he’s so wordy, but you soldier on. “Have you seen anything like me before?”

His lips purse thoughtfully. “No. You are unique in my experience. I have met those bonded to spirits in the past, enough to recognize the signs, but none of them had a connection quite like yours. The Chantry would call you an abomination, say you are possessed, but that’s not the whole truth, is it?”

You shake your head. “She doesn’t control me. My Friend, I mean,” you explain, haltingly.

He nods in agreement. “She wouldn’t. It would be antithetical to Her nature.”

“Her nature?”

“As a Spirit of Hope.” A Spirit of Hope? Have you ever heard of a spirit like that before? You don’t think so. Senior Enchanter Wynne taught your class about all manner of spirits when you were eight, but she never mentioned them.

“How do you know?”

“I can sense it. Different types of spirits tend to share some characteristics. Spirits of Faith, for instance, often have wings. But that’s neither here nor there. Please continue.”

You rub your neck awkwardly, your gaze ricocheting around the surrounding cottages, unable to settle. “I can feel Her with me, always, and hear Her in my head sometimes, but that’s all.” As if on cue, a feeling of otherworldly warmth settles in your bones, as if She is embracing you from the inside.

“Not all,” Solas contradicts mildly. “I know you have discovered new abilities you didn’t have before. Tell me what you’ve experienced.”

“Well, I can use my legs, for one thing,” you start, waving down at them perfunctorily. “But maybe that’s just a side effect of coming back from the dead.”

“Possibly, although your connection with a powerful spirit and your own natural talents could also explain your recovery.”

“I guess…” Honestly, you’re not sure which explanation you prefer. “I heal really fast, as you've probably figured out,” you continue. “Like, immediately, if I somehow get hurt. I don’t even think about it, it just happens.”

He hums. “Hope is resilient. It persists through hardship and bounces back when threatened. I suspect if you channeled your mana deliberately, you could heal even the worst of mortal wounds, for others as well as yourself. Go on.”

“I can pass through stuff. Sometimes if something tries to hit me, like that big demon at the Breach, it passes right through me like air. Oh, and I can levitate. Or I did once.”

“Yes, I recall.” He looks intrigued, slowly pacing a rut in the snow. Holy shit, he’s barefoot, how have his toes not fallen off? “That is fascinating. Perhaps you are able to temporarily transmute the substance of your body, becoming like air for brief seconds. An advanced form of shape-shifting maybe. Or perhaps you become something closer to a Spirit in those moments. Either way, an exceptionally valuable skill. Hope can drive us to persevere and adapt to overcome otherwise impassable obstacles. You may find with practice that you can control this shifting or phasing more precisely, to pass through walls or even magical barriers. Anything else?”

You scratch your ear a little nervously. “That’s it so far. Could there be more?”

“Certainly,” he says, rubbing his chin. “You already channel Her power unconsciously. With time and practice, I imagine you will discover many gifts and benefits of your Bond.”

“You sound so sure. Have you ever met a Hope spirit?”

He hums again, thinking. “I did, once. They are few in number, and they almost never cross the Veil, but I did have the honor of encountering one in a vast field deep in the Imperium. I dreamed there, and witnessed the memory of an army preparing for battle. All odds were against them, their enemies powerful and numerous, their allies distant, their resources slim. The night was dark, and filled with uncertainty. But stronger than their uncertainty, outweighing all doubt, was their hope. Hope for victory, and the morning sun. Hope for their leader to guide them to freedom and glory. The spirit was there as I dreamed, reliving the memory with me. It did not speak, only stood next to me as the soldiers rushed past us. It took the form of a woman with flowing hair, wearing a white robe and a pointed crown. Or should I say, it resembled more a painting of a woman than the woman herself. Spirits can mimic just about anything, but without a proper frame of reference the result can be quite strange.” He smiled then. “She was beautiful, however, and She stayed with me the entire night, only leaving at dawn. A sense of peace settled over the field as the sun rose, as though the souls of the long-dead soldiers were basking in its rays.”

He finishes his story, and you gulp down the knot that has suddenly occupied your throat. “Does She… does my Hope feel like She did?”

“Yes, Ava. Your Hope feels exactly the same, and is equally beautiful in that way. Take heart, She will not abandon you.” You didn’t say anything like that, you didn’t even suggest it. How he managed to cut right to the core of your fear without a word from you is a mystery. A scary mystery, if you’re being honest.

“Th-thanks,” you stammer, gearing up for an escape. “I’d… I’d better go. I’m sure Mother Superion is waiting to yell at me for something.”

He nods, smiling with too much understanding. “Farewell. Do come back to me if you have any more questions.”

#warrior nun #dragon age #dragon age au #my writing #da: inquisition #da:i #ava silva #solas #it's a short scene but i like it #solas solas solas what are we going to do with you #next chapter should be the hinterlands #debating with myself about possibly making it two chapters bc holy shit it's a monster

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izzasecretredacted · 1 year

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How About a Thirsty Sword Lesbians Solo RPG Journal?

Welcome to the very first post about my public chronicling about aliens of diverse walks of life (and some humans I suppose) becoming space cowboys, sticking together under rule of a mighty Federation that just hasn’t quite figured out the whole post-scarcity utopia thing, and the chaotic, uneasy rivalries they form which always just work out in the end! I hope to explore gender and sexuality using fantastical concepts. That, and I want to do heists and smuggling and sexy whip duels.

By the end of this post, I hope to introduce you to the Federation that rules the two populated galaxies, the Milky Way and Andromeda, and the pros and cons of being a citizen now that they’ve managed to take over the world. You’ll learn what a Sell-Whip is, and why they may seem dangerous but are actually pretty good people when you get to know them. And I hope to adequately explain why everyone keeps kidnapping each other and making up afterwards. I’ll add a tl;dr after every section, just in case you’re interested but don't have the time to dedicate towards reading my little history textbook.

Because this journal will touch on sensitive things like identity and culture, I encourage you to speak up if you find a problem with how I approach them (I’ve allowed anonymous questions on my account), so that I can learn what I’m doing wrong and improve the story being told. I don’t plan on stealing directly from existing cultures (except for my own, for the Human species of the American Hemisphere, and what not), but it’s not really feasible to build a new culture without some level inspiration from somewhere, and there’s always a risk of me making a mistake and ending up with something that's orientalist or demonizing. I only want to spread a story of love (and excitement… and whips), so if you don’t like something over it being offensive, I won’t like it either.

For the curious, and to establish the type of story I plan on telling, here’s a list of books I’ll be using…

Thirsty Sword Lesbians

A Spark in Fate Core

The Adventure Crafter

Perilous Wilds

And possibly more!

And lastly, here’s a content warning…

A Quick Mention of Bigotry

Systemic Oppression

Kidnapping

===

Section 1: How to take over the whole galaxy… twice.

It’s not quite as bad as past history would lead you to believe. Turns out all you needed was UBI and free healthcare, and to just share resources with everyone instead of going to war. It’s a little easier said than done, I suppose, but we figured this out centuries ago in this escapist, semi-utopic world. The problem is that after all this, those damned American Earthlings still managed to make it all about them.

To be fair to the Earthlings of the 2Xth century, they’re at least a little more progressive. They’ve learned how to perform diplomacy with other nations without invading them or supporting a coup, and they started accepting all ethnicities, genders, abilities, and orientations. They even avoided a robot uprising by giving android rights, and even banning non-androids from producing them.

Unfortunately they haven’t learned how those people have been systematically oppressed. Seeing as Earth developed convenient FTL space travel before any other planet in either galaxy, they got a lot of first say on how the galactic union should be organized. The result is the formation of the Federation, benevolent enough to be beyond greed and direct violence, but fully capable of enforcing Homogeny.

tl;dr: This game takes place in the Milky Way and Andromeda, which is run by a single body called the Federation, which is basically like Star Trek, but there’s no Prime Directive so they act like they know what's best for you.

===

Section 2: We got rid of capitalism, but we decided to keep corporate culture.

Homogeny is built from common ideals that mostly come from Earth; valuing procreation over recreation, the protestant work ethic, and a frustratingly narrow view of what it means to have dignity are just some of what it means to be Homogenous.

To be fair, once again, to the Earthlings of the 2Xth century (yeah, I’m biased), Homogeny isn’t identical to how Earthlings live, or even how those in the American hemisphere of this time. Earthlings still value their own history, identity, and bodies, while Homogeny justifies itself by acting above such concerns, claiming to have equal apathy to all walks of life. With that being said, it’d be pretty rich to say that those in the American hemisphere don’t fit into Homogeny, or that they don’t still have heavy influence in how it's formed. After all, there’s a reason people in a separate galaxy are speaking English.

