#“You're” is technically a complete sentence

[import--math--geek--math-rand]

Was thinking about something funny to post but I forgor what it was so instead tell me how you're in the reblogs

[eightmakesonebraincell]

ateez as pirates who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for hongjoong), fluff, angst, crack, and as always - a brainrot of every pirate trope to exist

length: 10.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, ransoming, verbal abuse, abduction), alcohol, pet names

a/n: maknae line will come yes but who knows when 🤷‍♀️ work has been really testing my dopamine vibes this year 😔👎 thank you @sorryimananti-romantic for keeping a detailed hitlist for me ♡

hongjoong

pov: you're a royal princess rescued by him

“captain, are you sure we can’t toss her overboard?”

jongho and hongjoong watch as wooyoung’s face falls after you pointedly ignore his attempts to make conversation once again

for someone who is technically their guest aboard the arriba, it seems as though you are hellbent on being as difficult as you can be

“unfortunately, we can’t,” hongjoong grouches to the younger, “not unless we want to exchange our payment for a hefty bounty on our own heads”

when jongho sighs, the captain squeezes his shoulder in comfort and adds on, “trust me, i’ve thought about it too”

hongjoong and his crew are privateers - pirates in theory, but technically excused so long as they have their letter of marque to state that they are authorised to attack other vessels

rescuing a royal princess was never explicitly part of the contract, although he thinks that not rescuing you would have pretty much been equivalent to a blatant show of insubordination

you had been taken ransom by one of the merchant ships the arriba had been plundering

needless to say, they had been close to tossing you overboard too; your kingdom had never paid for your ransom

the lack of response from your parents wasn’t anything you weren’t expecting but it’s a sore spot nonetheless

so it’s certainly hard for you to play friendly when you’re quite literally shucked off from stranger to stranger faster than a hot potato

san tugs wooyoung closer towards him and gently says to you, “he’s just trying to be nice - we all are”

the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by you

“i don’t need your pity,” you answer, the only sentence you have spoken today

you’ve lived two decades of your life pretending you don’t see the pitying gazes of your maids and butlers

you certainly don’t need pity from these people - pirates no less

“it’s not-” wooyoung starts to say

but the captain steps in before he can defend himself

“if this is how you’re always acting, i’m starting to see why your kingdom never paid for your ransom”

had hongjoong been less preoccupied by your words, he would have realised that your tone is candid, as if it is only natural for the people around you to pity you

but he’s clouded with his mindset as captain, unable to stand by idly while his own crew put up with your attitude, and so the words come out anyway - shards of shrapnel that bury themselves into your heart

there is only a fleeting second when your eyes dilate with hurt

you conceal it immediately, replacing it with a steely gaze, yet the image has already seared itself into hongjoong’s mind

“maybe you should throw me overboard, then,” you counter, “i’m sure my family will thank you for it”

and even if you have completely neutralised your expression, no one misses the wounded tone of your voice before you disappear down into the lower deck

mingi lets out a low whistle after the resounding slam of the hatch closing

“you fucked up, captain”

hongjoong doesn’t need anyone to spell it out for him

the heavy feeling in his stomach is telling enough

it isn’t until the moon has long since risen that you emerge through the hatch again

you had bypassed the sleeping quarters to the hold, wedging yourself between barrels of grain until you were sure no one would find you

not that they would have tried to anyway - seonghwa had told them all to give you some space

you had run your finger up and down the sides of the barrels repetitively for hours on end, mind simultaneously void and filled with thoughts

the walls you had built around yourself kept you safe, but it had started to become awfully lonely after a while

when it had become a little too suffocating in the hold and you guessed that most of the crew was asleep, you had softly padded back up the stairs and across the main deck

you now sit on the foredeck where the endless expanse of the sea stretches out in front of you, closing your eyes and letting the swaying of the ship lull you into tranquillity

tonight, the moon winks down fondly upon the waters

hongjoong watches you from the quarterdeck

he’s seen you sit at the front of the ship on many nights when you should really have been asleep

he wonders if you’ve always looked so small and fragile with your knees drawn up to your chest, or whether it’s because the flash of hurt in your eyes and voice is still fresh in his mind

“go, captain,” yunho murmurs from where he’s at the helm, “it’s a quiet night”

hongjoong startles at having been caught gazing, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes away

“why should i, if she’s just going to ignore me?” he scoffs

but he knows he’s just being petty at this point and his chest churns in agreement

“maybe,” yunho hums softly in response. “did seonghwa ever give up on you, though?”

