#you CANNOT just say that someone only abused someone else a little bit

[bird1eewarriors]

Just saw someone say that Bramblestar only abused Squirrelflight “a little bit” and it was Squirrelflights “take charge personality” that got her into trouble for most of the series-

I can’t with this fandom sometimes 🤦

#birdie rambles #no hate towards the person ofc #they’re probably young/uninformed but STILL #you CANNOT just say that someone only abused someone else a little bit #like cmon man #squirrelflight #bramblestar #bramblestar neg #discourse

[dualitue]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 !

★ mentions of manipulation + obsession and abusive relationship + semi-public sex + jealousy + thirst for academic validation (so real)

★ this one is especially for my lovely girlies who constantly dream about getting fucked brutally and also be the top of their class. i deserve to be number one or turn into dust, nothing in between that.

It's not a game of survival after all, you try to remind yourself all the time. It's just some classes, nothing that sleepless nights of studying cannot solve. However thanks to your stubborn professor who despises handing out higher grades, (the ones that you strongly believe that you deserve) you always find yourself back to square one. Studying, studying, studying and never getting the highest mark. At first, you felt like you haven't been studying hard enough—but after failing his class twice, you decided to take the same class from a different professor.

Professor Zayne.

What a dreamy guy, you'd hear from the other girls at the halls—whispering to each other excitedly. And you truly get the hype, really. He's tall, handsome, and there's this enchanting thing surrounding him that nails you to ground every time you run into him. His voice never fails to shake you to your core, and every time you feel struck by his charms, you need a breath of fresh air to get back into your right mind.

As if he senses that mental distance that you try to put, Professor Zayne always finds a way to draw you closer, pulling you back into that whirlwind of mixed emotions. Your mouth goes dry as his fingertips slightly brush over your tense shoulders during quizzes, or the way he stares into your eyes to peek into the depths of your soul even though he's talking to someone else.

Even though you don't want to admit, there's only a little you can do about this strange magnetic force between you and your beloved professor. Under that distant and emotionless face lies a soft man who makes you feel worthy of all that you've missed out on up until now, and you've been proved with such examples of that countless times.

That's when it became a survival game; when he offered you to be his assistant. Of course, nothing serious—you haven't graduated after all, so all you're assigned with are some small stuff that are probably irrelevant and carry no importance.

Yet, the way the corner of his lips curl into the slightest bit of a smile gets your heart beating faster whenever you successfully complete a task.

"Like the good girl you are," he says, an underlying tone of amusement can be sensed in his voice as he speaks. And you always, desperately, leave claw marks on every praise and compliment he gives you.

Over the course of the time you two have spent together, Zayne has taught you one thing; to be greedy. From unable to voice your wants in a natural way, you've become someone who can demand what they want. However, this dynamic has a little secret to it; if Zayne is the one giving you the praise you want, even though both of you know that you deserve it more than anyone, he makes you work for it.

It has started with your vent about your previous professor being an asshole about grading papers; he'd listen to you intently as you let your heart all out and get his study desk all messy. Broken sobs between your hatred filled words; you do deserve better and you do know that, so why should it be hard to enjoy the satisfaction of your well deserved success?

With his big, soft hand and warm palm Zayne would cup your red and burning cheek—his thumb gently rubbing your cheekbone; supporting you with a comfort that you've never known before. It didn't take long for you to get used to it; and Zayne never stopped making you ask for more.

"Yeah, sweet girl, get comfy there," he says; and it's almost impossible to be comfortable under his desk, you feel your knees getting bruised and your shoulders aching as your fingers hurriedly unzip his pants and free his hardened cock from his clothes. But, what else can you do to earn that addicting kiss, lingering on your lips even after days... or the way he makes you lie down on his cramped desk. Some folders hurt your back and your legs tremble as his fingers bury themselves deep in your cunt; slick sounds filling his room as he lands a slap to your pussy every time you get slightly loud.

What he loves most is when you let him fuck you before his classes. He hurriedly strips you off your clothes, his skilled fingers exploring your squirming body as if time is abundant. He sometimes cages your body between his firm chest and the cold wall as he sloppily fucks you from behind, or he gets you on his lap to feel your cunt squeeze around his twitching cunt when you take all of it...

The line, if there's any, between who knows what gets blurry with each interaction. Is this just a simple thing, or are you two using each other? It's not like he's not paying attention to you after these small interactions; he checks your essays the moment you send them, helping you with any questions you have or any assignment related stuff. What he definitely doesn't enjoy is that the way you help others in your class when they ask nicely.

On days that he sees other students around you, asking you stuff about his class, he simply uses you like a fuckdoll. Abusing your sensitive cunt, pulling back just as you're about to cum around his cock and spilling on your panties to remind you that you're not the one who can help, but the one who needs help.

And slowly but surely he manages to engrave that to your brain after, after a whole semester, you're almost dependent on him. No assignment feels good enough to be submitted before he approves, no studying session is efficient enough if he doesn't have you on his lap, grinding against his hard cock. No day is a good day if he hasn't kissed you until you feel dizzy. And no boys or your toys are able to fill you up the way he does. Some nights you find yourself in your bed, trembling fingers buried deep in your cunt, trying to touch the spots he easily touches. But it ends the same; you, in his room the next morning, begging him to make you cum because it's driving you insane.

And the praises, and the compliments and all of that don't feel enough, too. No claw marks on anything anymore, just this insatiable desire in you to seek a shelter in his loving arms.

#🩰.ela writes #lnd zayne #lnds zayne #lnds x reader #lnds imagine #love and deep space x you #love and deep space x reader #love and deepspace #love and deep space imagine #love and deep space zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #lads zayne #zayne x you #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #l&ds zayne

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yves ask<3

At like 2am I was listening to a playlist that had the song It's Over Isn't It from Steven Universe and I couldn't help but think a little bit about Yves. Idk if you see it but some of the lines in the song were giving me a bit of angsty Yves vibes. Like Yves not understanding why he "lost" to some random love interest like in that one Montgomery post.

Idk could be just me but I got a bit of Yves brain going on rn..

Well i mean, Yves was partially inspired by Pearl from Steven universe too, and it definitely comes with the angst fr theres some parallels between Greg and Monty; Yves FUCKING hates Montgomery's guts for stealing you away but he has no choice but to act like he actually "loves" him deep down, past Yves's monster-in-law exterior. Because Montgomery makes you happy and he knows if Yves were to express how he really feels, you would be devastated.

In his mind, the ultimate goal isn't to please himself, but to please you in life. He can't kill Montgomery or else you will feel hollow and unhappy. He cant give you an ultimatum, because even if you chose him, you would still yearn for Montgomery. Yves can't just bend reality this time, because somehow your attraction and love towards Montgomery is so strong, to break that bond is to break you too.

So he just smiles and digs his fingernails into his palm until it breaks the skin, only letting out the most blood-curling, ear-obliterating Yves-rage scream in the privacy of his home. Maybe even sticking some pins and needles into his heavily abused Montgomery voodoo doll, casting spells with obscure ingredients and ancient scripts since he would turn spiritual when facing things that he couldn't accept.

Under all that calm and collected mask is a hurricane of emotions; especially unimaginable anguish and anger. Desperately wishing that you would have preferred what Yves had. Desperately wishing you had chosen him instead.

But you nor Montgomery would know the depth of his hatred for the man who robbed Yves of his rightful position as your husband. You wouldn't know the excruciating pain he felt when you rejected him and went for someone he perceived as a lesser being. He hates him.

Yves hates, hates, hates Montgomery so much and he would torture him so gorily and cruelly, that even the devil would retch in disgust. Alas, you love that... Pathetic excuse of a man. He cannot do anything further than a couple of petty exchanges and stare at you longingly.

You wouldn't know just how much your best friend despised and loathed him, especially when he's so kind to Montgomery and claims to care about him too.

Perhaps you should listen to your husband when he says he's not at all comfortable being alone in a room with Yves. Maybe you should believe Montgomery when he says there is something very, very off about your beloved best friend.

Then again, Yves doesn't take his mask slipping off his true, ugly form lightly. Best to just pretend that nothing is happening and ignore the fact that his house increasingly smells like incense.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader

[rubysunnday]

aching soul

requested by @musicallisto : hi lottie, congrats on 4k - that's INCREDIBLE! You deserve each and every one of those followers, your work is astounding. could I request an anthony bridgerton one-shot with prompt 1 + young and beautiful by lana del rey? I've been missing a little bit of romance lately. thank you sm if you do it! 💜

requested by anon: can i request an anthony bridgerton x reader fic where he thought he absolutely despises her without any clear reasons but it was actually him denying his feelings for the reader?

a/n: she's a long one, folks

summary: There is a difference between Viscount Bridgerton and Anthony Bridgerton. One is a Rake. The other is a man, broken by his father's death, who has never really been able to be just Anthony. Y/N knows the feeling all too well

"We pick in alphabetical order!"

"Which means I'm always going to be last!" Eloise whined, stamping her foot. "Why don't we do youngest to oldest?"

"Because then I'll be last!"

"Enough!" Daphne exclaimed, silencing Anthony. "Since we cannot agree, why don't we let our guest choose first? Miss Elliot?"

Y/N looked at Daphne expectantly. "I am slightly afraid that no matter what I choose I will be starting a war."

"No one will dare complain since you are our most esteemed guest," Daphne said, giving Eloise a pointed gaze. "Please, go ahead."

When the Bridgerton's had, collectively, mentioned a game of pall mall - whatever that was - Y/N was dubious. But at the evil glint in the eye of Lord Bridgerton at his younger brother, Y/N simply had to join in.

Anything to antagonise the viscount.

Y/N hardly knew the man but in the short time she had known him, he'd driven her mad. Perhaps some of Y/N's hatred towards the viscount was because of the assumptions she'd made of the man over the years.

A Capital R rake was never to be trusted. Besides, as she reached her fourth year out in society, Y/N was running out of time to find a husband. She didn't have time to run around flirting and playing with men who weren't ready to commit.

Or men who weren't looking for a love match. Lord Bridgerton.

Y/N stepped forward, looking at the mallets. They were all worn and looked tired after years of use and, presumably, abuse. Her eyes went directly to the black mallet - the only dark colour in the otherwise pastel set. She glanced at Lord Bridgerton and noticed how his gaze was fixed on the mallet.

So, she walked up and pulled it out of the box.

The shocked gasps from the rest of the family and the glare he gave her told Y/N she had, in fact, chosen well.

"Well, would you look at that, brother," Benedict said, grinning at Anthony.

Anthony's jaw was tense. "Shut up."

"Can the rest of us choose now?" Eloise asked, looking around.

No one moved. Then, Eloise darted forward and snatched up the yellow mallet, ignoring Colin's complaints. Benedict snatched the dark blue one whilst Daphne grabbed the purple one. Colin reluctantly took the orange one and, after glaring at it, Anthony took the pink one.

"To the field of combat!" Daphne exclaimed, holding her mallet up high as if it was a sword.

Y/N laughed and followed after them, keen to see the Bridgerton's in action. "I dare say, Your Grace," Y/N said, catching up with Daphne, "I am not entirely sure how to play this game."

"Well, firstly, please call me Daphne. Secondly, if you want my advice," Daphne said, walking alongside Y/N, down to the start of the course, "I'd focus on Eloise. She is so focused on trying to beat her brothers that she will forget we're here. Benedict's aim isn't the best, but he is good at hitting far. Colin is a cheeky player - he will sacrifice his own go to hit someone else's ball."

"And Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N asked, glancing over at Anthony.

"He is a fierce player who does not like to lose. This makes him the perfect target - all it takes is one whack of your ball against his and he will be off his game the rest of the match. He likes revenge."

"I gathered that," Y/N murmured, remembering how much Anthony wanted to murder Colin at the ball a few weeks back.

"I myself will not reveal any secrets," Daphne continued. "But I will say this - Bridgerton pall mall is more about sabotaging your opponent than it is getting the ball through the wickets."