The challenges that Homogeny causes are related to the bloated bureaucracy that the Federation clings to. For a common citizen, say, a species who requires sunlight more regularly than most others, you need to demonstrate in documentation why you need a sunroom anytime you move to another planet, and wait for that to get approved. For a society's government official, not only is your unique, local, and important role dumbed down to ‘government official’, but you also need to explain why the consumption of a poisonous drink is as harmless as consuming something like, for instance, wine.

For those who don’t fit into Homogeny, but feel fulfilled living within your local culture, you’re still typically able to avoid all this headache and still live a safe, authentic, or even luxurious life. The only obstacle, assuming you even fit in a local culture, is whether or not your society is able to navigate the legal maze outside and be granted everything their people need. Unfortunately, from time to time, the Federation just won’t play along in a timely or sufficient enough manner, and that's where all the outsiders of the galaxies swoop in and save the day for everyone else.

tl;dr: Cultures that don’t fit in need to constantly justify why they should have the right to be how they are.

===

Section 3: The best part, where I can finally tell you what a Sell-Whip is!

Smugglers, pirates, robbers… you’ve seen sci-fi adventures, you know the trope. The reason I gave this reveal seven paragraphs of build up is because I wanted to put the motivations of this group in context. These aren’t scoundrels, atleast not how they’re classically portrayed. Sure, many of them do what they do because they don’t fit with the cultures they were raised in, but that’s not out of persecution, that’s just the beauty of being a sentient individual with unique wants and needs. While the Federation are convinced this is a profession of delinquency taken to a dangerous extreme, naming them after the Earthling concept of a sellsword, this is a role that exists because of compassion, comradery, and most importantly for many, necessity.

The whip is the weapon of choice because, by the 2Xth century, making a prehensile whip is pretty trivial. Not only do you have the utility of being able to grab things from a distance, but you have the choice between striking and grappling from a distance. It’s a very practical choice that has nothing to do with the fact that they’re cool and super kinky I promise it's super thoughtful world building.

Sell-Whips are typically, although not always, non-homogeneous peoples. They know what it’s like to not have they’re ways acknowledged, or atleast are willing to listen, and they don’t much like the idea of passing on the favor. They’re respectful in a way that goes beyond the Federation’s passive tolerance and senseless questioning. Sell-Whip Captains accept others on their vessel without ever experiencing a conflict with them regarding their way of life, outside of the challenge involved in converting your new first mate’s quarters into a fully aquatic environment (they’ll figure it out, don’t worry). If offered, an Unassimilated might even take part in a practice to burn time in warp-drive. There’s a lot of time spent in warp-drive, crew members have plenty of time to get to know each other.

tl;dr: Space Piracy is inclusive and cool and based. Also, whips.

===

Section 4: By the way, the Sell-Whips are kidnapping each-other. No hard feelings, it’s just business… sort of…

The Federation has developed a program where those under a warrant for arrest are also given a bounty, and it is really easy to get a warrant under suspicion of someone being a Sell-Whip. Conversely, bounties can be earned with almost no documentation beyond proof that you have the bounty in question. This has resulted in previously allied Sell-Whips being pitted against each other to get more credits, which can be used to get supplies that the societies they work for may not be able to provide. For anyone that’s willing to acknowledge it, a Bounty Hunter and a Sell-Whip are almost always the same person.

There is a silver-lining, the bounty system is so underfunded and backed up that this rarely leads to getting someone to trial before they manage to escape at the suspiciously last second. It turns out that while the Federation has its many major flaws, some that work within it are aware of these flaws and do what they can to fight it without losing their jobs. As much as it’d be nice to abolish the system, people were atleast able to make lemonade with it.

Keeping someone with a bounty captive is done by Sell-Whips for just the passive income, never the bounty itself. In the time it takes to schedule a trial, the Federation will pay the captor credits in return for keeping them until then. There’s an etiquette involved to make keeping someone against their will as painless as possible, even as they do everything they can to escape. When the time to collect the bounty gets near, the captor engineers an escape for the captive to make, and does a bogus search which just ensures they get back to civilization safely. Some Sell-Whips might even say they had fun, just don’t let it spread to other captains.

tl;dr: The Federation developed a bounty system designed to cause Sell-Whip infighting, and Sell-Whips responded by developing a system to make it safe, sane, and (almost) consensual. You can’t ask to not be captured, but you’ll never actually see a Federation prison, and you’ll even get aftercare on the way.

===

Section 5: Am I forgetting anything… OH, right, the awakening eldridge horrors! Silly me.

There’s a decades-old field of technology that uses thought-free lifeforms, such as the trees of Earth, or the brainless nerve tendrils of Klendis, called Bio-Tech. Recently, a new type of bio-tech that can clone the DNA of fossils has been developed. The potential of this field is possibly limitless, but its potency is quite difficult to control. Scientists working in this field found that, as the field advanced, accidents would be more frequent, less predictable, and cause more and more damage. The dangers of this field were only becoming more clear, Sell-Whips started to refuse working with anyone who used this tech, and the Federation started restricting it to the point where it had been banned completely, even to their own scientists.

Extinction-Tech, as it's now called, is today a field of nefariousness and secrecy. Those who develop it believe the advancement should exist for advancements sake, though very little work gets done without some disaster striking. Those who use it have some agenda that can’t be done without it. If you spot someone using or practicing Extinction-Tech, no one will blame you for turning them in to Federation custody, most will likely thank you for it.

tl;dr: Stop making Cthulhu, ffs…

===

Section the Last One

Whether you're here after all that rambling, or you just skipped to the end to check for any justifications on my madness, you might have some questions. I like questions, it means people care about me! There's actually some stuff about the world I haven't posted yet, if you can believe that, and plenty more I still need to expand on. If there's anything you're interested in seeing developed or elaborated, let me know, or maybe spitball your own ideas. There's plenty of room in this massive world for all sorts of fun fantasies!

Also, I'm tagging posts about this project as "#sell-whip anna" to keep it all organized.

#solo rpg #pbta #thirsty sword lesbians #solo ttrpg #worldbuilding #sell whip anna

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booksandchainmail · 1 year

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Pale 7.a

At first I thought this was going to be a Ulysse interlude, then I realized it's Kevin. Blech.

... I'd say it's interesting that the majority of interludes we've gotten have been from the points of view of antagonists, but I think that might just be a reflection of how few true allies the Kennet Trio has

Not much to say about this opening scene, just Kevin being exactly what I expected

By his gospel, the one we came to name Prometheus had peers, and it was not the one who tried to seize the original Fire, but many. All who tried, succeed or fail, were punished. I found my deity nine miles beneath the surface of the earth, thoroughly protected so none might disturb his eternal punishment. Had he succeeded, our campfires might not be wood we’ve set alight, but something else entirely.

oh that's sick as hell. I am now invested in Ulysse

Now he is my god and I am his sole worshiper, his champion.

"Sole worshiper of a god" is a great concept. (This is part of why I'm having such a good time with Pale Lights). I really like the blending of a normally-distant divine relationship with the closeness that comes from being the only one (and often the god taking a great deal of interest in and care of their worshiper's life). Also fun way to play around with faith and power dynamics, depending on how much ability the god retains and how seriously the worshiper takes the divinity aspect.

Other works that have this: Pale Lights, Thief's Covenant, The Thousand Eyes

"Later, I met your god before you did. He burned me alive both times I ventured down there. Others had claim over me. In another lifetime, toward the end, we became friends.”

I also want to read this story

He shared an appreciation for things of value, and if Lawrence wasn’t keeping the company of fellow weirdos from the same families as these kids at this school, he would sometimes invite Kevin.

oh that is 100% manipulation

But over the years, little moments like that had stacked up. And now… …Now he was a bit afraid of her.

I looked back at the girls' theories about Rae, and they ended up at personification of backlash? But that was just a guess

And it looks like Kevin isn't escaping the karma his eye generates... that could amplify whatever's up with Rae, once it finally explodes

Ted? What was going on with Ted? Was Alexander in communication with the man?

I'm not sure either: It could just be an effect of Ted being karmically blessed, and the librarian/school in general offering him what he needs

Clem was as stupid as I’ve ever seen her. We’re not best friends anymore

oh good, that must be a relief for her

my online following is… it’s better than ever, frankly, but it’s taking more of my time to manage until all the fights and arguments die down.

I hope she's lying about that one

in the center of that table was a recreation of Sargent Hall, complete with mini-figures representing the occupants.

return of this thing! I guess Nicolette got it out from the fire ok

Ted — Kevin — Shellie — Rae Respective to their names were cards and numbers. 3, 7, 13, 19.

The dossier noted that Ted and Clem are around the same level of use, so it makes sense that he's number three. I wonder who is 1? Kevin being rated higher than Shellie seems like a reflection on how useful his eye is at dealing with mundane problems subtly (and how hard she is to control). Not sure what the ranking implies about Rae.