it’s rhetorical - hongjoong knows the answer better than anyone

the captain doesn’t say anything but after several beats of silence, he sighs and makes a move to the foredeck where you are

yunho smiles to himself

you and hongjoong may be more similar than his captain realises

your shoulders stiffen when the sound of hongjoong’s footsteps approaches

you’re not sure what to expect and you don’t exactly want to find out and risk getting hurt

but having spent all day swimming alone in your thoughts, you do want to show that you feel apologetic because admittedly, you were being an ass too

getting up to walk away when he’s taken the first step certainly won’t help your case

you hold your breath in awkward silence as he settles down beside you, leaving a respectable distance between your hunched figures

only now is hongjoong realising that he hasn’t actually thought about or decided on what he wants to say to you

but he can feel the confusion rolling off of you in waves, so he grits his teeth and says fuck it

“i won’t apologise for defending my crew, but i’m sorry for how i did it and for what i said”

he hopes you know he is sincere when he continues, “we all have our prickly edges. i can’t fault you for yours”

compassion is a foreign concept to you and so you’re a little stumped for words

hongjoong isn’t sure whether your silence is a good or bad thing, but you have yet to stand up and walk away from the conversation

“there’s only about a week left until we reach port and we’ll leave after you make it back to your kingdom and we receive our payment. i’m not asking for you to be friendly, but let’s at least be civil with each other until then,” he says

you want to nod, agree, anything

and yet you can’t seem to make your head move or the words to come out of your mouth

rome was not built in a day. but neither did its walls fall in a day

hongjoong doesn’t push for an answer when instead, you ask, “how many people have you actually tossed overboard before?”

he resists the urge to laugh at your question, suddenly endeared by the fact that you’re still bothered by his very empty threat

“none, but my offer still stands. you’re welcome to be my first,” he deadpans

you let out a snort and although you quickly turn your head away, hongjoong sees the hint of amusement in your eyes

no further words are exchanged between the two of you and you do not acknowledge him when he eventually stands to rejoin yunho at the helm

but it’s a start

and as with any relationship, be it friend, foe, or lover, there is always that

a beginning.

hongjoong isn’t really expecting much to change immediately so he doesn’t pay you much mind when you walk into the mess hall the following morning

you hesitate at the entrance when you see most of the crew are already present, the conversation you had with hongjoong last night replaying at the forefront of your mind

you chew on the inside of your mouth

wooyoung stops mid-conversation at the scrape of a plate on the table, looking up to find you sliding into the seat beside him with a tight-lipped smile

to your surprise, he greets you with enthusiasm and immediately drags you into the conversation

hongjoong watches as you slowly warm up and add one or two comments of your own in between bites of your hardtack

and when he catches your gaze after staring for too long, he gives you a smile to convey his appreciation; to acknowledge your efforts

you return it with a small smile of your own and unbeknownst to you, it stays on your face for the rest of the day

slowly, there become more and more reasons that elicit a smile out of you

you still sit out on the foredeck when everyone else has gone to sleep, but on most nights, hongjoong will join you even if just for a while

the two of you are content to sit side by side with nothing but the steady pulse of the ocean and intermittent creaks of the ship’s hull to break the silence of the night

tonight though, you find curiosity burning through you

“what’s it like?” you ask

“being a pirate?” he clarifies

you shrug vaguely, unsure yourself either, “being a pirate. being at sea. sailing with your crew”

he takes a moment to gather his thoughts - not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because there is too much he wants to say

when hongjoong answers, his voice rumbles softly from within his chest, tender and heartfelt

“there’s a sense of freedom that you can’t obtain when you’re bound to land and society. sailing the waters, the only limits are those of the open seas and of your own compass… the sunrises, the storms, the moonlight - it all becomes part of your home”

hongjoong leans back to rest on the palms of his hands, tilting his gaze up towards the twinkling sky

he reflects, “you experience brotherhood and gain a family that is worth multitudes more than the treasures you can accumulate, even if you were to live as a pirate for several lifetimes”

you’re enraptured by his words, like poetry that swirls off the pages of a book and drifts into your very soul

“i may be the captain of this crew, but they make me who i am. without them, i am nothing”

his words wash over you and unearth vivid memories

“that’s what the queen always says to me,” you reveal

a small smile starts to grace hongjoong’s face, but it falls just as quickly when he hears your next words

“that without her - without her title - i am nothing”

it’s funny, how the same phrase can hold such different meanings; can evoke such different emotions

you don’t elaborate any further, but hongjoong doesn’t think he needs you to in order for him to understand

he just wishes he had more time to show you that your mother is wrong

he can’t though

tomorrow they reach port and you will return to your rightful place in the palace

“tell me more about your crew,” you attempt to change the topic, “how did you all find each other?”