Y/N nodded, smiling. "Understood."

The game started fairly calmly. It wasn't until they got to the sixth wicket did the chaos start. Colin aimed his ball at Eloise's and whacked it, knocking Eloise's ball wide and almost down the hill. Eloise gaped at her brother and nearly swung her mallet at him. Anthony stepped in, a hand on his sister's arm, as she was mid-swing.

Y/N didn't try anything too cheeky until two wickets later. Anthony's ball rolled into her path and Y/N seized her opportunity. She glanced over at Anthony, smirking slightly, as she readied her shot.

Anthony seemed to realise and gasped, turning to her. "Miss Elliot, don't you dare -"

Y/N whacked her ball at Anthony's, sending it flying down the hill and to the lake's edge. She laughed, swinging her mallet around in delight as Colin and Benedict chuckled evilly at their brother's misfortune.

"Excellent shot, Miss Elliot!" Benedict said, beaming. He patted Anthony on the back. "Well, I guess we shall see you later, brother. Daff, your turn."

Daphne strolled over to her ball. She crouched down, eyeing the ground and the wickets. As she stood up, Y/N caught the glint in her eye and knew, instantly, what she was about to do.

"No, Daphne, don't -"

Daphne smacked her ball into Y/N's, knocking it down the hill in the same direction Anthony's ball had gone moments before.

Anthony looked as if he wanted to hit his sister. Or strangle her, one of the two.

"Right, well then, we'll see you two in a bit then," Daphne said, turning around, holding her mallet in both hands, smiling happily.

Anthony clenched his jaw tightly. He gestured for Y/N to move first, barely making eye contact with her. Y/N held her head high and marched past him, heading down the hill.

She could see the lake at the bottom of the hill and had a sudden, sinking feeling that she was about to get wet.

"My brother and sister do love to antagonise me," Anthony muttered, walking down the hill at a brisk pace. "We lost the red ball to this lake a few years back."

"Who's fault was that?" Y/N asked, glancing at him.

Anthony turned and smirked slightly. "Mine."

They'd both stopped on the edge of the lake, searching for any sign of the pink and black balls.

"Oh, dash it," Anthony said, staring straight ahead.

"What?"

He leant closer to Y/N and pointed to the shallows of the lake where two balls sat, stuck in the wet sand.

"We could just move them," Y/N suggested. "No one will know."

"But I will," Anthony replied, raising his eyebrows.

Y/N scoffed, watching as Anthony walked down onto the bank of the lake, his boots instantly being covered in sand. After a moment, Y/N followed after him, skidding slightly on the wet sand. She reached out for the closest thing to her - which just happened to be Anthony's arm.

"Apologies, my Lord," Y/N said, quickly letting go of his arm.

"It's fine."

The two of them stood there and stared at the balls, debating how best to get to the balls.

"Right then," Y/N said, throwing her mallet up in the air slightly and then catching it again.

She took a step forward into the water, feeling it begin to seep through the soles of her satin shoes. Y/N tilted her mallet back and then swung forward, whacking her ball out of the lake and onto the grass bank.

Y/N smiled smugly at Anthony, gesturing for him to take his turn. Anthony stomped down to the river, his boots sinking into the sand, and stood next to her. He swung his mallet back and hit his ball, sending it onto the grass, next to the black ball.

Anthony turned to look at her and shook his head cockily - reminding Y/N slightly of a peacock.

Y/N went to take a step forward but found her feet were stuck in the sand, sinking each time she tried to move.

"I am stuck," she announced, looking at Anthony.

"Pardon?" Anthony asked, turning around to face her.

Y/N gestured to the floor. "My feet are stuck."

"Are you serious?"

"Believe me, Lord Bridgerton, if I didn't require your assistance I would not be asking for it."

Anthony sighed heavily and dropped his mallet onto the floor, marching back down onto the edge of the lake and taking Y/N's arm, standing behind her.

He pulled her as she managed to free her right foot. Y/N then went to put her right foot down on a slightly firmer piece of sand but it got tangled up in the long hem of her dress. With her left foot stuck in the sand still, Y/N flailed about, losing her balance entirely. She squeaked as she fell backwards, pulling Anthony with her.

Y/N landed on top of Anthony, flinching as the water began to seep through her clothes and onto her skin. For a moment, they both awkwardly laid there in the lake, Y/N on top of Anthony, Anthony with his arm still around Y/N's waist.

Anthony grunted in disgust, flicking his hand free of sand. He pushed Y/N upright and he sat up, looking around him. Anthony glanced at Y/N, who was struggling not to laugh, and glared.

"It is not funny!" He snapped.

"I am not laughing," Y/N said - although she clearly wanted to.

Y/N turned her head, looking at Anthony. He met her gaze and a smile instantly appeared as he giggled. Y/N found herself letting out a breathy laugh, ducking her head to avoid looking at Anthony.

"Well, at least we did not lose the balls to the lake this year," Anthony said, standing up. "Miss Elliot, I take it your feet are now free?"

Y/N chuckled. "Yes, Lord Bridgerton, they are."

Anthony held out a hand to her. Y/N reached up and gripped it, the water making it harder to grip. Anthony pulled her to her feet and Y/N quickly hopped onto the firmer sand.

A cheer errupted from somewhere up the hill and Anthony sighed wistfully.

"I bet you that Daff has won - again," Anthony muttered. He turned to Y/N. "Miss Elliot, I do apologise for our trip into the lake."

"It is fine, Lord Bridgerton," Y/N replied, holding the wet hem of her dress up as she climbed onto the grass bank.

Anthony followed her up. "I do hope this adventure has helped break the ice between us - I fear we got off on the wrong foot."

Y/N paused. "Part of that is my fault, I suspect," she admitted, bending down and picking up her ball. "I may have made some assumptions about you."

"Everyone does. Lady Whistledown does not help."

Y/N looked at him. "Are the rumours she writes not true, then?"

Anthony exhaled slowly. "No. No, some of them are true."

"Such as the one about you being a Rake with a capital R who is now conveniently looking for a wife?"

"You appear to have heard a lot of things," Anthony said, leaning on his mallet.

Y/N shrugged. "I have been out in society for four years, my Lord... I do know some things."

"Ah, so you are one of the young chits who fell for me when they made their debuts?"

"Young chits?" Y/N repeated, staring at him in disbelief. "It is hardly my fault I was forced to talk to you by my mama."

"Well, perhaps if you, along with the other young ladies in the ton, were more interesting and could hold a conversation, we would have gotten along better -"

"Do you realise how rude you sound?" Y/N snapped. "You just assume you know what I am like based on a conversation we had three years ago when I was a debutante who knew nothing better than what had been installed in her by society?"

Anthony faltered, clearly realising he'd overstepped. "Miss Elliot -"

"No, Lord Bridgerton, you have made your thoughts very clear. I thank you for your assistance - I am going to retire to my room now."

Anthony watched Y/N walk up the hill and back to the house, leaving him alone. He sighed, swearing quietly at his stupidity. Anthony bent down and picked up her mallet and ball, wishing he could go back a few minutes.

No matter how hard she tried, Y/N could not sleep the following night. There was no reason, sleep simply just wouldn't come. After rolling over for the fifth time, she flung back the covers and sat up in the bed, sighing softly.

It was raining gently outside, the sound of thunder gradually getting closer as the rain hardened. It was a hot summer night in the middle of July and the rain was a welcome thing.

Y/N grabbed her shawl and a candle and headed out of her room. She had yet to explore Aubery Hall properly. Whilst she didn't want to trespass into the Bridgerton's private rooms, she wanted to see more of the house Anthony so clearly adored.

Her exploration took her down the stairs and into a very impressive library, full of leather-bound books. She set the candle down on the table in the centre of the room, letting it illuminate the room gently.

Y/N walked over to the walls of shelves, running a hand along the spines. She'd never seen such an extensive, beautiful collection of books before. Whoever was responsible for the library had a stunning collection of Shakespeare as well as every Jane Austen novel. Y/N pulled out a copy of Emma, carefully opening it and scanning the first page.

The door to the library creaked, the light coming in from the corridor growing. Y/N's head shot up and she saw Anthony, half-hiding behind the door. He was wearing his dress shirt and trousers, the top three buttons undone. His suspenders hung down by his sides and he had no shoes on. There was a bizarre sense of vulnerability, seeing him so undressed and calm.

"My apologies, Miss Elliot," Anthony said softly, ducking his head. "I saw a light and I was checking I did not leave a candle on."

"It's only me," Y/N replied, stepping away from the ladder. "I can go -"

"No, please... stay."

Anthony hesitated, hovering in the doorway, one hand on the edge of the door. After a moment, he walked in to the library, gently walking up to Y/N.

"Do you mind?" He asked, holding out a hand for the book.

"Not at all."

Y/N handed him the book, her bare fingers brushing his for a moment. She pulled her shawl up and over her chest, the fringe edging tickling her skin as it trickled down.

"My youngest sisters insisted I buy these," Anthony said, running a hand over the cover of the book, his signet ring glinting in the candlelight. "They wanted me to continue our father's library."

"This was your father's library?" Y/N asked softly.

"It was. He always made sure to include things we all enjoyed. There are books on painting for Benedict, travel guides for Colin - embroidery for Daphne and Francesca." Anthony looked up at the room. "There is something for everyone in my family in here."

"You continued the tradition?"

"I try. It's difficult since we spend more time in London than here. Eloise and Hyacinth insisted on Jane Austen being added to the collection."

"Have you ever read them?"

Anthony chuckled. "Sadly, I do not have enough time to read anymore. I wish I did, however."

Y/N looked at him intently. "If you do not mind me asking... how did your father die?"

Anthony sighed heavily. He smiled sadly. "He was stung by a bee. I had just returned from school when I heard Eloise screaming in the gardens. It was quite something to see a man as great as my father felled by such a small creature."

"How old were you?"

"I was just eighteen. I knew nothing about being a viscount or running estates... my father died before he could teach me everything."

"How did you cope?"

"I didn't," Anthony said, chuckling softly. "You've read the stories and the rumours. It was only last year that I realised that, out of duty to my family, I need to settle down and sort things out."

"Find a wife, you mean," Y/N said.

"Yes." He sighed, closing his eyes. "It's not as simple as simply finding a wife."

"Then explain it to me," Y/N told him softly. She reached out and put a tentative hand on his.

"After my father died... my mother was barely there. She does not remember any of it, not truly. I, however, remember every single moment. I could never..." Anthony trailed off, his voice catching. "I could never be the cause of such pain. No matter how cold-hearted and cruel everyone else may find me to be."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes full of understanding. She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "Has anyone ever loved you as Anthony Bridgerton and not Viscount Bridgerton?"

"I do not believe they are two separate entities. They are one and the same."

"I don't agree." Anthony looked at her sharply. "Anthony Bridgerton is standing in front of me right now. He was in front of me this afternoon in the gardens and in the lake. Viscount Bridgerton was at the balls and the parties. Anthony is you, right now. Maybe you should try and find a way to separate the two."

Y/N give him a small smile. She held her hand out for the book and Anthony handed it back to her, his fingers lingering over hers for a moment.

"Good night, my lord," Y/N said softly.

Y/N exhaled, puffing out her cheeks. She unconsciously pushed her hair pins back into her hair as she looked around the room, watching intently.

Her time as a young woman, desperate for dancing had long gone and now she preferred to stand on the edges of the dance floor amongst the chaperones and mothers.

No one looked at her twice and it was just how she liked it. Y/N had long accepted that she wasn't going to find love from the most eligible suitors in the ton. Instead, she had turned to the older gentleman - the military men, the business owners with enough money to buy most of London.

She wasn't looking for a true love match. But rather someone she could love and could be friends with as time went on. She just wanted someone to look at her as a human being instead of potential wife material.