Noose in one corner, connecting to Ted, coin in the other, connecting to Shellie.

once again, same types of object as the awakening ritual. Coin is mostly fortune I think, woven object I'm less sure. Pact awakening ritual had it as dream and fate.

But he could read the notation. ‘Noone will die at his girlfriend’s hand’.

get fucked!

“Nah, stark resemblance to an old crush,” he said. “Writing on the back says… Laila Throop. Was your old crush a Throop?”

no idea what's up with this, but it has to be important. Laila's been coming up a lot lately (Musette, and Fernanda's interlude). Her family specializes in curses: I could see them coming into contact with Kevin through that.

The works themselves are a trove of detail on people, especially those in the Maritime provinces and the major cities of Canada and the northeastern United States.

oh cool. So Alexander has compiled Ted's notes from other timelines. I wonder how long he's had them? Because this could explain a lot, if he's been able to draw on this knowledge for his plans all along. It would explain how he made those dossiers, for one.

... I wonder if there's anything on Kennet or the Carmine Beast in there. I don't think there'd be anything on the girls, since Ted's loop ended before they got involved, but things have been going on in the town for a while.

Courtesy of Raymond, the prompt is yet unfinished, but each pull from the coda of texts will help it improve. For the time being it will do its best to list texts that may be relevant.

score one for the digital humanities

Alexander, I think, wanted us to find it because there may be traps here, not in the sense that a blade may jump out of nowhere, I don’t think, but the wrong information in the wrong person’s mind.

I can see Kevin setting off events by trying to preemptively defend himself from Rae, or this pushing him into demanding answers.

This was an arrangement of a court of judges in this region, who saw the danger and reached out to everyone in the area to ensure they had the power to set this into motion.

oh! My first thought was the council the CB was on, but I looked at the dossiers again, and Ted's from Prince Edward Island, which is pretty far away, so probably not

I am a collector of people. If you’ll take my help, I’ll point you to certain people. But the moment you’re free, if it has anything to do with my help, I want your assistance after.

well fuck. I guess that explains why Ted works for Bristow now.

one student named Laila Throop was on the opposing side and had a really strong resemblance to someone from his past that he hated. “Her next.” He tapped her photograph

man Laila can just not catch a break... I wonder if this is what Musette saw?

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow

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wingedscribe · 2 years

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Yawn

to yawn, v.: involuntarily open one's mouth wide and inhale deeply due to tiredness or boredom.

FFXIV Day 9, done as a makeup day: two archers stay up late while working on the NOAH expedition, the still-sealed Crystal Tower rising in the background.

A little to the right…no, a little to the left, that felt better…shift the grip on the pliers, twist the displaced wire slightly to the side, and then there was the satisfying click of the bit that had been thrown out of alignment sliding together again. Ciel grinned, brushing their bangs out of their face with a grease-stained hand, and flipped the access panel on the small device back down and set about re-tightening the bolts shutting it.

There. They were pretty sure, if they kept freelance-fixing various repair jobs that the Ironworks crew had, Jesse’s unbending reluctance to hire another “twelve-damned bloody adventurer who will hare off to save the world at the drop of a hat” would eventually lessen, at least a little. Besides, even if it didn’t, fixing things like this was fun. It was like solving a puzzle, but with a more tangible reward, and let Ciel use their hands for something useful.

Frankly, even if Jesse never changed her mind, Cid was always eager enough to explain what he was doing that Ciel felt pretty confident in their ability to pick up the basics of engineering. But it would be nicer to do it officially. Ciel set that project aside, rolling their shoulders back with a somewhat alarming crack, and--

--had their train of thought interrupted by the sound of a very loud yawn from next to them.

Ciel glanced over to see G’raha Tia sheepishly attempt to return to the large book he was reading through, ears flattened to his head a clear sign that yes, he was the source of the yawn, and did their best to hide a smile.

“It might be time to call it a night,” they pointed out, nodding towards where the stars had come out through the omnipresent, iridescent aether-haze of Mor Dhona. “After all, I doubt the tower’s doors are going to unseal themselves overnight.”

“Certainly they won’t if we go to sleep instead of working on it,” G’raha muttered, but it was halfhearted, another yawn audibly sneaking up on the other archer.

“And if you manage to figure out the doors before anyone else wakes up?” Ciel asked, somewhere between amused and curious as they leaned over to see what G’raha was reading. It was, of course, in Allaghan, which they had yet to pick up more than a few words of--perhaps Hikari could have read it more easily. “Sneak in and get a look around before the rest of us can?”

They’d mostly been joking, but G’raha flushed and his tail lashed with embarrassment, colliding with Ciel’s back. Ciel burst into mostly-delighted laughter. “You would! G’raha, that’s so dangerous!”

“It’s not dangerous if I don’t get caught,” the miqo’te attempted to defend, but clearly he knew how weak it was. “Just--listen, I’ve been looking for a chance like this my whole life, okay? An entire Allaghan tower, in almost perfect condition--just the defenses you saw in the labyrinth are malms beyond anything we’ve been able to recreate so far, right? And there’s an entire tower, right there!” he gestured out toward where the Crystal Tower rose toward the stars, and Ciel…well. They couldn’t deny it was awe-inspiring. “I can sleep once I’ve figured out how to get it open, but wasting any time before then seems…like I might lose this chance,” he finished, voice getting a little quieter.

Ciel sighed, pushing themself to their feet and sticking their hands in the pockets of their work trousers, an old pair that were too large and which they didn’t mind smearing with machine grease and dirt.

“I don’t think the tower is going to go anywhere anytime soon,” they offered, unsure if that would be helpful. “But…I mean, I’m not going to make you go to sleep. I’m just gonna point out that if you try to pull an all-nighter and fail, you’ll miss breakfast in the morning, and it’s my turn to cook and I make a mean griddle cake recipe.”

That got a laugh from G’raha, and after a moment he put a bookmark carefully into his book, shutting it and putting it in a bag he carried, and accepted Ciel’s hand up.

“Bribing me with food. You’re a dangerously persuasive man, Scion.” he teased, laughing when Ciel couldn’t stop themself from flushing and looking away.

“Yes, this is how we convinced the Eorzean Alliance to stand against the Fourteenth Legion,” they managed to recover, as deadpan as they could manage. “My cooking sk--” they interrupted themself, G’raha’s yawn from earlier finally catching up to them. “--ills. Don’t tell anyone, they all like to pretend it was half a well-reasoned argument and half Hikari’s desperation to fight the Ultima Weapon to prove once and for all that it didn’t make them obsolete.”

G’raha had only met the Warrior of the Light once or twice, when they came to visit Ciel at the NOAH encampment, but that had given him enough of a sense of Hikari to laugh at that.

“They took the Ultima Weapon as a professional insult?”

“Pretty much,” Ciel confirmed, sharing the laugh. It could be laughed about, now the weapon was well and truly destroyed. “And, well, it’s gone and they’re gallivanting around somewhere in Coerthas with a blade on a stick, so I suppose they were correct regarding which of the two were obsolete.”

“Fair enough,” G’raha allowed, amusement lingering in his voice and smile. “Well, as interesting to hear how that meeting actually went would be, if I have to sleep to get your griddle cakes, you have to sleep so you can make them, so.” He gave Ciel a friendly push in the direction of their tent. “I’ll be seeing you when we wake, then.”

“Alright, alright,” Ciel said, moving toward the tent before G’raha started pushing them further. “See you tomorrow, G’raha.”

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #ciel monnawesfv tag #things that are fluff until you've finished crystal tower and then become sad #me creating this bunny boy: time to go have sad romantic connections you poor bastard #that said idk what ciel's gender actually is. i use they/them bc i can't decide #perhaps they can't decide either

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strongmiral · 2 years

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Civilization revolution pc

CIVILIZATION REVOLUTION PC HOW TO

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On the whole, though, those are things I’m happy to overlook when the overall package is so much fun.

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And on a non-gameplay level, the game could stand to do a little more in terms of explaining some things to newcomers - case in point being the fact I never figured out how to transport anything across oceans, which made for a slightly long game when I found my starting city alone on an island, and I was forced to win over the world solely on the strength of my culture. When you get into a scenerio’s later stages, and the world is filling up with cities and soldiers and settlers, movements start to feel and look a little sluggish. Most obviously, there are times where the performance is a little suboptimal. Which isn’t to say that CivRev2+ is the best handheld game I’ve ever played, or that it’s flawless. If there’s any game more suited to handheld gaming, I don’t think I’ve yet discovered it. There are no plots or stories you need to keep track of. The controls - for the most part - are easy to pick up and remember, so you never have to worry about re acclimating yourself to the game.