so hongjoong tells you

he talks for hours and hours and you listen all the while with a heavy heart, clinging onto his every word

on your final night, you two stay like that until the stars disappear and the horizon becomes streaked with the pale hues of sunrise

after the ship docks mere hours later, only hongjoong accompanies you to your kingdom after goodbyes are exchanged

wooyoung doesn’t take it well, and you find yourself holding back tears of your own as you are let through the palace doors with the captain by your side

but you blink them away when you approach the throne room because vulnerability is not an emotion you are willing to display

“y/n”

the queen addresses you curtly when you enter, and hongjoong wonders for a split second whether he has brought you back to the wrong kingdom

he knows your mother does not treat you fondly, but it’s still staggering to see it before his very own eyes

the monarch glances distastefully over him before her eyes flicker back to you

“i did not expect your return,” she states

your eyes remain impassive as you merely answer, “neither am i delighted to be back”

hongjoong recognises this look

he’s seen it when you first boarded his ship; he’s seen it when your hackles were raised

he’s seen it in himself, when he had been a teenager filled with nothing but growing resentment, before he had met seonghwa

your mother sneers, “then you should have made yourself useful and stayed with the pirates. as a whore or a dog, whatever it took.”

hongjoong has understood you since learning of your demons, but right now, he is you

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, standing before a couple who are his parents only by title

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, who doesn’t know what he has done that deems him undeserving of love

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, all alone with no one to take his hand

“or really, you should have died on the ship”

hongjoong is close enough to you to hear the small hitch in your breath at your mother’s final jab

he may not have had someone to save his younger self, but he can do that now

he can be the person he so desperately needed years ago

and so he does just that.

hongjoong grabs your hand and drags you out of the palace

no one stops the two of you from leaving and he is unsure whether his heart hurts for you or sings with relief

you can only stutter in shock as you try to keep up, “hongjoong, what about your payment?”

his determined steps do not slow down, even as he looks back at you with a sure smile, “i told you before. some things are worth more than money”

the comforting squeeze of his hand conveys that you are worth more than any amount of money

the form of the arriba grows bigger in the distance and you think you can see the movement of excitement on deck when the crew spots your figures

hongjoong has slowed down his steps, but he has yet to let go of your hand

“and you deserve to know that. welcome to the crew, y/n”

to a family and love that you never had

you think you like the sound of that

“thank you, captain”

seonghwa

pov: you're a royal navy officer in disguise

you lay awake in your hammock, listening to the soft snores of the crew members around you

sleep doesn’t come easy to you anymore

particularly tonight

you contemplate whether it’s worth the risk to simply not show up

you know what the consequences are if they capture you - a slow and painful death - but you’re unsure whether you want to put ateez on the line too

your ship is currently docked for the night, having made a port stop at alcarres following one of the crew’s wishes to retire the pirate lifestyle and settle in the small town

their last night with ateez had been celebrated with sloshing rum and rowdy jigs, something you had found strange

there’s none of that in the royal navy

when one leaves, it is shameful and through one of three options only; old age, crippling injury, or…death

you had asked seonghwa, the quartermaster, why he and the captain were so accepting when crew members left as they wished

he had simply smiled and answered, “better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew”

his words are like a sharp stone in your shoe as you finally slip out of your hammock and make your way off the ship

as ordered, you head to the tavern addressed

you salute the person in front of you and ease into your seat with a formality only when he disregards you

“admiral jang”

“you’re late,” the royal navy officer raises an eyebrow

“sorry, sir. i had to make sure everyone was asleep”

it’s not exactly the truth, but no one needs to know that you had spent an hour in your hammock questioning your morality

he ignores your excuse, jesting as he asks of your captain, “has the pirate king found the chart’s whereabouts yet?”

the charts

centuries ago, a crew of experienced sailors had travelled the six great seas and created the original navigational charts

the charts had become scattered and lost over time, but its value only increased exponentially as more and more sailors became victims to the sea trying to map its waters to the same detail and accuracy as the original charts

of the six originals, only the whereabouts of five are known, with most of them within the possession of the royal navy

it’s rumoured that hongjoong - the pirate king - has his hands on two of them and is currently tracking down the lost chart of the aurorian sea

the only sea that has yet to be chartered after its original map due to its dangerous and unpredictable sailing conditions

you know that your next words can hold an inexplicable amount of possibilities

“not yet. the last lead didn’t get him anywhere. turned out the last of the ahn clan had passed a decade ago”

his lips flatten at the lack of worthwhile information

“where’s the captain headed to next, then?” he probes

for a split second, the thought of lying crosses your mind

you can’t provide a different location - it would be much too obvious and would raise immediate suspicions

but you could give him a different time frame

after all, it’s not uncommon for navigational routes to be one to two weeks off should the waters be unpredictable enough

you find the truth spilling out of you anyway once you’re looking into his stone-cold eyes