The people around her started muttering, all eyes turning away from the dance. Y/N followed them and stood to attention as Anthony walked over to her, his eyes set firmly on her and her alone.

"Miss Elliot," Anthony said, bowing.

"Lord Bridgerton."

"I trust you are enjoying your evening?" Anthony asked, his hands still clasped behind his back.

"I am, indeed, thank you for asking. Your mother is an incredible host."

"She prides herself on being able to host a good ball," Anthony said, moving closer to Y/N. "Forgive me if I am being impertinent but I do not believe I have seen you on the dance floor, Miss Elliot."

"Because I have not been asked for a dance, Lord Bridgerton - which is just how I like it," she added quickly.

"Would you make an exception for a viscount?" Anthony asked softly, lowering his voice so just she could hear him.

Y/N looked at him. "I would make an exception for Mr Bridgerton."

Anthony gave her a genuine smile, holding out his hand to her. "Miss Elliot, will you accept Mr Bridgerton's offer to dance?"

Y/N placed her hand into his, gripping his fingers. "I will, Mr Bridgerton."

As the other dancers began walking to the centre of the dance floor, Anthony led Y/N to the back corner of the floor. It was away from the main eyes of the ton yet still allowed them to dance together.

The strings began to play and Anthony gently guided Y/N into the dance, both of them swaying backwards and forwards. He spun her, Y/N's gloved fingers still gripping his hand, high above their heads.

Their arms lowered and Anthony put his hands on her waist as she placed hers on his arm. One step backwards and they were waltzing with everyone else, all dancing in synch.

"I want to apologise for the other day," Anthony said quietly, his lips near Y/N's ear so she could hear him over the music.

"I was out of line, Lord Bridgerton," Y/N replied, letting him release her and then turn her around.

"No, you were not. You were correct with everything you said. My own arrogance and bad experiences resulted in my prejudice. Not every young lady is uneducated and simply a pretty face."

"I think you will find that a lot of young women enjoy reading and writing," Y/N said softly. "They are just seen by society as the outcasts."

"Indeed - much like my sister, Eloise."

Y/N spun to face him, stepping backwards. "What is it?"

"I also wanted to thank you," Anthony replied. "For too long I have lived in my father's shadow. The viscount took over me and I forgot what I, myself wanted. Being able to acknowledge that they are two different things helped. So, thank you."

"You are very welcome, my lord."

"You are also the first person who has ever seen me as just Anthony. As much as I adore my family, they see only an older brother who is the head of the family. It is rare that I can just be myself. The first time we met, you threw my off my guard, wanting to see anyone else other than the viscount."

"Oh, is that why you were so rude to me?"

"Again, I apologise. I have never been good at communicating emotions. I tend to hide them until they boil over. But, you, Miss Elliot, tore down every wall I have ever built."

Y/N ducked under his arm and then turned around. "I do hope that is a good thing."

"It is. But it is also why it has taken me until now, until this very moment, in fact, to realise that I am completely and utterly in love with you.”

Y/N stopped. She stared at Anthony, her eyes wide, her heart pounding. "Pardon me?"

"I apologise if it is too sudden or if I have overstepped," Anthony said quickly, "but when I am with you, I do not have to hide behind my titles. I am simply Anthony. And that is something I did not know I wanted or needed. Not until you made it so clear to me."

The music ended, the last few notes playing out into the crowded room. Y/N belatedly remembered to curtsey to Anthony as the dancers filed off the floor.

"I need some air," Y/N said, turning on her heel.

She weaved through the crowds and walked out onto the patio, relishing the cool air on her skin.

"Miss Elliot, if I have overstepped, I apologise -"

"No, it is not that," Y/N told him, turning to face Anthony. "I just... the reason I see you as just Anthony and nothing else is because... that is all I have ever wanted. Every suitor that comes to my door, no matter how kind and caring they are, never cares to see Y/N. They just want to know if I would be a good wife and mother. No one ever makes the time to get to know me."

"If I have ever made you feel that way -"

"That is the thing, though... you haven't. Never once have I felt that you only cared about me fitting your requirements. Whilst I'm sure other women did... I did not. I felt... feel, as if I can be Y/N. I do not have to pretend to be something I am clearly not."

Anthony was looking at her with such intrigue and kindness it almost made her cry. Never, not once, had a suitor listened to her as much as he had. Never once had they even bothered to care about her as a person.

And now, there was someone who did. Someone who did care - even if they were a reformed Rake.

"Miss Elliot, I am aware that this may be too sudden but... I would very much like to get to know you better."

Y/N smiled gently. "You're not just going to propose to me here and now?"

"I could. But I want to get to know Y/N Elliot first. I want to know what makes her smile and what makes her cry."

He was inches away from her now. Anthony reached out his hand, his fingers brushing against hers. Y/N inhaled sharply at the contact, her skin quickly being covered in goosebumps.

"Well then, Lord Bridgerton," Y/N said softly, her little finger wrapping around his. "You best get on with it."

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagines

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. Looking for a smut fic I remember reading. WWX was testing an invisibility talisman and ended up in the jingshi in time to watch LWJ masturbating, and rode him after he fell asleep. LWJ woke up and made WWX get rid of the invisibility after a bit. I think it was a roleplay between the two but I'm not fully sure

FOUND! Clinomania by malkinmalkout (E, 6k, wangxian, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Somnophilia, misuse of talismans, PWP, Riding, Oral Sex, binding, Happy Ending, canon typical non-con)

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2. Hi! So I'm looking for this one fic, I remember that it was set in post-canon & Wangxian go to help this village, I remember that the Juniors (all four) followed them without their knowledge & the village had a barrier preventing people from leaving, the village had a curse where they got to see their close-ones negative memories, the juniors learnt of what actually happened to WWX & the villain turns out to be a "god" like on Dafan, it had 4 chapter (I think) & was finished. @i-like-snakes-and-spiders

FOUND? Down comes the night by danegen (E, 67k, wangxian, Alternate Universe, Canon Era, inspired by From, Horror, Sharing a Room, POV LWJ, no jiangs, a whole village of OCs, tiny mention of past wwx/omc, Happy Ending)

FOUND? unhappy stories with happy endings by Last_for_Hell (M, 30k, WangXian, Memories, Memory Fic, Kinda, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, sexual content maybe, References to Torture, PTSD, Characters Watching Their Series, kinda, but not entirely, very light consensual non-consent)

~*~

3. good day! 😊 I read this fic before and I know that I've bookmarked it but I can't find it in the list. So the story is after wwx fell, baoshan sanren and lan yi rescued him, nursed him back to health, and waited for him to wake up. I remember that when he woke up, they also taught him cultivation (he got a new sword). He also hid his face (i think he also wore a different name and different voice(?)). There's a yi city scene where xxc asked them who they were because he cant see, then bssr is also with them at that time. thank yoooooou! 💓💓💓

FOUND! Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, resulting to OOC, no pinning, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, mainly CQL verse but has scenes from the novel as well, LSZ is WangXian's Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts)

~*~

4. hi, I hope you can help me find this fic I've been looking for, I'm sorry I don't really remember much, just that WWX can cook non-spicy food but he does it on purpose, it might have been because of his time in the streets? or because someone would take his food? (maybe JC???)

~*~

5. I cannot for the life of me remember anything else about the fic but I think it was cql based with lwj as chief cultivator? wwx returned to cloud recesses and the first thing he did was beat someone up for saying horrible things about lwj. I can't remember if it was multichapter or not so it might have been in the middle of a longfic?

FOUND? 🔒make this chaos count by devotedbones (E, 15k, WangXian, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, canon compliant until the very last scene of episode 50, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Chief Cultivator LWJ, a flute used as a melee weapon, Fist Fights, Gossip, Self-Worth Issues, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Canonical Abuse, Minor Misunderstandings, [podfic] make this chaos count, by devotedbones by inkpens)

~*~

6. this may as well be an itmf for its general nature, but it's actually a ficfinder! except. i only remember a single detail LMAO, and it's that wwx and lwj consider all four juniors to be their children, blood relation be damned. I'm so sorry i have literally nothing else to go on 😅 i think there's a similar theme in 'tragedy is not the end' specifically with zizhen, but not the exact detail im looking for... thank you for the help!

~*~

7. Hi, first of all I want to thank y'all for the hard work, and I wanted to know if a fic has been deleted or if anyone has it, I don't remember the name but it was a time travel fic where Qishan Wen win the sunshot campaign and asked for war prizes (?) Zewu-Jun goes instead of his brother, Yanli is alive, they all have them captive, Meng Yao betrayed them and ultimately sided with the Wen's who were winning the war, and I think no one remembers Wei Wuxian, something like that, it would be great if someone could help! Thanks so much 🩷🩷

FOUND? The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

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8. Hi!!! Its me again!! Thanknyiu so much again!!! This time im looking for a time travel fic with lan qiren as the timentraveller. Pretty sure him and wen ruohan travelled together and MAYBE involved with each other??? Im not so sure but i do know that lan qiren time travelled. Sorry its not much thats all i remember hehe @sirius-bus1ness

might be one of Nirejseki's works. They wrote several on that subject (including in a big anthology work, so finding it might take some time)

FOUND? Cursed Couple by shorimochi (M, 121k, LQR/WRH, CSSR/WCZ, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Out of Character)

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9. Hello, I am looking for a fic but I only remember a scene from it

It was a fic wwhere wwx died and there was a scene where a-yuan was crying while laying above wwx's grave in the burial mounds. Thank you!

FOUND? To Offer a Heart by WhiteCrane (M, 111k, wangxian, major character death, Sad WWX, Hurt WWX, YLLZ WWX, soft wangxian, Cinnamon Roll WN, WWX Whump, WQ is a good sister, WN is a good brother, everybody loves wwx, yunmeng siblings, Triggers, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Taking care of WWX, Give WWX a break, Canon Divergence, Disturbing Themes, Changing Perspectives, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Getting Together, Redemption, Sibling Bonding, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brother-Sister Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Sad and Sweet, Tragedy, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF JYL, BAMF WQ, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Everyone Needs A Hug, WIP)

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10. Hi Mods (＾◡＾) I really hope that you can help me find some fics I've been looking for! (＾◡＾) if you can't that's ok, if you can then many thanks in advance! y'all are awesome!

A) this one is set during CR studies, and wangxian go on a date? in Caiyi and I think WWX gets emotional about something they are talking about? and I know they hug, and WWX don't want to let go.