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If pesky things like bus stops get in the way, you can just momentarily suspend your game, then pick it up again as soon as you get another free moment. You never need to worry about having to stop a particularly tough battle halfway through, since you can literally take it everywhere you go. In this respect, the game is pretty much perfect for the Vita. I don’t know how much this version took from the original version of CivRev2, but it clearly took enough that it can sink its claws into you and make it so that you forget everything else. I regularly found myself starting up a scenario as soon as I got on the bus for work, only to look up and realize I needed to hurriedly get up and rush to the doors so as to avoid missing my stop. I totally see how people could sink hours upon hours into it. Having said all that…my goodness, CivRev 2+ is fun. For another, it means that I almost certainly didn’t play the game to the absolute fullest extent that’s possible, on account of the fact I’m pretty sure I suck at it. For one thing, it means I can’t tell you exactly how faithfully the proper Civilization Revolution 2 experience is recreated on the Vita, since I have absolutely no idea. While the former didn’t bother me too much - I sank approximately 500 hours or so into MLB 10: The Show’s career mode, so I’m totally used to addictive repetition - the latter definitely gave me pause, seeing as my gaming strategies generally tend towards the “run in, guns ablazing, damn the consequences” school of thinking.īecause of that combination of unfamiliarity and lack of strategic thinking ability, you’ll probably want to take this review with at least a few pinches of salt. I’d never played any of the Civilization games before, but by reputation I knew them to be both insanely addictive and fairly hardcore in terms of strategy.

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I will keep an open mind because I respect your opinion, and will be hopeful.I approached Sid Meier’s Civilization Revolution 2 Plus with no small amount of apprehension. So time will tell if you are correct or not. After all thier actions speak for themselves. I hope I am wrong, I really do, but they have to prove history wrong, I don't have to believe what they say. Until I see it in game play, I am expecting a half arsed gamed and a very buggy release. One of those burn me once, shame on you, burn me twice shame on me.įiraxis has a history of fudging the truth. Sorry Sam, I respect you very much, but what devs say espically from Firaxis, they really can't be trusted. Every one of them has been mentioned specifically in interviews. After all what do you think $80 is going to get you? :P They've actually outright said it will have those. You really expecting that Civ VI is going to have religion, espoinage, cultrue, and great works? That is what the expansions are for.

#Civilization revolution pc

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a-shared-experience · 2 years

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Creators have a strong need to have a purpose in life. They are aware of their skills and talents and driven by the possibilities of being able to help someone through their brilliance. Whether it’s art, music, medicine, touch , we want to execute ideas that will move the masses and reach the hearts of our peers. We lowkey want the importance , but mostly the freedom to exist authentically without struggle. I don’t want the fame, just the ability to be completely self reliant and also inspired and energetic. I very much want to make sense of my life and channel that piece of me that’s been lost so that someone else can find it.

I personally have too many ideas, too many passions and lack of direction. I feel in highs and lows , immense burning passion, dreadful self doubt , inferior over my skill set , driven to be good enough and somewhere in between is the sweet spot where I unwind and create in a state of joy.

The sweet spot isn’t about being the best or even knowing really what you’re doing. It’s time that exists outside of logic and fear. That time slot is something I cherish more than anything. It’s my connection to myself, the emotions that I find difficult to process and the words I can’t speak.

Somedays I feel motorized , operating fully functional and completely in the high of creation while others I spend staring at blank pages. Today was one of those days where I felt everything in a dark way and if I don’t catch it and crush it , it will swallow me whole , like a big scary depression monster. I wanted to scream in frustration over the blocks and delays that keep coming up in my life. I sat down to write and immediately got back up and went outside. Just a ball of internal rage and fear. Nothing is working out. Fists clenched, kick rocks.

Sometimes as creators- we have to accept those lulls. We have to find ways to exist within them and not lose ambition or faith in ourselves and the lives we want. In the highly traumatized and seriously sensitive this time can seem threatening. It’s space where our minds try to trick us into settling for the safer option. A place where security doesn’t exist yet and our voice hasn’t been heard. That is a space I’m trying to master , art flows out of us in its own unique way. It shows people who we truly are in a way that doesn’t ask for validation . The hardest skill set is commitment to the unknown, the lows, the nights spent staring at blank pages , the times we have so much to say and no way to express it… your craft will be loved and hated by everyone whether it’s your first piece or something you created after years of university… kinda like when a bands third album sucks ( it always sucks)

I could have spent an entire day wallowing in not being where I want to be , not being who I believe I have potential to be, instead I hopped in the car , turned the music up loud and drove to nowhere. In that space I relaxed and reflected on how far I’ve come in such a short amount of time… yes my life is gone bust but only so I can have a blank page to recreate it. My old life was secret addictions, secret lovers, secret feelings, day in, day out in a cubicle desperately trying to make ends meet …. Let it burn.

I want to be so fucking comfortable being me that I don’t need addictions, that I can show up in love and commitment in ways I’ve never known how, committed to fully expressing my highs and lows and not putting on a front because I’m scared or to appease others.

No… I haven’t figured out my brilliance or what direction to take my projects but I have 187 days of sobriety, I have refused to take the easy way out and I haven’t given up . I’m teaching myself discipline by drawing each day and am more aware when I start becoming spiritually undone / ungrounded. Since childhood I’ve always felt the heaviness of responsibility which can quickly turn to victim mode because it really is just me doing me out here - pulling this card for y’all was recognition of the need to be outside of the self so that I can climb back into the self feeling like I’m part of this world and not just being crushed by it. If you’re looking at a blank page - go look at something else bebe and don’t feel guilty for doing so

#artishealing #ptsd art #traumainformed #Spotify

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atruththatyoudeny · 2 years

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Happy 28th! Thank you to all fandom authors who make my days brighter with their works ♥ Here are all the wonderful fics I read this month:

love is a word, you gave it a name | CuckooTrooke | age difference - famous/not famous - slow burn - starngers to friends to lovers - mutual pining - anxiety disorder - internalized homophobia - implied/referenced homophbia - closet - panic attacks - angst - hurt/comfort - gender dysphoria - gender euphoria - daddy kink - feminiziation - 158k After two decades in brutal show business, Louis Tomlinson is trying to restore his tranquility of mind in the peace of Northern Europe where the sun barely sets, Maria's bar is always open, and young Harry has an irresistible spark in his eyes.

You Only Fall In Love Twice | Beanno28 | polyamory - Zourry - famous/not famous - body insecurities - recreational drug use - threesome - lingerie - 57k Louis meets popstar Harry Styles while he is working at a festival and they hit it off right away. When he is introduced to Harry’s boyfriend, Zayn, Louis is invited to learn about their world of Polyamory. Will he decide it’s not for him or will he embrace the new lifestyle? This could be the start of something new…

Mind of Stone | amomentoflove | greek mythology - inspired by Medusa - Percy Jackson references - half-bloods - Styles triplets - magic - slow burn - kidnapping - curses - 42k Louis gingerly moves around the statues, trying not to look at their faces. The room is quiet, probably a basement from the low ceiling. He mentally curses when he doesn’t see a door leading outside. He checks his phone and gawks that it’s no longer early into Saturday night, but well into Sunday morning. He’s lost almost twelve hours, and he really doesn’t know how that’s possible. He needs to find a way back home, and then figure out what the fuck happened at the bar tonight.

All Out of Love | SunTomato | Cupid - falling in love - developing friendships - financial issues - angst - no smut - 33k Harry is a Cupid, who work their magic on a different plane, invisible to humans. Harry is good at love. Harry loves love. Unfortunately, Harry can be a bit clumsy, and sometimes he gets a little distracted. While on a mission to match Liam and Zayn, the distraction comes in the shape of Louis Tomlinson – an overworked and underloved man trying way too hard to do everything himself. Everywhere Harry turns, he sees Louis. That wouldn’t really be a problem except that Harry’s fairly sure Louis sees him, too.

something brand new you've never seen | LiveLaughLoveLarry | psychic abilities - visions - flirting - first dates - falling in love - 7k Louis has an unusual ability: the ability to find what someone is Seeking -- or at least, the ability to draw it. He has a small business as Laurence de la Cherche, Psychic Seeker, where he helps people to find what they're looking for -- lost items, pets, even people. And then one day, in walks a man Louis didn't realize he'd been looking for all his life.

So familiar a gleam | softfonds | fantasy - fairy tale - royalty - Beauty and the Beast elements - Sleeping Beauty elements - fluff - mild angst - 19k Harry has spent all his life moving from village to village with his aunts, never really feeling like he belonged in one place. But when he ends up stuck in an enchanted castle with a mysterious owner, he doesn't expect to find out secrets of his own past and just what home means.