“vlasgar. in about three weeks’ time”

for a moment, time stands still as your heart pounds and you attempt to slow your breathing, the officer staring back at you calculatingly

then he finally hums in satisfaction

you think that he is going to dismiss you, but as you make a move to leave, he leans back in his seat

the split second of hesitation was enough

“remember where your loyalty lies, y/n”

the air feels cold with the underlying threat

seonghwa’s words flit through your mind

better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew

you swallow, “of course, admiral”

and then you’re dismissed with a nod

the unsettling feeling follows you all the way back to the ship and every miniscule creak of the floorboards underneath you seems to be amplified in the silence

you let out a short gasp of surprise when you’re about to climb back into your hammock, only to see seonghwa blinking blearily at you

“couldn’t sleep ‘gain?” he mumbles

you choke out a response, “yeah”

“i’ll make you tea b’fore you sleep ‘morrow,” his words slur with sleepiness

“okay,” you whisper

but you know it won’t make a difference

after all, there’s no remedy for guilt

it continues to fester the next day, as you linger outside the captain’s quarters

you can’t remember why you had come down to the lower deck, but it doesn’t matter now, not with seonghwa and the captain discussing what you think is related to the aurorian chart

“do you think he’s still in vlasgar?”

“min taesoo? it’s hard to say. but i’m sure he’ll have acquaintances still on the island who may have an idea of where he’s gone”

min taesoo

your brain tries to carefully file the name away, knowing that it’s what admiral jang would want to know, but at the same time, your heart tries to pretend it doesn’t know what you have heard so that you can forget about it

you find yourself scratching the name onto a scrap of paper anyway

unbeknownst to you, at the almost-imperceivable sound of your footsteps walking away, the two men behind the doors share a look

the crew sets sail again in the afternoon towards the next destination - vlasgar - and the scrap of paper in your pocket weighs you down so heavily that you feel off-kilter as you absentmindedly follow jongho up into the rigging to unfurl the sails

you’re near the top of the ropes when a sudden wave lurches the boat to starboard

it’s only a small push, really, but with your mind elsewhere, it catches you off guard and you miss your next step

the feeling of your hand dislodging from the sudden drag of your body weight brings you back to the present with a yell of surprise

(whether it’s your own or jongho’s, you can’t remember)

your sailing experience takes over and you try to swing your body back towards the safety of the rigging

you barely manage to grasp the ropes again but your hands slip down with your weight until they hit the next knot, the hot rush of friction threatening your grip

with adrenaline rushing through your body, you shakily climb back down, where there are several pairs of hands waiting to help you down the rest of the rigging

seonghwa’s hands do not leave you even after your feet are planted on the deck again

dread and shame heat the back of your neck and curl around onto your cheeks, knowing that a mistake like the one you had just made - accidental or not - would lead to a punishment like confinement in the lower deck back in the royal navy

except, when an apology starts to form on your lips, seonghwa bursts out in dismay

“y/n, your hands!”

you let out an unintelligible noise as seonghwa gently turns your palms over and you realise that the ropes have grazed some of the skin off

“it’s fine,” you want to say

but you’re silenced when he leads you to the small sick bay on the orlop deck

even if there is no surgeon on board, there is a small chest fastened to the wall that is home to their few and valuable medical supplies

you sit as he fusses over you with alcohol and strips of cloth

although he does a good job of wrapping your hands, your insides start to bleed with how intensely guilt eats away at you, like a maggot deep inside the core of a festering apple

that night as you shuffle towards your hammock to sleep, you flinch when you find seonghwa already sitting in his

he’s fighting the heaviness in his eyes as he carefully cradles something

upon seeing you, he wordlessly hands it to you with a sleepy smile before he finally sags into his own hammock with a content sigh

you look down and the warmth of it seems to burn through the padded dressing that the man before you has tenderly wrapped around your palms

the sensation travels upwards to burn your heart too

because in your hands is a cup of warm chamomile tea

and yet, despite the emptied cup, you find yourself unable to fall asleep

but in the darkness of the sky, with no witnesses other than the waves and sea foam themselves, a small piece of crumpled paper gets tossed overboard that night

the closer their ship approaches vlasgar, the more distant seonghwa notices you become

he worries

seonghwa thinks he worries for the reasons that he should be

he is the quartermaster; entrusted to protect the crew as the captain’s right-hand man

if that means ensuring no one will compromise the rest of his crew, even if it’s you, then so be it

that’s what he justifies to himself as he walks through the cobbled streets of vlasgar, slinking through the shadows as he follows your figure from a safe distance