B) this one wangxian gets married, WWX marries into the Lan, and there are a lot of rules specifically for married people/how to be in a relationship, I'm pretty sure that is a very big part of the story

10A)

FOUND! 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 712k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) The scene described sounds like something that happens pretty early on

10B)

NOT FOUND! Into the Oubliette by Ruixx (M, 124k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, underage, Growing Up, Fix-It of Sorts, Arranged Marriage, Time Travel, Sibling Bonding, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, Light BDSM, Breathplay, WWX protection squad, Sunshot Campaign, War, Politics, Hostage JYL, Visions, LXC Redemption, general LWJ, Internal Sect Politics, Good Uncle LQR, Lan OCs, No Golden Core Transfer, Empire Building, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence)

NOT FOUND! seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

FOUND? Wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave by failedcharismacheck (M, 15k, WIP, WangXian, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Protective LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, POV LWJ, Hair Brushing, Implied Sexual Content, soft horny)

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11. Noncon tw. Looking for a fic where when the wens burn lotus pier, they threaten to rape yanli but Wei Wuxian offers himself instead. So the wen soldiers rape Wei Wuxian in front of the Jiang sect,l. Yanli cries

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12. Looking for a specific fix where Wei Ying is dead and the sects come together to watch through his memories and end up finding out for selfless he was. @aviidaviibiitchboii

FOUND! Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

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13. Hi, I'm looking for a modern au where Wei Ying is a grad student in an orchestra and A-yuan is dropped off at his door by his cousin Mo Xuanyu. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get together while caring for A-yuan and end up getting married. A-yuan has a fear of airports in this fic because of his abandonment issues. This was on AO3 but I can't seem to find it. @amindonbreak

FOUND! The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental baby acquisition, Kid fic, Green card marriage (but not really), Slow Burn, Endless Pining, Happy ending, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer, Translation into Русский: Самый Простой Путь Вперёд (The Simplest Way Forward) by grand_R, Spanish Translation, Turkish translation )

~*~

14. hello! im looking for specific fic, where after burial mounds wwx thinks he's dead. instead of joining sunshot campain he storms nightless city and kills all cultivators without anyone knowing it was him (exept meng yao who survived but is wounded)

he then "haunts" yumeng for a while until he runs into wen quing and takes wens to burrial mounds

eventually ppl find out and together with meng yao they outsmart jgs to pardon all wens @chellsky

I can't find 14, but I do remember reading it; they ended up pretending Wen Qing was the one controling the dead and killing the Wen, and they faked her death

FOUND! can't find a way home by KouriArashi (M, 109k, WangXian, XiYao, XuanLi, ChengQing, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Family Feels, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Developing Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical political bullshit, Mental Health Issues, Eventual Happy Ending, Descriptions of suicide, (caused by dark magic))

~*~

15. Hello! I'm looking for a fic where Sizhui's bio parents are alive and come to Cloud Recesses looking for him (post-canon, iirc)

Hello! I'm #15 from the latest fic finder. I'm quite sure that the fic was on ao3. It may have been inspired from the angstymdzsthoughts posts but it was a proper fic posted on ao3

NOT FOUND! This Post by angstymdzsthoughts Mad idea, could 15 be from angstymdzsthoughts?

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16. Hi! I was reading a really interesting story about LWJ being cursed and WWX helping him and I lost it! Arg, now I'm so curious to know how it ends, I hope you can help me!

The story is about LWJ being cursed with a change in his private body parts. (The curse changes his p to a v). Then WWX notices this and decide to help LWJ and the way to revert the curse is that LWJ has to have an org@sm.

Can you help me? I'm dying to know how to continues!! 🤗🤗 @wangxiansgirl

FOUND! Coming Back to Yourself by acernor (E, 21k, wangxian, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Pining, Gender or Sex Swap, Vaginal Sex)

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17. Hi! Looking for a fic wherein wangxian married and suddenly Mo Xuanyu woke up again in his body, he fell in love with Lan Wangji but Lan Wangji just ignore or formal with him. Mo Xuanyu heartbroken tried to bring back Wei Wuxian Soul on his body

I feel like this might be in the angstymdzs collection, since I think it's was inspired by one of those asks?

~*~

18. Kind of random, but I’m trying to find a fic I read awhile ago that featured hagfish? My memory of it is kind of vague, it was a college au and wwx was some sort of biology major i think and there were hagfish. Compelled to read it again because of hagfish reasons.

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19. Hello! I'm looking for a specific fic which I've seen in a few people's bookmarks but for some reason neglected to even mark for later. It's a modern AU where LWJ is looking for a pet sitter for his bunnies and is recommended WWX's pet sitting/walking venture (no dogs allowed ofc). Can you help? 🐇 @linderel

FOUND! A Single Note by airinshaw (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Kissing, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub)

~*~

20. I search a fic where Jiang Cheng tries to ask Lan Xichen to marry him and Lan Xichen is super offended by it. Nie Huaisang may have done something to make JC fail even more in his proposal.

FOUND? To Take A Wife- Or Perhaps A Husband by Admiranda (T, 2k, one-sided LXC/JC, one-sided NHS/JC, JC's canonical homophobia, JC's canonical inability to get married, Decides to solve his problems with spite, not JC friendly, We all love NHS in this household, JC's canonical blind spots, Post-Canon, JC's canonical classism)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

[aikoiya]

I just do not understand the insistence that animals must be sentient.

Because if they were, then why are the animals that kill other animals not labeled as murderers?

Hell, why aren't cats seen as malicious, mini, jigsaw killers considering how they play with their food. Why aren't ewes looked upon with disgust for often trampling orphaned lambs that a farmer tries to get them to adopt? Why aren't wolves seen as bullies for hunting in packs to kill prey? Why aren't dolphins more acknowledged for being effing rapists?

If you believe that animals are capable of reasoning, then that automatically makes all animals that eat meat into exactly what humans that eat meat are, thus they should be looked upon with every bit as much scorn as certain vegans look upon regular ass people. And it'd also mean that any animal that hunts is a murderer.

Hell, many animals are cannibals! In fact, plenty even eat the young of other animals or even their own young if they're so much as lacking in B12!

Literally! Mother hamsters are known to eat her own babies if she's put on an all-corn diet! They don't even have to be dying because of it!

You can't claim that animals are all sentient & then not hold them responsible for their actions! That's hypocritical! Because if these animals are sentient, then they are making the active decision to commit these actions & should be held acountable for them! Period!

Seriously, unless an animal is specifically an obligate herbivore, they will likely still eat meat given the chance!

And, whether you like it or not, animals are only as vegan as their options. As soon as times get tough for a deer, it's gonna be eyeing up any little Tweeties or Thumpers they come across. Same with horses, sheep, ect.

In fact, if animals are as deserving of life & respect as us, then doesn't that make having pets the same as slavery? And how do cat owners even justify feeding their pets? At least those that force their cats into a vegan lifestyle are being consistent even though they're abusing the poor things. Those cats aren't gonna live to be 10 years old on a diet like that & they'll be miserable the whole time.

Like, how do people twist their brains into so many directions just to justify their lifestyles??

Seriously, humans are so freaking unique within the animal kingdom. We are probably the only creatures who would do all this nonsense for the sake of critters that honestly don't give an eff.

Like, dude, whatever. You don't wanna eat meat, then don't. No skin off my brow. More brisket for me! But don't moralize your choice & don't demonize those who love a delicious steak.

Here's what some don't seem to understand; those animals are gonna die anyway, whether it's by the hand of man, a predator animal, sickness, or old age. Their days are numbered no matter what. And, quite frequently, they'll still get eaten. So, in the end, what's the difference if a sheep is eaten by a human or a buzzard or a coyote?

You didn't save that sheep's life. You only postponed the inevitable. Because if you're not the one who eats it, then someone or something else will. You cannot stop it.

And it's likely going to hurt regardless, so saying shit like "anything to reduce at least a little bit of the pain in the world" is just pure naiveté. You haven't reduced the pain in the world even a little. And in fact, considering how a lot of animals don't even care if their food is all-the-way dead as they're eating them, you could even say that that animal might end up experiencing even more pain than if they'd been killed by a human.

And that isn't even taking into account sickness or accidents! How do you know that that animal's last moments won't be spent in complete misery or abject fear??

Because one of the things about humans is that, for the most part, we prefer our food dead-dead before we eat it. And we intentionally go out of our ways to make death as painless a transition as possible, even for the animals we're gonna eat.

If we're gonna keep it 100, ya'll. Humans can be some of the gentlest, most merciful killers on earth.

Hell, we have laws against animal cruelty!

And, the thing is, animals... don't. Period. In fact, most don't make it to old age.

So, in the end, your efforts were meaningless.

#humans are weird #vegans confuse me

[xjulixred45x]

That's okay!

What if instead of kink like nsfw like, more of their s/o really likes their voice and they can use it to tease them?

Feel free to still say no, but I just know some of those men are teased even sfw xD

Lets see what i can do(i make this one pretty quickly just bc is a short situation with several Characters in a pre-established relationship. is a little short, i hope is alright).

Shiro Fujimoto/ Satan/ Mephisto Pheles/ Juuzou Shima with a s/o who likes their voice

Shiro: I think it depends a little on which Shiro we are talking about.

If it's the young Shiro (who's training to be an exorcist) then he's going to notice right away that his s/o has a certain reaction to his voice and will completely use it against him. I won't say anything. but he will use it to get out of trouble more easily (something like using the "I just got up" voice to get S/o to forgive him after a fight).

If we talk about the Shiro and Exorcist, then he will be more direct and will mock, although not with his characteristic malice or rudeness, rather he is testing the waters. He finds it fun and somewhat endearing, but he wouldn't use it like before.

Satan:oh my god, this demon would be merciless.

As soon as he realizes that his current s/o has a certain taste for his voice, not only will he openly make fun of it (even if it's in a "friendly" way because he doesn't understand that concept) but he would also abuse that advantage a LOT. has on his s/o. That's how he is.

He sees it as a way to attract s/o more, since s/o likes his voice, right? So there is no problem in using that to make him listen to you, right?

although eventually he doesn't have as much fun and leaves it (maybe he would also stop fucking with it if s/or shows a high level of dislike towards it). He finds it amusing.

Mephisto Pheles:another that falls into the category of mocking incessantly, but falls more into the category of mocking with love, a lot of love. Your s/o cannot fool you, they will immediately realize the effect of your voice on them.

Similarly to young Shiro, Mephisto doesn't really have the need to use this advantage unless he feels that his s/o gets angry with him and/or gives him the silent treatment, then he resorts to his charms and, of course, the obvious advantage he has over s/o :)

He is also big on annoying, although surprisingly not as much as one would think, because he knows that if he does he will probably show less expressions and that would be boring. He finds it adorable in a way.

Juuzou Shima:Man, he's dense, like, dense like a rock. He might not even really realize that his voice has a special effect on his s/o until someone else tells him/the s/o himself and he would be quite confused as to why that is.

From then on he pays more attention to his s/o's reactions and when he sees the subtle changes, he feels strangely proud. and also touched, like aww that alone is enough to make his s/o nervous.

His main reaction is a bit of pampering and overall he is the healthiest of the 4. He finds him quite cute and doesn't really have the heart to tease his s/o about it. so leave it like that. 10/10.

Shares, reglogs and comments are very welcome!

Thanks for the Request ❤️

Ahgggg today was a good way but it left me EXAUSTED so i Made this short work instead of the one i was currently working so i could post today☠️ don't overwork yourself kids, Even in vacations(do as i Say, not as i do).

#headcanons #neutral reader #blue exorcist #ao no excorsist #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist mephisto #blue exorcist shiro fujimoto #shiro fujimoto #mephisto pheles x reader #shiro fujimoto x reader #blue exorcist satan #blue exorcist spoilers #blue exorsict #blue exorcist x reader #juuzou shima #blue exorcist juuzou shima #ao no exorcist x reader

[austinsastrology8991]

> How to Turn your Mars On < Why Mars ain't working for you and why you getting Gecked around> Lost yo tail ya fkn lizard <

Mars is Fighting > and i notice some people could use adjustments in their kung fu jitsu