The Lost Art of Breeding and (Mis)Behaviour | indiaalphawhiskey | PWP - Captive Prince inspired - BDSM - master/slave - breeding kink - breeding slave - bondage - virginity kink - light humiliation - edging - teasing - light manipulation - rough sex - 13k “Strip, slave.” His voice was rough – stern, as a proper Master’s voice should be. Harry couldn’t help but feel pleased. “I could have had five of your kind for your price. Best make sure I’ve not been cheated.” -- Or, Harry learns a thing or two about fate and faith.

Late Night Talking | germericangirl | PWP- phone sex - established relationship - canon compliant - 2k Louis breaks his elbow, Harry is upset he can’t be there to take care of him. All he can do is take care of him through the phone, the best he can…

The light is coming | ishiplouis | a/b/o - mpreg - feral behaviour - scenting - nesting - hurt/comfort - fluff - angst - 10k Louis was cold. So fucking cold. He was hungry too. He hadn’t eaten a real meal in a long time. He’d lost count of how many days he hadn’t eaten correctly or, rather, he didn’t want to remember. He wanted to forget. Forget that he was now alone. Well, mostly. He cursed his faith. He wasn’t supposed to end up like this. He was supposed to go to college, find a mate, and graduate with honours. Maybe he would have to apply right after graduation to some job offers but thankfully his father would intervene and would find him a job in no time at one of his friends’ companies. Then he would get married and be finally mated by his Alpha. In this dream of his, Louis would end up with three beautiful pups, a huge house with a white fence and a wonderful mate always caring for him until his last breath. That was how it was supposed to happen. Louis put a hand on his slowly hardening belly, a single tear rolling down his cheek. It wasn’t fair. Or the one where Louis is lost but Harry is there to save him.

Like How I Pictured It | parmahamlarrie | blind character - childhood friends to lovers - hurt/comfort - majoc character injury - 17k Louis Tomlinson hasn’t always been blind. As a child, his vision was impaired, but he had hopes that there would be years before he lost his sight completely. Before the darkness, he had a normal childhood running around alongside his best friend, Harry Styles. When Harry moved away as a teenager, Louis was lost in more ways than one. What will happen when a chance encounter brings the two together again? What will happen when he finally asks for his something great?

butterflies, the beautiful kind | softloubabie | a/b/o - fluff - smut - 18k Louis is a single parent with a child who is terrified of doctors. However, one day, the kid gets sick. Thankfully the new pediatrician, doctor Styles, has wild curly hair and green eyes and a soothing deep voice that the kid immediately grows attached to.

I Still Crave It | germericangirl | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - scent marking - fluff - smut - mpreg - 16k “Are you okay?” He asked concerned. Louis glanced at him “Everything hurts, is all.” He explained. Harry nodded and cleared his throat before speaking up “You know, there might be a way to make you feel better, help you recover faster.” The alpha cleared his throat again as he glanced anywhere but at Louis. Louis looked at him with narrowed eyes “Are you suggesting to scent me?” he asked incredulously. Harry shrugged “It’s been proven to help. There are studies.” He said quietly. And usually Louis would protest, would tell the alpha to fuck off, to get the hell out of his flat. That he wasn’t some weak omega who needed some alpha’s help. But as it was, he was tired and exhausted and in pain. Being scented actually sounded kind of nice right now. “Fine but don’t make it weird.” Louis said as he turned on his right side, silently asking Harry to lie behind him. . Or: Louis is an independent omega, who doesn't need or want an alpha. When he becomes ill and meets alpha Harry, he agrees to let him take care of him and quickly gets addicted to his scent. Once he feels better though, he keeps making up lies so that the alpha continues scenting him.

Among Lavender Fields | homosociallyyours | 1980s - girl direction - first love - famous/not famous - internalized homophobia - slow burn - angst - fluff - miscommunication - 70k At twenty-one, Louis Tomlinson is more than ready to shed the girl next door image that's been with her since her entry into film in her childhood, but with a mother and father steeped in Hollywood tradition it's felt impossible. Meanwhile, Harry Styles is a young, struggling musician new to London, friendless yet eager for the next phase of her life to begin. When French director Marie Coutard casts the two of them in her film, it's a chance for both to break away from the people they've been. Together, they struggle through an acting process that's new and unfamiliar for both of them, learning more than they could've imagined about themselves along the way. As they spend long days picking lavender and long nights sharing the things they've never been able to tell anyone else, their love blooms. Will the flower fade, or will the love they make among lavender fields be one they carry with them to the end?

#28th appreciation #fic rec #my reads #monthly reads #monthly fic rec #my fic rec #completed fics #larry fics

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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

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

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

Love always,

Steph xx

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

Part 3. | parte terza

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 2081

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

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

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

link to fic masterlist here

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

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

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

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

_____________________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 4. | quarta parte

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hongism · 3 years

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mists of celeste ➻ 35

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

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act five ➻ part two

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

“Why are we bringing him aboard?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s nothing to stop yet, Y/N.”

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

“What do you want more than anything else?”

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

“What about after that then?”

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

“Your silence is answer enough for me.”

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

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

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

“Has… has Jisung learned anything yet?”

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

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

Seonghwa shakes his head from side to side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“J-Jisung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye, aye, acting Captain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you expect me to do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“Seonghwa?”

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

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

“Where are we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten…”

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

“Thr—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did the fucker break another of your dishes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ask that you give me a chance.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, Park Seonghwa, sixteen.”

“Kim Hongjoong, sixteen.”

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

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

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

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

“To a new partnership.”

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

The man at your side cracks the slightest of smiles.

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

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

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll explain everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that – will you be okay?”

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

“Okay, if you need anything—”

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

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

“Wooyoung — he what? In m-my body?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You weren’t with him?”

“We… were separated at some point.”

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

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

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

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @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 @felixity @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mists of celeste #mingi x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #ateez angst fluff smut #ateez series #ateez pirates #ateez space pirates

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somethingwittyandweird · 3 years

Photo

So, I’ve once again taken up the pixel pen and put together 30 days of swords for Swordtember! I feel like I’ve improved a lot since last year’s offerings, and I felt a lot more confident working with the program and trying more complex things. I even tried my hand with some more animations this year!

Once again, this year’s offerings are a mix of existing swords from various media, redesigns of old swords I drew years ago, and new swords made specifically for this challenge.

Blurbs for each sword under the cut!

Shadow: A long katana-like weapon wreathed in shadowy tendrils. My first attempt to adding an ‘effects’ layer. Shape evokes the yin.

Light: Another katana-like sword with radiant light shining from the tip. Design evokes the yang. Obviously, meant to be the perfectly balanced counterpart to Day 1′s sword.

Insect-Like: A sword that evokes a bee/hive motif. I sorted through a lot of various bug designs that I wasn’t really feeling, but I finally settled on this one as one of the less creepy-crawly kind of bug.

Ghostly: A spectral, animated pirate scimitar. The concept of a ghost blade made me ask what a dead blade returning to life would look like. I settled on a broken hilt with an animation of the ethereal weapon appearing in place of the lost blade.

Lava: A sword with a motif of a river of lava running down its length. I spent a long time staring at Zelda fire temples to get the look of the ‘rocks’ floating in the river of lava to look right.

Snow: A chilling, translucent icicle blade with a snowdrift design on the hilt. I decided to try and create a light reflective effect to sell the ice aspect, and I’m really surprised at how good it turned out in the end.

Storm: A bronze blade with a detailed painting of a thundercloud and choppy seas on the blade, and wind designs in the background.

Anchor: A blade made in the shape of an anchor, with a detail of seaweed wrapping the hilt. This one is certainly better at bludgeoning than slicing- I took a cue or two from armor-breaking blades with similar top-heavy designs.

Summoned: A collage of the prior 8 blades, plus a new broad blade, emerging from several portals. These were initially all new blades, but I felt it was cooler to reuse the prior swords for the background blades. Inspired by the “Gate of Babylon” ability from the Fate series. I’ve never seen the Fate series.

Banished: A long blade being broken apart and drawn into a void portal. This is the only sword where I filled in the background of some sort of room, but I felt it was helpful to emphasize the vanishing point.

Dwarven: A short blade with angular, detailed designs on the blade and hilt.

Elven: A recreation of the Master Sword from Zelda. Because it’s my favorite sword to draw and I wanted the excuse. Hylians are close enough to elves for my purposes.

Delicate: A sword made of glass. Once again very proud of the light reflective effect. Very sharp, but not very durable....

Aquatic: A colorful blade with a motif of kelp, coral, and a clownfish hilt. Definitely the most visually popping sword of the bunch.

Forest: A longsword with vines wrapping the crossguard and roots twined around the hilt. Enchanted leaves swirl around the blade. A very druidic blade.

Broken: The delicate sword, shattered into pieces. Maybe glass weapons weren’t the best idea.

Bone: A recreation of Blutgang from Fire Emblem: 3 Houses. The Crest of Maurice, this blade’s associated crest, is visible in the background.