(in reality, seonghwa worries for the reasons that he is not quite ready to admit yet)

he follows you into the dim bar of a tavern and carefully situates himself where he can watch over you without being discovered

he orders a mug of common ale as you approach someone

the man is dressed in civilian attire, but seonghwa can tell straight away from his demeanour and expression that he is not as ordinary as he appears

it’s confirmed when he hears you say, “admiral jang”

and then he sees it

the small but striking lapel pin on the breast of the man’s coat - the royal navy’s insignia

seonghwa feels for the sash that’s hidden underneath his own jacket and his fingertips meet the cool metal of the pistol tied inside

“you better have updates for me, y/n. what’s the pirate king’s purpose here in vlasgar?”

seonghwa knows he only has about five seconds to make a decision - one that could jeopardise the crew, or one that could jeopardise you

but you surprise yourself and the both of them when you answer steadfastly, “i don’t know, sir”

despite the din of drunker patrons in the tavern, it seems to fall deathly silent

“am i hearing wrong, officer?” the admiral questions with a disbelieving scoff

to your credit, your voice does not waver when you state again, “no, sir. i believe the captain and quartermaster are lying low. they have not revealed anything to me nor the rest of the crew”

seonghwa suddenly understands why you have distanced yourself

the admiral’s jaw tics

“is that so.”

you do not respond, only focusing on the spot between his raised eyebrows as he leans forward across the table

“where does your loyalty lie, y/n?”

neither the admiral nor seonghwa need to hear your answer to know the truth

a small crew may be outnumbered, but they have strength in loyalty and devotion

there’s a glint of movement from underneath the table as the admiral inches something out from his belt

seonghwa makes his decision

you flinch, eyes wide as there’s a deafening gunshot and the table beside you splinters and scatters the tankards of alcohol onto the floor

instantaneously, chaos erupts

there are drunken yells of fright and weapons clumsily brandished, tables upturned and chairs hurled across the room

it only takes one other misfired shot for the tavern to descend into hellfire as customers who were previously drinking together now turn on one another

nobody notices the two pirates dashing out, not even admiral jang, who is busy wrangling two inebriated men off his arms

your composure dissolves the moment you are dragged into an alleyway several streets away and you look up in shock to discover-

“seonghwa?! why are you here?”

“i could say the same about you,” he counters, hardly out of breath

you’re stunned by the fact that he seems completely unfazed by the mess that he has just dragged you out of

something clicks

“was that you? did you know all along?”

seonghwa smiles, “let’s just say you’re not as subtle as you think you are when you sneak around. plus, it’s uncommon for sailors to have the experience that you do without having had some sort of training”

you curse under your breath and wince, “does hongjoong know too?”

the quartermaster nods and you fear the answer to your next question

“then why has he not…why have you not…”

“killed you yet?” seonghwa chuckles. “i’m sure you’ve realised by now how skewed the royal navy’s beliefs are”

you’re quiet

the royal navy has always been cult-like in preaching the ruthlessness and barbarism of pirates, drilling into the officers the belief that pirates are the scum of the sea

but everything that you’ve known has been proven false since you’ve joined ateez; ironically, the pirates are more humane than the royal navy themself

their crew stand at attention whenever hongjoong or seonghwa walk onto the deck - not out of cultivated fear but genuine respect

when jongho is sore and tired from handling the riggings on a particularly rough and windy day, the others will offer to cover for his chores instead of flogging him into submission

and when mingi is divvying up the shares of the provisions and loot, the others will slip an extra bar of soap for seonghwa, the shiniest ring for mingi, or the largest bottle of rum for yunho, because they want to make each other happy

“hongjoong is the pirate king, yes, but a king should not take the lives of others for his own power. a true king uses his power to change the lives of others for the better…like yours…and like mine”

you frown with a jerk of your head

“what do you mean?”

you can’t see seonghwa as a broken man whatsoever

he gives you a weak smile, “i, too, used to be part of the royal navy”

your jaw drops

everything clicks into place - how he had figured out you weren’t just a common sailor and why he hadn’t confronted you about it

the shame and guilt come rushing back over you in a storm that is much too familiar by now

“i’m so sorry, all i’ve done is betray your trust-”

