#But i have no wish to drive that far to see the ducks no thanks

[freebooter4ever]

PENGUINS thank goodness you dodo birds had me worried for a sec.

#I tried to watch the last minute but i also forgot that the ducks are from mouse land over here so #I am blocked out on that one lol i think they make it available like 5 days later #Its sO WEIRD like wtf its an away game??? #If the area blockage is to make sure people go to games how the heck am i supposed to get all the way to pittsburgh on a random monday? #To support my supposed ducks team #Which are still THREE HOURS AWAy FROM ME btw #They should not decide these things by distance but rather time #Like yes anaheim technically is only 40 or so miles away but you gotta understand if you are in burbank you gotta go through that #Terrible terrible hell traffic corridor #Boots penguins liveblog #Like im just saying i understand the kings blockage they are legit close i think one of their practice rinks is on one of my running routes #I can conceivably go watch kings games #But i have no wish to drive that far to see the ducks no thanks

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 18

Hey guys! I got the impression that that cliffhanger really threw people and only one person guessed right.

Thank you for all those that wished me a belated birthday, I had a great weekend.

Today we have resolution to the cliffhanger, some low stakes drama, and the only love triangle I can tolerate ;).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

***

Steve felt someone shove him into the car door. He was whirled around and his back was slammed back into the door. He was face to face with his assailant. He was objectively handsome, Steve supposed. He had long, straight blond hair that went down to the middle of his back, piercing hazel eyes, and piercings in his eyebrow, nose, both ears and pair of snakebites in his lower lips.

On his neck, Steve could make out a tattoo of some kind of bird. He gulped. The man radiated malice and spite.

“I don’t care who the fuck you think you are,” the man snarled. “But you stay away from Eddie Munson.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Fuck off.” He pushed the man back far enough that he had room to swing if he needed it. “I’m betting you’re the asshole that made him feel unsafe. Well, you messed with the wrong person, dude.”

The man, Blondie as Steve was starting to call him in his head, grabbed Steve’s shirt and pulled him so that their faces were inches from each other.

“Leave him alone,” Blondie sneered. “Or you’ll find out how unsafe I can be.”

Suddenly Blondie was yanked back and thrown to the side. Hopper stood over him, snarling.

“Fuck off before my apprentice calls the cops,” Hop said, jutting his thumb at Eden who had her phone out, likely recording the whole thing.

Blondie looked over at Steve, who stood there with his arms crossed and then back at Hopper. Both men glared down at him. Blondie got to his feet and dusted himself off.

“This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, asshole,” he sneered at Steve. “I meant what I said. You touch Eddie Munson and I’ll make you pay.”

“And I told you, you are messing with the wrong man,” Steve snapped back. “You even so much as look his direction and you’ll wish you were never born.”

The man scoffed and walked away rolling his eyes.

Hopper turned to Steve, gripping his shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve let out a long shuddering sigh. “Yeah.”

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” he barked.

“One of the people I tattoo had–has a crazy ex-boyfriend,” Steve explained.

Hopper rolled his eyes. “Fuck. I’ve still got friends in the local police, I see if I can’t convince one or two of them to drive by your shop once and while and make sure everything is okay.”

Steve breathed out a heavy sigh. That wouldn’t do anything about the stalking but at least he wouldn’t be able to do something to the shop.

He nodded.

“Take care of yourself, you hear me?” Hopper said gruffly.

“I will, I promise.”

*

Robin and Steve arrived early the next morning to see the candidates for the receptionist position. They had three interviews lined up and hoped that someone could be found fast.

Robin had started main lining six shots of espresso to get through the day. Something the shop people had taken to calling ‘the fallen angel’.

The first one up was a kid right out of high school. Steve would have guessed that he was Erica’s age or there about. He was nervous and kept chewing on his nails the whole time.

Once he was gone, Steve and Robin looked at each other and said with a heavy sigh, “NO.”

The next one was Troy Walsh. Robin chatted with him happily, but Steve remained silent.

After he left Robin turned to him and smacked his arm. “What the hell, Dingus! He was good!”

Steve folded his arms and ducked his head, scuffing at the floor with the edge of the sole of his sneaker. “If the biggest middle school bully of one of your friends came here and applied for a job, would you hire them?”

Robin opened her mouth to answer but stopped before so much as a squawk passed her lips. She closed it and pursed her lips together.

“I guess it would depend on how often you see said friend,” she said quietly, “and whether or not they come to shop.”

“Will.”

Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “Tell me you’re kidding!”

Steve shook his head. “Went as far as to push him while they were playing at the quarry. Will almost fell, if Mike hadn’t caught him, there’s no telling what would happened.”

“There’s bullying and then there’s attempted murder!” Robin screeched. “Jesus Christ!” She looked at the door Troy had just exited in shock and horror.

Steve gave her leg a squeeze. “We still have one more to interview. Maybe they’ll be better then the last two options.”

Robin sighed, but nodded.

“Steve?” the clear, bright voice asked from the doorway. “Oh my god, Robin?”

Both of their heads snapped up in shock. Standing in the doorway was Robin’s high school crush and fellow marching band-ite, Vickie Powell. Her bright green eyes twinkled as a rosy blush dusted her freckled cheeks. In short, she was as gorgeous as Robin remembered.

Steve looked at the application in his hand and then back up at her. “Victoria Prince?”

She shrugged. “Got married, found out he was cheating on me with every available woman on his dorm floor, divorced him, liked the name so I kept it. Also because his parents love me, so...” She winked.

Steve and Robin laughed.

“Come on in!” Steve said encouragingly. “Sit down, tell me about where you’re at now and why you want the job.”

They started talking and they slipped into an easy banter. Before they knew it there was the tinkling of the front door and they could hear voices.

Robin and Steve shared a glance. Steve got to his feet.

“When can you start?” he asked, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

She made a happy, surprised kind of scoff. “Wait, seriously?”

Robin nodded gleefully.

“Today work for you?”

Steve grinned. “Hell yeah it does. We all have nicknames that match the theme, pick one you think you won’t mind being yelled at in. Robin will teach you all the ins and outs of the shop and in two weeks, you’ll be put as main morning receptionist and then we’ll go from there.”

Vickie grinned. “That’s great! I can’t wait to start.”

Robin and Vickie went out to the foyer and he could hear Vickie being introduced to the rest of the Royals.

Yeah, she was going to be a good fit.

*

Steve was happy. That should have been his first warning sign. Because other then the strange run in with Eddie’s ex, everything had been going well. His shop was busy, his training of Chrissy and Argyle was moving along smoothly, Vickie was fitting in perfectly, Robin was having a crisis about having to work with two pretty girls, but Steve thought it was cute, Erica had built the henna thing up so that it was very lucrative, so much so that she was thinking about not going back to school in the fall.

And that was including everything that was happening with Eddie. The tattoo was coming along amazingly. The sword was done and Steve was starting work on the right wing. Saturday nights were for the band and the club after. Steve was actually relishing the slower speed Eddie asked to go with, because he was learning a lot about Eddie and just having fun without the expectations of a relationship.

So of course that meant something was going to go wrong. A wrong that took the shape of Argyle’s roommate and his girlfriend and suddenly Argyle being cagey about them made too much sense.

Steve was at the corner grocer trying to decide between green beans or a side salad for dinner with Eddie tonight. He pulled out his phone to ask Eddie his opinion when he heard a familiar giggle. A sound he hadn’t heard in a really long time.

He turned around just as Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle stumbled around the center aisle display of avocados, laughing about something Steve didn’t hear.

Suddenly Steve’s insides turned to ice. Argyle stopped first and he looked down embarrassed.

Jonathan spotted him next and the look of pity in his eyes made Steve want to throw up right there in the produce section. The ice traveled up his spine as Nancy finally realized that her companions had stopped laughing. She looked at Jonathan, who pointed behind her.

Steve could see her frown as she turned and then her jaw dropped in recognition.

“Steve?” Nancy asked, jutting her head forward in shock.

He took a step back, looking at Argyle, who refused to meet his eye. That’s when he got it.

The friend that needed Argyle to come from California to take care of stayed was Jonathan.

Jonathan had been a car accident two years ago and Will said that Nancy needed help taking care of him, but both Will and Joyce weren’t able to. Will had never said if they got some help, but when he stopped talking about it, Steve assumed they had.

It had been rough time for the Byers family and while Steve sympathized, the only Byers family member he was still on speaking terms with was Will.

He took another step back and stumbled into different display. This one for oranges. He turned on his heel and scrambled to get away, stumbling and bumping into people before just setting his basket down and running.

Steve managed to make it out to the parking lot before he had a break down. He tried to get into his car, but he kept dropping his keys. Finally he turned around and slid down to the ground as he fought off a panic attack.

Suddenly there was someone beside him holding out a blunt.

“Do you partake?” Argyle asked gently.

Steve nodded. “It’s been awhile, but yeah.”

Argyle lit the blunt and passed it over to Steve who took a deep drag before handing it back to the other man. He let the smoke out, low and slow letting the drug calm his tortured mind.

“They told me not to tell you,” Argyle said after a moment. “They said it would only hurt my chances of becoming your apprentice.”

Steve sighed and threw his head back against the door of the car. “Maybe, maybe not. You’re good, man. I just feel so...lied to.”

Argyle took a hit and handed it back to Steve. “I told them we should at least you know that Jonathan was my roommate. Especially since you’re still bros with his bro, you know.”

That got a small smile out of Steve. “Probably. I don’t know how I would have reacted because I wasn’t given the chance to make the choice for myself.”

“Not telling you took away your agency,” Argyle said sagely, nodded. “That wasn’t cool.”

Steve nodded back. “Yeah, but I do like you. I like your style. I want to keep having you as my apprentice...”

Argyle took the blunt away from Steve’s fingers as he was just letting it burn down. “I feel like there’s a but there somewhere.”

Steve thudded his head against the car door again. “Did they tell you she cheated on me with him?”

Argyle frowned. Steve thought it looked odd on the normally chill man. He shook his head. “They didn’t.”

Steve took the blunt back and took another drag. “Yeah. I didn’t find out until after Nancy and I broke up. Just something Jonathan said about when they hooked up for the first time and when Nancy and I officially broke it off set alarm bells off in my head.”

“The timeline didn’t match up?” Argyle asked.

Steve nodded. “It was such bullshit. I thought I had moved on. Things are going great and then this happens and it feels like a bomb has fucking gone off under my feet.”

“You like Jane Austen, my dude?” Argyle asked.

Steve snorted. “Sort of. Robin loves the A&E ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and watches it all the time. It’s hard to miss.”

Argyle nodded. “It’s like how Jane felt when she saw Mr Bingley for first time since he went to London and ghosted her. Yeah, it was tough that first meeting, but now she knew what to expect the next time.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “You’re right, thanks.”

Argyle gave him a half smile. He stood up and ground out the blunt under his heel.

“See you tomorrow,” Steve said with a timid smile.

“Yeah?” Argyle asked, unsure but hopeful.

Steve stood up. “Yeah. I think you need better friends, but that’s a personal opinion not a professional one. And my professional opinion is that you are a great artist and I want to keep you for as long as you want a job in my shop okay?”

Argyle nodded, a big grin on his face. “See you tomorrow!”

Steve watched him go with a shake of his head. The dude was too nice for the likes of Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers, but there were worst people to be friends with. Like Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins for example. And considering that Steve was the one that had made that dumb mistake, he couldn’t really fault Argyle for his.

He went back into the grocer and finished his shopping. At least he would have a funny story to tell Eddie tonight. He just had to apologize to management first.

***

I hope copying it from back when the tagging was working will help. Fingers crossed because I am running out of things to try at this point.

Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

[sebastian-and-ominis-share-me]

HELLOOOO I am here for one (1) spicy ask please!

Ominis and f!MC doing some sneaky spicy semi public stuff? if you're comfortable with that!

Oh, I love this one...I may have rambled a bit, but I hope you like it. Also, can I just say that I love your TikToks, Posie is so pretty, and I wish I was playing on PC so I could experience these companion mods too.

Sexual Content - Minors do not interact

It had started as a game of sorts between them. How far could they push one another before things got too heated.

Y/N had been the one to initiate it as Ominis, while he still had baser urges, was a gentleman through and through. She started by scooting closer to him in class, her leg lightly resting against his. Her fingers brushing his as she wrote her essay. Her breathy gasps during the warmer months when she would proclaim to him that their classroom was too hot.

The day she pushed him too far was when she wore a skirt that was much too short, her thighs bare, the only thing on her legs were the school sanctioned knee-high socks. She smiled while she put her plan into action, they were seated next to each other at the very back of the class. No one would hear them as long as she was quiet. "Ominis, my quill fell under the table. Do you think you could grab it for me?"

"You're asking the blind man to grab something?" he snorted.

"Yes...I'm aware of how it sounds, but it fell just between us here and, well, you're taller. I'd have to get up and it would cause a bit of a scene." She explained while grabbing his hand lightly and moved it in the direction of where the quill was on the floor.

He sighed and nodded, leaning sideways next to her on the bench to position himself low enough to duck his head under the table, he felt around for the quill for a moment and re-emerged, she shifted in her seat which caused his cheek to brush against her bare thigh at his ascent and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Something wrong?" she said in a sultry tone, and he could hear the smirk in her voice.

"Are you....not wearing tights today?" He muttered, trying to keep his voice low. He could feel his cheeks grow warm.

"It's much too hot for that Ominis, here, feel how hot I am right now." Before he could react, she grabbed his hand again and placed it directly on her bare thigh. He released a shaky breath as he kneaded her. "See? I'm really hot." she saw him nod in response.

"Yes...I suppose you are..."

"And I'm really, really hot here..." she breathed quietly, placing her small hand atop his larger one and maneuvering him over to in-between her thighs. His fingers grazed something sticky.

"Merlin's Beard! No p-panties either Y/N?!?" he stammered, still trying to keep his voice low.

"For you..." she cooed as she hiked her skirt up even further, allowing him access. "You make me feel hot all over..."

Ominis couldn't believe how brazen she was being, but he couldn't lie, he was thoroughly enjoying every moment of this class now. His fingers swept up through her wet folds and she bit her lip to hold back a small groan. He found her clit and brushed over it gently and she gripped the table to steady herself. He continued his ministrations, picking up speed, rubbing harder and then lightly, effectively driving her over the edge. She couldn't hold back her sounds anymore.

"Oh God..." she cried out while everyone in the class turned around to look back at the two and her eyes went wide, she raised her hand and waved it around frantically. "P-Professor! I-I uh, I have a q-question! Oooh!"

The professor cleared his throat. "Ahem, ah yes Miss Y/N?"

"I ummm, may I be excused?" she grinned goofily.

"Well, I suppo-"

"Great! Thanks!" She stood up suddenly, Ominis removing his fingers from her before anyone could see and she ran out of the room.

Ominis sighed, a sizable bulge straining against his trousers now. He was going to have to deal with this alone later.

#ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #ominis smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #ask response #asks

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 49

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst ➻ word count: 19.7k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, talks of abuse & violence, minor violence, smut ➻ 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 seven ➻ part one

​​​

What rots away at your insides in the days that follow is nothing pretty — a deep profound obsession that drives your hatred towards a particular man into the skin until it sits engraved there, with wounds oozing blood all the while.

“Have you seen Nightingale around?”

Soojin jerks her chin up at the sudden interruption of your voice cutting through whatever pretty silence she constructed for herself. You feel bad, though only mildly, for disturbing her without warning. It’s become somewhat common to find her in the mess hall these days, with Luca off to the side with the two resident Berserkers. Your stare lingers on Mingi for a few more seconds than necessary. The last conversation you shared with the man rings in your ears like it was mere minutes ago and not several days.

“Um, training room I think? That’s where he’s been hanging around at least.” Soojin passes you a little half-hearted smile. You don’t doubt that your discomfort and likely unabashed anger is on full display to her; however, she opts not to ask further about your reasons for asking, so you deign not to say anything other than a quiet ‘thank you’ and nod your head.

Mingi shifts where he’s kneeling close to the child. His gaze finds yours the second you turn to head out, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to return the fierce eye contact for several seconds. You let it stagnate for too long, apparently, because the Berserker stands without warning and moves in your direction. You don’t consider your next move to be one of avoidance, though it must look like that to anyone else aside from you with how you retreat the way you came and head for the arched doorway leading out. Mingi persists still.

“Ghost.”

“Yes?” You only stop to turn when the two of you are far enough away from both Soojin and Jongho.

“I hope what I said to you the other night hasn’t been on your mind too much.”

“…Hardly.” Something else has been in its place — a messy conglomeration of anger, frustration, and other emotions you haven’t paused to address internally yet. You got to see the full picture Mingi had been painting for you that night days later in any case.

“That’s—” he inhales sharply and goes rigid for a moment, so still that you almost think someone has crept up behind you to interrupt the conversation but it’s still just the two of you near the edge of the room. A noise of realization slips from your lips. How hard is it to lie to a man who can feel every bit of the emotions radiating off you in waves?

“I understand what you meant now. I do.”

“I had wished to apologize and to… to let you know that what I said was untrue. I apologize for misleading you.” Mingi’s expression is surprisingly genuine in comparison to his words, though you know you won’t find whatever sincerity you seek in his tone regardless.

“I don’t believe that,” you start in a whisper, “and I doubt you do either.”

Mingi’s full lips twitch into what seems to be a fight against a smile.

“Ever so perceptive.”

“Were you ordered to apologize?”

“No.” Mingi smiles truly now. Without showing his teeth in any fashion, the gesture comes across as more terrifying than reassuring. “What I said to you was my personal opinion. I cannot be crucified for an opinion. I’m telling you that I was wrong because my opinion has changed. Although, perhaps there is nothing and no one more dangerous than a woman scorned.” You duck your chin as you laugh, trying to hide the noise behind your hand, though when you look back up at Mingi, he is chuckling too. “Yunho told me that once, you can blame him.”

“Noted. I’ll be sure to file a complaint. In the meantime—” Mingi raises his eyebrows at you as though echoing a silent question “—thank you for looking out for me. All is well between San and myself now.”

“But not you and the captain.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You get this certain look about you when you’re pissed at him in particular.” When Mingi grins at you next, you can’t keep your laughter in any longer. “I don’t know if it’s of any consolation to you, but if you do wish to speak with the captain, he has not been inviting any guests to the bridge these days aside from myself. So while there wouldn’t be total privacy, there would be some level of it at least with the lieutenant’s absence.”

“If I didn’t know better, Mingi, I might say you are trying to start a fight.” You keep your tone above the belt so to speak — kind enough to imply simple jokes if Mingi chooses to read it as such. The Berserker glances over his shoulder then over at you briefly.

“It might amuse me thoroughly to see you swing a few punches at him before having to intervene,” he says under his breath, and as surprise starts to hit and drag through your body, the man turns his back to you to walk back the way he came. Mingi at least seems to understand you on a fundamental level; in a regard to how you expunge your feelings with some form of confrontation, and perhaps you and the Berserker share overlap in such areas. He has been no stranger to confrontation himself in the past. The arena itself is the perfect example of such a thing, where he was driven by a simple desire to do something. Feel something, do something in return. Eye for an eye in a strange sense — you made me feel this way so I am doing this to you as a response to those feelings. He’s far from unintelligent by any means; if anything, Mingi is a lot smarter than all of the people you share the ship with.

Rather than complicating matters with seedy lies and interweaving half-truths to make things seem more honest than they are, Mingi allows for the perspective of “one plus one equals two, so why complicate it beyond that?”, and he pushes a compelling argument into your hands. The temptation of whacking your captain across the face is a delightful one. Even if there wasn’t an abundance of anger stirring in your gut because of his actions, you think he has fully warranted several punches just on account of his existence.

Simplifying things in such ways, however, is far from your forte.

And there is still the desire to address the sea of lies and half-truths Nightingale presented to you when you asked rather straightforward questions upon first meeting him. You could gain absolutely nothing from this confrontation or you could garner more ammunition to fire into Hongjoong when you inevitably seek out that fight.

Finding the man you’re after is indeed as simple as going to the training room, though the sight that awaits you beyond the door is not at all what you were anticipating. You’ve been in the room several times by now, becoming quite familiar with the layout of everything inside, and even though you have been slacking since you got back from Rathmos, you cannot imagine the room to have changed so much in such little time. Nightingale finds you, instead, frozen by the door with what can only be rampant confusion on your expression.

“Don’t give me that look, it’s only temporary. Need a firing range somewhere to keep sharp.” He motions behind him with his prosthetic arm, tilting his chin in a way that makes the choppy pink strands of hair atop his head flop around. “You’re welcome to use it as you see fit while it’s up though.”

With the explanation, the sight before your eyes makes much more sense. Haphazard targets that look to be crude metal cut-outs of vaguely human form now occupy the far end of the training room, where the (albeit very minimal) row of training dummies used to sit against the wall. Those have been moved as well, brought forward some to spread throughout what Nightingale has added.

“Is anyone aware of your interior decorating skills?” you ask as you push further into the room.

“Ha ha, no one mentioned that you’re the funny one around here. And yes, I was given permission to do as I please while I’m here. Thus—” the man waves a hand through the air in a rather dismissive fashion, tacking on a forced smile at the end of his response. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you return the gesture. “If you’re gonna just stand there, get over here and join me. Clearly you have some reason for being here.”

The bounty hunter extends a hand in your direction, fingers clasped around the barrel of a pistol, and he presents the grip to you without waiting for your agreement one way or another.