Floral: A long, elegant blade with a lotus motif in the guard and hilt. I really like the palette on this one.

Musical: A sword with a staff design on the blade, clefs on the crossguard, a piano keyboard for a hilt, and a whole note for a pommel. Probably makes noise when you hit things with it.

Blessed: A golden, hallowed blade surrounded by holy light and angelic figures. I’m very pleased that the shape of the angels reads so clearly despite being pretty small in size.

Eyes: A shadowy blade covered in glaring red eyes, with a toothy smile for a crossguard. Inspired by Pride’s shadowy tendrils from FMA:B.

Alive: A recreation of the Mimicry blade from Lobotomy Corporation. A wicked cleaver covered in exposed, warped flesh. An unexpectedly nasty blade, I think I’ll steer clear of more horrific elements in future.

Multi-purpose: A recreation of Leon (Squall’s) gunblade from Final Fantasy VIII. Gunblades are a little silly, but fun.

Vampire Hunter: A longsword with a cross on the guard and a wooden stake inlaid in the blade (so it’s effective against its quarry). A looming bat-shaped shadow glares from the background.

Translucent: An ancient-looking hilt with a cracked, green gem. The blade is made of energy and flickers in and out in time with the gem pulsing. This is a relic of an age past, and the magic that once powered it is all but drained away...

Stone: This is a pointed, angular obsidian blade with a tigers-eye gem for a pommel. One of a series of elemental swords I designed a while back.

Cosmic: This is a broad, star-studded blade with a green glow emitting from the blade. The palette is directly inspired from the 3AM Dress aesthetic from Homestuck, and the symbol of the Space aspect is visible above the grip. I make no apology.

Mechanical: A large blade that folds out segment by segment to its full extent. I had this idea early in the month, and worked on getting it just right by the end. Things that can fold up into a convenient size then fold out to a full extent are very much my jam.

Wind: A blade that curls into a spiral evocative of a gust of wind.

Ornate: A bejeweled blade adorned with filigree, with a crossguard in the shape of a crown. A truly ostentatious weapon.

#my art #swords #swordtember #again really proud of how much i improved since last year! thank you to my friends who asked if i was doing this (and thus made me do this)

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fenheart87 · 3 years

Text

Sprint Challenge: 3.31.21

I am aware this is a day late but it's finally done!

"Dude, how did you mess this up?!"

"I did everything you told me to!"

"Bro, obviously not! Now we have a sleeping beauty who didn't consent nor a way to wake her up! Our grades are gone and maybe our magical career period! We don't even know if she's a witch or a human!" Nino's voice rose with his stress to a higher pitch, hands clutching his short curls, his hat long forgotten on the floor when he first entered the room.

"I know this Nino!"

"Adrien. Dude, bro I need you to think very carefully and tell me what you used for this potion."

"I don’t remember the exact order but I wrote down most of it on this paper. I used all the ingredients listed, like you told me to." The blonde pulled the page from his spell journal where it was tucked and passed it over for observation.

"Okay well half of these would kill a human, vampire or any type of sea related being. So she's magical somehow at least."

“Because that makes me feel better…” The wind based wizard muttered.

“It should! It means she’s sleeping and not dead, you dummy!” The childish insult slipped out before he could help it and the blonde drew back as if he’d been slapped.

“I’m the dummy? You’re not much better if you can’t reverse the spell you gave me!” Adrien snapped, moving from his seated position to start pacing as the stress was finally hitting him. Even Plagg, his familiar, seemed to be judging his newest failure.

“Dude, chillax. I promise we can fix this, it’s just going to take some time… Hopefully no one puts up a missing poster.” The Earth affiliated wizard-to-be moved from the couch where the young woman slept and started to pull together the ingredients used.

“Nino! Seriously?!”

“Adrien, I got you. It will be fine, now I need your help to recreate this potion so I can figure out a reverse or cure depending on its… Potency.”

Adrien grumbled but made his way over to the workbench, picking up Plagg from the back of the couch on his way. Using the hand written instructions they measured out the ingredients and consulted other books on the different effects mixing the ingredients would have. In the midst of their research a knock sounded at the door. Nino left his blonde friend to answer the door. Pulling the heavy oak open revealed another teen slightly taller and muscular, his hair was a contrast to his dark robes being black faded to teal tips. His hand were raised and empty to show he was non-threatening.

"Hi, I have a somewhat awkward question but I'm looking for someone and hoping you may have seen her? On the petite side, blue black hair in pigtails and wears a ladybug cloak?"

"Sorry can't say that we have, what's her name? We can keep a look out for you."

"That'd be great." The stranger smiled.

"Hey I found something that could help." Adrien piped up from the work table, drawing the other males attention inward.

"Oh thank God you brought her inside."

Now they were both concerned and eyeing the newcomer with suspicion. Between the two, being an air and earth affinity that knew each other from boyhood, they had countless hours of spellcasting and mock fighting techniques that were being geared up to use against this stranger.

“Ah, that didn’t come out right. Her name is Marinette and her familiar Tikki has been looking for her all day. Usually she’s too busy taking care of everyone else that she forgets herself and well, falls into a mild coma to recover. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her fall asleep this deeply though....”

“So uh, my dude…” Nino carefully spoke, shifting slightly so his wand was easier to reach.

“Luka, you might know Juleka? She’s my little sister.”

“Oh, we have potions class together! Juleka never said anything about a brother though.”

“We’re always around each other so no need to miss or talk about each other. So where did you find Sleeping Beauty? Last I knew she was sketching for Mendelvie’s class.”

“Uh, well…” Adrien shared a look with his best friend and decided to come clean with a sheepish countenance. “Funny story, I was making a potion for class and found the last ingredient I needed near where Marinette was sketching… She asked for something to drink and I gave her the wrong jar…”

"Well whatever you put in it definitely worked to get her to sleep but she's not under a sleeping spell. This is for Bustier's test right?" Nino nodded and let Luka in the room, closing the door behind him. "So the version she wants you to make is the hardest version out there and almost no one can make it. Which is the point, it's a test to your abilities to see what your second affinity could be or help pick a specialization. May I see the ingredient list?"

"Sure. So what year are you?" Nino shuffled the ingredients list over and went back to the Wildflowers of the Forest tome to compare.

"Third year, my apprenticeship starts soon." Luka glanced over the ingredients list and paused noticeably, scanning the ingredients on the table. "Are these the exact ingredients you used? Everything looks and smells the same?"

"Yeah, everything's here." Adrien double checked each jar and sprig, only hesitating on the belladonna blossoms. "I used pink ones instead of the purple."

"You sir, are a very lucky accidental genius." The older wizard sighed and the tension seemed to finally melt away. "Your mix up saved her life and created a sleep tonic. Marinette is half Naga and that much belladonna apparently helps her sleep because she has venom sacs that are potent enough to absorb the deadly part."

"We don't need to tell Ms. Bustier do we?" The wind wizard asked nervously.

"Probably, there are other Naga students and I know several other reptile species that could benefit from it. Also incase of a sneak attack the chance to study cures would be invaluable." Luka clapped a gentle hand on each of their shoulders before moving to pick up the still sleeping student. As Marinette yawned she exposed her fangs that were bared as a defense while in her sleeping state, her tongue flickering along Luka's jaw to bury her face in his crook of his shoulder.

"That's kind of creepy but cool…" Nino remarked, starting to clear up the research mess.

"It helps that she knows me, Nagas much like their snake counterparts can taste the air to smell."

"Oh my Gods, Adrien dude! You should totally get with Kagami!"

"What?" The blond was looking at the other like he was crazy with his outburst.

"She's a Naga, they taste air, yanno wind? The only thing that's between your ears?"

"Did you just-" Adrien turned towards Luka who politely coughed carefully to hide his laugh and not wake up the still slumbering girl. "Did he just call me an airhead?!"

"Well I'll leave you to it, let me know if you need anything. Jules knows how to find me." With that parting remark he left the squabbling younger wizards to clean up and compile a report for their grade. With a quick glance around, the wizard opened a secret passageway and took it as a shortcut to near where Marinette's rooms were.

"Mm, my mate… warm and safe, good mate…" Marinette murmured in her sleep and it took everything in Luka to not drop the sleeping girl like she just dropped that bombshell. That was something to unpack at a much later date and when the mixed Naga was awake.

#lukanette endgame #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fen's plunny corner #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #lovebugs and snake charmers #fantasy au

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olivemac · 3 years

Text

1300 miles | chapter four | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, pretty girl, Sarge), smut [f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PIV, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink, very slight somnophilia], minor angst, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

Tags | @mrs--barnes

Citation | Vernon, Justin, Dessner, Aaron, Mitchell, Anaïs. “Latter Days.” How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? Jagjaguwar/37do3d, 2021.