“but that’s what second chances are for, no?” seonghwa cuts you off, playfully flicking your forehead as he reminds you, “and i’m pretty sure you’ve chosen me over the royal navy”

your cheeks grow hot

“not you. the crew,” you mutter

he laughs and it’s a wonderful sound

“come on, it’s late,” seonghwa beckons. “let’s get some sleep”

when he sees that you’re still rooted to the spot, unsure whether you are deserving to go back, he decides for you and moves behind you to gently nudge you forward by the shoulders

you let him guide you

his hands are warm, you note, even through the linen of your shirt

his hands are also pretty, you observe, when he tries to fluff your hammock once you two have crept your way back to the berth

seonghwa helps you up into the hammock and you watch as he climbs into his

his hands are also teeming with love, you realise, when he wordlessly extends his arm nearest to you in a silent invitation

if you both reach out, you can just entwine your hands together from your respective hammocks

the burns on your palms have healed nicely and without the need for them to be wrapped, you can feel every expanse of his hand covering yours

he doesn’t retract his hand and neither do you, even though it’s not the most comfortable position and you both lose feeling of your arms soon after

but you lay in your hammock, drifting to the soft snores of the crew members around you and the soft tug of seonghwa’s fingers in yours

sleep comes easy to you

particularly tonight

as it will for the rest of your life

yunho

pov: you're the crew's navigator

you know it’s going to happen even before it actually does

you can feel it in the air and from the way the baby hairs around your hairline start to frizz

but you never say anything because you wouldn’t trade it for the moment when the first raindrop hits the back of yunho’s neck and he abandons his duty at the helm to drag you out onto the upper deck

(hongjoong only sighs in defeat before he stations himself at the helm instead)

you don’t like the rain

not like yunho does

you are already looking up from the map spread out in the captain’s quarters, a knowing smile on your face just from the sound of his bounding footsteps alerting you of his presence, when yunho appears with the beckon of rain

you pretend to let yourself be dragged to your feet along to his urges of come on!

but then you dash forward towards the hatch with yunho chasing after your bright laughter

in the short span of time that it has taken him to fetch you, the sprinkle of rain has steadily grown and the weathered planks of the deck are already a dark grey

you feel the coldness of the raindrops hitting the crown of your head and the spreading chill as your clothes start to become damp

but that’s not what makes you feel alive

yunho catches up to you easily and then he is snaking his arms around your waist to lift you up into the air

you barely have time to squeal and steady yourself on his broad shoulders before he is spinning the two of you around, the world blurring away as the spotlight shines on him and he is all that you can see

the deck is your stage and the sea is your audience

rain with yunho is twirling hugs, tiptoed kisses and tinkling laughter. it’s soaked shirts and rosy cheeks and the only thing that matters in the moment

you don’t like the rain, but it’s easy to like the rain when it’s with him

(hongjoong lets the two of you be - so obviously and hopelessly enamoured by each other - because when one sees people in love, one cannot help but watch and smile)

the rain eventually peters out and you and yunho must return to your respective duties, but not until you two have changed out of your drenched clothes and sneaked in a few more kisses

a few hours later, you hear the racket above the deck as a ship pulls up beside the arriba and ropes are thrown across from both sides to lash the vessels close together

hongjoong comes down to join you in his quarters, but he’s not alone

behind him is the captain of the silver light, dae jihoo, and his quartermaster, with seonghwa entering last

you note that this crew doesn’t have a navigator of their own

but you suppose that’s one of the reasons why their captain had implored an alliance for this particular raid

the crew of the silver light are wanting to target the prosperity triangle - an area between three large ports that is frequently trafficked by wealthy vessels transporting valuable goods

it’s a raid that would prove difficult for a smaller pirate crew like your own and the silver light, and especially if they have no navigator

but it’s not uncommon for pirates to form temporary alliances for such purposes, and together, your crews have a good chance of plundering a fortune

you nod your head in acknowledgement when hongjoong introduces you to the two pirates as ateez’s navigator

you don’t miss the way jihoo’s eyes seem to linger on you for a second too long before he flashes a crooked grin and gestures towards the navigational map spread out on the oak table

clearing your throat of discomfort, you step forward and flatten the creases out with your hands

“this is the most open spot within the triangle that the vessel we’re after will pass through,” you tap an annotated spot on the chart, “and this is where we are now”

you slide your finger across, “we’ll follow the rhumb line west to avoid the shallower waters and when we can catch the trade winds, it should be smooth sailing from there”

jihoo challenges you, “how can you be sure we’ll catch the ship within the triangle?”