“I do want to ask you a few questions, yes.” He doesn’t let go of the weapon immediately, even after you try to take it from him. You still find it wildly unsettling to look at that fake eye so you dip your chin and clear your throat. He lets go seconds later without pushing the topic further, passing the metaphorical ball back into your side of the court for the next play to come. “Starting with an explanation of what your relationship towards Hongjoong truly is.” Part of you is nervous to ask such a thing because the man is full of so many unknowns, and in your mind’s eye, you could be traversing into very dangerous territory. Without knowing for certain that your safety is guaranteed in his hands, you’re left to eye the pistol that he takes into his hands and weighs carefully.

As though offering up a warning of your own, you take aim at one of the mangled metal targets and press your finger over the trigger, letting the gun fire its bullet forward. It hits as intended, and if the head had features attached to it, your bullet would have landed between its eyes. Nightingale huffs out a laugh through his nose.

“Now you know, huh?”

Again, you fire; this time at a different target though with the same intention. When your bullet lands again, you lower the pistol to your side and look over at the bounty hunter.

“Why did you lie?”

“Why are you believing every word out of San’s mouth?” he counters just as quickly, but it doesn’t catch you off-guard the way he clearly intends for it to. “He’s the one who talked to you, no? I doubt it was Seonghwa given how much he wants to avoid what Hongjoong and San both did back then, and it certainly wasn’t the man of the hour himself. So why are you hanging onto every word, taking every little thing San is telling you at face value?” Nightingale’s fake eye is oddly expressive for all the tech and hardware glowing through the sclera. “Did he not tell you how he manipulated me? What game did he play to do so, I truly wonder, Ghost? How did he tell you? Were you in bed? Were his hands on you, telling you foul and hideous words with his lips but touching you so gently with his fingertips?”

He succeeds now in pushing discomfort far into your veins. You lift the gun in your hand a second time if only to distract yourself from his words but he’s already accomplished his goal.

“He explained very gruesome details about it all,” you say through gritted teeth, “but it would be odd to lie about that.”

“But not impossible, no?”

You draw your lips together until your teeth start to ache from the pressure you’re putting against them.

“My eye was taken by your captain, Ghost, but my arm — my arm was taken by your captain’s dog.”

Your finger fumbles on the trigger at the shock revelation, and you don’t have the mind to correct your angle before the gun is firing off a shot into the wall adjacent to one of the targets. Nightingale lurches forward, artificial fingers pressing down hard on the barrel of the gun to lower it once more.

“Try not to go blowing holes in your captain’s ship unless you want the same done to you,” he offers. His hand stays attached to your gun, and now you can’t rip your gaze off the prosthetic. When your gaze flits up to his face, you take in the sight of his wry smile and that glowing eye. “Though I suspect San would sooner die than harm you. Suppose that’s where we differ.”

“Why do you still willingly work with Hongjoong? He takes your eye and your arm, but you still do favors for him?” If it were you, you would either swear to kill the man with your bare hands or put as much distance between you and him as possible.

“There’s more I need out of him yet, and he’s willing to make deals according to his needs. No one aboard this ship can compete with the services I offer.”

“What if he asks San to kill next time? Then what?” It seems bizarre that Hongjoong would allow a person whom he clearly considered an enemy at one point to lie so comfortably amongst his crew. That is, if Hongjoong’s claims about how desperately he wishes to protect his crew are true, and you think you can at least find credibility in that. If nothing else.

Nightingale flicks his bangs to the side as he jerks his chin upwards and grins in full at you.

“That’ll be the fun part.”

“Fun. You have a sick definition of fun!”

What you get in return is a half-hearted shrug that tells you the man does not truly care in the slightest.

“San pretends to be torn up about the things that happened between us,” he continues, and this at least doesn’t come as a surprise. “I think there is some sliver of the man that does feel guilty about it but maybe that’s hopeful thinking on my part. I’m not sure he’s capable of guilt at all.”

“He is. He is, he’s not—”

When your words falter, Nightingale looks towards you with raised brows and wide eyes, but the smile on his lips persists still. It makes your skin itch and burn with discomfort.

“He’s no monster. He’s capable of feeling things, and guilt is among those things.”

“He knows that the order to kill could come any day,” Nightingale speaks as though you didn’t interrupt in the slightest. “So he doesn’t let himself feel that bad. Pretending is easier anyway, no?”

In a stroke of what might be pure foolishness, you allow yourself to be vulnerable before this man here and now.

“How much of a hand does Hongjoong have in the things San does?”

“What do you think?” he asks in turn, and that grin finally drops.

“He’s admitted to me that he wishes to be Hongjoong’s weapon and nothing else,” you whisper.

“Do you feel safe with San?”

“I do. Doubtlessly.”

The corner of the hunter’s mouth twitches a bit at that. “I did too, at one point. Until San asked to take me to the brig one day. Even when I was fully in the mouth of a monster, I did not feel it. Not until he clamped his jaw down around me.”

“I run the risk of sounding delusional, but that’s different from the position I’m in now. I’m part of the crew. You said you aren’t and never were, so you were someone on the outside, someone with a rival crew, someone who posed a threat to this crew.” You gleaned that much from San’s distorted story and can only hope that it’s the truth. “I’m not like that nor am I in that position. My loyalty is already set in stone.”

“You’ve been taught well already,” Nightingale all but sneers back at you, but it devolves into a laugh seconds later. He doesn’t allow you the chance to ask what that means either. “Your loyalty is to San, but you have to realize by now that by dedicating yourself to him, you are dedicating yourself to Hongjoong too.”

“Truth, respect, and loyalty,” you throw out. “That’s what Hongjoong demands, but that doesn’t mean he should be allowed to get away with heinous things.” Nightingale hums.

“It’s easy to mistake leadership for coercion if you do not believe in the man leading you. Do not forget the company you’re keeping here, Ghost, or what marks have stained your ledger red with blood.”

“I would be first to admit that my morals aren’t all there.” Taking a deep breath, you do your best to put to words what it is that has been irking you so much about the man in command. “But doing these things to people he claims to care about — that’s not an issue of morality. He keeps telling me that every little thing he does is for our sake, that all his misdemeanors against me have been to protect his crew, so it seems like a contradiction to let him harm them just as much.”

For all your passion in saying that, Nightingale just shrugs.

“Could you at least tell me your real name?” Your ploy to fish for more information ends in disappointment.

“No. I won’t give it to you.”

“Why not?” The unfortunate side effect of pushing more feeling into your tone is that you end up sounding like little more than a petulant child who isn’t getting her way.

“I’m certain you can figure out why I’m not quick to trust others, especially those close to Hongjoong.”

“Hongjoong already knows these things about you though, I’m sure! What’s the harm in telling me now?”

“It’s about the concept of trust, and you don’t have mine.” As you scowl, Nightingale pulls the pistol fully from your hands. “I don’t have a crew now because of what your captain did to mine in the past. Every last one of them became fragments of debris in space. My trust is hard to come by and even harder to earn.” He waves his free hand towards the exit. “Now shoo so I can focus alone.”

There’s the distinct feeling sticking to your gut as you leave that you have upset the man in some way, whether on account of your questions or your answers to his own questions, but it’s also paired with the sick churn as you feel his eyes on you as you go. You wonder with which hand Hongjoong had taken his eye, and in what manner he went about doing so. Further, imagination takes over to wonder how San took his arm — what they talked about, what they did beforehand, how it all went down — and fills you with sick curiosity. You wish to know the ins and outs of how things turned out the way they did if only to know how to avoid the same fate for yourself later down the line.

That is not a privilege you get to have, however. Aware of that fact, you move on to other, much less pleasant business by your standards. It takes you to Minho’s door, and you barely get the chance to knock even once before it’s sliding open before your eyes to reveal the doctor on the other side.

“I was about to come get you myself. Here I thought you were being difficult again.”

“Justifiably, I’d say,” you mutter, stepping past him to get in the room. You certainly have no desire to do this presently, but Minho cornered you last night after dinner and all but demanded that you see him for another session.

“Hm, how has your day been so far?”

You hum as your head tilts from side to side in a nonverbal response to his question. He moves for that cursed table with the chessboard atop it immediately, but you choose to hang back and glance around the room as though anything will have changed since you were last here. And truly, nothing is inherently different about the décor of the room. What does catch your eye is a thing much more insignificant by all means — the bottle of pills sitting atop his bedside table. You have seen him with it before, seen him take pills from the very same bottle, and that alone should not be cause for concern.

“Ghost.”

Your gaze lingers in place even as your body twists to face the doctor. It’s the exact same bottle, and the pills must surely be the same inside as well, except when you saw him days ago, it was barely used. There had to be only a few taken out at that point. Now the bottle sits close to empty, with another identical container filled to the brim with more capsules right beside it on the table. Feasibly, there’s no way that he could have taken all those pills in such a short amount of time.

“Y/n, the sooner we talk, the sooner you can take your leave.” When you finally rip your gaze off the bottles and turn to Minho, it’s just to find that he’s looking back at you with such an intensely heated glare that you almost feel like a child being caught doing something wrong. “Come sit. We will not play today.”

“Um, have you been well too?” you inquire through the sudden tension hanging in the air. Minho offers nothing but a sigh, leaning back in his chair as you sit down across from him. “Or… I mean, your day, has your day been okay too?”

“It’s been fine, thank you.” The man smiles at last, and that gesture provides some relief for you. Not enough, it seems, because your gaze flicks back over to that nightstand and what sits atop it within seconds. “Are you distracted today, Ghost?”

“A bit.” It’s said through a whisper, and Minho’s stare makes you want to challenge him further but you decide against it. “What is it you wanted to talk about today?”

“You seem to suffer from PTSD,” he states almost out of nowhere. Something about both the suddenness and the bluntness in his tone makes you scoff. It’s akin to one of the very first things he said to you though, and the sense of familiarity with what he’s said makes you recall that now.

“Of course I do.”

“What do you mean by that?” He has that pad out once again, opened over his knee where he crosses his legs, and you see his pen move down to the tablet before you can even offer up a response.

“Looking at my history, wouldn’t it be a bit obvious for me to have PTSD?” Something about how methodical the man is in writing down words unbeknownst to you makes you violently insecure all of the sudden. You feel seen in an uncomfortable way, in a way you do not want to be seen, though he perpetuates the discomfort by shifting to look you in the eye.

“Only depending on who you are. There are those who wouldn’t, though they would fall under a different umbrella.”

“Something worse…?” you trail off without being able to finish the thought, mostly because you fear falling into that category yourself.

“Nothing worse. Nothing worse. We don’t use terms like that. While symptoms can have levels, the disorders themselves differ in severity. It is better to address them in tentative terms. Nothing is worse in this room. We are talking about you and you alone. No comparisons, no parallels, no odd faux psychology test meant to tell you whether you have the same mental disorder as some planetary celebrity.” Minho looks down at the screen below him, eyes scanning over the contents of whatever sits there, and you find yourself grossly curious about what he’s writing about you. “Yunho made heavy note of your trauma response and the symptoms you struggle with on a day-to-day basis. I’d like to hear it from your lips. Can you look back and pinpoint a particularly traumatic event in your life?”

In retrospect, there are plenty of moments you could bring to light now. Starting all the way from childhood and moving up until recently, for that matter, you find it difficult to count the memories of your childhood that you do not have. Even so, in the military, you have clear and distinct memories that jump out to you; however, the fog of not being able to distinguish the minute details of what’s accurate and what was fabricated by two men who suffered the same fate.

“I was a slave before joining the military. I imagine that would be a rather traumatic experience.”

“You imagine? That time has not been recovered in your memory yet, is that correct?”

“I have yet to remember it, yeah, but I’m sure that caused some extent of damage to my brain along the way.”

“If I may be so bold,” Minho starts, leaning forward in his seat and over his knees in a way that forces you to make eye contact with him, “I am of the belief that the most prominent event was the night you killed the King of Eros. Would it be alright if I asked you to recount what happened then?”

Your fingers clench and unclench against your thighs and releasing that grip feels close to an impossible feat. Minho notices the sudden increase in your breathing patterns, along with your frantic blinking as you entertain the mere idea of telling him such horrors.

“There are many ways in which I can offer you support, should you need it. Encouraging words, eye contact, I can even put a hand on your knee or hold your hand if need be — and you can allow yourself to be emotional here. This is a safe space.”

“Can you not speak down to me in such a way?” It’s an inaccurate judgment of his actions, and you are well aware of that fact. The words push their way out of you before you can stop them, even though you don’t believe them either — at least not fully. He is simply a man doing his job: the offer to assist you is part of the work asked of him.

“Why do you feel as though I am speaking down to you?”

You gnaw at the inside of your lip.

“Is it because of our last session?” Minho unfolds his legs and lays his tablet down atop the table between you two. “I will not bring that into conversation today, you need not worry about that.”

“It makes me nervous,” you admit through your teeth.

“Yes, I gathered as much. To put it bluntly and risk your ire further, you tend towards lashing out when you start to feel anxious. A completely normal, human reaction! Don’t get me wrong; nearly every person in the universe does so as well. I am genuinely trying to help you here, Ghost, but I can only do so if you let me in to some extent.” The doctor extends a hand across the gap between the two of you, palm up to the ceiling, and you blink between him and his hand several times before finding your voice again.

“That night, I waited until my team was asleep, pretending to be so myself, and when I thought the coast was clear, I got up and left our cabin. Jisung followed me out. I told him I would finish the job he started so that no one else would… fall victim to whatever it was he wanted. I asked him to take responsibility, to do it himself and stop me, but he didn’t. Instead, he told me that I could do it myself if I wanted to save Hyu—our team so badly. I went to the king’s quarters myself, alone, killing any and every guard I saw along the way. When I reached the king’s chambers, I slit his queen’s throat in her bed right beside him and then I waited. And waited.” Minho’s hand doesn’t waver where it remains above the chessboard. You hone your gaze in on his fingers rather than his face, solely because of the overwhelming sense of dread swarming your gut as you pour yourself out to this man. “And I waited until her blood soaked the sheets enough to wake him. Then when he finally woke, I climbed over her dead body and I reached into that man’s chest to break it open and squeeze the life of his heart. Once I had done that, I gathered what documents I could and what I thought was important at the time before going back to the cabin I shared with my team. Soojin took me to the bath and tried to get the blood off my skin and out of my clothes. Jisung stood above me and lied to them, claiming he told me not to do anything, that he had nothing to do with it, and that I ruined his plans. He put his hands around my throat and pushed me under the water with the intent to kill me.”

“Do you remember how you felt the exact moment you killed that man and his wife?”

“I felt powerful.” Perhaps such an admission makes you sick and deranged in the head but it does come from a place of honesty. “I felt afraid at the same time. I think I’ve only ever felt that once before, and it came long after that night.” You have a clearer memory of that instance — a day when everything that could go wrong happened to shatter around you all at once. San getting shot, Hongjoong pushing your hand through a door, saving Soojin and Luca, San almost dying, your hand going through a man’s chest and squeezing around his still beating heart.

“Power and fear have more in common than you might imagine,” Minho whispers as he finally pulls his hand back into his lap.

“All my time in the military, I was heralded as some sort of prodigy thanks to my skill with guns. Be it pistols or rifles or snipers, I understand them on a fundamental and mechanical level, to the point where I could tell you how far a bullet will travel before it begins to drop. I could tell you in numbers how much force is behind the recoil on a sniper or how a silencer affects the handling of a gun. I never felt powerful with that knowledge though. Not enough to feel fear in the same breath at least. But for the life of me…” your breath stutters momentarily, just enough to let you think over what you’re trying to get at, “I cannot explain how I can do such a horrific thing with apparent ease.”

“Does that make you afraid of hurting those closest to you? Those you care about, those who trust you, who put their faith in you and hope their survival is guaranteed in their hands?”

“No, I know I wouldn’t hurt them in any way.” You push force into your tone intentionally, with the hope to squash what it was he was implying you would do the last time you sat in this chair across from him. He does not give the reaction you hoped for, however — an acknowledgment of your forced honesty — and rather, you get a cat-like grin that pulls the corners of his lips upwards until it’s unsettling to look at.

“Do you fear yourself, Y/n?”

“Not in the sense that — I don’t fear that I will physically hurt the people close to me because I have a power I don’t fully understand. But sometimes I can’t shake the feeling of a heartbeat that is not mine on my fingertips, or I can’t unhear the sound of a thumping heart beating in my eardrums.”

“You fear becoming a slave to your own capabilities,” Minho concludes for you. Part of you is wildly grateful he took it upon himself to finish the thought because admitting it would only add to the weight bearing down on your shoulders now. “You fear becoming a monster.”

Pressing your lips into the thinnest line you can manage, all you can do is offer a series of meager little nods to confirm his suspicions.

“Y/n, tell me, when something you consider to be bad happens, do you hear and feel that heartbeat?”

“I imagine I do, but I’m certain I mistake it for my own from time to time.” Your fingers draw the fabric of your pants into your palms again, squeezing tight until you can feel your nails biting skin through the material. “Is there a word for that? Some diagnosis out of one of your long books and manuals?” You did not intend for so much sarcasm to push through your tone but it slips in nonetheless. Minho doesn’t so much as bat an eye at the attitude you send his way and instead pauses as though he is truly mulling over your senseless question.

“We in psychiatry ought to aim to help patients adjust to their current mental states. If the bad outweighs the good, then we determine treatments accordingly. If there are goods that cannot be had outside of that mental state, then we ask the patient to determine what’s best. Within reason, of course, we ought not to let anyone harm themselves with their own decisions, intentionally or otherwise. However, more often than not, the patient is the one best suited to figure out the right dosage of medications or treatments or therapies needed in order to maintain a good and healthy life. In my seat, from where I stand on this side of the dilemma, it is easy to preach to you, the patient, about how you should choose. How you lead your life, what medication you should take, to slap labels on you and tell you that definitively this — whatever the diagnosis we find is, I mean — is what is wrong in your head. Manual after manual, book after book, the list of articles grows day by day with new names for things that perhaps do not even need a name. Y/n, I will not place a name to whatever it is you are suffering with on any given day. Each individual case, patient, person should be treated separately, without a manual or an article or some doctor halfway across the universe telling me that there’s some title to slap on you. What you are is a human being who deserves the respect of being treated as such, not just another tick mark against the name of a disorder that may encompass your symptoms at a given point in time. Is that agreeable to you?”

This time the sigh you let out is one of pure relief, and the lingering discomfort you felt from being in this position with the doctor dwindles further.

“Refreshingly agreeable, yes.”

Minho dips his ear to his shoulder as he smiles less crudely than before. “Then, shall we dive deeper into that head of yours now?”

•─────⋅☾⭒☽⋅─────•

“I don’t want to go back after this.”

You look up from your bag to face the man who’s just spoken, and when you lay your sight on him, he’s sitting at the edge of one of the beds.

“Sorry?” you echo mostly out of confusion.

He lifts his chin and finds your gaze with wide brown eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you would resort to saying that he looks innocent of all wrongdoings in life.

“I don’t want to go back to Eros. Don’t want to report to some stuffy military official, don’t want Hyunwoo to give us a lecture about how we weren’t the perfect little soldiers, don’t want to keep doing things for people I don’t give a fuck about.”

Setting your bag aside, you move to sit on your own bed and face Jisung only after curling your fingers around the edge of the mattress to ground yourself. What version of Jisung will come out of this conversation is an absolute mystery to you as of yet.

“Aren’t you sick of it, Y/n?”

Despite the urge to shrug and wave off the question, you at least know better than to risk upsetting him this early.

“Defecting would be worse for us.”

“Us? So you feel the same?”

“I’m entertaining the idea for the sake of this conversation, Jisung,” you state in a rather flat tone. The mattress dips a bit further under your grip. “I’m content with the way things are. Who else is there for me to be loyal to? I’m well fed, taken care of, have protection—”

“All of that is only guaranteed if you give your loyalty and freedom in return.”

Your lips draw into a frown.

“Deserting is a good way to make sure freedom is never an option for you, Jisung. We have to stay until we’re twenty-one, those were the rules when we entered this line of work.”

“Letting fourteen-year-olds decide their own fates for the next seven years is bullshit too!”

“But it was a stipulation you knew upfront,” you counter. In a twist of irony, you’re the one losing patience here first. “I’m not saying that it’s ideal or fair, but risking the rest of your life because you’re tired now isn’t ideal either. We could wait, Ji… wait until we’re of age and can leave freely. I don’t want to be in the military forever either but I don’t want to lose the rest of my life because of a lack of judgment as a teenager.”

“You willingly lost the first fourteen years of your life because of the military too, Y/n!” Jisung gets to his feet now, in a flash of anger, and you glare his way with waning amusement. “You’re gonna give them more of those years too? Risk dying for them? Just to possibly guarantee some shred of faux freedom that they dangle in front of your nose?”

“Ji—”

“They make you stay on Eros after you leave, you know that right? You can’t even leave the system, let alone the fucking planet! That’s freedom to you? You don’t have to work for them anymore, sure, but you’re stuck under their noses so they can keep you pressed right under their thumbs for the rest of your life anyway.”

“Hyunwoo would throw you to those so-called rats for even entertaining the thought of treason! Do you think I want to see that happen? You’re one of us too, Ji, you are part of our team. Our team is our family. This is who we have. We agreed to stick together, we decided this for ourselves, and we committed to this together. I’m not doing all this shit because I love the man we have to call king, but I am doing it because it’s for the good of the people I care about. I had imagined you thought the same?”

“Those people would sell you out for a paycheck, Y/n. If I commit treason, then they’re throwing you in my court. We don’t have the golden ticket as they do — I’ve killed too many innocent people, and you’ve been a complicit player in my crimes for too long.”

You move to get up from your seat as well but Jisung crosses the short distance between the two beds before you have a chance to get balanced. It doesn’t keep you from being the one to make the first move, however, and you swing the back of your hand across his face without hesitation. Still, you knock yourself right back to where you were seconds before, pushing a wave of shock through your system in the same breath. Jisung remains frozen in place, no doubt out of disbelief.