A/N | This only took 800 years to finish. Sorry for the wait. Hope it’s worth it. Xoxo

A/N, pt. 2 | Made some very minor edits to the previous chapters – nothing that changes storyline, etc.

series master list | AO3 link | full master list

🎶 1300 miles playlist 🎶

_____

previous chapter

_____

After breakfast, Bucky returns the borrowed motorcycle to Sam and grabs his backpack from Sarah's house. Sam only badgers him about if for a few minutes.

"So, you're abandoning us for Jo?" he asks Bucky teasingly.

Bucky grunts in reply. "It's not like that," he says.

“I get it,” Sam shrugs. “After eighty years, you’re finally getting some.” Bucky glares at him. “Just remember, bros before hoes,” Sam concludes, laughing and clapping Bucky on the back. Then he adds, "Don't tell Jo I said that."

Bucky's been debating how much he should reveal when he finally says, "I really like her, Sam."

Sam smiles. "Good," he says. "You deserve someone who makes you happy."

Bucky returns the smile.

"Come on," Sam says, "I've got errands to run in town. I'll drop you back at Jo's place." Bucky tosses his backpack into the bed of Sam's truck as Sam tells him, "Just remember, we promised AJ and Cass we'd take 'em out on the boat on Saturday morning."

"I'll be there," Bucky says.

_____

Bucky stays with Jo for the next two days, wearing sweats during the day while he lounges in her apartment – something he isn't used to, just lounging – and sitting alone at the end of the bar at night, watching her serve drinks with Danny.

They're inseparable for those 48 hours. There's an impending deadline – a sense that they need to fit everything they can into the next few days before Bucky returns to New York.

He slips out of her bedroom Thursday morning, still smiling from the night before, to find her practicing yoga in her living room. Bucky stops and leans against the wall to watch Jo move from one pose to the next, his eyes lingering on her hips and backside. When she moves into downward dog, she spots him from between her legs.

“Morning,” Jo says, sinking deeper into the pose and working to keep her feet flat against the mat. She notices the smirk on Bucky’s face. “Enjoying the view?” she asks.

His smirk only grows. "I am."

She walks her hands across the mat to meet her feet and stands. Before she can turn around, Bucky is behind her, his front pressed against her back and his hands on her hips.

"Best part of the twenty-first century," he says, "is skimpier clothing." His thumbs rub upward across the soft skin of her exposed belly until they're moving beneath the band of her sports bra.

Jo laughs and turns in his arms. "Not the medical or technological advancements?"

"Nope," Bucky says, "definitely this." He pops the band of her sports bra with his thumbs, then pulls her even closer, one hand sliding down her back.

"Breakfast?" she asks.

Bucky hums. "I'd rather eat something else," he says with a smirk, leaning down to press a kiss against her neck.

Jo laughs loudly. "No," she exclaims, "you can't expect sex after you say something so cringeworthy."

Regardless, she lets Bucky lower her to her yoga mat and hover over her prone body.

"You were saying?" he smirks against her lips before kissing her.

Jo hums and snakes her arms around Bucky's neck, pulling him closer. His lips move across her jaw and collarbone down to the tops of her breasts. Bucky pushes her sports bra up carefully to reveal her breasts before taking a nipple between his teeth. Jo scratches her short nails across his scalp and holds him to her chest. He worries his tongue over the hard peak and around the barbell ends on each side of her nipple.

“Bucky,” Jo sighs, arching her back.

Bucky smiles against the skin of her stomach as he kisses lower. He likes hearing his name on her lips. After not having control of himself for so long, he likes that he has this small amount of power over someone else, this ability to make Jo fall apart so easily.

He peels her leggings and underwear down and off before lowering his face between her thighs. He blows warm air across her cunt, making her tremble.

"Open your legs a little more," Bucky says, pressing his large hands against the inside of her thighs. "Good girl," he praises as her legs fall further apart. Jo sighs again as Bucky looks up at her. "You're beautiful like this, doll," he says. Then he licks a thick stripe across her folds.

Jo keens and her back arches off the mat. His tongue meets her clit as his hands grip her thighs, holding her open. Jo reaches down and cords her fingers through his thick hair, pulling slightly. Bucky moans against her cunt and continues to circle his tongue across her clit before sucking it between his lips. Jo rocks her hips against Bucky's face, and he reaches up to take her hips in his hands and guide her movements. She pulls his hair again, harder this time, and Bucky grunts. He alternates his movements against her clit until she's coming hard against his face.

"Bucky," Jo moans, her mouth falling open.

Bucky pulls back and slides up her body. When he kisses her, she can taste herself on his lips. She snakes her hand into his hair and holds him close against her mouth, kissing him deeper.

"Favorite meal," Bucky smirks when they finally break apart.

"That's it," Jo says, laughing and pushing at his shoulders, "leave. Get out. Go." She points to the door.

Bucky laughs. "You wouldn't," he says, with mock hurt in his voice, as his fingers tickle against her sides.

Jo squeals and squirms against his onslaught. "Fine, fine," she shrieks, laughing, "you can stay! But no more of that!"

"What? No more of this?" Bucky laughs. He rolls onto his back, pulling Jo on top of him to straddle his face, and rips another two orgasms from her before he finally releases her, helps her redress, and follows her to the kitchen to start breakfast.

_____

In the late afternoon, before the bar is set to open, Jo takes her guitar out onto the balcony to practice. After a while, Bucky sets down the book he was reading and joins her. He watches cars and pedestrians pass below them on the street while Jo plays a song with a sleepy pace and melancholy lyrics on lost innocence. Bucky thinks it sounds pretty in Jo's soft tone.

Stacked yourself against the odds

Talking back to an act of God

You and your clever mouth

You were laughing when the lights went out

When Jo finishes and sets her guitar aside, Bucky pulls her chair closer to his and leans in to kiss her, cupping both her cheeks softly in his hands.

"What was that for?" she asks, smiling.

Bucky shakes his head, then says, "Sam said you had a record deal."

"So, you and Sam were talking about me, were you?" she teases.

Bucky looks sheepish, but Jo just smiles.

“Yeah, I had a record deal. Years ago. In Nashville. Then Danny got hurt, and we didn’t know for a while if he was going to make it or have long-term complications or what. So, I came home. He got better. We bought the bar. I still get to do what I love, and I get to be with the people I love,” she shrugs.

Bucky can sense a "but" coming.

“But…Danny blames himself for me not following my dreams. When the truth is, even if he hadn’t gotten hurt, I would have come home. I had an ex tell me once that I'm only happy when I'm failing." She rolls her eyes.

"And now?" Bucky asks.

“I’m just waiting to fuck this up,” she whispers.

Bucky snorts. "If anyone is going to fuck this up, it'll be me, doll," he replies. "I'm a 107-year-old ex-assassin who can barely use a smart phone and hasn't dated in eighty years."

Jo cocks her head to the side and says, "We could fuck this up to together?"

Bucky smiles. "Deal." Then he kisses her, his hand cupping the back of her head and his tongue sweeping into her mouth.

_____

When things are slow at the bar on Thursday night, Jo grabs her guitar and plays an acoustic set for the small crowd of regulars. Bucky watches from his seat at the end of the bar top, nursing his beer. The thought that this is somehow all too good to be true, that he doesn't deserve Jo or any of this, creeps back into his mind. He takes another sip of beer and clenches his vibranium fist, willing the thought away. By the time Jo's eyes sweep the bar to meet his, the thought is gone.

He follows her up to her apartment after closing time, and when the door is locked behind them, he pushes her up against it, his arms on either side of her head, caging her in. He takes a moment to admire her, her green eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and lust. He leans down and nudges his nose against hers, his breath soft against her lips.

“You gonna be good for me, doll?” he whispers.

Jo nods.

“Say it,” Bucky says, his voice dark.

“Gonna be so good for you, Buck,” Jo whispers.

Bucky smashes his lips against hers, rough and demanding. Jo moans into Bucky's mouth. His kiss is all teeth and tongue, and his hands wander to her hips and down to her thighs to lift her into his arms. He doesn't stop kissing her until he has her on her bed.

Bucky presses hot kisses against Jo's neck, then tugs her faded Nirvana t-shirt up and over her head. The rest of their clothes follow quicky until they're both naked. Bucky kisses between the valley of her breasts and licks at the tattoo beneath her sternum before taking one nipple into his mouth. His flesh hand comes up to pluck at the other nipple, and Jo cries out. Bucky pulls his mouth from her breast with an obscene pop and scratches the stubble of his cheek across her tender flesh.

Jo's hands thread through Bucky's hair, and she tugs him back up to her mouth for a kiss.

"Thought you were gonna be good," Bucky mumbles against her mouth. Jo whines. She can feel him smirking.

His hand comes up to graze against her cheek, and he kisses her softly, taking his time now. He's demanding, but gentle, and Jo feels as if every inch of her heated skin is on fire. But she wants more.