1 > Never surrender. If you surrender, you just told the other person you don't believe in what you are doing or saying. this then makes them believe you are someone easy to fight. If you want to be seen as someone who knows the art of fighting. You only fight when you are prepared to fight. 2 > Everything and Anything is a weapon. Do not let people guilt trip you, do not let people call you out. If you want to call someone out its easy as fuck to do because everyone has a few flaws and that are stapled on their faces. So if someone insults you. You can very easily insult them back. Its easy to make fun of others, and if someone makes fun of you. Its their turn 👹 3 > Everyone chooses their fights very carefully because they are insecure of not coming off strong with this in mind. If someone is willing to fight you, you must at least be aware that they fully believe they will win. If they didn't believe it, they wouldnt try it. Now let me point out that this philosophy. Is some bitch shit. You are all setting the difficulty of your game boys to easy, because you only show others your teeth when it suits you. Sometimes you will be forced to fight in situations where you cannot win. And since you've been practising life on 'easy' you are an easy kill. 4 > Fight someone good at fighting. I notice everyone likes to kill the easy kill, but everyone usually shuts the fuck up when someone notorious walks in the room. And this is all a miserable display of ego isn't it. 5 > You can never tell who is and who isn't good at fighting. Many people keep to themselves and some people are very loud and obnoxious, and they are thought to be intimidating, but I shit you not if you step on them a little bit, they will react very quickly. and far too often there is a reason the quiet one is quiet. They may be afraid of fighting. But question why they are afraid of fighting? If someone is afraid. You must realize there is a reason to be afraid. And if they show you what they saw (its not too hard to mimic) you will realize the quiet one. is always. the darkest. Quiet is displayed in many ways, quiet. is not revealing. Those who reveal. Are revealing because they are not afraid. Quiet is unrevealing. Quiet is afraid. And with a simple change in mindset the quiet one knows how to truly inspire fear. Which today seems to be the only way to fight. Have you seen anyone knocking each other out? Jail is a pretty effective incentive to stop each other from entering physical altercations. Oh and the worst part about this set up? Jail is full of physical displays of dominance. But we are afraid of doing so irl. LOL so we are all fucked if we go to jail I suppose ;p 6 > What is the price of winning? Winning requires you to be humble. No one cares for an arrogant winner. When you win it far too often feels bitter sweet because everyone else is caught up in giving you bullshit flattery, and the other half is so bitter they are biting their tongues. Do not regret losing, its honestly burden relieving. Winning should not be taken for granted nor congratulated because you stole someones happyness "Hey its okay buddy :D" type shit will piss anyone off lmao. 7 > Modern warfare is disgusting. We are mental abusers but not physical abusers. most of us restrain ourselves. We just unleash our rage through our minds because thats what society demands (some use emotions but that is a whole nother topic initself). And well with this in mind. The winner is usually the one who gave the other person the biggest reality check. And its sad. who won really? no one ever does. we just sharpened each others insult sword. kinda sad reality right :/ hey at least no one died. but we are killing their souls :D good job everybody now cmon lets insult each other like internet trolls :D

8 > Do you even know what you want? What do you even want to gain. Is the other person going to change their mind. are you looking for an apology? really assess what you want when you fight or pursue something. because far too often I notice people are pretty goalless and have not much reason to fight. So they just fight when someone steps on their little toes. Like someone pointing out the flaws in something personal always gets defensive. But ask yourself why you being defensive? Like they are probably right. We all have our reasons to live, but that comes with flaws that are stigmatized by each of our own little society's ways of conforming. Usually you are triggered by a wound, as you know how it feels to be cut their, the scar reopens. And your afraid of feeling fear. But if you show someone your not afraid of something that once scared you. Well you learned the art of war my fren 9 > Mars requires fearlessness. If we still fought each other today. with swords and shit. Would you withhold your strike? Or would you strike their weak points? Ofc this is a matter of life and death so you will kill them. But most of you dont realize their is an energy here. And the more you surrender to others whims. The more you gave others victory over you. And this causes a stifling energy of insecurity, and lack of strength / belief. So if you want to fight for something. You fight to the death. Unless you dont bvelieve in it. Then you should not be fighting. Everyone must fight for something. Nothing is more enthralling then fighting and finding something worth fighting for.

#astro community #astrology blog #astrology notes #astrology

[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

[sylvies-chen]

top five moments of 6x02 ♡

OMG I CAN ONLY PICK FIVE?? OK LET’S GO:

lie detector (tim’s ily) — I think this moment is my favourite part of the episode by far, because first off you have the question about the bugs which was SOOOO cute and so encapsulating of chenford’s relationship that it had me giggling at my tv and twirling my hair lol. but then lucy takes the time to seek out confirmation of his love out of her own will, not because she needed to be proven right but because she wanted to hear it 🥹 and he immediately says yes! he loves her! we finally get to hear it and the lie detector shows it’s true and it’s just so gratifying for chenford fans to finally get this

cop cutie! cute and on duty! — GUYS I KNOW IT’S CORNY BUT HATERS WILL HATE, DADDY COP IS A BANGER!! this was so funny and such an earworm— and to those saying they thought it was an old episode when it opened on that scene, lemme just say SAME lol— but then to up the ante by pulling out the choir as if literally singing for and rejoicing the 100th episode was just so perfect and classic rookie: a little hokey but well executed and fun and all around heartfelt. 10/10 I need it on spotify right now.

if I ain’t got you by alicia keys (lucy’s ily) — okay I’m scared some of you chenford girlies are going to tar and feather me for not putting this at number 1 or 2 but HEAR ME OUT: I’ve expressed my problems about this temporary argument solution!! I think this whole scene is so gorgeous for so so so many reasons: lucy and tim dancing as a couple for the first time, the matching outfits, the kiss, ugh all PERFECT I love my babies 🥹❤️ that being said, I don’t like how so much of the resolution/peace between them relied on tim being completely in the wrong when I feel like it’s a more nuanced issue than that and denies lucy any opportunity to critically reflect on her own feelings about this. and also, it does seem weird to me that she wouldn’t have said ‘I love you’ back to tim when he first said it?? they smile at each other but then they’re back to looking awkwardly from afar at the wedding (prior to this scene of course) and so I’m a bit uneasy at the implication (which the writers did not necessarily add on purpose) that lucy’s ily depended on him admitting he was wrong in any way. but idk maybe I’m just being too nitpicky here, I still ADOREEE THIS SCENE FOREVER AND EVER I want it on my grave k thanks

tim down on one knee — need I say more?? this imagery of him on his knee with the ring staring up at lucy was a glimpse at chenford’s future and it was such cute teasing, god I love writers and showrunners when they add messy fun little teaser moments like this! plus tim totally kicked ass, all covered in blood and ready to pass out, and ah, I do always say the best kind of lust is bloodlust 😌

bailan wedding vows — I actually cannot believe the day has come where a bailan moment is in my top 5 episode moments but these wedding vows showed me how the writers are finally able to articulate what works about them as a couple!! with someone as impressive and as versatile and skilled as bailey, I think literally any other man would feel threatened or emasculated, but nolan really is just Some Guy™️ who’s really into her and obsessed with her and is very sturdy ground for her to come home to. I wish we dove more into her past as a survivor of abuse because I feel like that previous situation informs so much of why she loves john even though, let’s be real: she’s eons above his league holy shit it’s not even funny how out of his league she is. but also she could never be with anyone else! she really just loves him and they have such a nice soft relationship which the wedding really sold me on. I liked it a lot even though I had my qualms about her and him as individuals and together.

honourable mention to wade and luna because I love them so much y’all they are adorable!! anyways, here’s my list and lmk if you agree

#abby.answers #the rookie #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #john nolan #bailey nune #celina juarez

[olive-gardens-breadstick]

sandman hope!hob au Pandora's box

okay so we know DC follows Greek/roman mythology to a point right? so Pandora's box must exist, and we all know the story right? hope gets trapped in the box after Pandora opens it.

part 2

wordcount: 1551

hope!hob is trapped within this box for several millennia all alone, not even taunted by captors, just isolated in the dark and quiet watching as new awful things are born within the box. I imagine the box is opened by someone just before the age of heroes begins. a scorned lover pouring all the new horrid things directly into their cheating, abusive partner and catching a very small light before it enters their gaping chest cavity. they hold hope there, magically closing the wound and sealing their lover into an endless void, outside of time’s realm condemning them to live forever in never ending pain. they do all this with one hand, carefully holding hope, they take his small form outside and whisper into their hand

“do something worthwhile with this freedom, any god out there knows we need you” the words are washy and weak “and if you cannot find the strength to do it all yourself, bless people to inspire you within the minds of the rest of us”

they open their hand and hob’s little light form takes off to see just how the world got on without him. not well obviously, a world with no hope is desolate and cold. hope goes back to his realm to call on his sister death to catch him up, and she tells him she knows just the person to do just that.

Morpheus has been around a long time. he was born after Pandora opened the box and the only word the people of his village called him was hopeless. this was not a surprise of course, hope was not where he was supposed to be, but the rest of the children still seemed to want to live. Morpheus however made it seem like a chore. he went through the motions as they came and did nothing more or less. he was a thing of beauty though, his demeanor didn’t stop suitors from pursuing him. they all did their best but none of them ever seemed to interest him. he even caught the eye of a king who gifted him a ruby necklace saying it popped against his pale skin and dark hair. Morpheus did not particularly want to keep it but his parents had insisted he keep it and marry the king anyway.

and so he did.

he was not particularly fond of his husband, but he didn’t dislike him. the marriage and his husband were just another motion. the grounds of his husband's kastro were vast and stretched for miles and ended in cliffs that Morpheus found himself standing before at the end of the many walks he took in a day. one particular evening, when the winds were stronger that usual, he found himself lingering at the cliff’s edge a bit longer and a bit closer than he normally would, and so had someone else

“are you going to jump?”

to say the voice had startled him would be incorrect, it had simply shifted his focus. the woman who the voice belonged to was dressed in a fine ebony cloth and a very simple necklace with a strange symbol he could not place, and her skin was just as pale as his, if someone had seen them together they might’ve thought they were siblings, still Morpheus did not especially care who she was or what she was doing here but answered her nonetheless

“no, but would it really matter if i did?”

“what does it matter? you know, most people have some sort of emotion towards the prospect of dying.”

“i suppose they do, don’t they? i don’t see why though, it’s going to happen whether they want it to or not”

“they probably see the beauty, or in some cases pain, that life has to offer” Morpheus tilted his head and thought for a moment before looking back at the woman

“perhaps life has nothing to offer me, nothing of value anyway” he said starting his way back to the kastro past the woman dressed in black. he had already gotten past her as she cocked her head and called back to him

“you know how you said it happens whether one wants it to or not?” he stopped and turned back to her

“yes, what of it?”

“it’s not going to happen to you”

“what?” she turned to face him once more

“you aren’t going to die, whether you want to or not. you are going to watch as life progresses and evolves into something you, at this moment, could never even fathom.” she beamed, before he could question her further one of the servants called his name, it was late and the king wanted him back in the kastro, he called back saying he’d be in soon, but when he turned to face her, she was gone.

now, hundreds of thousands of years later, as he stands in the entrance to his home, standing in the living room, the woman is before him once more for the second time. her clothes match the days casual fashion just as they had before, all black and very simple with the same necklace. the man next to her, however, is wearing clothes that fit with the first outfit he has at the very bottom of a trunk in his attic. a long pale yellow tunic with white underneath with traditional sandals. his hair reaches just above his shoulders and his head seems to have a faint gold glow around it. he's looking around at the shelves of books, movies and various musical mediums with awe before moving on to the trinkets and sculptures scattered around.

"I don't believe I introduced myself the last time we met" she pipes up drawing Morpheus's attention away from the man

"you did not." he confirms as he sets his bag down and hangs his coat "you also left quite suddenly" he adds as he takes off his shoes

"yes I did" she laughs "I'm here to rectify one of those things, I am death of the endless and this," she pauses to pull the man behind her to her side "is my brother, hope" the man smiles "and I have a favor to ask of you"

morpheus tilts his head "a favor, why would i do you a favor?"

"its not really for me, its for him" she says pushing him forward a bit

"he doesn't have to do anything for me if he doesn't want to" he says to her before turning to Morpheus "you really don't, I can figure it out by myself, sister I can figure it out on my own this really isn't necessary" his motions are slightly sporadic

"figure what out?" he asks walking to the kitchen thinking about what type of drink to get for his guests.

"you don't have to worry about it, it-"

"my brother hasn't been able to reach this realm for quite awhile, he needs someone to catch him up on what he's missed" death interrupts with a smile "and I thought who better than someone whos been around the longest?" she asks as she follows him to the kitchen

Morpheus ponders this for a moment 'what he's missed?' he pops his head out of the kitchen to take another look at hope 'based on his clothes he's probably never had hot chocolate' he thinks as he goes back in to start gathering the various types of chocolate from his pantry and put some milk on the stove.

"if I were to help him. what would I have to do? just give him the internet, could he just absorb the information?" he questions as he cuts up a chocolate bar.