“You want me to martyr myself for you so desperately that it’s made you beyond delusional. I’ve been loyal to you partly out of pity, you idiot, because without me, you would have been strung up in the streets by now. I know my place in our team and in our department. You play with your little toys, and I make the kill shots. Part of me believes that you only kill those innocent people in my name because you have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that I need to be protected. I protect you. I protect myself. And I will protect our family when the time comes. You decide now whether you’re included in that group of people or not.”

“And I will do whatever must be done to get us both out. You’re the coward. You’ve let them taint your mind and make you believe that leaving is a crime.” He drags his fingers across your cheek, pulling your chin up to look at him better, but all it does is earn him a glare. “You’ll see it one day, little lady. I promise you that much.”

The man before you has never taken responsibility for a thing in his life, though. Asking him to do so now would be an impossible feat at best. In fact, if you were in the business of making wagers, you would bet that Jisung would only admit fault at death’s doorstep.

•─────⋅☾⭒☽⋅─────•

“I can’t believe we’re losing so badly to a child,” you say under your breath even though said child is staring right at you from across the table. Jongho shakes his head almost imperceptibly as he looks over the cards in his hands before placing them face down on the metal with a shaky sigh.

“This is the fourteenth time in a row, and I’m not even trying to let him win against me.”

“Fourteenth?” You glance down at your own hand but the sight is dismal at best. There is much on the line, however, and it sits in the center of the table between the three of you now. The last handful of gourmet chocolates that Jongho had been stashing in his room all this time without even mentioning their existence to you. You’ll be damned if you lose out on some fucking chocolates to a child, even if he is a master at the art of poker. “My hand is terrible. I can’t even lie about it, it’s so fucking bad.”

“Be glad you can’t see mine because I don’t think either one of us is walking out of here with even a tin foil wrapper.”

Luca raps his knuckles against the metal table and drags your focus back over to him. He lays his own cards down on the table with a growing smile, gesturing to Jongho in a way you still don’t fully understand or know how to read yet.

“He said we can team up against him and split the chocolates if that gives us a better chance,” Jongho translates to you moments later.

“Oh my god, he’s gotta have a flush of some sort in that hand.”

“I’m not splitting the chocolates. They’re my chocolates!”

You sputter over air at the adamant defiance coming from the man and whip your head in his direction to stare him down. He’s insistent on not looking back at you, much like a child acting as though what he cannot see cannot hurt him. You’re of half a mind to whack him upside the head but you also don’t need to be giving Luca any bright ideas either.

“You’re about to lose all of them! Why not just settle for losing half!?”

“I have some pride, Y/n, there’s still pride left in me even after all this!”

“You’ve lost fourteen times in a row to someone who is less than half your age. There is no dignity or pride or anything left! This is about getting even just one chocolate!”

“I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

“When he pulls out a straight flush—”

Luca grins from ear to ear as he turns his cards over, and one by one you watch your hopes of getting even a bite of the sweet treat sitting in the middle of the table dwindle into nothingness.

“—and look at that, it’s even worse. A royal flush! How’s that pride now, asswipe?” You reach over to pinch Jongho’s earlobe between your fingers, yanking him down a bit as you tug on the skin.

“In one piece because I didn’t split shit with you!” comes his equally immature retort. You’re only interrupted by Luca knocking on the table once again. Except when you both look up from whatever petulant fight it is you’re having, it’s to witness an almost pitiful scene of Luca placing a chocolate between the two of you. He makes a few gestures in sign language that you vaguely recognize but still wait for Jongho’s confirmation to come through. “…he said we can split the chocolate.”

“This is so embarrassing. Where did you learn how to play poker this well?”

Luca offers up a shrug and nothing else. He’s quick to take the bowl of remaining chocolates into his little hands, however, and hops up from the bench seconds later. Before completely turning away from the two of you he bows at the waist, smiling with both rows of teeth on full display.

“Thank you,” he says with one hand before using the same one to wave goodbye. “See you at dinner.”

You aren’t cruel enough to not return the kindness to him, but you do keep Jongho’s ear firmly pinched the whole time.

You release your grip on him at last once Luca is fully out of sight, letting him finally sit back on the bench more comfortably.

“It’s about time for his meeting with the good doctor,” Jongho explains as he rubs at the reddened skin you left behind. “They’ve been meeting every day since Minho got here I think.”

“When you said he steamrolled you in cards, I didn’t think you meant he was good.”

“Yeah, well,” Jongho sweeps the wrapped chocolate over to your side of the table, “I warned you.”

You scoff at nothing in particular as you do your best to delicately open the sweet, pressing down on it with your thumbs until it snaps down the middle.

“You shouldn’t have bet every bit of your good chocolate if you knew we would lose that spectacularly.” With a sigh, you pass over half of it to Jongho before popping the other into your mouth. “We can get more once we land though, right?”

“Yeah, but god knows what they sell down on Gorgon… I’ve never been myself.” The Berserker nudges you in the side with his elbow as he chews. “Have you?”

“Been to Gorgon? Can’t say that I have either. Nothing I’ve heard about the planet is particularly—” you wave a hand through the air to accentuate your point as your expression turns into a grimace “—pleasant, I suppose?”

“No, but Vida in general is nothing pleasant.” Jongho frowns when he looks down at the table with cards strewn across the surface. You press your lips into a thin line. It isn’t all too difficult to realize why he’s saying such a thing — not when Auriga lies within the same system and several thousand kilometers away from where the ship is drifting onward to its target. Even at such a distance, it’s enough for discomfort: a concept you understand wholly because the mere thought of being in Aurum made you ill. Mingi, too, may understand this feeling on a fundamental level the way you do. It’s hard to forget the fallout that came from Wooyoung mentioning Kebos by word of mouth. “It’s uncomfortable but that goes without saying.” Jongho passes you a smile, one that comes as a result of sensing the pang going through your heart right at this moment.

“It brings back memories I’m sure,” you say under your breath. You reach a hand up over the table to lay it atop one of Jongho’s, pressing your fingers into the gaps between his fingers.

“Lots of unpleasant ones. But it’s funny to think that of all the people on this ship, all the criminals living side by side, the one who is probably wanted by the most amount of people there on Auriga is me. Every kind of person in my hometown probably remembers my title and remembers my name in some capacity. Captain has done a damn good job of avoiding Vida for so long. I know he wouldn’t bring us here without good reason, and I suppose that I can only be grateful that whatever he’s after isn’t on Auriga. Still. It’s tough being back here still.”

“How long has it been since you were last there?”

“Ten years. Actually probably eleven at this point.” Jongho exhales through his mouth. “I’ve been running from this for a decade, and it’s still not enough time to feel at peace with what happened. I thought that—”

It’s hard to look at his face, even the side profile that you’ve got an angle of, solely because of how deep his pain is etched into the features there.

“Everything is much louder here. It makes me think… I should’ve been gentler with Mingi when we were on Kebos, or even Seonghwa when we were on Dorado. Was it loud in Aurum?” His voice is barely audible by now. He turns his hand in your grip, shifting just enough for him to curl his fingers further around yours and cling to you in an act of desperation.

“Terribly so. Horrid, wretched, terrific loudness. It’s like deja vu but your body remembers the exact feelings of agony you felt when you were last there.”

“Yeah, I get it a lot more now that we’re so close to Auriga. And I know our reasons for being on Dorado were certainly not good ones — and nothing that happened there could even be considered close to decent — but at least there, I don’t know. Part of me felt happy to be back. I mean, I worked in some random dive bar there for two years after leaving Auriga, and that’s where I first heard of Hongjoong and his crew. That’s where Hongjoong found Seonghwa too. I was there the night Seonghwa approached Hongjoong and asked to join his crew, remember being in the back of the bar and watching it happen like it was yesterday. It felt like returning to the place where things started when I know in reality that place is home. I wonder if Seonghwa views the place solely as something tied to the worst parts of his past or the start of his future.”

“I think that one day… you can see Auriga as the place where your future started too.”

“What place is that for you?”

“In a cramped box in the cargo bay?” you offer, partly as a joke but also because you aren’t sure what else to choose. Jongho snorts.

“We would’ve started the same then.”

“When you joined — or I guess, snuck aboard rather — was it on Dorado?”

“Oh, yes, but probably not when you’re thinking. I didn’t try to follow them that time I saw them meet. And Hongjoong avoids going there unless absolutely necessary. We’ve been back maybe three times max in all my years of being here. It was several months later that they returned briefly for business to get a few more hands on the crew for an operation. Captain and Seonghwa came through the bar I worked at, and I overheard them talking about going to Aegos for a quick warehouse raid, so I smuggled myself into cargo and they brought me aboard. You’ve heard that fun bit though.”

“San was the one who found you too, right?”

You don’t get a response straight away; instead, Jongho inhales and puffs his cheeks full of air as he looks towards the ceiling.

“Yeah,” he says after the silence starts to drag, “yeah, but he was very different back then. I don’t think I mentioned that last time I told you about being a stowaway.”

“How so?”

“He knew I was there for a while, maybe three weeks? Rather than getting me out, he would come through the cargo bay and taunt me. For the first week, he would bring a gun down there and shoot into the boxes around me, threatening to kill me. He knew where I was but he would avoid shooting me because he — wanted to see me come out? I think that’s what it was. He wanted me to come out and beg for my life. He got in trouble for damaging the goods, but what’s even more strange is that when Hongjoong came down and confronted him about it, he had the chance to out me. Instead, he said he was bored and needed target practice. Week two, he would sneak into the cargo bay and at that point, I had gotten out of the box I crammed myself in and made myself a little cubby down there to stay hidden. San would come in silently and scratch at the walls of the boxes around my hiding place. Some days he would sit at the entrance and stare at me through the darkness without saying anything. It was fucking creepy as hell, but when he finally started trying to speak to me in week three, I realized that he just… didn’t know how to communicate well. I remember feeling almost nothing from him at the time like he had no emotional aura whatsoever, and that freaked me out more than anything. It was like dealing with someone who hadn’t had a normal human interaction in his life. He wanted to help me but he wanted to make sure that he could trust me first. So he would threaten me and try to scare me to see if I would snap.”

“He wanted to protect his crew…” you mutter, and Jongho shifts to nod several times.

“San was their first — Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s very first crewmember. As much as Seonghwa is so prominent in the decision-making and plans that Hongjoong makes, San is right there alongside both of them. He’s so much more crucial to so much of what we do as a crew than anyone likes to let on. San will deny it outright if you ask him, and Seonghwa will try to cover for him to keep scrutiny off San, but Hongjoong never fails to remind us that San has the same authority as Seonghwa does in many circumstances.”

“Were you the second then?”

“No, I was the fifth. But something happened one of those nights while I was down in the cargo bay, and the other three crewmates who were there at the time never showed up again. I’ve got no clue what happened to this day, and nine years have gone by without me even daring to ask. I do remember an awful smell wafting down the corridors, and I remember smelling it for a long time even after I officially joined the crew.”

“You never asked about it?” you inquire, but Jongho just throws up a shrug and shakes his head.

“I think the only reason Hongjoong didn’t kill me on the spot for being a fuckin’ stowaway is because something happened to those crewmates. I was never gonna push my luck asking about it.”

You hum, crossing your forearms on the table. Your thoughts are running wild with theories and questions about what could have happened that night Jongho speaks of as you rest your chin atop your arms.

“How did he find out you were there? Was it San?”

“I think he started to notice how often San was going down to the cargo bay, especially after those three disappeared. There was no one else for him to keep track of, and he had already warned San off going down there weeks prior, so it was pretty much inevitable that he would eventually come down at the wrong time. And he did. He saw San talking to what looked like a wall of boxes, and San scrambled to cover for me and say that it was nothing. By then, he’d agreed to help smuggle me off the ship at the next stop on Mensa. It was the day before landing that Hongjoong caught us, but it turns out he knew I was down there the entire time because San had told him I was there. Hongjoong didn’t give him any orders solely because he wanted to see how San would handle things himself. San almost killed me in a panic because he thought he did something wrong in Hongjoong’s eyes by sparing me, but Hongjoong said he never intended to hurt me. Even gave me credit for having the balls to sneak onto his ship, though he wasn’t very well known back then. I got an ultimatum similar to the one you got, I imagine. Carry my own, I could stay.”

“Yeah, that sounds quite familiar.”

“I didn’t want to stay though. Told him outright too.”

“Huh? What?” Jongho laughs as you reel on him. “You really did have balls back then. He throws a hissy fit and a half every time I so much as disagree with him.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to get to Mensa. Since that’s where Hongjoong was headed, I told him I’d be off at the next stop. And you know what he did?”

“Something stupid?”

“Changed course to fly to Yuki hours later and said that because I decided to smuggle myself onto the ship, I wouldn’t get what I wanted right away. I would have to either wait for the next chance to get to Mensa or I would get off at the next stop and find a way there myself. Funnily enough, I ended up sticking around. Only thanks to San! He still holds that over me too.”

“Has Hongjoong ever gone to Mensa since?”

“Not even once,” Jongho answers the question without having to think twice, and it does leave you to wonder how often that eats away at the corners of his thoughts. “As much as I harbored a nasty grudge towards him at first for changing course, it changed as time went on and I became actually rather grateful he did. I wasn’t even close to ready to face what I was after on Mensa, and even now I don’t want to. Maybe after I’ve made peace with what happened on Auriga, I’ll be able and ready to go there.”

“I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to set foot on Eros again. Bounty not included.” Jongho cracks a smile at that, leaning over to nudge you in the side with his elbow. Granted, Ghost of Eros doesn’t hold nearly as much vitriol as Traitor of Auriga, and you aren’t dense enough to ask what he did to earn such a title right now anyway. If anything, you hope he can find some ounce of comfort in the knowledge that he isn’t alone in feeling the way he does, and that not being ready to face such a massive part of his past is nothing to be ashamed of. “It sounds like things were a lot different back then.”

“They were. San has gotten softer over the years, Seonghwa has gotten a lot colder. From the start, his emotional aura was so hectic in ways I’d never experienced with Elitists. As time went on, he gradually mellowed it out and got it under control. I can’t tell if he simply learned how to play the part so well that it’s indistinguishable now or not.”

“Has Hongjoong been this way forever then?”

Jongho purses his lips. He’s quick to busy himself with the cards on the table, pulling them all into a pile to organize nicely, and it implies that you may be toeing an unspoken line here.

“Hongjoong is Hongjoong. That’s all there’s to say about it really. Everyone’s changed in some way over the years. Mingi and Seonghwa the most, I think. Wooyoung and Hongjoong the least.”

You wish you could know who Seonghwa was before Hongjoong in many ways, but that is simply asking for the impossible. With a sigh, you push yourself up and away from the bench to get to your feet.

“I gotta wash dinner dishes, so I’ll see you later?” Jongho hums without looking back at you, and you lean over to pinch the underside of his bicep in retaliation.

“Ow! Hey, would you quit abusing me?!”

“Would you quit ignoring me?!” You pinch harder just to prove your point, earning a firm whack across the thigh as Jongho swings an arm back at you to counter your childish attacks.

“Yes, I’ll see you later, woman! We fuckin’ live together, it’s not like you’re going off to war,” he grumbles. You let out a dramatic gasp, one far from needed but very much so worse egging Jongho on a wee bit further.

“I’ll start one with you if you’re not careful, you little shithead!”

He fully turns to smack you now but you’re almost just out of reach, leaving his hand to glance across your ass instead of your thigh this time, but you severely underestimated the amount of force behind his swing because it stings.

“If you get an earful from San tomorrow because you hit my ass too hard, I’m gonna have no sympathy!” you shout over your shoulder, and Jongho returns your quip with an audible gag.

You aren’t expecting anyone in the kitchen when you walk in, which is partly why you’re still laughing to yourself as you cross the threshold, so finding the silhouette of another person in there already when you arrive is nothing short of shocking. You cut your laughter short with an inhale as you take the figure in, a quiet apology falling from your lips before you can contain it.

“No need to apologize.” Seonghwa’s hair is neat today, parted down the middle and longer strands pushed to sit behind his ears, but those dark purple, almost bruise-like circles still remain under his eyes. “I slipped in earlier, I’m sorry for not making myself known — I didn’t want to interrupt your time with Jongho and the child.”

“Ah…” you exhale, unsure of what else to say to the man.

“I already took care of the dishes, so you’re off the hook for today. I came to prep breakfast for tomorrow.”

“You’re cooking in the morning?”

“Yes, with Wooyoung. He asked to help.”

Even with the easy out, you don’t move from your spot by the sink. Seonghwa doesn’t budge either, clearly waiting for you to make the next move or say anything that might dispel the awkwardness now hanging in the air. It hasn’t changed, you note, that tension lingering between you two. Talking through what happened, discussing his mother, fucking each other in the presence of your own lover — it resulted in a cold shoulder and the same icy air as before. So what good was it all for besides fulfilling some cheap desires of the flesh?

“I spoke with Nightingale a couple days back,” you blurt. Seonghwa pauses with his hand flat against the cutting board.

“What about?”

“He told me that Hongjoong took his eye. That San took his arm.”

Seonghwa’s eyes flash with thinly veiled anger, and through the exhaustion, you’re able to catch the glimpse of frustration on his features.

“Some would say that it was San who did both.”

“Some,” you echo, and that’s when Seonghwa catches himself in the midst of his rage and pulls his focus away from your face. “Hongjoong, then.”

Seonghwa scoffs, “Don’t overanalyze what I’m saying, princess. I’m shocked Yeon—Nightingale was willing to pass any blame onto our captain’s shoulders.”

“Am I knocking on a door I shouldn’t even be in front of, pretty boy?” you ask next. The man waits for the words to seep into his skin and settle there before deigning to respond.

“You’re making a home in a house that does not belong to you, though that is not entirely your fault. San has let you in. Now Nightingale has pulled up a chair for you at the table. I suppose all that’s left is for either Hongjoong or myself to open all the closet doors so that the skeletons can fall out.” He squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that it’s painful to even look at. When they snap open again, there is far more ferocity behind his gaze than before. “But yes, this is one of those things I would not wish for anyone to know. Yet if not for those things, how would he have become the Scourge of the Black Sea? Where would his Lieutenant of Death be?” Disgust on his tongue and in his words, you find yet another version of Seonghwa that you’ve not laid eyes on before.

One that despises the man he loves.

“Seonghwa…” A simple utterance of his name nearly breaks his shaky composure. His next smile is a pained one. “Please talk to me, please tell me what’s going on with you these days. Every day you seem worse than before…? Are you not sleeping well? If you truly can’t speak to Yunho, then at the very least I can. Or Minho can. Someone else can if you are in need of help, Seonghwa, you’re—”

“It’s all catching up to me.” His tone cuts through yours, and you’re almost grateful because you weren’t wholly sure where your train of thought was even headed. “All at once. I thought — that I was already past the limit, that I already broke enough. At no fault of yours, Y/n, there are things I had thought that I came to terms with that are now rushing back in ways I am not ready for. I am uncertain if I will ever be able to mend my relationship with Yunho, Nightingale being among us is bringing back wretched ghosts of the past, and Hongjoong is so sickly engrossed in a game that I can’t stomach watching him play any longer. It used to be that I thought Hongjoong was draining me of my life in a twisted way because he wanted me dead but now I—” when his breath catches in his throat, a tear rolls from the corner of his eye and down the slope of his cheek, “—I must truly be a fool. I must truly have lost my mind after all this time. Whether the man I see in the mirror is a monster of my own creation or the expectations I fought to meet to be my captain’s lieutenant, it does not matter. Because regardless, I can’t distinguish Seonghwa from the Lieutenant of Death anymore. I’ve played this role for so long that it’s consumed me. How am I supposed to come to terms with that?”

“Hwa…”

“Y/n, I do not need anything from you, I promise. I will not try to take more than what I’m given again. And I-I am so deeply sorry for pushing myself to accept San’s offer because it was — it was something I wanted so desperately, please do not take my words for anything else because I did want to be there. I was happy to even be considered for such a thing and yet I could not take my mind away from a past that is long gone.”

When your expression contorts, Seonghwa reaches a hand in your direction. You disrupt his path to your arm by laying a hand down on the counter and squeezing it into a fist.

“Whenever we speak, you say these sorts of things. That I’ve done nothing wrong but we can’t be close again. That you want me and it’s okay for us to want each other, but your want is only a result of chasing something from your past. You want to hold me at arm’s length so desperately but you agreed to fuck me? Knowing what happened the first time around? Did you only fuck me because it reminded you of Hongjoong?”

“Y/n, do—”

“Because you couldn’t keep his name out of your mouth when you were balls deep inside me, then had the audacity afterward to chastise me like I was a child for wanting to understand San better! You treated me no better than a warm hole to fuck, and I’m sorry but the adoration I felt from you that night did not feel directed at me in the slightest. I’m thrilled that I could be a fitting substitute for you, Seonghwa—” sarcasm drips from your tone like venom at that “—and I was never after anything more than pleasure but I cannot be faulted for feeling slighted when it was clear that I was a placeholder for someone else in your head. Perhaps the fool is me for hoping that being intimate again would do anything for us because whenever we try to talk through things, you put up a wall that’s impossible to climb and — and I’m still attached to you, I still care for you, part of me still loves you which is why it’s agonizing to watch you try to give your heart to a man who clearly does not have the same care in return!”