“they’ll need to sail past the equator and i’m almost certain their ship will be slowed down by the doldrums. we can easily gain knots on them”

he squints at the scribbles you’ve made noting down what you’ve gathered of the wind patterns

you know for a fact that it will mean nothing to him, but whatever he sees must satisfy him because jihoo appears to make up his mind

“when do we set sail?” he directs his question to your captain

“three days from now”

he grunts a noise of affirmation and stands, which hongjoong takes as the cue to see them and the rest of their crew off your ship

you trail behind the group as you all head back to the upper deck

you prepare to emerge from the hatch with a playful wink, knowing that yunho will be craning his neck from the helm to get a glimpse of you, when a sudden holler surprises you out of your thoughts

it’s immediately met with the answering cries of several other pirates - none from your crew - and you hurry to clear the hatch to gain your bearings

you’re thrust right into the throes of battle as ateez are forced to unsheathe their cutlasses to defend against silver light’s sudden attack

having been caught off guard, basically none of your firearms are loaded with gunpowder, rendering them unusable

you will have to make do with the short sabre at your waist

there’s no time to account for the whereabouts and safety of your crew members and you just have to pray that you all make it out of this unscathed

especially yunho

but as ateez retaliate, you all notice something is off about the situation

your crew is very quickly overpowering the other pirates - it was a losing fight for them from the very beginning

it makes no sense to you nor the rest of your crew

the losses of breaking the alliance before the planned raid, much less through betrayal, far outweigh any gains they could possibly make from their choice of action

it makes absolutely no sense

until it does.

you are blocking the swing of a sabre with your own when you are tugged backwards harshly by the collar of your shirt

there’s an angry snarl in your throat as you prepare to turn around, but it’s quickly silenced by the warning shot of a pistol right beside your ear

the cold ring of metal is then pressed to the back of your head

you know that firearms require time to reload and there’s a chance that this pistol is now useless

but, like wooyoung has taught the rest of the crew to do, they may have pre-prepared several pistols and you are not willing to play with fire - especially when you are only the flex of a finger away from death

you vaguely hear someone yell out your name in panic, but you’re not quite sure you hear correctly over the clamour of cutlasses clashing, warcries resounding and your own heartbeat pounding

“stand down or your navigator dies,” the voice behind you thunders

it’s jihoo…and he wants a navigator for his crew

“ateez,” one of your men commands, “lower your weapons”

your crew may make decisions fairly, but in battle, only hongjoong has the power to make commands

yunho has never spoken against his captain or disobeyed orders

until now

the words do not come out of your captain’s mouth but yunho’s

the rest of the members hesitate - they will not stand down unless hongjoong commands them to, yet, they are unsure whether they will be able to follow should he demand them to fight on, even if it means endangering your life

but there is no guarantee jihoo will let your crew go unharmed even after you all surrender, and as the captain, hongjoong must make decisions in the best interest for the crew

“captain!” yunho yells desperately

yunho never yells

“stand down,” hongjoong commands

silver light’s captain steps in closer behind you until you can hear and feel the noise of intriguement that leaves his mouth down the back of your neck

“that your loverboy, hmm?”

he smirks

there’s a false moment of primal relief when the press of the pistol is removed from the back of your head, but it is immediately replaced with fear that is irrevocably worse as he aims it in yunho’s direction and shoots

“no!”

you shriek and pull against the tug of his hold, still fisted around your collar, your pupils blown wide with terror at the sight of the clean hole in the mast right beside yunho’s head

“it’ll be pretty boy’s head next if you don’t come with me,” jihoo coos into your ear

the fight slips out of you immediately

because if you can save him, a life for a life, then you will

even if the sight of mingi holding yunho back from lunging forward when the pistol’s barrel returns to your head makes your heart clench painfully

“y/n, don’t you dare,” yunho pleads, voice filled with anguish

you’re barely given enough time to lock eyes with him and say resolutely, “remember what you said to me,” before you are tugged away to the boarding plank

ateez can only watch helplessly as the planks are removed from over the bulwarks and the last of the ropes are untied, releasing the silver light from their ship for good

jihoo tugs you down the hatch as the ship starts to pull away, and just like that, you’re gone from their sights

“fuck!” yunho shouts furiously, unable to contain his emotions as he turns around and connects his fist with the mast

right where the musket ball had made a hole

his hand pulls away with bloodied knuckles from the splintered wood and the sheer force of his punch

a concerned whine leaves seonghwa’s mouth and he tries to approach the taller, but yunho shakes him off and looks determinedly at hongjoong

“we’re sailing to the banver isle just east of the triangle. we’ll ambush them there”

seonghwa looks between the two, hope flickering in his chest at the potential plan, “you think the silver light are stupid enough to try taking on the prosperity triangle alone?”

yunho chuckles darkly, “they were fucking shitbrained enough to take y/n, so yes”

nobody disagrees and hongjoong smirks dangerously

“ateez, ready the sails for banver isle,” he commands. “prepare for battle”

because not only have the silver light taken you away from ateez, but they have also annihilated the light from yunho’s eyes

gone are his warm brown orbs - they are now black holes thirsty for retribution

there will be lives to pay and even that will not be enough for the void

unaware of what your crew is capable of, jihoo looks down at you with a triumphant leer