"You can be rough with me, Sarge," she whispers.

"Yeah? You like it rough?" Bucky flips Jo over onto her stomach. "On your knees," he growls, pulling her hips up.

When she's on her knees in front of him, he uses his flesh hand to push her chest further into the mattress. His vibranium hand holds her hips in place as he slides into her without warning. Jo gasps and shudders.

“You look so good taking my cock like this,” Bucky praises. His grip on her hip tightens as he guides her back and forth over his cock before holding her still and slamming into her, setting a swift pace. Jo keens and her walls flutter around him.

"Harder," she gasps.

"What do you say?" Bucky warns through gritted teeth. His right hand moves upward to tangle into her hair, wrenching her head backwards.

Jo whines, "Please."

When he pulls himself almost completely from her body, then slams back in, Jo's eyes roll to the back of her head, and she sobs. She's consumed by the feel of him.

Bucky leans across Jo's back and whispers in her ear, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.” His right hand slips down beneath her body to toy with her clit. "Fuck, you're so wet."

Jo cries out, and her body shakes. Bucky feels the way she tightens around him.

“I got you," he whispers against her ear, "I got you.” His soft tone clashes with his rough movements and makes Jo’s head spin.

Jo comes with a cry of his name, and it sends Bucky over the edge. His vibranium hand whirs as it clenches her hip, holding her still as he spills inside her with a low groan. He falls onto his side, pulling Jo with him and holding her tightly.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Not at all,” Jo replies, squeezing his hand.

He presses gentle kisses against her shoulder until she slides from the bed to clean up. Then he slips into a dreamless sleep.

_____

Jo wakes Bucky up Friday morning with soft kisses across his jaw.

"Hmph," Bucky grunts, not ready to open his eyes.

"Danny and I are going for a run," Jo says. "Do you want to join us?"

Bucky cracks one eye open to look at her. "Why?"

"Because I like you, and I like spending time with you," she says, rolling her eyes.

The corner of Bucky's lip pulls up and he opens his other eye. "No," he says, "why are you going for a run?"

"Not everyone has the metabolism and stamina of a super soldier, Sarge," she says, poking him in the ribs. “Some of us need the exercise.”

"What's in it for me?" he asks.

Jo rolls her eyes again before answering. "You can run behind me and stare at my ass in tight leggings."

Bucky hums and slides his vibranium hand down Jo's back to cup her left buttock.

“How long do we have until this run?” he asks, letting his other hand trail up and down Jo’s right side.

“Half an hour,” she answers.

“Good,” Bucky says, rolling her onto her back and hovering over her as Jo laughs.

They end up being a few minutes late to meet Danny.

When they finally emerge from Jo’s apartment, Danny is standing at the bottom of the stairs with Greta. Jo reaches out and scratches the dog behind the ears.

“Morning,” Jo greets Danny.

Danny yawns before responding, “It is indeed.”

“Late night?” Jo asks.

Bucky doesn’t hear Danny’s response. He’s too caught up watching Greta sniff his vibranium hand. When she seems satisfied with her inspection, Bucky strokes the top of her head. There was a dog at the small farm where he stayed in Wakanda, and it was nice to have the company at night when his brain wouldn’t shut off and he kept reliving everything he had done as the Winter Soldier. He wonders if maybe he should get a dog. Or maybe a cat.

“Hey,” he hears Jo say from beside him.

He turns his head to find her watching him curiously.

“Where’d you go?” she asks. “Looked like you were stuck in your head.”

Bucky shakes his head and give her a reassuring smile. “I’m here,” he replies.

“Good,” Danny says, turning toward the door, “Because we’re not gonna take it easy on you on this run, Barnes.”

Bucky sees Jo roll her eyes and smirk behind Danny’s back.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says. “How far are we running?”

Danny’s smirk mirrors Jo’s. “On Fridays, we run until we're hungry, and then we stop for beignets,” he says.

And that’s just what they do. They run three miles in the park before heading to a local cafe. Jo grabs a table for them on the patio while Danny pops inside to order after insisting on paying; Bucky joins him to help him carry their orders. Outside, Greta laps water from the cafe’s outdoor dog bowl, then curls up at Jo’s feet and waits for Danny to come back.

When Bucky and Danny join Jo at the table, their arms laden with plates of beignets and fruit and coffees in to-go cups, Bucky sits as close to Jo as he can. She's wearing an olive-colored sports bra and matching leggings, and she shivers in the cool early morning air. Bucky hesitates before shrugging out of his hoodie and handing it to her. Jo's smile and the sight of her dwarfed by his sweatshirt is worth exposing his arm in public.

Bucky's phone vibrates from the pocket of the hoodie Jo is now wearing. She pulls it out and hands it to him. It's a text from Sam: "Don't forget about Saturday morning."

Bucky responds, assuring Sam he'll be there, and sets his phone on the table next to his plate. Jo glances down and snorts.

"Why is Sam your phone background?" she laughs.

Bucky purses his lips. "He thought it was funny. And I haven't gotten around to changing it. I'm good with tech when it comes to covert missions, not," he holds the phone up, "this."

Jo laughs again and takes the phone from his hand. She holds it in front of his face to activate the facial recognition, and then opens the camera app and takes a picture of the two of them.

Danny reaches across the table for the phone. "Here," he says, and their breakfast shifts into a photoshoot that leaves them all in stitches from laughing so hard at their own antics. Even Greta gets pulled into some photos. At one point, Jo pulls a piece of hair from her ponytail across her upper lip like a mustache, and, for some unknown reason, Bucky suddenly thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen.

He probably has a hundred photos on his phone now, just from breakfast. He watches as Jo scrolls through them, and when he sees one of her laughing with her head thrown back, he says, "That one." Jo smiles and shows him how to set it as his background. Bucky takes his phone from her and looks at the picture again. It's perfect.

They're almost done with breakfast, and Bucky has forgotten about his bare arm when a teenage boy approaches their table.

"Hey man," the boy says to Bucky, "You're Sergeant Barnes, right? You work with Captain America? That's so cool, man," he says, barely taking a breath. His excited energy reminds Bucky of Peter Parker. "That shit with the Flag Smashers in New York," the kid continues, "that was crazy. You're, like, a real hero, man."

He moves closer to Bucky to snap a selfie, then holds his fist out, and Bucky knocks his own fist against it, hesitantly.

"Thanks," Bucky mumbles, not used to the praise.

"Tell Captain America it's cool he looks like me," the boy says, pointing to his skin, before heading inside the cafe.

Jo just smiles at Bucky, watching the blush creep down his neck, but Danny says, "You should start charging for pictures." Jo rolls her eyes, and Danny laughs. Bucky can see the similarities between the two of them, and for a moment, he misses his own sister.

"Ready to head out?" Danny asks, breaking Bucky from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Bucky says, standing, "yeah."

When they're two blocks from the bar, Jo slows down.

“My legs are sore. Carry me?” she pleads jokingly, and before she can argue that she was only kidding, Bucky's bending down in front of her and pulling her onto his back, guiding her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Jo laughs.

"You're going to spoil her," Danny says, but Bucky just smiles.

Inside her apartment, Jo pulls off Bucky's hoodie and returns it to him.

"Looked better on you," he says and kisses her gently. "I need to head back to Sarah's," Bucky continues. "Sam and I promised AJ and Cass we'd take them out on the boat tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"I'll drive you," Jo responds, and she's grabbing her keys before he can protest.

_____

Bucky returns to the bar on Saturday night with Sam in tow. Jo's band is playing, and the smile she gives him from the stage when he enters the bar makes up for Sam's constant teasing throughout the day. He likes watching her like this. She’s free, uninhibited, beautiful. Too good for me, he thinks. The thought has been creeping in more and more lately.

Later that night, after Sam has left and the bar has closed, Bucky lets Jo lead him up the stairs to her apartment and into her bedroom.

"Let me take care of you," she whispers, running her fingers beneath his t-shirt. Bucky nods and allows her to strip his clothes off before he helps her out of her own. Jo maps each scar on his body with her fingers and her mouth, and Bucky's heart swells at her tenderness.

She pushes him backward onto the bed and tries to take his cock in her mouth, but Bucky stops her. He's not ready to give up that control just yet, worried he won't be able to stop himself from being too rough with her. When she straddles his hips and sinks down on his cock, he holds her hips with his hands and guides her movements. He guides her own fingers to her clit and watches as she falls apart above him before flipping her onto her back and driving back into her. When he comes, it's with a shout of Jo's name, and he drops his head against her shoulder, panting.

As he holds her while she sleeps, the thought he's been having – that he doesn't deserve this – returns, and Bucky lays awake brooding.

When Jo wakes on Sunday morning, Bucky is gone.

_____

next chapter - coming soon

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