“You were never after anything more than sex but you hoped it would change things?” Seonghwa matches the fire in your tone with an anger of his own as he steps towards you. Brows drawing together quickly, you watch his face turn into a scowl before he continues speaking. “How fucking hypocritical. I could tell you everything but even that wouldn’t make the slightest difference in the long run. You’ve planted yourself so deeply in hating Hongjoong that the moment anyone shows an ounce of care towards him, you consider them to be stupid fucking idiots. I’ve dedicated my life to this man, Y/n! I don’t give a fuck if you don’t like him! He gave each person on this crew a safe space and a home when they had nothing and no one to turn to. Yes, I’ll admit it if you truly wish to hear the words from my lips — the whole time I fucked you with San, I was thinking about Hongjoong. I was thinking of when San and I had Hongjoong in the same position you were in years ago, but you sat there above me and looked down at me with a hatred in your eyes that you reserve for Hongjoong alone. So don’t pretend to be some sort of saint when you were doing the exact same thing as I was. Only one of us had good reason to do so, what’s your fucking excuse?”

You push away from the counter to try to escape the conversation, stumbling over your own feet. All it does for you is corner you further, pressed up against the metal as Seonghwa closes in on you. It’s a sick game of chase that you can’t get away from thanks to both his height advantage and the ease with which he clears the space between you.

“I would tell you everything of the things Hongjoong has asked his two hands to do in his place over the years, and you would be horrified by every bit of it I’m sure. But I will not give you reasons to justify your disdain for him. You do that well enough yourself.” Seonghwa’s voice drops to a whisper as he traps you between his body and the metal counter. His hands come down on either side of you right as you try to move to the side, and your hopes of escaping now are hopelessly foiled. “I hope you hate him even more now, Y/n, knowing what he had San do to Nightingale. I hope Nightingale lied so nicely about his part in things, about his hand in his own destruction, that you’re blinded by your hatred. I pray that you fall apart at our captain’s feet so gloriously that no one can pick up the pieces because then… then maybe you would understand me. Hate him to the point of obsession as you’ve clearly already pushed yourself to that point. Did it feel good imagining his dick inside you instead of mine? When your hatred turns to infatuation, I’ll be sure to tell you all the ways in which Hongjoong has orchestrated the destruction of your psyche since your arrival here.”

“If your aim is to become a monster, Seonghwa, then you are doing a fine job at it,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Isolating yourself in San’s corner of this crew is a foolish and dangerous mistake too.” The words bring a scoff from your lips instantly.

“Why? Because he’s on your level? He has as much power as you do? Or because he’s known of your being a Siren all this time? Because that’s another tally of things you lied to me about! You wonder how things could possibly fall apart between us when so much of what we built ourselves on was a lie, when I poured my heart out to you about how I truly felt about San, you stood there and said nothing of any of this!”

“And I told you that I still loved Hongjoong.”

“After lying to me about it the first time we discussed it!”

“I guess we have that in fucking common then, don’t we? Lying about wanting our captain? Was it between your friends’ deaths that you were first dreaming of wetting the captain’s dick?”

Seonghwa’s body lurches as he’s thrown away from you, and he brings a hand to cradle his jaw almost immediately. Your knuckles burn from the impact you’ve just caused — a firmly planted uppercut to his face in a blind rage that you barely process. His words sit heavy at the forefront of your brain all the while, as your chest heaves with adrenaline that won’t settle. The first angry thought to arise is one that almost makes it past your lips. Something petty and nothing kind in the slightest, a dig at him aiming to accuse him of jealousy, but you withhold it now.

“As much as I am angry with you, trust and believe that I am far more disgusted by myself, Seonghwa.” With a flick of your wrist, you shake out your aching fingers by your side. “To taunt me for it is a new low for you, however.”

“And I hate myself for many things, Y/n, but I would not have you hate me for those same reasons. That is why I do not wish to share those things with you.” He pulls his hand away from his face, brushing over one corner of his lips that now sits split and glistening with blood from your thrashing. “I do love you though, for whatever that’s worth. I’m sorry that’s… I’m sorry.”

Unspoken words, empty promises. You wish he would choose some level of honesty about why he’s feeling this type of way towards you now. Whether it comes from a place of bitterness or jealousy or that disdain for himself that he just mentioned to you. You don’t care which it is; having some fraction of truth from him would be better than what he’s presenting to you now.

You feel violent again. The crawling urge to hit something or ram your head into a wall — whichever will hurt you enough to push the thoughts right out of your brain.

“I’m sorry too,” you say instead, quiet and reserved in comparison to what you just did not too long ago. Seonghwa lets you pass without issue this time as he settles back against the closest solid surface and nurses his lip further. You wonder if he will add this to the list of reasons as to why he loathes himself so wholly and completely.

There’s one thought on your mind as you leave the mess hall, heading in a direction that is opposite to initial instinct. Perhaps a bit predictable in the route you’re now taking to reach the bridge, it doesn’t stop you from continuing on said path. Alongside that, you have the intent to put your lingering anger to use, along with the concern that if you go back to your room and see San there now, you might unintentionally sling your anger in his face without him doing anything to warrant it. You can only hope to find the man you’re after there, and the mere realization that you’re chasing him down with Seonghwa’s accusations burning hot at your heels only serves to deeper your rage to a point of no return.

Hongjoong is both right where you expect him to be and where you want him. Your steps are slow as you approach his makeshift throne at the center of the bridge.

“I know what you did to Nightingale.” There is no use in announcing yourself in any other way; the sooner you address this and hurl your disdain at the man, the sooner you can return to the pleasantness that is your room. But Hongjoong simply turns his head towards you and stares. “Everything Seonghwa said about you was the truth. You aren’t capable of any sort of remorse.”

When the man doesn’t respond, you let your gaze flit to the figure at his side. Tall form, lanky build, kind features, and a gentle expression of confusion on his face, but not an ally right now. This is not Seonghwa (though you aren’t even sure he would be an ally to you at this moment either); this is Mingi, and should you earn the ire of your captain here and now, it might reward you an early grave. If it were San by his side, you wonder how different things might be.

“I believe you are recalling what San did to Nightingale.”

“What you ordered him to do.”

Hongjoong’s lips twitch in amusement. He shifts in his chair and folds one leg over the other while regarding you with the same humiliating expression, one that tells you he finds your outburst more humorous than serious. If not for the Berserker by his side currently, you aren’t sure you would be able to keep yourself from stepping up there to deck the man in the throat.

“I told him to keep Nightingale occupied. How he chose to exercise that order was up to him.”

“You murdered the man’s entire crew before taking his arm and eye. After subjecting him to psychological torture for months!”

Hongjoong stands abruptly, bringing your thoughts to a stutter that reads in the way you step backward once.

“Tell me you were so disillusioned by my hand of kindness, Y/n. Tell me you truly believed I was a gracious man. Tell me you painted an image of me in your mind that was benevolent, so that I may bask in that glorious misconception while I pleasure myself by my own hand at night.” The words revolt you so much that your face contorts and nausea creeps into your gut. You can’t bring yourself to conceal the emotions either, and Hongjoong takes them into his palm instantly with glee. His lips twist into a sadistic grin that showcases a row of white teeth. It twists instantly into something horribly childlike: a pout that pulls the corners of his mouth down and makes his eyes turn doe-like. “You do this to yourself, resisting and playing games like this with me. Submit to me, Y/n, so that this may be easier for everyone involved. San told me he warned you, told me you now know that he has gone to great lengths to defend you from my ire, but what more can I forgive? I have demanded respect from you—” his arm shoots out to point one finger towards your face “—respect that you swore you would give! Yet here comes our righteous savior with her sword of mercy intent on murdering me atop this hill I stand on, for what?”

This is far from the first time Hongjoong has been angry with you. Yet this time his rage takes a different tone: a calm storm that sweeps up everything in its path without cease. His tone carries weight to it too, and a loudness that makes your ears ring. His hand remains stagnant and extended as he continues with his tirade.

“For what? So that you can save these people? Rescue them from me, Y/n, I beg of you, see what good you can do for them. When you return to me in two days' time with blood on your hands, I will share no sympathy.” His hand careens toward his own chest, stabbing hard at his torso, yet even that doesn’t seem to phase him. “You come before me to spurn my name, to excuse the choices your beloved lover made, but that man is my dog! Do you wish to know how I made that of him?”

You shake your head, indignant in your silence. He does not accept your refusal.

“I made him kneel, Y/n! And I will do the same to you if you refuse to treat me as your captain.” Hongjoong turns back towards his seat and flops down on it rather unceremoniously. You only dare to lift your chin and look at him once you see one of his legs fold over the other in your peripherals. “Should I treat you like a dog too, Y/n? You sure do seem to love barking.”

The grin he gives you is borderline maniacal, and even though there usually isn’t much of a difference in your heights, he uses his leverage even while seated over you now to his utmost advantage. Leaning over the empty space between your bodies, Hongjoong reaches a hand towards your face — a sweet illusion that diverts his true intention of dipping that same hand down to clasp around your throat before you can think to act. His smile drops into a scowl in the blink of an eye.

“I do wonder — if I put a collar and leash on you, would you finally behave as intended?”

You can hardly breathe with the grip he’s got on your neck, and he only squeezes tighter as he continues his tirade against you. For every inch of flack you have given this man about his title as the Scourge of the Black Seas, you find yourself wrestling with a deeply seeded terror in your gut now. That he might actually have had enough, that even being a Siren is not valuable enough, that he will kill you where you stand now.

By the grace of whatever outer being is watching over you, Hongjoong decides to spare you and throws himself back in his seat once more.

“If she will not do so willingly, make her kneel, Mingi.”

It seems harsh to think of the man who has extended a hand of comfort and kindness towards you so often doing such a heinous thing. Mingi seems to agree with that sentiment judging by the look of horror that sweeps over his face.

“Insurrection is intolerable amongst this crew — I have warned you time and time again. Do you think I would so easily allow another mutiny to happen right under my nose? I will snuff out whatever flame you are trying to light with this pathetic show, Y/n. Whatever seeds you tried to plant in San’s mind will not take root.”

Mingi takes a step down from his spot on the platform, and your heart plummets to your toes.

“Mingi…” you trail off as you stare at the man’s face, desperate for any sort of reprieve from him.

“Do as asked, Ghost. I do not wish to use force on you.” He shakes his head slightly, as though a warning to stop things where they are now, but you cannot accept that defeat so easily. It is simply not in your nature.

“If Seonghwa were here—”

“Seonghwa would whisper pretty words in your ear as he pushed your face into the ground with his boot, princess!” Hongjoong hisses through his teeth. Fitting how he did something so similar not long ago. “You think these men have more loyalty to you than to me? That giving them your body is enough to martyr yourself for their faith?” Mingi lays a hand against your back and shoves you forward as gently as he can manage. It still manages to send you stumbling solely because of how distracted you are by Hongjoong’s words. “You have humiliated yourself enough before me. Consider this not a punishment but merely an extension of that kindness you believe I have.” Mingi’s presence at your back urges you to take steps forward until you run out of space before those steps leading up to Hongjoong’s seat at the helm. It appears that the Berserker is trying to make this pass as quickly as possible, either for your sake or for his own, because a sharp force hits the back of your knees and effectively sends you to the floor in front of your captain.

It is still humiliating, despite what Hongjoong says, and your retaliation is swift. You lean forward to angle your body over the stairs and hurl the saliva that has gathered in your mouth at his shoes. You consider yourself lucky to not receive the sharp steel toe of that boot on your jaw in the moments that follow. What he does do is almost worse, however.

Sighing, Hongjoong props his elbow up on one of the armrests and lays his chin atop a closed fist. His pose exudes a nonchalance you know is merely a farce. Then he extends the shoe you just spat on towards your face and jerks his chin. The gesture seems not to be meant for you as it is Mingi who shoves you forward once more.

“I tire of playing these games with you, Y/n,” Hongjoong starts, pushing his boot into your cheek. The leather is warm on your skin in a way that disgusts you more than the feeling of having your spit wiped across your face. The wetness of your saliva lingers there and drags over your skin as the man wipes himself clean like that. You have never felt lower on the food chain than you do now, before this cruel and sadistic man who grins down at your agony with no sign of remorse. “How far one can go versus how far one should go… I do not see a difference between the two. Whatever I do, it is done for the sake of my crew. You have been given chance after chance to simply accept that. Was killing Hyunwoo not enough of an example? Or forcing you to let go of Jisung?”

Your hands tremble against your knees. He twists his unoccupied arm in a way that showcases the back of his hand to you. Rings adorn his fingers, but that isn’t anything out of the ordinary in your eyes. The gesture is nearly lost on you. Yet just as a retort is bubbling up inside your mouth, your gaze catches on a glint of one of the metal rings. One you recognize, one with a white gem inlaid at the center. It’s the same one that sat on his hand when he pushed your arm through a door.

“I can have you be treated the way Nightingale was when he refused my offer to join this crew and fall under my command. But for San’s sake, I wish to remind you that there are people other than yourself who will suffer on account of that decision. You are the one who came into the care of criminals and pirates, dear. You should have left your expectations in that seedy box of threads you were rotting away in.”

“You made me drop Jisung!” Your wail comes out strangled as the realization sinks beneath your skin and takes hold.

“I freed you of that leech of a man, and the sooner you see that the sooner you will be free of those unimportant figments of your past.” Hongjoong lunges forward all of a sudden, planting both his feet on the ground with a loud thud. When he bends at the waist, he leans between his legs to angle his face in a way that makes him look more insane. “I will dismantle you from the inside out if that is what it takes to demand your loyalty, but I suggest you not keep me waiting that long.”

“Do you even intend to stop at Kebos or was that another pretty lie meant to make me docile?” you spat out at the captain. He laughs in your face.

“What does it matter what my intentions are?”

“You’re — you’re a sick bastard.”

Hongjoong extends a hand to you, taking your cheek in his palm and dragging his thumb over the wet trail he just wiped onto it. His expression is almost fond for a moment, a sort of sympathy in his eyes as he takes in the fat tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

“Look at me.” Carefully, he twists your chin towards him. His thumb traces along the line of your jaw until it rests on the other side. It’s sick, how you find comfort in that subtle touch that holds nothing more than a faux mercy meant to appease you. He pulls you ever closer until you are forced to lay your hands on his seat, left with no choice but to grip the small fragment that he isn’t occupying between his spread legs. Your gaze flits down to the soft pink of his lips, the gentle curve to them now that they’re resting in a neutral expression, and how the tip of his tongue pokes out to wet them for only a second. “Listen to me.” You have no choice but to do as told. His fingers pinch inwards until they’re no longer resting against your jaw but now dipping into the flesh of your cheeks and gripping hard enough to make your mouth pucker. “Call me whatever pretty names you like. Curse me and spit on my feet if you so wish. Whatever hatred you harbor against me only pleases me further. You may hate me, Y/n, but you can not disrespect me. I have killed my own men for less. Siren or not, San’s lover or not — your timer ticks ever closer to zero so long as you continue with these charades. I will have you obey, and you will respect me all the while. Do I make myself clear?”

You swallow and nod roughly to the best of your ability, but it isn’t answer enough for your captain. He grips your face tighter.

“I will not hesitate to humiliate you further before the whole crew if I must, Y/n. We can make a spectacle out of it. I would quite enjoy it, in fact. Now, do you understand?”

Bile climbs up your throat.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” The syllables come out enunciated, and his underlying anger makes spit fly through his teeth.

“Yes sir.”

“How quaint,” Hongjoong laughs as he pulls his hand up from your cheeks to your hair, digging hard into the roots and yanking you back from your perch. “I was only looking for you to acknowledge your captain by his title. But sir? Don’t be fucking presumptuous.” He thrusts his hand against you hard enough to throw you back, and you land at Mingi’s feet where he still stands a little ways behind you. A flare of panic arises in your gut as you process his presence and the knowledge that he is hearing every word from Hongjoong’s lips. “Take a long hard look at yourself, Y/n. A woman who was just on her knees before me. Pliant, obedient, with no control to call her own. Isn’t that where you belong, Y/n? My pretty weapon, my pretty Siren, my pretty treasure.” Treasure. It feels wrong to hear him say that of you. It is not a title meant for you, after all, not in the slightest. “Now escort her out and fetch Yunho for me. I wish to have him in my room.”

Mingi answers the call without hesitation. His fingers close around your upper arm, and he hoists you to your feet in the same movement, gripping you with enough force to bruise. Somehow, it feels as though he is saving you in some odd and twisted way. He pulls you from the bridge with a sort of haste that doesn’t leave you any chance to look back over your shoulder at your captain. You are thankful for it. He only slows his steps once the two of you are far away from that room, yet his hand doesn’t leave your arm, grip only lessening slightly.

“Ghost.” His tone remains soft despite how it cuts through the palpable tension. “I apologize for being present for all of that.” A laugh escapes, one that sounds awfully dry.

“What can you do? Say no to your captain?”

“I will not speak a word of it to anyone. Nor will I share any of the contents of what he said to you.”

Ah, yes. The bit about you being a Siren, most likely. Unless Mingi has also been made privy to the ins and outs of who is what here on the ship too.

“He means w—”

“You do not need to defend him to me, Mingi. I understand your bond with him and what he means to you. I only ask that you understand that it is vastly different for me.”

“Why do you stay? If you do not wish to be under his command?”

“I made a promise to someone dear to me that I would not leave.” Wooyoung, Seonghwa, San. But why are you here? Solely to help a man you despise achieve his goals?

“And that is enough to subject yourself to something you do not feel good doing?” For a moment, you believe the man to be mocking you before you catch his tone and find genuine confusion in it. He is merely asking a question — nothing more, nothing less.

“That’s love, Mingi. Love and devotion both.” The Berserker stays quiet for a few more moments.

“…I see. Thank you for telling me.”

You let him guide you the rest of the way through the corridors, pausing as he does when he stops you both in front of a door that is not your own. His hand falls away from your arm as soon as he knocks, however, and the two of you nearly look normal standing outside waiting for Yunho to come greet you. The healer looks tired like you’d just woken him from slumber when you came calling for him. You opt to be the one to break the news to him.

“Captain wants to see you in his quarters.”

“He wishes to — what for?”

“He wishes to have you in his room, Healer,” Mingi clarifies for you, leaving you to roughly swallow around nothing and avert your eyes from the man’s face. “Promptly.”

“Ha… of course he does.” You hear the conflict in Yunho’s voice and glance up quickly to catch the tail end of his grimace. He nudges his way past you without bothering to even collect shoes from his room.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say through your teeth, as though it’ll have any impact. Yunho pauses.

“You of all people should know that that is quite impossible to do, Y/n. Would you deny San?”

Love, as it turns out, is the cruelest master of all.

“As strange as it may seem to you, I have been waiting for him to ask after me desperately,” Yunho continues, though his tone holds more shame than anything positive. “Maybe if only to prove that he still wants me in some capacity. Please do not tell me to leave him alone. Do not judge me or spurn me for going to him. You would do the same if you were in my shoes. If he needs me, then I wish to be there for him. Not because he is my captain but because… well, I’m sure you know why.”

She wields a knife so sharp that one slight cut would have you bleeding out across the floor in mere seconds.

Yunho steps away without another word and leaves you at Mingi’s side in the hallway.

Love and devotion both.

“Today… Ghost, today you made a very patient man angry.”

“That is what you consider a patient man?”

“Ask yourself what your defiance is really for, and why you find it necessary at all.”

“For the sake of the people I do care about, Mingi. I don't have to accept shitty leadership and the hand of a cruel and manipulative man when I know they’re suffering too.”

Mingi draws his lips into a delicate frown. He shakes his head.

“They are all happy under Hongjoong’s leadership, Ghost. What he does beyond being our captain… I cannot account for that, or for what suffering he has put Lieutenant and Healer through behind closed doors that do not involve him acting as Captain. But whenever he wears that mantle, everyone is content. It may seem egregious to you, I understand, but I am sorry to say that of everyone, you are the only one to be suffering.” Mingi buries his hands in his pockets and eyes you without saying anything for several seconds. You shift under his gaze, arms coming up to hug yourself. “What are you trying to save them from, Ghost? The suffering you’re inflicting on yourself? You saw what you did to Spectre that night you were arguing in the hallway — that was you, not Captain.”

“I know that. I know where his loyalties lie, it’s not that—”

“Then why are you trying to fight it?”

“I can’t just — j-just leave?” Your voice turns choked midway through the sentence, leaving you to fight the sudden tightness in your throat and chest.

“You could though. That love and devotion you speak of… I understand that I do not feel it in the same manner that you do, but if you are genuinely so miserable here under Captain’s command, would those people you love and who love you in return truly want you to remain in a place that makes you feel that way? Would they not wish for you to go find your happiness elsewhere? Even if it came at the cost of losing you, does love not beg for sacrifice?”

“I am too selfish for that, Mingi,” you whisper. Mingi pulls a hand free of his pockets and reaches out to lay it on your bicep, over the place where he gripped you so harshly earlier. His touch is gentle now, and he drags his thumb across the abused skin like he hopes to heal the damage he caused.

“I do not wish for you to leave either, Ghost. Our crew has changed in many ways since you arrived, and your fight to allow me my sense of freedom did not go unnoticed by me. I trust our captain with every fiber of my being, as does everyone here on this ship, and perhaps we have grown too complacent in allowing some of his more cruel acts of justice. That does not equate to us being miserable and suffering under his hand though. People make mistakes. Captain does feel guilt, and he does feel remorse over his actions. It’s just that he does not let you see that. Please do not judge him too harshly for the things that he does. Please understand that he is trying to protect the crew, his people, and his family all at once. The more you resist, the more you try to do what you did with Spectre that night, the more agony and strain you are placing on all of us. You do not have to agree with us, but please at least respect that this is our happiness.”

You offer up a series of rather pathetic nods but deep down you do understand every word he is saying. You cannot find the line between truth and a distortion of it for the sake of Hongjoong’s manipulation, but you decide (albeit questionably) to take Mingi’s words at face value. If he is lying to you now, or if it is all just a product of Hongjoong’s convoluted tactics, you will have to deal with those consequences later on down the line. Mingi squeezes your arm gently.