"internet? what's an internet?" hope asks panicked "can it catch me? is it magic?"

"no hope, no, nononononono, it cant catch you" she reassures him "its like destiny's book but, um, well its hard to explain but its not a net, it cant catch you" she puts her hands on his shoulders and quietly says "no one is going to catch you again I promise. I wont let them"

'catch him again? where was he?' he thinks as he stops cutting 'who caught him?'

"okay no internet"

"no internet"

"i guess, i could just, i dont know, tell him stories?" morpheus suggests pouring the chocolate into the milk and stirring

"stories sound nice, i'd like to hear stories." hope says in a small voice

"you're gonna need some new clothes though," he says pouring the hot chocolate in a cup "tunics aren't exactly in style anymore. here I think you'll like this" he says handing it to hope, watching his reaction as his face lights up. like actually lights up. well not his face per say, but the light around his head.

"this is delightful! what is it?" hope beams (literally) looking into his cup

"you may not have been around but you still live within their souls, if ever so slightly. they are never truly free of you, hope" death says leaning over the counter. "anyway. hope, when Morpheus lights this candle it means he's ready to tell you a story. okay?" he nods "alright lets get you bac to your realm" "okay :)" and with that they're gone.

"..."

"I didn't even really agree" Morpheus says, holding the candle.

n e ways i hope the four people who see this and also read through all of it like it! thank you for reading!

#dc #the sandman au #the sandman #hope au #hope!hob #hope of the endless #hob x morpheus #hob x dream #hob gadling #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #death of the endless #dreamling #dreamling fic #hope x dream #hope x morpheus #neil gaiman

[seabysiren]

more streamer au! 141 task force.

part I

when he's not streaming, simon works as a day labourer in contruction. simon likes it because he can just. work. it helps him keep in shape without having to be a desk job or a cashier somewhere.

it's physically tolling but rewarding. he used to work every single day without rest, but with his new channel he takes sunday off to record and check in on his mum.

when simon turned 18 was when everything turned into gear. he had enough money saved up to rent an apartment his mum and brother could move into. away from his drunk, abusive father.

that's why he worked his ass off every day to support his recovering mother and his drug addict of a brother.

but despite being a streamer, his family and friends take first priority. doesn't matter how much or how little he makes. what matters is that his mum is in a better place and that his brother can get help.

he had moved in with you a few months ago because it was an easier commute to work that way. closer to the city, but an easy drive over to his mum's apartment in case of emergency.

he still uses the pc setup in your room, but it was starting to feel a bit inconvenient. simon didn't care as long as he got the job done, but you knew this setup was going to get worse with the limited amount of space and random recording equipment.

so while he was off at his job, you had one goal in mind. renovate the empty basement into a proper streaming room. that included running around and buying those funny styrofoam pannels that's supposed to go on the wall.

it took a few hours to buy what you wanted. you got this really nice desk, LED lights, and a high quality microphone from ikea. bless ikea, because really this little project wouldn't have been possible without it.

you painted the room before you set anything else in it. you knew that simon liked monochrome colours, so you had a different variations of light grey, dark grey, grey and black around the room.

you set up three pcs in the room. all decked out with nice microphones and double monitors to make it easier to see the recording and chat. you really don't know why you bought three setups, but you just had a feeling.

with two pcs you could play together with simon.

with three pcs you could do... something.

you'd figure that out later.

-

turns out simon had figured that out without even having to talk to you.

there's this new fella on the construction sight. strange scottish man without a filter and a loud, loud voice.

he says call him john.

simon calls him johnny.

and he's an absolute muppet.

simon scowls everytime he gets paired up with johnny, but johnny only breaks out into a big grin while he talks.

"looks like i'm with you boss!"

cue simon's famous death glare.

"don't call me that."

despite the fact that simon barely talked, johnny talks for the both of them. he likes to ramble about his home town in scotland.

"scotland foreva!" simon just hit him over the head the first time he did that.

"we're in manchester you bloody muppet."

johnny loves to ramble. talking about his old neighbor who seemed a little like a drug dealer. or his theory on mattress buildings being fronts to laundering money.

"cause come on! have you 'ever seen someone in there? selling mattresses?? and they never go out of business. there's this one store in my hometown that has been open for over thirty years despite no one ever being parked in the lot."

he's gotta point though.

simon's gone from calling him johnny to soap. because he only has shower thoughts twenty four seven. it never stops.

never.

despite acting like he's a nuisance, simon likes johnny. its nice to finally talk to someone other than yer mum or yer flatmate.

but by god. soap for the love of god cannot stop with his scottish slang. something that sounds less and less like english and more like he's having a stroke.

"yer off yeir heid!"

"do you need to go to the hospital? ya' sound like yer havin' a stroke."

johnny did not have to go to the hospital. but from the amounts of times he's hit his head has simon wondering if he has a permanent concussion. or that his brain is really small and rattling around like a plinko game.

-

the joke is a scot and a brit walked into a bar.

there's no punch line.

because there's no bar.

because your house is not a damn bar.

lets do that again.

ahem

a bloody scot and a brit stomped into the front door.

you are estatic that simon's made a friend. cooing over him embarrassingly as you look the scot up and down.

"omg simon you did it. you made a friend."

"that's enough." johnny snickers in the background, earning a glare from simon.

you and johnny click instantly. the bro code or something, he claims.

the both of you thrive off the chaotic energy. simon just looks at you exasperated.

johnny also likes snooping around. instead of asking for a house tour he's shot off like a rocket. trying to find simon's room so he can steal something.

simon's running after him.

they both look like maniacs.

johnny thought simon slept in the basement. because he has that vibe. the monochrome palette. his sarcasm. the way he constantly squints when the sun gets past noon. because damn it has no reason to be that bright.

instead the two are met with the sight of your newly finished project. leds light the ceiling in a soft purple, illuminating softly pulsing lamps sitting on nice, dark wood desks. the monitors are all off, but the sheer amount of technology in this room makes his jaw hit the floor.

"ya got a stream room??"

simon looks at you in confusion too.

you smile sheepishly while you rub the back of your neck.

"yeah. had to do somethin' with the basement. and since simon needed more space."

johnny's eyes grow bigger than his damn brain.

"you??? stream????"

shocked pikachu face.

because johnny would've pegged you as a streamer with your light and teasing personality. not silent, brooding moody simon.

plot twist. simon's famous.

johnny's immediately begging for his channel name. cause come on, he has to have proof.

"ther' no way yer a streamer."

he is, in fact, a streamer. one that's rapidly growing with his feral fanbase.

johnny is still gawking by the morning.

-

one thing led to another, and it turns out johnny loves to record too. you had this dumb little idea to see if johnny could be a little guest on the channel. because don't get me wrong, simon's popular. but he needs a bit more. like company.

its ghost. and soap. and you, their little editor.

the chaos of these two when their recording together. simon let him onto the server once and suddenly half his house is blown up and soap's got an army of dogs.

he enslaves all the villagers and kills off half the farm.

or when ghost just wanted to relax and answer some Q&A questions that were long overdue.

he talked a bit about what he likes, favorite food, his opinion of communism.

and soap turned it from a question stream to a shower thought stream.

"ya know the ocean's a soup rite?"

simon sighs into the microphone.

"got the base of the soup. like the seaweed. got a bit of meat and fish. vegetables. sea cucumbers."

you had to write a warning that you cannot, in fact, just drink salt water out of the ocean. because it doesn't work that way. dont drink the forbidden soup.

chaos trio.

ghost, the chronically tired parent. and his two leash children mr soap "omg i just got a thought!" and you, who likes to edit the captions so that ghost is called babygirl.

he's not amused.

you and johnny now call him babygurl.

and half his fanbase too.

it's never gonna go away.

the ghost force had evolved from just this brit to + scot + editor + chaos.

you just put a warning in the beginning of any video that soap's in. because the scot himself needs a warning label.

:)

blurb I

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #cod #cod x reader #gn reader #streamer au

[a-sip-of-milo]

(Copied and pasted from a DM I recieved) But isn't it a PD, such as NPD, giving people certain toxic traits or coping mechanisms that which interferes with relationships? Is it not a bit ignorant to say that someone who is a narcissist, is more likely to abuse those around them believing they are better than everyone when that is clearly not true?

There is a difference between experiencing those thoughts and actually acting on it. Anyone who abuses someone else - whether they have a disorder or not - has made that choice. It's not okay to pin it on their disorder (not to mention one that they might not even have because of how many people armchair diagnose). Not only is it adding to the stigma and putting every other narcissist in danger, but it's giving the abuser a way to avoid taking responsibility.

I do think I understand though, you wanting to create a safe space for the probably lacking of those who are aware they have these disorders, i just hope those people are trying to seek help and understand their behavior affects instead of glorifying it or protecting it, which could also be part of the disorder.

Firstly, just because someone doesn't want to get help, does not mean they're toxic/abusive. You wouldn't either if your disorder was so stigmatised that people wanted to kill you for merely existing with it.

Secondly, asking that people don't automatically assume we're abusers is not glorifying anything. You do not understand the point of this account. You do not understand why I chose to do this because your beliefs are the very REASON I chose to in the first place.

We cannot be anywhere online without seeing shit like this directed at us. THIS is why I created this safe space. So people can get just a little bit of positivity in amongst the constant abuse and misinformation that is spread about them.

#npd #npd safe #cluster b #cluster b safe #cluster a #cluster a safe #cluster c #cluster c safe #npd stigma #tw.ableism

[wing-ed-thing]

Sosuke Aizen Relationship Headcanons Part II

A bit more in depth than my og Sosuke Aizen Headcanons @stygianoir​

Warnings: Gaslighting, Emotional/Psychological Abuse

💕 I dunno man, is someone who is so focused on their greater aspirations and who routinely uses the affection of others for his own benefit capable of something as selfless as... love?

💕Fondness is the closest you’re going to get and you’re getting it in either two ways: you’re viewed as so far below him and harmless or you cannot be disposed of yet and the fondness is begrudging

💕As someone who separates himself from the more menial things, Aizen finds your emotions funny. Little things meant to please him that actually serve him enough to not find you annoying. Your usefulness is a large factor in keeping you around as a pet

💕Or if you happen to be an interesting spiritual specimen. Either way, stand out just enough (but not too much) and blindly serve in an amusing fashion

💕Aizen likes asking you questions that you don’t know the answer to or perhaps only know half the answer to. He needles, pressing you for more information until you break down completely. Or maybe he just asks “are you sure?”

💕Will ask you complex questions in front of people because watching you get the answer wrong or squirm under prying eyes is also a part of his fun

💕And of course, if you somehow get upset at his psychological digging, he’ll tell you that you’re reading into things if he’s not telling you he didn’t say what you thought he said in the first place

💕Aizen is fond of the control and the sense of superiority. He may feel a sense of disappointment at the prospect of getting rid of you, but he will hardly hesitate to follow through if need be. That is the closest you will get

💕So you better keep amusing him or else

💕A less likely scenario is that the cards have aligned just right that both of you are backed into a corner and need to create an agreement of sorts. Explosive.

💕Aizen does not like sharing, let alone being forced to. Perhaps he’ll be interested in the game of it all, but if it goes on for far too long or obstructs an objective, he’ll quickly turn sour

💕He needs to win. He needs to come out of top. It’s not enough that he’s met a worthy opponent, he is not satisfied unless the challenge is great enough to challenge him, but not a power that he can’t eventually overcome in a timely manner

💕Perhaps he will admire your efforts and the attributes that make you a formidable obstacle, but any feelings of admiration will come from a strictly logical stance

💕Even if Aizen begins to develop a sense deeper than fondness, he’s not someone within a mindset to allow that to foster. Rather, he will likely channel that energy to more insidious and kiniving things

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#aizen x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #sosuke aizen #aizen #bleach #bleach x reader #bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach headcanon #bleach imagine #bleach scenario #espada

[buckysimp101]

Everything the Light Touches (18+) - Chapter Eight

Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

chapter warnings: angst, language, 

a/n: surprise friends! three ETLT updates in one week, three fic updates in general today! work was closed today because of the hurricane so. got to get a little writing done. hope y’all enjoy this chapter! 