“I hope you are able to find your happiness too, Y/n.” In the back of your mind, you think perhaps Mingi is too kind, and he leaves you at the doorstep to your room without saying anything further.

It catches up to you the moment you lay your hand against the touchpad outside your door. Limiting the series of very unfortunate events to a simple… it is both generous and inaccurate on many levels.

San is where you expect him to be upon opening the door: propped up against the pillows with the lamp on and a tablet in his lap. You can’t see exactly what he’s doing but you do hear some residual noise coming from the speakers. He glances up to pass you a smile. Neither of you says a word. You wonder what emotion paints your features. You wonder what is going through San’s mind as he sees you. You wonder whether there will be a day when you wake up in the same bed as he and his loyalty will outweigh his feelings for you.

You wonder a lot of things it seems, and none of them are pleasant.

You take the fast track to the bathroom without bothering to wait around for San to speak. It’s as you’re splashing your face with freezing water and trying to rub away the lingering residue of both saliva and Hongjoong’s boot that he makes an appearance in the doorway.

“Is everything okay, love?”

Heaving a deep breath, you brace your hands on the counter and look up from the sink to find him in the reflection of the mirror. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest and dressed for bed as usual. Your gaze catches on yourself in the glass. Bloodshot eyes and tears rushing to join the water you splashed over yourself. The lie on your lips dies as you see yourself.

“I cannot bear to be humiliated by the captain any longer.”

When your lip wobbles, he shushes you and moves to join you by the sink. You don’t move as he twists the handle until the water stops or when he grabs for a towel. There aren’t any words exchanged while he pulls the towel over your face and sops up the mess you’ve made, but frankly, you aren’t sure what else you could say to drive your point home. San seems to be biting his words though, and it only takes one look at him to know that he has a great deal he wishes to say. He waits until he’s dried everything in sight that’s been touched by water to turn to you, setting the towel aside in favor of taking your face into his hands.

“I warned you so kindly, Y/n. Please do not do something that both of us may regret. Isn’t it easier to just do as asked?” His thumb glides over your cheek where he cradles you so gently.

“It’s pretty clear that I have a bad track record of doing that.”

San lets out the air from his lung and leans back to look to the ceiling.

“Back when you first joined us, back when we were in Echidna, you asked to be treated this way. You asked to be a weapon for Hongjoong. If that is not what you want any longer, then you only have to tell him as much. You have never asked to be anything different, have you?”

“There’s not one position on this crew that would see me getting treated fairly!”

He remains silent as he brings a hand down to clasp over yours and leads you out of the bathroom. You let him do as much without complaint mostly because you’re fighting to keep your breath from spiraling out of control and into hysteria.

“Come on, star, let’s lay down, yeah?”

It almost feels like any other night the way you crawl into bed with his hand resting at the small of your back before he slips in under the covers right behind you. He pulls the covers up over your body as you turn over to face him. The fight you’re trying so desperately to win slips through your fingers the second he pulls you into his chest and wraps a warm hand around the back of your head where your scalp is still stinging from the abuse Hongjoong put on it earlier. The tears come more freely then, and as your body shakes in San’s hold, you cry into the fabric of his shirt without relent. The comfort he offers is enough on its own, and you curse yourself for craving something more, something physical in place of kind and reassuring words.

“Please just try, my darling,” he whispers against your hair.

“I’m terrified of waking up one day to you asking to take me to the brig,” you choke out through sobs. Even though it’s muffled by his shirt, San still hears every bit of your words. You can tell that much by the way his grip tightens on you.

“I promise that won’t happen. I will fight that with all my might if I have to, I will not allow that to happen.” You can’t seem to find reassurance in the words at all though, and a burning pain sears its way through your chest as you choke on your cries.

“Why did you tell me that story? Why would you do that, why would you say that, why, San?”

“I wished for it to be — I didn’t want you to find out through someone else. I needed you to hear it from my lips before anyone else’s.”

“Why did you have to do that? Why, when he’s not even staying with us forever? You could have kept it a secret, you could have not told me, and I would never have known. Why did you have to m-make me—” a sob interrupts the thought, and you feel lips on your forehead, “—why did you have to make me doubt your feelings and intentions?”

“I’m sorry.” His breath is hot. When you try to lift your chin, he refuses to let you see his face. “I’m so sorry.”

His hands glide down from your head to your hips, and it’s with a gentle sort of coaxing that he maneuvers you onto your back. You cling to him desperately, leg pulling up to hook around his body so that he cannot even think to leave you now. The gesture urges him between your legs as you succumb to the desperation you’re feeling for something more. The tears fall more readily like this. You sling an arm up over your face to both shield yourself from view and to sop up the liquid with your sleeve.

“Star…”

“Please tell me you love me, even if it’s a lie.”

“I do love you,” he cries as he pushes hair from your eyes. “Are you sure you want me to…?”

“Please, San, I need you — I want t-to feel you.” Your hands can’t find a place to rest, jumping from his arms to his collar to clasp around the back of his neck like you’ve done so many times before by now. You know how San loves and how that love manifests; at least, you imagined that you knew all this time and now you’re faced with a crushing reality that that might not be the case, yet here he kneels, ever so desperate to prove his adoration to you now in the way he knows best. It makes you feel less torn about wanting him even while your heart is wrecked with emotion.

“I’m sorry, star,” San murmurs into your skin. He leaves a path of wet kisses along your arm, and when his cheek brushes along your skin, you feel a moisture there that is surely not from his lips. It pains your heart tremendously to have him crying above you like this, but deeper than that, there is some sick and twisted part of you that finds joy in the fact that he is feeling the pain you’re experiencing now, that he is tasting the bitter medicine of what he wrought on you. Perhaps you do understand Wooyoung better than you thought, perhaps you can feel the way Seonghwa ripped his own heart out to become a monster for the man he cherishes, why Yunho still chooses to walk into the lion’s den with his head held high — what kind of love hopes for suffering?

San moves down your body with kisses and tears both left in his wake. He whispers words into each bit of skin he can reach, tugging at your neckline to lay his tongue on your heated body before letting it snap back up into place.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

My darling, my star, my divine.

When he slips under the covers and takes your underwear to your ankles with him, his trembling fingers inch your legs apart to make space for himself there. He lays his tongue against you there too, at your most sensitive spot, and moans join the chorus of cries that won’t cease. Your body quivers at the stimulation like a chill passing through your whole system before he settles into a steady rhythm with his lips pressed into your sex and his tongue seeking something deeper. You feel his words again in his movements.

If he’s truly pretending, then you hope he acts the part for the rest of your life.

San pushes a finger against your walls alongside his tongue, and a second follows so quickly that you don’t have a chance to catch your breath. Desperate, you reach your unoccupied hand down through the sheets to find the top of his head. Your fingers tangle in his dark locks, and he moans into your cunt like a man possessed.

A moment of clarity pushes its way through the haze of arousal. San cannot be faulted for his loyalty, even if it pains you. You do not wish for him to suffer, not even for a second — if you did, then why would you have gone to such great lengths to keep him from doing exactly that time and time again? The man you truly wish to see suffer, the one you want to see in agony with his chest torn open, is none other than Hongjoong. At the end of the day, he is the cause of the cracks between you and San, the rift that grows too large to ignore now, and you wish to see him pay for it in full. A crueler thought enters your mind, but it cannot take a firmer root with San’s tongue pressing your further open to allow his fingers to curl deeper inside you.

Your nails bite at his scalp in ways that must sting and burn, but when you close your eyes, it’s Hongjoong’s face you see behind your lids and between your legs rather than your lover’s — a curling hatred that serves to deepen the pit already formed in your stomach. It disgusts you in many ways, makes you want to crawl out of your skin and scream, because as much as you despise him and everything he stands for, there will always be some part of you longing to satiate the curiosity for good.

Hongjoong was above you earlier, boot pressed into your cheek as you sat on your knees before him with no relief in sight. How much would it take to reverse the roles and have him in such a humiliating and debasing position? Beyond that, if he made good on his promise, what would that look like for you? And how deep are you willing to submerge yourself just to find out?

Isn’t that where you belong, Y/n? My pretty weapon—

He hums against you, and your thighs tremble around his head. Your fingers flex and curl in his hair like a heartbeat. It’s rampant, a speedy ba-dum ba-dum that matches the one beating in your chest right now. You wish to know how his sounds too.

—my pretty Siren—

His tongue leaves you, fingers remaining firm in their place along your walls as he rolls the pads over your sweet spot. You do not need to see his face to know that he is smiling; the curve of his lips is pressed to your clit.

“My treasure,” comes a breathy exhale from the man under you.

—my pretty treasure.

It’s enough to make you come undone, back curling up from the bed as an orgasm rocks you from head to toe. Disgust joins the euphoria just as quick, before you’ve even come down from your high, and the realization it brings with it makes you want to vomit so badly that you gag around nothing. San is quick to move with concern for your well-being no doubt, and it allows you the chance to roll onto your side until the spasms pass and you can breathe easily again. You don’t move from the fetal position you’ve taken, nor does San try to make you. He simply adjusts himself to lay at your back and molds his body around yours with an arm draped over your waist and fingers wrapped loosely around one of your wrists.

It’s as you’re falling asleep that you feel the soft pressure of lips against your head, and the words that follow make the lump in your throat swell to a point where you fear you might choke around it.

“I promise you that my love has never been and will never be a lie, Y/n.”

It leaves more questions unanswered than the opposite.

His love alone isn’t everything, and there is no confirmation that nothing he has done has been done with bad intentions. Or on account of external forces or voices telling him to do things outside of his control. You can only wonder which parts aren’t included under that umbrella and ask yourself if it’s worth ignoring for the sake of what happiness you have.

Mingi’s words ring loud in your ears.

Ask yourself what your defiance is really for, and why you find it necessary at all.

You think, as the room begins to fade into black and sleep settles in, that your will to fight is nothing more than a dull flame about to be snuffed out for good.

•─────⋅☾⭒☽⋅─────•

“Now, we will be here for quite some time regardless of how long the mission takes. This is vacation time, free time, time to rest and relax off the ship before we head back out into the thick of things.” Hongjoong speaks from in front of the airlock, dressed in his more formal captain’s attire down to his steel-toed boots. “We’re offloading cargo as usual, and we’ll be staying in the city across the gorge for our entire stay, but you all are more than welcome to pick up goods as you see fit. It would be quite hard to run us totally dry of funds. As for the mission, I’ll be taking a few of you with me, and it may require us to spread our time dedicated to the mission across several days. We won’t begin until two days from now, however, and you all will still have ample time to relax like everyone else. Mingi, of course, I would like you to join me.”

The Berserker in question passes his captain a nod from where he stands at Hongjoong’s side.

“Jongho, you as well, I wouldn’t dream of doing this without you. And Yunho, you. You’ll be my right hand for this mission.”

Seonghwa is staring at the back of Yunho’s head so intensely that you think Yunho’s head would catch fire if possible.

The airlock rolls to the side, and for the first time in weeks, you see and feel the fresh air. Hongjoong moves to the side and motions to the door, lips still pulled tight into a smile that leaves you thoroughly unsettled. Seonghwa is the first to step out of the ship, with Nightingale close behind him, and everyone else is quick to follow. You remain rooted to the spot not by choice but on account of San’s hold on your hand as he stays put until the other crew members have made their way out onto the planet. You take it as an act of politeness until your gaze shifts to settle on both Mingi and Hongjoong, who have not moved from their spots either.

“And you, Y/n,” Hongjoong calls out through his ever-present smile.

You jerk your head in San’s direction in the hopes that you will see some sort of shock present on his features. Instead, you receive a squeeze around your hand and a nod that seems to be encouraging you.

“You will be my left hand for this mission. Let’s see how tight I need to keep your collar, shall we?”

You do not reward him with a retort today. San guides you out of the airlock and into the new air, both your gazes stuck to the scenery around you the second you step out.

The gorge ahead is beautiful beyond belief, and in the distance, you catch sight of your destination across the chasm. It’s a city built into the side of the cliffs with buildings of reds and gold that stick out starkly against the endless green around it. Green water pours from the sides of the rock in many places, filling the air with the noise of rain, and it cascades down into the lake of green far below where The Horizon is now docked. Your transport is not far from the station though it is surrounded by the hustle and bustle of workers and visitors alike who have docked just like you have.

Hongjoong’s voice rises once again from behind you, loud and clear to address the whole crew.

“And remember… gas masks stay on at night.”

────────────

a/n: i sat and stared at this for like 17 minutes trying to figure out what in the world to say after this doozy of a chapter! first, hi. hello. how are you. welcome to act seven. it’s pretty unreal to be at this point honestly.. i’m so excited though i hope you guys are just as excited!! let me know your thoughts feelings and etcetc the one question i have for you all: was san calling her ‘my treasure’ something fully intentional or just happenstance?

but also just from me to you.. i want to say thank you to everyone who still reads and sticks around and is willing to be patient with me as i write. that means so much to me, i’m so so thankful, and there aren’t words for how thankful i am that people are willing to still read my story!! so thank you!! 

next up on the docket is actually an interim :3 a hongjoong centered one :3 i know i said i was done with them but... brain worms win this time!

also! survey/questionnaire is still open here (of course not a requirement but it would be immensely helpful to me!)

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

#mists of celeste #moc: spoilers #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez series #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #yunho x reader #ateez fanfic #caly.writes

[bradshawsbaby]

6

17

30

(Any of them, individually or as a group or whatever you so please) for Hannix 🤩

Hope you get out of the funk soon love

Thank you so much, lovely! ♥️ I did my best to include all three prompts (“What are you staring at?,” Caught in a sudden rainstorm, and “I really missed this”) in this one!

“So do you miss him?” Coyote asked with a smirk, slinging an arm around Phoenix’s shoulders as everyone finished cleaning up for the day and started heading in the direction of the locker rooms.

Rolling her eyes, Phoenix smirked in return and gave her friend a good-natured shove. “Who?” she shot back sarcastically.

“Oh, he goes by many names. Bagman. Hangman. Jake. You know, your lover boy,” Coyote replied, letting out a loud guffaw when Phoenix swung at him, and easily ducking away from her.

“Shut up, Coyote,” Phoenix laughed, shaking her head. “He’s only been gone a couple days, and he’ll be back by the end of next week.”

“So? Aren’t you two supposed to be in the honeymoon phase?” Coyote pressed, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You know, wanting to be together all the time and all that.”

“We are together all the time,” Phoenix pointed out with a grin.

“You know what I mean,” he replied, rolling his eyes at her.

“Good night, Coyote,” she smirked, pushing open the door to the women’s locker room and slipping inside.

The truth was that she did miss Jake. More than anything. He was only supposed to be gone for a couple weeks, off at some special training in Virginia. And he had only been gone for a couple days so far. But already she felt an uncomfortable ache burrowing deep in her chest, a strange discomfort that she couldn’t seem to shake.

Still, they’d only officially been dating for about a month, which made her feel a bit ridiculous for missing him as much as she did. She’d never experienced anything like this in any of her previous relationships, even when she and her exes had been apart for longer stretches of time. She was a fully functioning, totally independent woman for crying out loud. She didn’t need Jake around in order to be happy, no matter what Coyote might claim about the “honeymoon phase.”

And yet, as the days continued to slip by, she found herself growing more and more desperate for his return. She spent her evenings with the squad, so it wasn’t like she was alone, but every night when she crawled into bed on her own, she caught herself wishing there was a pair of strong arms encircling her.

It was ridiculous.

She didn’t need Jake Seresin.

But damn, she wanted him.

His flight home was delayed, which made her even more insane.

Don’t wait up, Minx, he texted her. I’ll Uber back and see you first thing tomorrow.

Not a chance, Bagman. I’m picking you up tonight.

Suit yourself 😘

When she finally caught sight of him, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t even been aware she’d been holding.

“Missed me that much, huh, Minx?” Jake teased, dropping his bag so that he could gather her up into his arms and kiss her soundly.

Phoenix smirked up at him, resting her hands on his broad chest. “Just impatient to see the souvenirs you got me,” she told him.

“Unfortunately, all I was able to get you was a My Super Hot Boyfriend Went to Virginia and All He Got Me Was This Crappy Shirt T-shirt,” he frowned, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “But I think it’ll look good on you.”

“Dickhead,” Phoenix laughed, slapping his arm as he reached for his bag and threw it into the back of the car.

“Damn, I’m exhausted,” Jake groaned as they began the drive back to his place, leaning back in the passenger seat and closing his eyes. “Hope you didn’t have anything too spicy planned for my homecoming, Minx,” he added, cracking one eye open with a sly grin.

“Don’t count on it, Bagman,” she smirked, shooting him a quick look before turning her eyes back to the road. An unexpected storm was passing through, and the streets were getting slick with some long overdue rain.

By the time they finally pulled into his driveway, the rain was coming down in buckets and the two of them had to race up the stairs to avoid getting completely drenched.

“What about your bag?” Phoenix asked as Jake unlocked the front door and led them inside.

“I’ll get it tomorrow. I might float away otherwise in this weather,” he grinned, green eyes twinkling as he looked down at her.

Paused in the front entryway, he shook his head in an attempt to dislodge some of the wetness that had gathered in his hair.

She didn’t even realize she was staring until he looked up at her and chuckled, raising one eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?” she blinked.

“What are you staring at?” he asked with a wide grin.

“Oh, nothing,” she said quickly, cheeks flushing slightly as she dropped her gaze down to somewhere around his stomach. “I just—” She sighed softly, looking back up at him. “I really missed this. You. Us. I missed it,” she admitted.

As exhausted as he was, she saw a spark suddenly flicker to life in his eyes as he stepped closer to her, reaching up to cup her face in his hands. “I missed you, too,” he said quietly, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I’m happy to be home, Minx.”

Phoenix swallowed past the sudden lump of emotion in her throat, tilting her chin up so that she could look directly into his eyes. “I’m happy to have you home, Bagman.”

Spring OTP Prompts 🌸

#hannix drabble #hannix #hangman x phoenix #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #top gun: maverick #spring writing prompts

[criminalskies]

Photo credit: Google

Aaron and Tall Reader HC's

He always moves his passenger car seat all the way back to accommodate your long legs before you get in the car.

When you start spending more nights together he gets a new mattress/bedframe to accommodate your height.

If anyone makes a "How's the weather up there," joke he shoots them a look that makes that person shut up.

He watches Tall Girl with you on Netflix and lets you complain through it the whole time.

Jack loves to play with you because when you lift him in the air (higher than Aaron even) he feels like he's touching the sky.

One night when you both come back home a bit drunk he places his hand over the door frame in case you forget to duck. He doesn't want you hitting your head.

You and Aaron can switch places while spooning and it's not awkward because you are near the same height.

Aaron laughs when he sees you in the bath for the first time because you just don't seem to fit in the small tub. You splash him with water for his actions.

Sharing clothes is easy. When Aaron comes into the office with a shirt that is not his, the team has ideas instantly.

I hope you enjoyed my love! It's domestic/soft Hotch hours.

Oh my goodess Levi the way my heart leapt seeing you have taken the time out of your busy day to go and write these for me just because I told you about my lovelife woes with my height!?!?!? you are so lovely sweetheart. Thank you soooooo much this is so thoughtful! <3 I love you.

This is so aaron. He pulls up to my place and does a double take getting out of the car bc he has to sit back down, push the seat back and then get out. I sure hope he drives a larger car too omg I have suffered enough neck pain in the name of love (take that as far out of context as you wish ;) )

God the way this would absolutely melt me. It'd be the first big proof that he's taking us very seriously, if he Buys a bigger BED just for me to be comfy at his place I'd want to put a ring on his finger then and there. Mind you he'd claim he's always wanted a bigger one and this was just the perfect excuse to finally give himself more room to spread out, but I know.

This is so necessary honestly because my frowny face is about as nonthreatening as a cranky toddler somehow so I really need him around to hand out all the stinkeyes I have trouble getting across. He wouldn't even need prompting either, he just knows when someone's being an ass.

Tall Girl actually did a number on me bc bro carrying around a milk crate for like five years just to kiss the girl of his dreams turned my brain to slime tbh. Aaron would make sure I know that he would have done the same if it was necessary but luckily his three inch thick briefcase pretty much ties us heightwise.

Jack is so mf cute and I would have to carry him always because reaching down to hold his hand when we walk would give me sm back pain ahahahahah but he can DEFINITELY catch a ride on my shoulders whenever he pleases.

I actually genuinely have the worst track record of bumping my head on doorframes bc without shoes on i'm like PRECISELY the height of the door so even 1cm boost and I'm bashing my crown. Bless him, even drunk he's so so so so SO considerate.

Ahhhhhhh yes we can pick any position to cuddle and be almost interchangeable!!!!!! I so desperately want to hold him like he's the one that's delicate and needs a little love and care and comfort because HE DOES. ALL THE TIME. Ahhh I would give anything to be able to hold him tight and make it all okay.

Yes god I have such a pipe dream of finally having one of those massive jacuzzi baths thats big enough for like a family of bears so me and aaron could BOTH fit for ... whatever bathtime activities we deem necessary! But yes. Me in your run-of-the-mill home baths is a sight to behold. Although I am known to crawl into them to talk to people whenever I'm too tipsy at a house party so Aaron would definitely have plenty of chances to cackle at my misfortune

I LOOOOOOOOOOVE this one so much! Sharing clothes with him would make me just feel that much closer to him and I wouldn't trade it for anything. If the team recognises before he's told them about us that he's starting to smell like me and dress like me and raids my wardrobe on his days off, then so be it. I would be so proud to have people know he's *mine*

leviiiiiiii I am now yearning like there's no tomorrow honey oh my goodness I need a life with him. I need it all!

#rome’s wonderful moots! <3 #the lovely levi! #rome’s got mail! #love mail 💌 #HOTCH MAIL! #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner thoughts #aaron hotchner imagines

[yapcarms03]

A DECADE AND NINE YEARS OF JOURNEY

My life started when my mother was rushed to the hospital. At the hospital, I immediately came out of her womb due to my excitement to begin my journey in this world. I was born at 10:22 in the evening of July 3, 2004. At birth, I weighed 3,300 grams. I had dark brown eyes and no hair.I have five sisters, and I am the fourth one. By the time I was 11 months old, I had learned how to walk. I don't actually remember my first birthday, but I remember my third birthday. It was so special to me that day. I can still remember when my father bought me my first bicycle and my favorite food of all time, and it was palabok. Ever since my father bought me a bike, I've always been thrilled to go to the basketball court, and there I practice biking with my father. When I was 4 years old, I learned how to bike with two wheels. 

During my middle childhood, my life was full of wonder, imagination, and traveling. Every summer, we used to visit my lola house. I'm always thrilled to see my lola aunties, uncles, and cousins and eat delicacies like laing, bicol express, tinapa, pancit bato, and kinalas; however, my extremely favorite is laing and bicol express, especially more spicy. As far as I can recall, me and my cousin always play in the backyard and climb trees to get mangoes, but my cousin climbed these pili nuts, coconuts, and Spondia purpurea (sininguela) trees because I can't climb very high trees. We used to fetch the ducks and pegions, feed the chickens, and clean the stinky cages of the pigs. At the back of the house of my lola, there is a huge rice plantation, and I always like to go there because I can see the splendid view of Mayon volcano, and there I can smell the cleanest air far away from all those pollutions. At that time, even when the sun is out and so hot, I always want to go out there and chill by the beautiful view. It was my ultimate favorite place to hang out with me and my cousins, and there we would harvest the rice plant and put it in a sack of rice, and we would sell it and earn money. I have always been an adventurous, curious, naughty, rascal,and no-bounds girl. Every time we have to go back home,I cry and hide. I always wish summer would never end.

In my teenage years, I've become interested in more adventure stuff. This time, I learned how to drive a motorcycle and got into more accidents. I also learned the basics of skateboarding, which is why I have a lot of scars, especially on my knees. In my teenage years, I also learned how to swim. On my 18th birthday, I learned how to dive and fell in love with cliff diving. I had two best friends who were in my neighborhood. We promise each other to be together forever. They are my childhood best friends.We always used to play Chinese garter, catch ball, patintero,hide and seek,biking on the side of the road, playing computer games, and lots of fun stuff. We used to buy and eat barbecue, ice candy, and ice cream, and buy junk food and soft drinks in the other store; even though we do have a store,it's just that my father will not allow me to eat unhealthy food. We used to hang out in Cafe Namo, SM, and other places. Somehow, the longer our friendships became, the more toxic they became. At the end of the year 2021, December 31, it was night, and suddenly I was contemplating whether I would fix our friendships or end them. I'm an idiot who is terrified to have a conversation with them, which is why my only option is to Gost them. I know it's wrong, painful, and cowardly of me, but I must do it. For a profound reason, in the year 2024, we bumped into each other. And it was totally awkward. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. And she asked me, How are you? I responded, I'm good, and she responded, Oh, that's nice to hear. She actually asked me if I wanted something since we bumped into the store. I said no, thanks. She says okay, and then we go both ways.

I am almost in adulthood. A variety of emotions and experiences define this crucial chapter of my life. I discover valuable life lessons and grow in self-discovery. I am so grateful and proud of myself, despite all the changes and highs and lows I encounter along the journey of my life. And yet here I am, still not giving up. Each day of my life, I'm getting more courageous, resilient, persistent, and determined. And I am always encouraging myself to be open to every opportunity and to never stop learning. As well as never losing hope in the dreams I'm still striving for. Because I know I can be more, I can travel to the places where I want to be, and that's 195 countries. I want to try a variety of foods and cultures in every place I go. I want to try new and adventurous things, like exploring caves, surfing in Siargao,skydiving, scubadiving, riding a hot air balloon in Cappadocia, shark cage diving, swimming with dolphins, going to the Amazon River, where I want to see a real piranha, hiking to Machu Picchu, or going to the Van Gogh Museum. And so on. That is why I need to be wise in terms of how I spend my money, learn to roll the money, and work hard to achieve this bucket list of mine. Lastly, my ultimate goal is to build my parents house near nature. I know this can all be unrealistic, but hey, we never know what our lives are going to be. Because if we did not have all these dreams and goals in our lives, we would be all missirable and lost in life.

[taeyamayang]

hello, your milestone of 1k followers feel more like a gift to us (thank you)!! i wish to join the 1k plot roulette event with: naoto tachibana (tr), and the numbers: 2, 14, 1 thank you. will be patient for it!

a/n: hello, *looks away* it's been ages sorry gsndbs anyway i tried my best, ok? my writing brain glitched so bad that i had to quit writing for the event for awhile but im back at it so i hope you like this :) also thanks for the ressurance that you'll wait for it! makes me feel better

ps. i hope this makes up for the long wait

• naoto tachibana ; hurt | angst | lovers to strangers | murder mystery

• "The emotions were already running high, but seeing the hurt in their lover’s eyes was too much to handle." - i tweaked this a bit and instead of 'hurt' i turned it to 'fear'

• bittersweet ending

-

the way back from the market is not like any other day. on a normal day, you would pick up the goods you need for the coming week, stroll on your walk back home, organize the items in the shelves in the kitchen, and proceed with your bleak daily life but today is different, far different.

a number of people have gathered at the front of the apartment building you are staying at. some are your neighbors while others are spectators. the barricade tape caged around the apartment building must have must caught their attention. needless to say, it did so to you too.

you stare blankly at the chaos stirring before your eyes. the uniformed men, police officers, are busy talking amongst themselves, taking notes, and investigating the area while you stand on your ground, hugging a paperbag full of raw ingredients.

"who would have thought this would happen? let alone in our neighborhood!" a woman around fifties strikes a conversation with you. you immediately recognize her. she lives with her daughter's family of three: she, her husband, and their young kid. they live two doors away from you.

"what happened?" you ask nicely.

"oh! were you at the market?" the old lady darts her eyes to the lettuce peeking from the edge of the paperbag. she continues, looking at you. "room 106. the woman that lives there was murdered last night. she's around your age so you must know her."

you don't.

you're too busy building a stable career to even have time to meet the residents of the building; that, and also the fact that you only have moved in a few months ago.

a siren goes off from a distance. both you and the old woman whip your heads to the direction to where it is coming from. then, from a corner a police car fancier than the ones parked at the area drives in. the officer, whom you assumed to be of higher rank, did not spare a second as he gets out of the car before the man behind the wheel switch the engine off.

"he's here! he's here!" you were only able to take a glimpse of the back of the head of the officer when the old woman snatches your attention from him back to her. "the local police have been waiting for him! apparently, this case could be related to the on-going serial killings at nearby cities and he's the head of the investigation. he's well-known in this industry and i happen to know him as well." the old woman winks as she brags about her extensive knowledge.

this woman must know you're oblivious to your surroundings.

"everyone, listen! the local police of kamifurano with the help of the city police of hokkaido have come to a decision. all residents of the yamamoto heights are obliged to come with us to the office for further investigation. men, women, and minors must come forward." a man wearing a local police badge shouts as he cups the sides of his mouth his with hands to amplify his voice.

following the announcement, the lower rank officers make way for the residents to enter the sealed area. you and the old woman duck your heads in as another officer leads the way. looking around, you realized that the murder at the building has become a big case. more people have gathered and the police men appear to be restless.

however, amidst the chaos and the murmurs from the outsiders, you feel a burning gaze on you from a distance. unable to resist the urge, you search for it and before you know it you meet the eyes of the man you vowed to forget.

he was not easy to forget. how could you simply remove a person you once thought will spend the rest of your life with from your memory? you were in love with him as equally as he was to you. it was enough and beyond enough it was perfect, almost perfect.

as it turns out, love is not the only thing that can make him happy. he's ambitious and stubborn. you were ready to settle down but he wanted more from his career and looking at the badge that hangs on his chest and the men that look up to him, you're certain. he's definitely reached his goalㅡgood for him, but at what cost?

you and him.

he has his dream and you lost your lover.

at that time it was inevitable. the distance between you two were too far to mend. it was a bitter ending. it was long ago but every bit of hurt, regret, happiness, and longing all came back in tidal wave, washing off your senses and turning it numb, as you look at him. five years of forgetting and yet you're here, reliving the emotions you once sealed tight.

you look at him unguarded. he's dazzling in his uniform but it contradicts his contorted face as fear and disbelief glaze his eyes. panic takes over when he realizes that you're a resident of the apartment building. a serial killer is on a loose, targeting women of your age who lives alone and you could be next.

"(y/n)." he says softly almost like he's afraid to say your name. all this time he had his composure but when faced with a case he cannot solve with the person he once loved so dearly is in danger, he loses it.

he's human before you and oh how you miss that look on his face. his worried face. you are reminded that he once cared for you, that he once loved you.

it was a long time ago but he's hard to forget.

"naoto, we meet again." you utter.

masterlist | tr.list

#tokyo revengers #tokyore #naoto tachibana #tokyo rev one shot #tokyo rev writings #tokyo rev drabbles #tokyorev naoto #naoto x reader #naoto fics #naoto drabbles #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev #pea.event #pea.writes

[wanderingaldecaldo]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @arcandoria last week, thank you! I've been writing this scene in my notebook and had to transcribe it first, so forgive me for being late. Presenting the full scene (so far) fairly raw and with little editing. Of course it's corpo!Val brainrot.

Also, tagging with zero pressure: @steelphoto, @rockerboyrepo, @impishbiscuit, @starsandskies, @ravenstrange, @yourblues, @fereldanwench, @arcandoria, @dreamsevergreen

Also also, if you want to be tagged in these (or I have and you don't want me to) please let me know!

The room keeps spinning and the big guy Pepe has turned into two big guys and neither seems to like him because both stand cross-armed and glaring. Val has been gone an eternity now, and under Pepe’s scowl each minute ticks by even slower. At last a patron at the other end of the bar calls him away and Mitch sighs in relief. Movement from the other direction catches his eye and he turns to see Val—only one of her—walking toward the bar. She smiles broadly and his stomach jostles, a troubling sensation he hasn’t felt in years.

When she resumes her seat, he leans over and whispers, “Don’t think he likes me.”

“Pepe? Not surprising. He never likes any men I bring to the bar. He’s been nursing a crush on me for years.”

Mitch hums. Easy to see why—smart, funny, gorgeous.... He shakes his head to interrupt that train of thought, which is also a mistake because the room lurches in the other direction and he slides off his bar stool toward Val. She catches his bicep, laughing as she rights him.

"You okay?"

He nods, carefully this time. “Nothing a little sleep and a stim in the morning won’t fix.”

“Maybe you should crash at my place tonight. Got a couple of couches. Can’t say I know how they are for sleeping, but better that than risking you driving back to camp like this.”

“Heh, prolly right. Been awhile since I had a few too many.”

“I’ll get Del to send a cab.” She quiets for a moment as she orders the taxi via her agent then she glances at him. “Ten minutes. Wanna wait here or outside?”

“Could use some fresh air.”

“Give me a sec to settle up.”

Mitch rests his head on the bar, ignoring the sticky film that clings to his temple where it touches the counter. Val, still in his line of vision but now sideways, steps toward Pepe. The big man mutters at her, his dark eyes stealing away to glance at Mitch. He can’t discern what is being said until he hears “Nomad” spat like a curse, and he bolts upright, wobbling as he does. Pepe might be able to knock him out with one good swing but he can duck and weave and do some damage first, and he is drunk enough to push his luck.

Before he can say a thing, Val snaps at the bartender, the edge in her voice as sharp as the Mantis Blades tucked away in her forearms. “That Nomad,” she says, jabbing a gold finger at Mitch, “is one of the kindest, most loyal people I’ve ever known so you will treat him with respect.”

Mitch gapes before swallowing and blinking while Pepe glowers at her before his eyes slide sideways to him once more. Mitch holds the stare, the fight in him buoyed by the vehemence of her defense of him as much as the alcohol, and both make him giddy. At last the big man yields though his glare and furrowed brow still convey his true opinions, and a reckless part of him wishes he could settle things outside, regardless of how Pepe would pummel him, or even because of it. He hasn’t had that self-destructive urge recently, and not nearly with the intensity he felt immediately after Driss’s death, but still it skitters beneath his skin and he longs to give in to it.

Val’s eyes light up as she pays the bill, the emerald transforming to a crackling lightning blue. Once the transaction is complete, she turns back to Mitch. “I’m sorry about that. He’s never been so vocal with his jealousy.”

“Bring guys here often, huh?” he asks, unable to stop himself, and he cringes before the words have left his tongue. He turns his gaze to the mostly empty beer glass in front of him, but she laughs, a real one, rich and hearty, and he loves the sound. 

“And women, yes, though I wouldn't say often. To either,” she adds, and he can hear a sly smirk in her tone.

His cheeks warm as he tilts and rotates the glass, attention still fixed on the amber liquid as it rolls around. “Probably just the usual Nomad hate,” Mitch muses. “Y’know, might be nice to see how the other half lives. Not be seen as a dirty, lazy drifter.”

Val is studying him when he looks back up, and the way her eyes pierce through him unsettles him. He shrugs off her gaze and drains the last of warm beer from his glass, then replaces it on the counter. She slips her hand into the crook of his flesh elbow and tugs him away from the bar. He grins down at her, this time unbothered by the close contact—a by-product of the alcohol, and an enjoyable one at that. As they walk she waves across the bar to a middle-aged woman then they burst out into the neon of the city. 

The cool air feels delicious on his face, flushed as it is from the alcohol and her incessant flirting. The attention makes him feel a decade younger, at least. Mitch pulls away from her to light a cigarette and extends the pack. When she accepts and brings an unlit cigarette to her lips, he holds out the lighter and holds his breath, hoping for an errant touch of her hand. She obliges, placing the cool metal of her golden fingers on this wrist as she leans into the flame. Her eyes flicker up to his, and her fingers linger a fraction of a second too long and his skin tingles. Suddenly he remembers the cartoons he used to watch with his mom, how the tricked coyote would speed off the cliff without realizing it, and only after looking down would gravity take hold, leaving the him to plummet to the ground far below.

Tucking the lighter and cigarettes back into his pockets, Mitch turns away and searches the night sky for the moon. He finds a faint white glow around a skyscraper where he expects to find the moon itself. While the light pollution from Night City makes some of the more remote stars difficult to spot, he’s used to being able to see more than this, and it makes him homesick for a place just a few miles off.

Feeling sure of his footing once more, Mitch turns back to Val. She leans against the building, regarding him as she ashes her cigarette. The alcohol makes him bold. “What?”

Her lips quirking, she takes a pull of smoke and tilts her face to the sky, releasing the smoke with her eyes still fixed on him. “Just thinking about how nicely you clean up.”

His heart pounds against the cage of his ribs and his cheeks flush, but he holds her gaze. “Not bad for a dirty Nomad, huh.”

“Not bad at all.”

A warmth fills his chest and rises up his neck to his cheeks, and he smiles proudly before turning his face to the sky and releasing a stream of smoke. He watches it drift into the miasma of Night City, dissipating into the heavy quilt of smog and grime that has weighed him down since his Coyote crossed the city limits this afternoon. 

Beside him she smokes her own cigarette, lost in her own thoughts. Her face is relaxed, unguarded as she watches the Heywood foot traffic. She has aged more than her share over the past year. More than age; there’s a weight to her presence he never felt before, and he doesn’t think it has to do with being the city’s most famous, currently living, former merc turned top fixer and owner of the most notorious establishment in Night City. Something heavier than all that.

#wip wednesday #valerie vermilion #mitch anderson #wash's writing #corpo!val au #unnamed corpo au story that is consuming my brain #cyberpunk fanfic #excerpt #tag meme #arcandoria #born to run #ship: born to run #mitch x val

[cgasue]

Catching Up

When we got home from Africa, I had fallen way behind my goal to finish in the top 5 eBirders in Ontario for 2022 and I knew that I had a lot of work to do to catch up.

The next five weeks proved to be very busy as we travelled across Ontario chasing rarities. We went as far west as the Manitoba border, as far east as the Quebec border, north to Dryden (near Thunder Bay) and south to Windsor. In between birds, Jim and I were busy trying to get the house cleaned up and decorated for Christmas since we are hosting Christmas this year for our families.

Happily the birds cooperated and we were fortunate enough to find quite a few rarities on our travels. Here are a few of them:

Spotted Towhee

Bullock’s Oriole

Tropical Kingbird

Purple Gallinule

I was still hoping to pick up a few late migrants that I missed while we were away but the chances were getting slimmer as we moved further into December. Last weekend, we planned to go to Amherst Island and Wolfe Island with the slim hope of picking up a Northern Goshawk or Gyrfalcon flying by but, as often happens in the birding world, our plans were changed on the fly.

The winds were good for Van Wagner’s Beach in Hamilton Harbour so we stopped there on our way hoping against hope to find a late Jaeger or a Northern Gannet. Thankfully there was another birder there when we arrived. It is always nice to have an extra pair of eyes. It was freezing cold and the strong winds blowing in our faces made lake watching very unpleasant but birding in a big year is not always just about having fun. We were barely there an hour when Markus started yelling Pomarine Jaeger!! I was scoping out far into the lake and meanwhile, the jaeger was flying close into shore. Thank you Markus!

Right after we saw the Jaegar, we received a message that a Dovekie had been seen and photographed in Ashbridges Bay Park in Toronto - right across the lake from where we were standing. Another decision: stay and look for more rarities or drive to Toronto and hope that the Dovekie would stay put. We decided to stick around a while but then we received another message that the Dovekie was being seen again so off we went. A little over an hour later, we arrived at Ashbridges only to hear that the bird had flown off towards Hamilton. Darn! This was a huge bird for Ontario listers and there were birders coming from far and wide so that they could see this cute little bird and also add it to their Ontario list. As we waited and scanned the shore, we had a nice time chatting to fellow birders and also photographing a beautiful Harlequin Duck.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too long before someone shouted that they had found the Dovekie. Yay!! The tiny little penguin-type bird gave us great looks as it saw and dove very close to the shoreline. #335. So exciting! it was a really fun day as everyone was happy for the opportunity to see the Dovekie.

As it wasn’t too late yet, we decided to continue with our original plan to go to Amherst Island. We just got past Belleville when we heard about a probable Slaty-backed Gull in Niagara Falls. Another tough decision! As this was a more likely bird to get and Amherst Island was just a fishing expedition, we turned around and went to Niagara. Traffic through Toronto slowed us down and it was too dark to look when we arrived, so we went back early in the morning and spent many hours trying to track it down. We were lucky to meet up with a fellow birder who is way more experienced that we are and she helped us scan up and down the Niagara River but with no luck this time. It was still a good day though as I learned a ton about gulls (thanks Jean!) so all was not lost!

It is now a week later - no new birds but we are once again going to try Amherst Island and Wolfe Island to see what we can find. Wish me luck!

[meganlpie]

Wife?!

Based on this request: If your requests are still open, is it possible to have a fic with Legolas and he introduces you to the Fellowship, as his girlfriend/wife. Everyone is surprised. Please and thank you.

Here you go! As always, the LotR characters are NOT mine! They belong to Tolkien.

Warnings: Pure sweet fluff pretty much.

Pairings: Legolas x wife!reader

You paced. Oh how you paced. Your husband had been gone for far too long at this point. You were certain you were driving your husband's father insane. Thranduil was not exactly a patient man even though he loved Legolas and you more than anyone else. And your incessant worry and anxiety was driving him up the wall.

"Y/N, my son will return. You mustn't fret so." You nodded, but resumed wringing your hands, making him sigh. "Why don't you travel to Imladris? Legolas will surely be there before he returns home." You stopped, wondering why you hadn't thought of that before. You grinned and thanked him before running off to pack for your journey.

*time skip*

You slid from your horse. Your legs were exhausted from riding, but had pushed yourself to make it Imladris in record time. Something told you you'd be seeing Legolas sooner rather than later and you couldn't wait. You had been parted from him for longer than you ever wanted be. Yes, elves lived long lives, but that didn't mean you had to like it.

You were greeted by Lord Elrond's steward Lindir. "Has there been any word, Mellon?" you asked and he gave you a smile. "It is not for me to say, Princess. Lord Elrond will inform you of everything you need to know." You ducked your head at the use of your title. You hardly used it around Mirkwood. The servants did, of course, but you didn't care for it. Still, being married to the Prince of the Woodland Realm technically made you a princess now.

"Very well. If he is free, I'd like to see Lord Elrond." Lindir wasted no time taking you see the ruler of Imladris. Elrond greeted you with a smile that told you he was hiding something. "Hello, Y/N. It is lovely to see you." You greeted him in kind, but couldn't help but to ask, "Is he here, Elrond? Has he returned?" Elrond gestured for you to follow him.

You heard his voice before you saw him. He was out in one of the many gardens, dressed in all white. His back was to you so he didn't realize you were there as he was engaged in conversation. It was the dwarf sitting beside Aragorn that noticed you first.

"We have company," his gruff voice announced as Elrond made his retreat. Legolas turned to face you and his eyes widened for a moment. "Legolas," you breathed out, unable to stop yourself. In an instant, he was in front of you, his arms wrapped around you. "Melamin, what are you doing here?" You let his rest his forehead against yours. "I missed you…Well in truth, your father sent me. I do believe I would have driven him to madness with my worries if he hadn't."