Series Masterlist 

All was silent, eerily so, as George’s offer hung in the air of the conference room. It was you who broke it.

“I’m sorry…you’re saying that the only way you can prevent my arranged marriage to a sexist, potentially abusive and downright DANGEROUS asshole…is to arrange ANOTHER marriage to the egotistical, ALSO DANGEROUS one who didn’t have the guts to talk to me in the first place? The man who LEFT me and forced all my friends to the same!?” Your voice rose with each word, anger lacing your tone and causing Bucky to wince as if you’d physically burned him. Your words had though, you were completely right and Bucky knew it. Especially now that you’d been forced to prove that you weren’t involved in your parents’ scheme whatsoever. A part of him knew now that an apology now would be a little too late.

That revelation alone had almost caused Bucky physical harm. Not just from his friends and allies, their threats were good and Bucky knew to maybe wear an athletic cup the next couple times he saw Natasha, but the simmering anger and disappointment from you and his father. To try and get some of the heat off his father, Bucky spoke up, but he didn’t get the opportunity to say much.

“Y/N…”

“NO. YOU DON’T GET TO ‘Y/N’ ME, JAMES! YOU DON’T GET TO TRY AND CALM ME DOWN. YOU LOST THAT RIGHT WHEN YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE ME WITH MY APPARENTLY MANIPULATIVE  PARENTS A DECADE AGO AND CUT ME OFF FROM ANY ONE THAT COULD HELP ME,” you retaliated, your face growing more and more angry every second, the steam rolling off you making Bucky lean a little further away.

“Y/N, I know you’re upset bu-“ Bucky tried again but was interrupted once more.

“James, enough. We’ll talk about this later. Y/N, sweetheart. You know the rules. You know that the most protection I can offer you is by you becoming a part of the family. And I don’t know if you want to become a part,” George spoke, emphasizing part because he knew you’d pick up on what he was saying, you’d have to be initiated and would then be further drawn into the war that was about to play out, “and since James is the Underboss, and heir to the family, he’d be the best person for you to marry. If this were just a regular person your parents were trying to marry you to, we’d be able to give you protection by having you marry someone else. But this is Pierce. We cannot offer you that protection without this marital connection.”

Your nostrils flared, you were so visibly angry that Bucky was certain you could singlehandedly blow the building to bits. But after hearing George’s words, you took a breath and closed your eyes, your mouth moving for just a moment, inaudible words falling from your lips. When your eyes opened again Bucky saw the tears that were growing in them and threatening to fall yet again. When you spoke again, your voice wobbled.

“I need some time, Mr. Barnes. I need some time to think, please. Give me some time to think.”

“As much time as you need. But please be aware, your parents, Pierce and the Stinsons likely have plans for you to marry sooner rather than later. The longer we wait, the longer you risk the chance of being taken in by Liam and his father’s men.”

You nodded solemnly, leaning into Tony’s arms yet again as the words Bucky’s father just spoke washed over you. You made eye contact with Bucky yet again and this time your eyes were showing not just anger, but intense sadness for the first time. The look he saw in your eyes was one Bucky had imagined a million times over, it was the look he imagined on you when you realized that he had left you. And fucking hell it hurt. 

“I understand, Mr. Barnes. Thank you for the option,” your voice was almost robotic as you spoke to his father and as you turned around to leave George spoke yet again.

“Y/N, I recommend not going back to your apartment, at least until you make up your mind. Your apartment is probably under intense observation, and likely has been since you moved back since Tony told us your parents picked it out. We can send a guy to pick some stuff up for you, or you can send Happy to do so. If this were happening ten years ago I’d recommend you staying with my family since you’d probably be safest there,” George spoke, eyeing Bucky with a glare at the last part before continuing, “but under the circumstances you’d probably feel more comfortable and safe with Anthony and Pepper. If that is the case, I understand. But when you’re ready and have made your decision, you must come to me. Even if you decline.” 

You inhaled deeply at George’s words and nodded sharply before heading out the door Tony had pulled you into not long before, Tony Stark following close behind after throwing one last glare in Bucky’s direction. More silence enveloped the conference room as you left, that is until George cleared his throat and dismissed the rest of the men. One by one they left, until all that was left were Bucky, George, Steve, Natasha and Sam. 

Fuck I should’ve left when he dismissed them if I knew I’d be left with them.

“Who knew?” George asked, his voice shattering the silent tension that had taken over the room. Only Bucky and Steve raised their hands, Natasha and Sam sat simmering in their anger at the realization that Steve had been in on it. 

“Rogers, can you explain why you didn’t you tell me?” George questioned.

“I was specifically told by the Underboss to never tell a soul sir. I was told to tell could mean war,” Steve spoke stiffly before offering Bucky a slightly apologetic look. A part of Bucky felt bad forcing his best friend to not tell this secret for so long, but those days were behind them now that the truth was out, and Bucky was going to make sure that his friend was protected.

“Everything Steve is saying is the truth, sir,” Bucky spoke with deference towards his father so as to not seem disrespectful, “I asked Steve not to tell anyone, I forced them to cut off contact with Y/N. I was nineteen and stupid. I was basically told that if I told anyone or tried to do anything about it that would mean war and the crumpling of all you’d built. I knew Steve wouldn’t start anything if I told him, so that’s why he knows.” 

George sat, eerily silent in contemplation of his son’s words, before taking in the twin looks of betrayal on Natasha and Sam’s faces and nodding his head in their direction as a means for them to air out their grievances.

“What the actual fuck, Barnes,” Natasha started, her voice leaking all sorts of emotion, “how could you do this to her. You did it because you ‘loved’ her? What a crock of bullshit. If you truly loved her you would have A- told her about her fucking parents, B- just straight up asked if she knew, and C- never would have assumed that she was already involved. That woman LOVED YOU. You’ll be lucky if she ever fucking does again. Hell you’ll be lucky if she says yes to your father’s protection. Because here’s the thing. After all this shit, if I were her, I don’t know if I could ever marry you. Even if it was to save my own life.” With her last words, Natasha looked at George, waiting for his approval to leave, and she stomped out the door the second George Barnes nodded. 

Sam sat quietly, his face pensive. Bucky knew he was thinking about the words he’d said when he had broken the news that you were back. Bucky could practically see Sam replaying the way Bucky had reacted a month ago in his head. When Sam finally looked at Bucky, all he saw was hurt. 

“You don’t deserve her, Barnes, You never have. And I hope you realize that if she does decide to marry you, for the sake of her future and the protection of her life, you’ll need to grovel for mercy every fucking day.” And just like Natasha, Sam waited to be dismissed by George and left the room seething silently. 

Silence seemed to be the name of the game tonight. Because the conference room at Barnes Inc. was completely silent…yet again. 

“Steven, thank you for telling me what you knew. Head home, be safe. I need to speak with my son,” George spoke coolly. Steve nodded his head at George before glancing quickly at Bucky, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ before walking out of the room, leaving the father and son to sit in silence and contemplation. 

“How could you, son.”

“Dad, I thought-…”

“YOU OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T THINK! I THOUGHT YOUR MOTHER AND I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS, JAMES!” George roared and Bucky flinched in response. He hadn’t seen his father this mad since Ivan Romanoff had been killed in action all those years ago. Bucky opened his mouth to counter his father but was cut off yet again.

“Do you not realize how the choice you made was just going to hurt her either way? And at least if you had approached her, or hell ME, we could’ve figured this out and the two of you may still be together!? And not just forced to be together because she’s in need of damned PROTECTION!” Bucky hung his head at his father’s words until he felt his father’s fingers grasp his chin and force him to look upon him. Rage burned in the dark eyes of George Barnes as he continued his speech.

“This will bring war. Her decision. Whether she marries you or not, and I think a part of you knows this. Or at least you better. I know you’re smarter than you’ve acted, but let me tell you exactly how war will be waged. If she marries you, then her parents will come after the family with the full force of Pierce’s men. You know this now and apparently you knew this then. But if she marries Liam, then you will go after them. And you cannot deny this. Even if the two of you had never seen each other again, you would go to war for that woman. Just like I would your mother. Now look me in the eye and tell me the truth son. Why? Why did you sign away that poor girl’s life all those years ago?”

Bucky was struck dumb by his father’s words. A part of him had never truly thought hard about how by making that decision for you he’d essentially taken away any of your future decisions. He had forced you between a rock and a hard place with no way out, snatched the rope right from your hands, and was now having to watch as you were forced into another situation you wanted nothing to do with. His heart ached. He felt physically ill. He had done this to you. And now who knew if you would choose a forced life with him or Liam.

“I was young. And stupid. And I thought I was helping her…I thought I was helping the family…we had just lost Ivan and Tony was moving out to California, we couldn’t possibly take a hit at the time. I threatened her parents. Told them if I found out they’d hurt her in anyway that I’d come after them. I guess I never thought about how I was the one hurting her in the end,” Bucky’s words came out quiet and thoughtful. He hadn’t spoken about his feelings on the topic since the night he told Steve and he was slowly beginning to realize how big of a mistake that was. Twenty-nine year old Bucky was kicking his nineteen year old self for not at least going to his father in the first place. 

“You misused your friend’s loyalty, I hope you know that. By telling Steven you made him disobey me, even though I was not aware of the betrayal at the time. Steve Rogers is a good man, a strong future Underboss, I hope you realize that. But James, you should have come to me first. We could’ve saved her, and we could’ve saved you. I see how the last ten years have left you. I always thought it had something to do with the work we did and wondered if I made the right decision training you up for it,” Bucky’s head whipped towards his father at his admission, blue eyes wide, before George shook his head and continued, “the family is yours, son, it will always be yours. But the second you let her go, you turned into a different person. You are not the same man your mother and I raised you to be. And I think it’s high time you find him again. Hopefully there’s still time for you to do so.”

Once again, silence filled the void between Bucky and George as he took in his father’s words, nodding once in recognition of what he was saying. George stood and approached Bucky, looking at his son to see if he had truly understood the deep shit they were all walking into, before pulling him in for a tight hug. 

When they pulled apart George clapped his son on the shoulder and began to usher him out of the office, “now come. You’re going to be the one to tell your mother.”

Five Days Later

It took five days for Bucky to gather the courage to tell his mother about the events of that night and the night ten years ago, and for some reason he decided that family dinner night was the night to do so. When he arrived at his parents house, his father stared at him pointedly as his mother wrapped him up into a hug, cooing over how handsome he looked with his beard, a beard that was more just overgrown stubble than anything thanks to the stress of the last week.

Bucky’d put Sam on lookout outside Tony’s place. He followed you all week and even escorted you and Happy to your apartment to get some of your clothes and other essentials. When Sam reported back to George that you’d allowed his help and even talked a little with him, the heavy weight that felt like it was crushing Bucky from the inside out lifted just a little. He knew Natasha was waiting her turn to speak to you, but that she wouldn’t force you to talk. He also knew that a part of Natasha was waiting to see what decision you made. 

Winnie was going on and on about dinner and how she was trying out a new recipe but the guilt was piling on as Bucky listened to his mother speak and so he interrupted her.

“Mom, we need to talk.”

Winnifred Barnes was a kind, patient woman. In all his life Bucky had never truly seen his mother angry. Until this night. 

“You. Did. What?” Seething. Winnifred Barnes was absolutely seething. Bucky swore he could see steam blowing out of her ears like a cartoon character with how angry she was. George laid a hand on her forearm, cautioning her about her blood pressure but she waved it off. “You mean. To tell me. That the reason that sweet girl left all those years ago, was because my son. My sweet, IMBECILE of a son, left her to those LEECHES ALL THOSE YEARS AGO!?” A screech. That’s what Bucky considered his mother’s tone right now. But she wasn’t done yet.