Legolas let out a laugh before gently kissing your forehead. Aragorn cleared his throat. Of all the people in the garden, only he knew who you were to the fair-haired elf in your arms. "Mellon, it is good to see you," he declared, rising to greet you properly. "I think we missed something," one of the hobbits commented. "Ah, yes. Allow me to introduce the Princess Y/N of the Woodland Realm. Legolas' wife," Aragorn did the honors.

"WIFE?!" a chorus of voices responded nearly making you jump. "You did not tell them, Melamin? I'm hurt." Legolas rolled his eyes. He was used to your dramatics. His father was far worse. "My apologies. I supposed I wished to keep you to myself a little longer." Your gaze softened. "I suppose you are forgiven then." You pulled completely away from him to address the group gazing at you in wonder.

"I should like to know you all. I assume you are who my husband was traveling with. I want to hear everything for he tells me nothing. He fears I worry too much." Legolas arched a brow. "You do worry too much. You said so only a moment ago." You shushed him as the group began telling you everything.

"You truly had this competition going the entire journey?" you asked the dwarf, Gimli, who chuckled as he sharpened his axe. "Aye. He lost." Legolas muttered something about how it was an even tie. "While I do not doubt your skills, Master Dwarf, I sincerely doubt my husband was anything less than his best self." Gimli's cheeks turned pink, but he nodded making you laugh once more.

Legolas watched as you spoke with the people he had grown so close to over the months he'd been traveling. He watched how the setting sun seemed to illuminate the strands of hair the wind decided to blow. He watched how the corners of your eyes crinkled with laughter and how they shone bright with tears when listening to certain tales from the journey.

As he observed you, Legolas realized how lucky he was to have you. Even through this uncertain time, when the world you knew could have ended, you were there for him. He carried you in his heart always. You were waiting for him to return and even came so far as to meet him just to see him before he could return to Mirkwood. You helped him when his duties to his realm grew to be too much and it was you who helped him reconcile with his father.

You met his gaze and smiled. Legolas returned it knowing that you and he would soon have all the time in the world together. You would return to Mirkwood together and begin your life again, perhaps even start a family. Legolas didn't know what would happen next, but he knew in that moment when your eyes met his that he needed you. He loved you. In fact, he was certain he couldn't love more even if he tried. You were his home. His friend. The love of his life. His wife.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @esoltis280 @motleymoose @stories-by-shanna-p @dark-angel-is-back

Tolkien Tags: @jotink78 @wanderinglittlefangirl @thealbersclan @justcallmecinammon @evyiione @legolaslovely

#tolkien #lord elrond #lotr #legolas #legolas x reader

[lovelybarnes]

scars- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: heavy mentions of insecurity, focus on scars, injuries, blood, wounds, canon violence about: requested! (PK9) kissing scars, bruises, scratches, etc. + (PF26) person a wiping person b’s tears away a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! i hope this is what you wanted and that you liked it!!

[ @tylard-blog1 ]

you’re aware that everyone on the team has them; natasha romanoff, even steve rogers, with his unbreakable milk skin, and bruce banner, with the green that tinges the hue of his temples when a scar is made. they’re reminders of what you do, some symbols of the lives that you’ve saved-- and others the lives that you’ve taken.

yes, everyone has them, but that doesn’t make you like the ones that litter your own body very much. nor does it stop you from looking away from them when you catch a glimpse of the scars that peek out of the clothing you specifically choose to hide them away from the curious eyes of the public. it doesn’t stop the frustrated tears that ebb in your eyes when you run the tips of your fingers over the raised tissue.

sometimes you realize how unfair it is of you to hate the scars that splay on your collarbone, and the ones that run across your hips and thighs, when you press your lips against the ones on bucky’s shoulder, pleading for him to believe you when you say you think he’s beautiful. the thought lingers when you playfully roll your eyes at natasha on the rare moment when she narrows her eyes at the healed bullet wound that sits above her hip, genuine words assuring her she looks great no matter what slipping out of the same mouth that utters ugly words at the mirror. you ignore it even as it guilts you when you touch the scars on bruce’s arms with featherlight fingers, pressing that they don’t make him a monster, or any of the hideous words with which he describes himself.

you try to tell yourself the reassurances apply to you, too, because they’re true-- the scars don’t diminish the beauty of your smile, or the glow that you carry, and they shouldn’t hinder the upwards pull of your lips when you catch a glimpse of them in the mirror-- but even as you try to convince yourself of that, your eyes always flit away, hand positioning itself in front of the scars as you examine the way you’d love yourself without them.

you were never aware of the blue eyes that caught your moments of dislike for yourself, missing the bead of worry that embedded itself in the cerulean of bucky’s irises.

-

it was on a particularly bad day of yours that one of your relatively smaller missions was scheduled. listed underneath your name was bucky’s, although he was only on there because he had demanded you never to go on a mission to an active hydra base alone, even though he knew you could handle it; you didn’t mind, always enjoying the quiet moments you got on the quinjet with bucky-- and the pilot, usually clint or steve, who bit their tongue, unlike sam or tony.

it would’ve been fine on any other day, but your day hadn’t started on the best note. the scars underneath your clothing seemed to burn every time you moved in the way they had when you first received them. you had stared at them for far too long, wishing you had the super-healing of the asgardian gods or the super soldiers you surrounded yourself with, who would never get permanent scars from the things you had experienced. they felt especially ugly sitting on your skin, making you want to lay in bed all day, pretending they didn’t exist.

your mission cut off your day of wallowing in your bed, forcing you to shove on your suit and sit in the quinjet to arrive at the mission you could’ve easily handled by yourself had it been another day and you had felt any other way.

you were from the same black widow program natasha was from; you were probably impossibly better, more ruthless and uncaring because from the moment you were born, you had nothing to lose, no family to protect, no memories of a childhood--even a fake one-- to hang onto. your movements were always calculated and perfect, like they had been forced to be, and your emotions were never supposed to cloud your anything-- they never did, except for when you had the days that knocked you off your feet, just like these.

nevertheless, you were distracted in the base with bucky, although you shouldn’t have been, considering the delicate information you were handling. you flawlessly did the routine of knocking guards unconscious, ignoring the way a harsh heat flashed in your hip when bucky’s hand touched the place where one of your more brutal scars was. it felt nearly as if he could feel it under his fingers, even though it was a ridiculous thought considering the material of your tac suit.

it was still going relatively fine; you had recovered the usb file you had been assigned to secure, and most of the guards were dead, fallen in a trail that created a clear pathway for bucky to find you, usb drive clutched tightly in your hand as you bled out on the floor, a knife thrown next to the pool of blood quickly forming underneath you and the person who had done it lying dead a few feet away. your gun was in your other hand, one of its bullets embedded in the hydra agents’ chest. bucky could hear the strangled gurgles of breathing coming from the agent, but he paid no attention to him as he rushed to your side, eyebrows furrowing as his hands reached the stab wound. you hissed sharply when you felt the cold of his vibranium fingers meet the burning hot of the injury, pressing down hard as lightly as he could while he mumbled something into the comms you never used. you were suddenly gathered into his arms, cringing when you heard a scream you didn’t realize was yours until you felt bucky’s lips moving in reassuring sentences next to your ear, a string of apologies falling from his lips. you never let go of the drive, desperate to keep hold of something that connected you to the real world, not wanting to focus on your other alternative: it was irrelevant when compared to everything else, but through the blinding red of pain, the only thing you could focus on was obsessing over the fact that a new scar would inevitably heal in place of the stab wound-- one you knew you would survive because you’d survived a hell of a lot worse than it, but the next ugly thing to form in your abdomen might just make you never want to see yourself again.

warm tears rolled down your cheeks as bucky carried you back into the quinjet, one of your hands tiredly fisted at bucky’s shirt, trying your best to stay awake but ultimately failing from the loss of blood and will.

-

it’s stupid. you’re aware, but your first thought when you open your eyes again is how there is yet another scar that will form on your abdomen, making tears rush to your eyes in frustration because it was your fault it was there anyways. had you just paid attention-- just not concentrated so on the wretched things, a new one would not be forming right now. the collection of ugly tissue that littered your skin was already too large.

the frustration you felt overpowered the painful numbness that settled over the wound in your abdomen, making dried tears spring back to life and dribble down your apple cheeks, alerting your boyfriend of your state. “doll? what’s wrong?” he asks, and at the sign he’s there, listening to your whimpers and audible disdain, the dam breaks loose, your hands reaching up to your face and tugging at the gash.

bucky’s up on his feet, tender hands circling around your wrists to pull them back down, “y/n, what’s wrong, doll?” he repeats, gentle blue eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. you squeeze your eyes shut, another salty trail making its way onto the bow of your lips. bucky’s warm fingers wipe away the wetness, his fingertips light.

“baby, please tell me what hurts,” he begs, his vibranium hand making its way into yours. you shake your head, squeezing his cold fingers. “i hate them,” you mumble, feeling his palm cupping your jaw, “i hate them so much.”

“hate what, honey?” he questions gently, brows furrowing further when he sees your hand curling into a loose fist above the place where his hands have lovingly settled: right on your scars. “i’m sorry,” you cry quietly, nose scrunching up when his fingers trace over the tissue he’s memorized the location of, “i hate them. they’re ugly and i hate them.”

“these?” bucky inquires, surprised. he lifts your shirt-- really, his-- to see the object of your tears, catching when you shut your eyes again and more tears drip off your jaw.

“bucky, no--”

bucky looks up at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “y/n…” he starts sadly, pulling away to get you to look at him. “they’re not... “ his eyes flick down to one of the scars, and he taps on it gently, “d’you remember this one? it was a couple years ago when i barely joined the team.” you can feel a lump growing in your throat, perfectly able to recall where you got it.

“you barely knew me back then, but you did know i was a super soldier, and you jumped in front of that bullet anyways. god, i knew i had to ask you out before someone knocked sense into anyone else.”

you sniffle, biting your lip, “this one,” he touches another one, “you saved nat and a little girl from a madman. her parents were so thankful they stayed with you until you woke up to thank you.” his finger wipes away another tear, “she invited me to her birthday party this year,” you snivel, and bucky smiles.

“these are not ugly-- you are not ugly, i promise.” he tells you. “i love you, every part of you--” his head suddenly ducks down, and you can feel his lips softly pressing against the scars, careful to avoid your newly forming one. your hand reaches his jaw, running your nail along his stubble as more thankful tears slip from your eyes. “i love you,” he repeats, kissing your lips.

“thank you,” you whisper against his lips, sniffling as you feel the burn on the scars slowly begin to disappear with the coolness of bucky’s vibranium fingertips.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes angst #sad bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky barnes sad #sad bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #avengers #avenger!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky fluff #angsty bcuky barnes #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluffy fic #bucky barnes angsty fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction angst

[quillsandtypos]

The Edge in Revenge

Words: 3k

Warnings: smut, degradation, female oral receiving, sexual edging, and underage drinking mentioned (NO SEASON 2 SPOILERS, I just started watching season one but I needed to get this out of my head)

Pairings: JJ Maybanks x fem!reader

...........................................

JJ really shouldn’t have been the one to underestimate what you were capable of doing in the name of revenge. He’d been fucking with you all day. It had started that morning, you were alone in his kitchen as the other Pogue’s were still asleep. He had you pinned up against the wall lightly sucking on the side of your neck. As he trailed down to your collarbone he suddenly pulled away. You furrowed your brows at him but he just winked and smirked before he walked away; leaving you wet and confused.

Then later after lunch he managed to get you alone before you and the other pogue’s went out on the water. You were still inside grabbing the cooler, as everyone else was already on the boat. He snuck up behind you unbeknownst to you. You felt his hot breath on his ear. “You need help with that princess?” he asked cockily. You felt his warm cock press against the back of your ass, and his hand was at the small of your back.

“Oh definitely,” you responded eagerly. You turned to him as he easily pulled you in with one arm around your back, and the other at the back of your neck. Your lips interlocked, and you hungrily kissed him back, almost begging for more. But just as the time before, he quickly pulled back. Grabbing the cooler from behind you and heading out the door. With a ‘thanks!’ and a barely contained giggle. Oh he was a dead man, you decided right then that revenge was most definitely an order.

So you came up with the perfect scheme. If he wanted to play that game, then he would quickly learn who he was quite literally playing with.

“Ki,” you said. You quickly pulled her away from the boys. “I need a favor, I need you to get JB and Pope away from JJ.”

“Do I even want to know?” she laughed.

“It’s in the name of revenge,” you offered hopefully. She let out a long fake sigh.

“Hmm, let me think,” she took a long pause.

She cracked a smile. “I’m just kidding, you should’ve started with the revenge part.”

“Yes! Thank you,” you said, hugging her tightly.

“Come on JB, we’re gonna go help Pope with whatever he’s doing in the kitchen,” she said, pulling him along.

“What? Oh, okay,” John agreed confusedly as he awkwardly followed her.

And so then there were two. You casually flopped yourself down on JJ’s lap, who seemed slightly startled at first, but then just wrapped his arms around your waist. As much as it was a sweet gesture, you didn’t sit there to be sweet, so you needed to ruin the moment. Lightly, you rolled your hips back so you went right across his dick, and then rolled forward, making sure to move slowly but applying a small amount of your body weight as pressure. You weren’t certain he was giving you a look that could kill, but you didn’t bother looking. But what you did do was speed up a little bit until you felt his dick grow hard.

Smiling a smug grin you moved to get off of him. But his arms helds you there. He swiftly pulled you down onto his chest so your right ear was directly next to his mouth. “When we are alone next, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re screaming,” he whispered lowly.

You adjusted your head so you could see his face. “As if you could ever have that effect on me,” you smirked.

“Care to up the stakes then? Or are you too chicken?” His eyes gleamed, and at the same time so did your’s.

“Name your price,” you said confidently.

“If I can get you to beg, then you owe me a six pack of beers.”

“That’s it?” you asked, surprised.

He raised his eyebrows, “Fine, a six pack of beers, and you have to go skinny dipping with me next Friday night.”

“But I have to work next Friday,” you suddenly remembered.

“What? Not feelin so cocky now princess? Afraid you’ll lose?” he taunted.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Of course not. So what do I get if I can make you beg?” You poked him in the chest for emphasis.

“Alright, if you win, then you get me as your personal boat driver, or person who gets you things, or whatever,” he offered.

“You sure that’s quite a high bargain JJ?” you now taunted back.

“Yeah, I’m not worried,” he replied cockily. He offered you his hand to shake and you took it.

“Prepare to be my personal maid,” you said.

“You better prepare to beg,” he countered.

You moved off of him just as your friends came out of the kitchen. “You guys wanna come with, we’re going for a night swim?” Johnny B offered.

“Nah, we might be out later though,” JJ answered before you could.

“Suit yourselves,” Pope shrugged. Kiera sent you a wink before also heading out the door with them.

JJ and you practically booked it to his room as soon as they shut the door. You quickly grabbed a condom from his drawer where you knew them to be by memory. You turned to throw him the condom to see that he was already on his bed with his shirt off. Every piece of your body was drawn to his chest and the way his back muscles looked in the low light, but you weren’t going to let him know that. So you deflected.

“Someone’s eager,” you commented.

“I-” JJ started to defend himself but the comment got stuck in his throat as he watched your movements. You began slipping your shirt off to reveal a black bra that was sheer, and lacy around the straps and underwire area. It pushed your boobs up nicely and accentuated your cleavage perfectly. JJ was a mess.

“This is so not fair,” he groaned, his jaw practically on the floor.

You knew the effect the lingerie would have on him, which is exactly why you picked it. “What? You too chicken J?” you said, using his taunt from earlier.

Your words made him recover quickly. “No, of course not,” he scoffed.

“That's what I thought you’d say,” you smirked. Now you let your jean shorts fall to the floor, so you were able to show your black thong, which was not as fancy looking, but you knew it would practically make JJ lose it.

You were right, he looked like you had placed him under a spell. When he finally snapped out of it, he pointed next to him. “Bed princess. Now.”

He was almost making this too easy. “I don’t know about that. How about please?”

JJ nearly opened his mouth, but quickly caught himself before he could say anything. “Fine, I’ll do it myself,” he smirked. He moved off the bed, to grab you. You tried to avoid his hands, but there wasn’t much room to run around, so he easily caught you. He threw you onto his bed, and you let out a small yelp of surprise. Before you could even think about running off again, he jumped on the bed, flipped you onto your back, and pinned you. His knees were on your hands, effectively keeping you from touching him.

“Are you going to be a good slut and scream for me?” he asked. His face a few inches from yours.

“Not a chance J,” you smiled.

“Have it your way then, but either way, you’ll still be moaning my name.” His arms lowered so he could dip down to kiss a couple inches above your collarbone. His knees still held your hands in place. He sucked hard against your skin, making sure to leave marks.

“Wait, no marks JJ,” you told him.

“Should’ve told me that sooner now everyone’s gonna know that you lost a bet,” he teased.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed.

JJ didn’t have a comment on that, but went back to work leaving you many bruises that you would have to cover the next morning. Oh how you wished your hands could be in his hair at the moment. He made an agonizingly slow trail down to your bra, before removing it and throwing it onto the floor of his room. He then started sucking on one of your breasts letting his lower lip just gently brush against your nipple everytime he sucked above it. He had found out about the spot driving you crazy the first time you had sex, and now you were strongly wishing you had never told him.

You had your mouth clenched rather tightly so that no moans would escape your lips. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend noticed that.

“Come on y/n, just let it out. You know that no one can make you cum like I do,” he taunted.

Luckily, his temporary break gave you a chance to get control of yourself again. “Fuck off,” you retorted.

“Yeah, that was kinda the plan.” He grinned devilishly.

He must’ve realized that he was not going to get you to break by doing that, and instead moved farther down to pull your panties off.

His head ducked down to your pussy, but he made eye contact just as he did so. “You still feeling cocky?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Alright, then let’s see how long that lasts since you’re such a slut for me,” he said with a wink before ducking his head fully down. He sucked another hickey on the inside of your thigh, and he slowly started licking towards your pussy. You could practically feel his tongue against your clit, but he was taking his sweet time.

“Stop teasing,” you finally groaned out.

“Is that begging I hear?” he questioned.

“No, I’m telling,” you said matter of factly.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed with a chuckle.

His tongue slowly started lapping across your folds, occasionally flicking along your clit. Oh god you were in heaven, but simultaneously in hell because you couldn’t make a peep. His tongue once again licked across your spot, and you had to slap your hands over your mouth to keep a moan from escaping your lips. You could feel the smirk on his lips, but you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting you.

A few whimpers nearly came out of your body, and your hands were nearly shaking from trying to hold it in. But all of a sudden you realized that letting it out may be to your advantage, hearing your noises of pleasure, always had quite the effect on him.

So you did. Every moan, and whimper you let him hear. He thought that he was getting to you, which truthfully he was, but the game was far from over.

“You’re eating me out so good,” you moaned.

Your plan was already working; you noticed that he started to pick up the pace.

“Oh god JJ!” you screamed as he licked over a good spot on your pussy.

He continued licking in that exact spot which almost made you want to give up the bet right then in there. You felt shivers go through your spine as your core started to heat up but you were too stubborn to lose yet.

“No one fucks me like you do,” you moaned, knowing damn well the effect it would have on him.

Your plan seemed to have worked as he quickly took off his shorts, put on the condom, and just as his cock was about to enter you, you stopped him.

“Beg,” you insisted.

“Y/n fucking pl-” You had nearly had him, but he managed to stop himself before the words tumbled out.

You smirked, as he finally realized what you were doing. He however was now hell bent on making you lose. JJ climbed back on top of you with new vigor. “You’re smart, which is exactly why breaking you will be so much more fun,” he taunted. His head went back down again.

Your hands entangled in his hair as he went back to licking every single nook and cranny that he could find. “Fuck,” you whimpered as he once again licked your even more sensitive clit. You could feel the tension burning in your core, and a tingling sensation starting to spread all over. You started to buck your hips from the stimulation, and JJ was quick to force you back down. As his flicking became more rapid, you felt your body start to tense up.

“JJ I’m gonna-” you had started, but suddenly he had stopped.

“Beg,” he told you. And as much as you wanted to give in you were determined to knock the cocky grin off his face.

You sat up on your elbows. “Make me.”

JJ looked delighted by your answer. “That’s fine I got all night.”

“Inside me JJ,” you told him. You knew he wanted to make you beg for that as well, but you knew that he wanted to be inside you more.

He thrusted his cock into you and you did your best not to slide backwards from him pushing into you. “Oh my god you’re so wet for me, you really have been waiting.”

After he had checked on you he began slowly thrusting into you, going deep into you. “Oh shit,” he moaned. He would have to explain a lot of scratches across his back tomorrow but quite frankly you didn’t care.

“JJ!” you half moaned, half screamed as he went down again.

“You’re such a dirty slut for me aren’t you?” he taunted you.

You wanted to have some sort of retort but all that came out of your mouth was another moan, which just egged him on more.

“Come on, I know you’re tempted.”

Truthfully, you were extremely tempted, but you could surely outlast him right? But then you had an idea, he couldn’t stop it if he didn’t know what was coming. So as you felt your body starting to be strung out again you did you best to keep your breathing the same, and to not move around as much. But just as you felt the tension building he stopped.

“JJ?” you groaned in confusion.

“You seriously don’t think I don’t know when you’re going to have an orgasm?” he laughed. He pushed his hair out of his face and grinned down at you.

“Y/n you might as well just give up now, and spare yourself,” he suggested.

Collecting what small amount of strength you had left you said “Not a chance.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he smirked.

The warning was evidently very necessary, your whole body was starting to feel ten times more sensitive than it usually did. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasant goosebumps through your body. Your legs were shaking, and your voice was admittedly starting to go away. Your body felt like it was screaming that it wanted to orgasm. He started to slow down, but you were so close. You attempted to buck your hips into his to get the feeling back but he held you down. With a satisfactory grin on his face, that you needed it so bad.

“You’re not getting an orgasm unless you beg and we both know that I could fuck you for hours,” he taunted.

“Fine, fine, fine, please, please, please let me cum J, please. I am begging you,” you whined.

“That’s all you had to say princess,” he smirked. Finally his pace picked back up, to a more rapid one.

“Fuck you feel so good,” you moaned to him. There was no point keeping it in now. Your hips bucked in rhythm with his, as he moved in and out. But his rhythm slowed down as what you recognized as his climax.

“Oh god,” you heard him say as it finally hit him. His moans of pleasure only sped up your’s. “Fuck,” he moaned on top of you. But he managed to push himself back up to go down into you a couple more times for you to reach your climax.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire with tingles. The feeling spread from your stomach to your breasts to throughout your whole body. Your legs began to shake and you couldn't form words anymore. The only coherent thought you could form was how good you felt. Even after you had reached your climax, you had a sense of euphoria that you just couldn’t shake.

Eventually, you felt JJ start to move out of you, and you both whimpered slightly from how sensitive you were. You saw him take the condom off and throw it away. You lay in bed, still breathing heavily.

“Give me your hand, we’re going to the bathroom,” he said sweetly, but insistently. You groaned but you didn’t protest.

After you had used the toilet, you both flopped back down in his bed. It was quiet for a couple minutes before JJ spoke up.

“You know I’m really excited to see what beers you get me,” he teased.

“Shut up,” you laughed, lightly smacking him in the arm.

He lightly smacked you back. “Oh and don’t forget to call off for Friday tomorrow morning,” he grinned.

“I hate you,” you said as you rolled over.

“I love you,” he said sweetly, as he wrapped his arms around your midsection.

He always had a way of making you happy. “Love you too J,”

“Goodnight princess,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

“Goodnight JJ.” And you quickly fell fast asleep in his arms.

Needless to say, the other pogue’s weren’t worried that you never came outside. They knew where they would find the two of you the next morning.

#quillsandtyposwrites #q&t- obx #obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank one shot #outer banks #outer banks one shot #q&t- x reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks season 2 #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank x pogue!reader #obx pogues #the pogues #smut #jj maybank x y/n smut

[flusteredloser]

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter. 

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets. 

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.” 

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?” 

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal. 

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.”  “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?”  she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair. 

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry. 

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling. 

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed. 

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.” 

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence. 

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.” 

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...” 

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends. 

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan). 

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...” 

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.” 

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening. 

“i- no. that was it.”  

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right? 

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous. 

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his. 

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red. 

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud. 

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face. 

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say. 

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face.  fuck.  “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent. 

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze. 

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?” 

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

#richie tozier #richie it #richie tozier x reader #teen richie tozier #richie tozier imagines #richie tozier fanfic #richie tozier fanfiction #stanley uris #stanley uris x reader #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #richie tozier x y/n #stephen king it #it movie #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #fanfics

[marvels-writings]

Dreams

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Requested by: hi! i love your imagines and i was wondering if you could do a natasha or carol imagine where the reader is their wife and is pregnant but hasn't told them yet, the rest of the team don't know about the reader so when the reader arrives at the tower the avengers attack her but because the reader was an agent as well she fought well and was winning when nat or carol come down and tell everyone to stop, the reader than asks if this is a good time to tell her that she is pregnant thanks! <3

Word Count: 1.5k (fluffy)

A/N: Y’all i finally got inspiration back, updates will still be a tiny bit slow, but I think you’ll like this fic

The test lay upside down on the sink, the timer on your phone next to it; ticking off every second that went by. You paced around the bathroom, from one side to the other. You bit your fingernails, an awful habit you meant to put a stop to. But found it hard to at this moment.

This was your third, no, the fourth try. Every failure brought you closer to giving up on this golden dream you'd crafted with Natasha. This idea that you might have children of your own to raise in a large house in the suburbs. To be domestic and at peace with your life.

That chance seemed further with every test.

You jumped as the timer buzzed loudly on the side of the sink. Hurriedly, you switched it off and turned the test over. Your eyes widened as you dropped the device on the ground. It clattered dully as a grin covered your face at the result.

Two lines.

You were pregnant.

Grinning, you grabbed the test to rush out to show it to your wife. You stopped quickly, remembering she was at the Avengers compound. Instead, you picked up your phone, texting her a picture of the test, and trying to call her. No answer.

She needed to know, even if that meant you had to go down to the compound yourself and tell her. You knew she was adamant about keeping you away from her work life, not wanting to involve you in a work that seemed to bring the horrors of her past with the threats of the future. You didn't blame her for wanting to keep you away, even though it was hard not meeting the people she risked her life for.

Debating it in your head, you eventually decided to go tell her. You quickly grabbed your coat, and at Natasha's common insistence, a knife in your jean waistband. The knife would probably be a bad idea in a few months, but you'd rather not be caught without it, for now at least.

Trying to call her one last time, you rushed into your car and began the drive there. The apartment wasn't too far from the compound, not too far from where you worked either. You'd wanted somewhere that both of you could go to work easily from, Natasha had wanted someplace where she could get to you faster.

It worked, but you needed to find a bigger house soon. Maybe somewhere near a lake, or some scenery, so you could go hiking or swimming with them. You could teach them how to swim for the first time, Natasha could teach them all the stars in the sky and the stories behind them.

So many dreams, you wanted them all now that you had the chance.

A bright grin was on your face the whole ride t the compound, barely fading as you walked into the compound. The receptionist greeted you with a supportive nod, knowing you were a SHIELD agent. You flashed them a bright smile as you made your way towards the living areas.

Surprise filled you when you didn't see anyone from the team around, walking through till the common room until you finally saw someone. He wore an army green t-shirt with jeans, casual as he walked around. You greeted him with a smile, about to move past him to find Natasha. He had other plans though, frowning before slamming his hand on the alarm beside him.

"Sam, right?" You asked, stepping back as the sound of the blaring alarms filled the air. He stepped away from you, taking a fighting stance, assuming you were a threat. You laughed at that, the mere idea you would come to attack the home of the country's heroes.

"How do you know my name?" He asked defensively as the other members of the team began to trail into the common room at the commotion. You groaned when you realized they all thought you were planning to hurt them.

Not given a chance to answer his question, you stepped aside to dodge a shield you already knew was coming your way. The move surprised them, Sam quickly moved forwards to attack you, kicking near your head. You batted his leg away from you, throwing him off balance before picking up the shield to throw it back at Steve.

Only half the team was here, Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Tony. All of them equally surprised and apprehensive of your arrival. None gave you the chance to talk as they began to attack, thinking you were hostile. Steve grabbed the shield again to throw it at you, surprised when you dodged it and kicked it towards Bucky.

Out of breath, you panted a little while you waited for them to catch their balance. All the while there was a small smile on your face, imagining their reaction once they found out who you are, especially why you're here. For now, you needed to focus on the suit Tony had summoned into the living room.

"I'm not who you think I am." You breathed, ducking a punch sam tried to send your way, throwing him off balance with a kick to his side. He flinched back, pausing at your words. The rest of them stopped with him, waiting for some answer.

"Who are you?" Steve asked, his shield set firmly in front of him. You opened your mouth to answer, closing it when you realized hardly any of them would believe you. Instead, you chose to show them the wedding ring on your finger. You were ready to provide an explanation when someone spoke from behind you.

"She's my wife."

A grin formed on your face as Natasha came to hug you from behind. You didn't need to turn around to know it was her, merely tilting your face so you could kiss her cheek. Her hand interlaced with yours, her wedding ring matching yours for proof you were sure they didn't need.

Her grip around you tightened as they lowered their guard, greeting you and apologizing for trying to fight you. Her hand was placed firmly on your back as you talked them, wanting to keep you for herself. It was a bit selfish of her not to introduce you to them, wishing to keep you away from this life as much as she could.

Now she could see it wasn't her decision as you proudly showed off your ring, laughing at the stories they told you. Your smile was so bright as you introduced yourself as her wife to everyone who came into the room. She nodded at the surprised glance they sent her, smiling along with you.

It was no secret to you that she had been scared to introduce you to them. Natasha knew that they could never scare you off, nor take you away from her. Not even the heavens could divide her from you. She feared that you might not want to be with her anymore. Maybe you might leave after seeing in person the kind of life she leads.

Now, she knew you won't.

Not when your hand squeezed hers tightly, not when you sent her smile after smile, joy clouding your eyes. Not when you eagerly told them stories about your relationship, proud to be hers. You couldn't leave her, not when you loved her the way you do.

"So why now?" Tony asked, curious as he chewed absently on a toothpick. You grinned brightly, turning to Natasha, hesitance clouding your features quickly. She gave you a supportive nod, hoping you would explain your unexpected, but welcome appearance.

"Is now a good time to tell you?" You asked, nodding towards your stomach, hoping she would get the idea. You knew she didn't by the way she tilted her head to the side curiously. Biting your lip tightly, you weren't sure if she would be okay with telling the rest of the team.

She's spent years hiding you, you didn't know if she wanted to hide the new arrival to your family.

Still biting your lip, you tugged her arm closer to you. Getting the hint, she leaned her ear closer to you so you could whisper. The entire team leaning closer, straining to hear the reasons you had to share.

"I'm pregnant," You whispered, her hand freezing in yours, her eyes widening as her she turned around to meet your eyes. Her eyes held so much doubt, looking up at you as if you held the world in your hands, ready to take it away at any second.

But you nodded, ready to give her the world she deserved.

She had never looked happier as she hugged you tightly, tears pooling in her eyes, her breath hitching as you laughed. Her dreams were so much closer, all because of you. Never had she even dared to think her dreams of a family might become true.

Now, as she told her chosen family excitedly about the expected new arrival, she wouldn't want anything else. She wouldn't need anything more than you by her side and the dreams you'd made together. The dream which would have remained hidden if it had not been for you.

A/N: Tell me what you think!! Comments, reblogs and ask are amazing!!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart​ , @summergeezburr​ , @imnotasuperhero , @a-stressedstudent , @aaron-despair , @rooskaya-yelena , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin , @wannabe-fic-reader , @izalesbean, @higherfurther-romanova , @natalia-quinzel , @blackxwidowsxwife , @studies-styles , @procrastinatingsapphictrash , @mxxnmocha , @ladyeliot , @wandavixen , @blurryylines , @thewidowsghost , @wlwlovesreading let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

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[the-dream-team]

Can I Try Again

Another ridiculously fluffy one-shot for @efkgirldetective's summer of jily week four prompt: picking berries // I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right // the entire song, pink in the night <3

She is beautiful and he is in a perpetual state of falling. Down and down and down the goddamn rabbit hole, but somehow the further James plummets, the brighter his life becomes. It’s the kind of brightness that blinds him- somewhat painfully- and leaves his vision spotty, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lily Evans walks ahead of him, a spring in her step, sunshine pouring through her hair. She’s cut it short for the summer, just above her shoulders, and he’s mesmerized by the way it bounces around her neck as she walks through the gardens of his family’s home. It’s an image he’s played over in his head an infinite number of times, but his rosiest daydreams don’t hold a candle to the real thing. The afternoon light hits his glasses just right and suddenly there’s a halo of glowing stars framing her as she tucks a dark red strand behind her ear. He can’t even see her face, but it doesn’t matter. I could stare at your back all day.

He is the luckiest boy in the world and every moment is made up of the sweetest form of torture. Agony and exuberance whipping his heart back and forth like a rogue Bludger.

She must know, he thinks. Must have some sort of clue that she’s occupied every corner of his mind for well over a year now. Even more so now, after the platform. He wishes more than anything for the ability to read minds as she glances over her shoulder with those startlingly green eyes, that friendly grin.

He can’t help but smile back- or maybe he was already smiling before she even turned around. It doesn’t matter. By some miracle, she’s here, and he can only marvel at the kindness of fate.

***

It had been a passing comment. One of those early morning conversations as his friends frantically scribbled out unfinished essays while shoving waffles down their throats. Chatter muffled by mouthfuls of eggs and yawning. Remus had commented offhandedly about the fruit bowl being passed around, and then-

“Oh, raspberries are my favorite.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already looking at her when she spoke. But truthfully, he was always looking at Lily, a habit he’d long since stopped fighting once he realized how fruitless his efforts were. She was beautiful and he was hopeless. Simply lucky to be in her presence. She was the sun, and he, but a lonely planet, entirely reliant on and endlessly seeking out her light.

Sirius spoke the words James should have if his mind hadn’t gone fuzzy from hearing her voice.

“You know, the Potters have a raspberry patch in their gardens.”

“Oh, really?” She glanced from Sirius to James with a brilliant smile and excited eyes, so purposefully glued to his that he had to duck his head and rake a hand through his hair to hide his heating cheeks.

“That’s right,” he said more to his plate of sausages than to her. “They’re usually ripe to pick by early August.” When he peered back up, she was still looking his way.

“You should come over this summer and take some off our hands,” said Sirius casually, turning towards James as if it had been his idea.

“Yeah,” he jumped in a little too eagerly. “I mean- if you’d like, you’re more than welcome.”

Her smile widened, rounding the apples of her cheeks in a way that made his stomach flip pleasantly. “That sounds like fun.”

He assumed she’d forget the conversation, it had been just another morning, just another casual chat among housemates, but that didn’t keep him from daydreaming about the potential of a far-off day in August rather incessantly during the following months. But then as the school year ended and summer rolled on painfully slowly (and Lily-less), an owl arrived. And her handwriting crawled across the page like a message written in the clouds.

***

Lily swings the woven basket back and forth in her pursuit of the best raspberries. There’s already an impressive bounty growing in her basket, far more than he’s managed to collect- too busy watching her kneel down and pluck berries off their delicate branches to pick any of his own.

He turns to a leafy bush, green and lively and swaying slightly in the warm breeze, and quickly pinches off a handful of berries in an attempt to catch up with her. When she spins around, he’s thankful for the distraction. A minute earlier and she would have caught him staring. Again.

She smiles pleasantly and brushes her fringe off her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist. James’ heart leaps into his throat.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, but not accusingly.

“No I haven’t,” he responds, voice gravelly from underuse. “Just been busy picking raspberries.”

She glances at his measly basket, then back to his face with arching brows and an amused smirk.

He can’t help his own guilty grin. “Alright, Evans, I’m sorry we can’t all be unreasonably talented at everything we do.”

“It’s berry picking, Potter,” she laughs, “not advanced Arithmancy.”

In retaliation, he plucks a raspberry off of the nearest branch and playfully throws it at her. She somehow has the gall to lean her head back and catch the goddamn berry between her teeth. His brain short circuits. He’s quite certain his jaw is on the ground. She acts as though this is no big deal, swallowing the fruit with a satisfied smile, her tongue brushing her lower lip before tossing another into her mouth.

“Oh, these are delicious!”

He can’t form a response even if he wants to. Even if it was a matter of life or death, which it sure as hell feels like. He can only stare at her mouth, at her lips stained raspberry-pink, and lose himself in the knowledge that he knows how they feel against his own- even just briefly.

***

The platform teemed with students stretching their legs after the long journey home from school, saying their goodbyes to friends as their families greeted them for the summer.

A pit sat in James’ stomach- heavy and demoralizing- the entire train ride back to London. He knew she’d be gone soon. Back with her parents in Cokeworth for two excruciating months before their seventh year began. He’d taken their close proximity for granted during the school year, and as he faced a summer without the promise of her warmth, he wondered if it was even possible living in the dark.

He laughed loudly at a joke Peter told, overcompensating for the fact he’d missed the punchline while his thoughts were spiraling over her. Sirius shot him a look that suggested he wasn’t doing a great job of masking his emotions. Had it been so obvious the entire way home? Could she have noticed the despondency in his eyes, heard the heavy thumping of his heart? He rolled his eyes at Sirius and mustered up the most unbothered smirk he could manage.

But then, without warning, she was in front of him.

“Alright, Potter, don’t let your head overinflate while I’m not around to keep you grounded.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Evans,” he laughed, thankful his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Just so long as you promise to consider switching your loyalties to Puddlemere. There’s no way the Harpies even make it to the semi-finals this season, and I can’t bear seeing you heartbroken again.”

“Oh, piss off, Potter,” she replied, but the way she threw her arms around his neck seemed to argue she didn’t mean what she said. Instinctually, he hugged her back, and thank Merlin he had her to hold onto as the wind was knocked out of his lungs at her touch. An overwhelming warmth sparkled across every surface their bodies met, and it took every ounce of control he had to restrain the truly pathetic sigh that threatened to escape his throat.

“And I haven’t forgotten,” she spoke into his shoulder, breath hot thorough his t-shirt, “you promised me berry picking this August.”

It would be impossible to miss the rapid beating of his heart through his chest pressed up against hers. “I’m already counting down the days.”

When she pulled back, hands resting on his shoulders for a beat longer than expected, his body moved faster than his brain could keep up with. He leaned forward, aiming for her cheek, but miraculously landing against her mouth- connecting for the briefest of moments before parting again, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. If it weren’t for the ghost of her lips still burning against his own, he might have thought he’d dreamt it.

“Lily, I’m not waiting any longer, we’re leaving, now,” came the unpleasant voice of her sister from across the platform.

Lily’s disoriented smile faltered slightly before she composed herself again, meeting his eye. “I’ll see you in August?”

“Yeah, August,” he somehow said with his mouth still tingling, forever changed by what they now knew.

***

The memory of her lips, how they feel pressed between his smile, is harder to ignore when they’re in front of him. He can remember the warmth where they touched him over a month ago and absentmindedly he brings a raspberry to his mouth so he can imagine how she must taste.

His emotions were hard enough to control before he knew what he was missing, but now they are impossible to reign in. He forgets how to breathe, and as a result, his head spins maddeningly. Unsure of how much longer he can stand up straight without making a fool out of himself, he walks forward and lays a hand on Lily’s back- partially to lead her forward, partially because the desire to be connected to her in any way is driving him mad.

She lets him guide her through the rows of bushes, under an ancient wooden archway, and across a courtyard of blossoming poppies and forget-me-nots enclosed by walls of hedges. Yellow and purple petals reflect brilliantly in her green eyes, creating their own fields of wildflowers within her irises. He walks her towards a wide, circular fountain in the middle of the grass where bubbling water spills over onto stone tiers and pours into the basin below, its floor littered with glinting coins, dancing under the water’s rippling surface.

He sits down and she follows suit on the stone ledge surrounding the water, partially shaded by an impressive plum tree. Cool droplets spray off the fountain, refreshing like summer rain singing I love you, I love you, I love you. Lily glances his way and he wonders if she can hear his thoughts.

“Are we finished picking berries?” she asks, eyes squinting and nose crinkling in the sun.

“I figured you had enough to feed a village.” He reaches over and grabs a raspberry from her basket and she gasps in faux outrage.

“Are you really stealing my raspberries, Potter?”

He adores his name on her tongue. “My apologies,” he says, pulling a silver Sickle out of his pocket and sliding it over to where she sits. She looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “For your troubles. Go on then, make a wish.”

“Oh!” Her eyes light up and she takes hold of the coin, lifting it to her heart as she closes her eyes in search of a wish.

He thinks he could look at her forever. Happy, sunkissed, an unconscious smile playing across her lips. With her eyes shut, he uses a minute to take a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart and compose his dopey grin. They’re sitting close together, knees almost touching with the basket of berries between them. As she tosses the Sickle behind her shoulder, he smells the faint scent of her vanilla shampoo.

She noticeably tries to hide her smile when her eyelids flutter back open.

“What did you wish for?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

She freezes with her eyes locked on his. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks, growing darker the longer he stares back at her. “I can’t tell you,” she says, words sounding choked, “or else it won't come true.”

Her flushed face awakens something in his chest, a confidence that blooms magnificently, turns his nervous, pattering heartbeat into a steady, powerful drum.

His voice drops to a hoarse whisper when he asks, “Can I guess?”

Her breath hitches. “I think you might already know, James.” Her words, the sound of his name, melts him down to a puddle. By some miracle, she continues speaking. “Look, I know I’ve kissed you before-”

“But I didn’t do it right,” he says frantically, his hands finding her face and brushing through her hair. He starts to understand why people advise against looking directly at the sun because being this close to her fills him with such astounding emotion he thinks he might explode. She stares up at him, blush deepening, lips parting, and he takes a ragged breath. “Can I try again?”

This time, when she smiles, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He leans in slowly, letting their breath mix together, their noses bump lightly before he closes the space between their lips. She’s soft and warm and beautiful and radiant and he’s never felt a happiness quite like this one, never experienced a kiss this perfect. His fingers travel over her scorching skin and brush her neck as he deepens the kiss, tasting the raspberries on her tongue, his heart soaring as she responds blissfully until they’re both left breathless.

“And again?” she asks, pulling him back with a smile against his lips.

“And again,” he smiles back, marveling, once again, at the kindness of fate.

#summerofjily #look guys #i have never written present tense before so take that information as you will #and of course i switched to past tense for the flashbacks because I guess I want everyone to suffer #have some sickeningly sweet fluff to make up for it lol #i do not love writing kisses! #but I know you guys like when jily seals the deal so I do it for you #absolutely love this prompt and mitski is that glareingly obvious? #plus picking berries is all i've thought about for 24 hours #<3 #who is reading these tags #seriously lmao #jily fic #jily #lily evans #James potter