“AND NOW! The only reason she MAY OR MAY NOT come back to this family is because she’s in trouble, SOMETHING YOU COULD HAVE PREVENTED A DECADE AGO, and she might marry you AGAINST HER WILL!? I always knew she’d be my daughter-in-law one day but I never thought it would be because she HAD TO!”  

“Winnie, honey, I need you to breathe. James made a mistake, a very costly, very stupid,” George emphasized with a pointed glare in his son’s direction, “mistake. But we need to pay attention to the matter at hand and that is what we will have to do if she decides to marry Liam. That boy will hurt her. Or his father’s men will. She will not be safe. And if it’s war Alexander Pierce wants, it is war he will get,” George growled, his hand now rubbing calming circles on his wife’s back. 

Bucky could not remember a time when he had ever disappointed his family this much. No matter the number of time’s he’d lied, stolen, or just let them down. The way this reaction felt, hammering and weighing down Bucky’s heart, was up there with your reaction the other night and the way he felt when he left your parents house ten years ago. Bucky opened his mouth, hoping to finally be able to get his words out, when a loud knock came from the front door of the Barnes home. George left Bucky with Winnie to go answer the door, the woman was glaring at him.

“James, you don’t understand how disappointed I am in you. If she does decide to join this family, I hope you do everything in your power to earn her forgiveness. If I were her, I’m not sure I ever could.” Winnie started sniffling at that moment, her emotions shifting from anger to sadness as she recognized the danger of the situation. Bucky took his mother into his arms and held her tight, allowing her to cry against his chest.

“I know I fucked up, mama,” she hissed at the profanity causing Bucky to huff out a laugh, “sorry. I know I messed up. But I will do anything I possibly can to keep her safe. You have to believe me,” Bucky stated, his voice practically begging as he came to terms with the fact that everything had in fact gone to hell in a fucking picnic basket. 

Before Winnie could answer a throat cleared from the doorway. When Bucky looked up there stood his father, Tony Stark, and you. Your gaze was focused on Winnie, the sharpness in your eyes softening slightly at her crying figure. But when you looked at Bucky your eyes hardened once more, rage ablaze. You were steeling yourself, he’d seen you do it a thousand times before. Tony cleared his throat once more and gave you a nudge, pushing you forward into the room slightly. It was your turn to clear your throat before speaking.

“I’ve made my decision…” even though you spoke quietly your voice seemed to ring throughout the room. Everyone, except Tony, froze at the meaning of your words and when you realized how captivated your audience was you threw your shoulders back and straightened your posture before continuing, your voice more clear, sure and vaguely threatening this time.

“I will marry James. But it will be on my terms. And I have a few stipulations."

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#mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky x yn #mafia au #bucky barnes is a dummy #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #BuckySimp101 #everything the light touches fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn

[defensivelee]

ok ok here's my detailed nsfw headcanons (or ig....canon anyway bc it's my story?? LMAO) for six lives. obvious warning for nsfw/kink but also for mentions of domestic violence and sexual abuse (of adults and minors)

-William IS asexual in the usual sense that he doesn't experience attraction, however this society doesn't... have a term for that

-ironically, he's the guy fucking the most here. he has a very unhealthy view of sex-- he thinks it's unnecessary, it's awkward, he'd prefer to avoid it altogether, but he feels that because he CAN have sex as an Overlifer... he SHOULD. something his father taught him!

-he CAN enjoy it, just for the stimulation, but even that makes him kind of ill afterwards. it's a mix of the feeling that he saw something he shouldn't have as well as his trauma from the CSA

-he likes all sorts of BDSM, it genuinely makes sex a little more fun for him bc he's actively doing smth else while fucking. he CANNOT handle just lying there and taking it, and he can't handle seeing someone else that way, either

-for example: he loves to stim with the gags Bentinck puts on him. they need to be taken off pretty quickly so he can breathe, but he lovesss drooling over it

-he does draw the line at choking tho DO NOT CHOKE HIM

-if he loves you (like he does Bentinck) then he'll wrap his long long tail around your waist while you fuck his brains out 🥺🥺

-i've mentioned this before but he's very vocal. if you get him into subspace, he'll say things or make noises you NEVER could have imagined for him...

-now Bentinck! so this guy acts normal but he's kinky as shit, same levels as William

-he can be a gentle dom but he has a mild preference for subbing. he LOVES to be ruined

-he doesn't like pain so much tho, he's more into bondage and servitude and humiliation

-he loves gangbangs, especially when shit gets MESSY. he wants to be covered in cum and piss and drool and sweat

-however sometimes it's hard to enjoy them when he knows the people fucking him aren't really attracted to him, they're attracted to the idea of fucking an Ally, like some kind of power reversal. his biggest fantasy is being 'worshipped' by a bunch of his followers, and being instead fucked by people who would like to see him dead really messes with him... it's like, they don't deserve to see that of him

-he hardly ever cums without jacking off or someone doing it for him

-he's very good with fisting (he took someone up to their shoulder once and YES THAT IS POSSIBLE AND NO DONT ASK ME HOW I KNOW THAT) and huge dildos. he owns a few crazy monster cocks and has great fun riding them

-eating ass/pussy is his favorite thing in the world (oh yeah when Keppel shows up it's gonna be over for you bitches)

-he laughs. a lotttt. it's kind of a nervous response in the aforementioned gangbangs William sets him up to do, but he also does it bc he's having fun when he's topping

-Mary time!! she's actually pretty vanilla but rlly enjoys blindfolds, and she's got a bit of a sadistic streak

-she loves making boys cheat on their partners with her it's her favorite thing (imagine getting cucked by Mary tho LMAOOO)

-she's actually not super horny all the time like her father but when she gets high, she goes fucking nuts and is something of a power bottom

-also when she gets high, she's very loud

-she'll only let girls dominate her

-that's why she's got a bit of a friends-with-benefits situation going on with Anne Villiers, they regularly fuck and Anne's great at it so Mary has High Standards for her partners

-she prefers to have sex with her assassination targets before she kills them bc she rlly hates getting blood on her clothes. to her it's the hottest shit when she's washing blood off her tits

-and yes as Anne mentioned before she has lots of dildos and sex toys too. she can have her own fun

-in particular she loves vibrators

-and now we have her father!! oh dear where do i even begin. full on sadomasochist, the extremes of both sides of the spectrum. not a kink out there he doesn't like. he'll try everything

-generally he prefers to be a dom as well as a top, there's VERY few people he's willing to sub and/or bottom for

-however even as a dom he likes to receive pain. and like i mean crazy amounts of pain, he loves being whipped until he bleeds and he's REALLY into CBT

-there's also, ofc, knives, which he gets if he genuinely attempts to kill Maria. force her to fight back and all that

-you can't even nonconsensually torture this man bc he loves it so much

-as for the pain he INFLICTS, he loves flogging, beating, slapping, choking, shocking, all that wild shit. he'll just do it unprovoked tho, like without any discussion beforehand

-he regularly ignores safewords and pushes his partners to their very limits

-obv he ADORES bondage

-his favorite aspect of bondage is gags, specifically ring gags (the ones that force your mouth open). he loves to use Marly's mouth like that

-can't forget the green stockings kink. here it's extended to him being drawn to just the color green in general, he couldn't tell you why but he LOVES to see it on people and makes his partners wear it to remind everyone that he 'owns' them

-completely opposite views from William; he believes that as an Overlifer, he's entitled to the bodies of everyone around him. and he'll take them whenever he likes

-when he forces himself upon somebody for the first time, there's a very good chance he'll kill them if they don't show him respect for it. he seems to calm down a little after you get used to it, but it's terrifying for anyone involved. ofc, part of what's so thrilling to him is the fear

-he loves humiliating Marly and Maria. sometimes both at the same time

-sometimes when fucking Marly he'll mock the latter for his moans, like he'll hear Marly let out a gasp and then he'll copy it just to echo how pathetic he sounds

-mean rough fucker, won't let you cum without begging. and he's VERY good at making people beg

-there's no love for his subs after he's done with them. despite the fact that they might have reacted like he wanted them to, he still finds them fucking UNBEARABLE to look at afterwards. for just a moment, he hates them for their powerlessness

-necrophilia? probably. don't ask

-and now for everyone's favorite: Marly!!! ooh he's not kinky at ALL, despite the fact that he often finds himself in some damn Situations in all his movies/shows, and has actually come to hate BDSM for what he associates with it

-he's not even that much of a hoe tbh. he just happens to work for James, who thinks Marly is a horny little bitch who eats everything up

-despite being terrified of bondage, he finds the powerlessness and vulnerability kind of DOES turn him on. even the fear itself does smth for him. he's not sure why but the idea that he likes it even a little bit makes him highly uncomfortable

-as well as James taunting and humiliating him for it? no thank you, not for him

-he hates pain especially, all the ways James slaps and bats him around during sex INFURIATE him. he wants to be treated nicely in bed yknow

-he can tolerate BDSM a little bit more if it's consensual, but ofc it never fully is bc. well it's kinks he doesn't like. but like, if James is extra affectionate that night... he thinks he'll be okay

-he's never once complained about it tho. he thinks if that's how James wants to use his body, then he deserves to, and he gets enough out of it by having James fuck him anyway and knowing that his master is rlly enjoying himself using HIS body. oh it's an honor to him

-i mean it's crazy, he REALLY loves James' cock, he loves sucking it and worshipping it and taking it

-he's very polite. calls James 'sir' and thanks him for everything, even when he's just about losing his mind in the middle of it

-also a lot of 'i love you's. he tries to be very sweet

-oh yknow the tattoos on James drive him nuts

-something he's weirdly into is how he'll put on makeup and by the end of the night it'll be SO fucked up bc of how rough James was with him

-sometimes, if the two of them are drunk enough, they'll have the closest thing to loving, consensual sex they can get to. none of the bondage or violence Marly hates, just a lot of kissing and whispers on James' part, and Marly thinks he can remember why he ever fell in love with this man in the first place

-it's just a very complicated thing for him. some nights, James' touch is all he can think about, other times he just wishes James would look away for once

-during the three-ways with James and Maria, he'll usually be their sub. mostly he just feels bad for her; she's clearly VERY uncomfortable

-he's never had sex with Sarah once. he believes it to be heresy and that he doesn't deserve her, even tho he REALLY wants to do so...

-ok here's a speed round for characters that don't fuck much in the story/haven't appeared yet but i still think about them

-Keppel's favorite thing in the world is sucking cock without a doubt. he's soft when someone's fucking him, but he'll be hard as shit while blowing someone

-he loves drinking cum

-he can switch his genitalia out anytime!

-with a pussy he's a squirter like no other and loves being eaten out

-also he's a fierce power bottom and brat. takes a lot to get him to fully sub for you but... i think William can manage it, no?

-Charles is 100% a pup. he's got the hood and everything

-he also likes to be called 'good girl' and have his asshole referred to as a 'cunt.' curious, curious

-Maria's not that much into BDSM either, but James finds her a lot more receptive when she's drunk or upset. she'll do anything for him in that state

-she's actually fully asexual too and struggles with a lot of guilt when it comes to pleasing the devil ancestors

-Anne Villiers is absolutely a full sub and bottom, she WISHES Hanni would tie her up like he does to William...

-Shrewsbury is an exhibitionist. period full stop he just loves humiliation and having people watch him and degrade him and all that. he might be a sex worker here but i gotta think about that

-Louis loves being gang fucked by a bunch of his nobles and politicians, it's a form of worship to him

-he also has a breastfeeding kink, having given birth to his own kids he likes it when his partners suck milk out of him too

#THIS TOOK TOO LONG.... #and it also GOT very long ooops #ooh i think i enjoyed writing the marly stuff a little too much #if you guys have any of ur own headcanons for this.... pls send them.... im always thinking about this AU #six lives won't make you happy #suggestive