“you’ll navigate us to the triangle in three days’ time. don’t even think about lying - you’ve already shown me where the location is”

with an even nod you reply, “of course”

it’s true though - you have absolutely no intention of navigating them somewhere else

because you know yunho will be waiting there for you

amidst chaste kisses exchanged between plush lips cold from the rain, yunho tells you in a brief moment of seriousness

“don’t show them where the real location is,” his breath is warm across your cheeks. “you know the coastal island roughly ten nautical miles away? show them that instead”

you tilt your head to look up at him, “you think they’ll betray us?”

“no,” he reassures you with a deeper, slower kiss, “but we can never be too safe”

and even if your vessels miss each other this time, you have complete faith that yunho will sail to the very ends of the world just to find you

two days before the originally-planned raid, the arriba sails as closely to banver isle as possible without risking running aground

yunho has navigated the ship around the back of the isle so that the form of the rocky terrain conceals them from sight

once the anchor is lowered, the crew members use every ticking moment to make preparations

swords are sharpened and firearms cleaned

mingi distributes the gunpowder and ammunition, which is pre-loaded into muskets, pistols and swivel cannons ready to be engaged

the ship’s sails and riggings are checked and yeosang keeps a keen lookout in the crow’s nest

and it’s as if the world itself can sense the brewing storm that grows inside yunho

the sea is eerily still and silent, but the sky is an omen to something impending, its rolling clouds dark and angry with the threat of rain leering over the waters

yunho doesn’t actually like the rain

he only likes it because it’s with you

rain with you is barefoot dancing, breathless confessions and bashful giggles. it’s drenched locks and fluttering eyelashes and the only thing that exists in the moment

but as the profile of the silver light finally approaches the isle two days later, the heavens split open and you are not by his side

rain without you is falling pinpricks, frigid winds and flaunting mockery and yunho despises it with his entire being

at yeosang’s call of, “vessel approaching from starboard,” up in the lookout, yunho smothers the fervid desire to barrage the other ship with cannonballs like hail from hell; to unleash an inferno that blazes through their hull as he sadistically watches the crew jump for their lives

he stamps out the hunger to shoot the ones that make it into the sea, not to kill, only to maim and induce a long, painful struggle in the open waters until death becomes inevitable - until there is enough blood spilt that it becomes the only stench in the air that stretches across for miles

yunho leashes his monsters with an iron fist

because he will not do anything that could even remotely endanger your life

even if it means that he has to hold back - to sit and wait like prey instead of advancing on the other ship like a predator

at least not yet.

silver light do not know, but this is the calm before the storm

the heavens may be crying, the winds may be howling and the waters may be roiling

but this is nothing compared to yunho

yunho is a tempest of unparalleled rage and their ship is in the eye of his storm

as the bowsprit of the silver light starts to appear around the isle, the members ready their grappling hooks and yunho draws his cutlass with a menacing whisper of unsheathing metal

you are his treasure, and pirates never lose sight of their treasure

today…you return to him

yeosang

pov: you're a tavern keeper

watching the ale reach the brim of the tankard you are holding, you’re about to step away from the barrel when the voice of a patron sounds behind you

“‘scuse me, could i get a mint-”

you look up and turn around in confusion as their voice cuts off

only to have the question taken right from the tip of your own tongue as you’re met with the face of the person you had loved for years

the same person you have spent twice as long trying to forget

eyes searching each other’s in a surprised stupor, seeing kang yeosang standing right in front of you takes you back to those memories that you have tried to remember and simultaneously bury

it thrusts you headfirst into what used to be of your shared love - like the feathery remnants of a dream, so distant from the fingers of your consciousness, suddenly returning to vivid existence when you least expect it

“hey, mint leaf. i’m back”

yeosang at least has the perceptiveness to appear a little apologetic, immediately pulling you into a hug and pressing soft kisses against your hairline uncaring of the other people in the tavern

it’s been several weeks since you last saw him, and whilst he had warned you he would be gone for longer this time, you hadn’t expected it to mean two whole months

he’s a small merchant who also fishes along the coast to earn enough to make ends meets, so he’s often gone for a few days or a week or two

you knew what you were in for when you first made it official with him, but just because you become accustomed to something, doesn’t mean it gets any easier

and he’s never been gone for this long

something must have happened - something good - because he looks alive, cheeks glowing and eyes fiery

“i met the crew”

“the crew?” you ask, hands reaching for the bourbon to prepare him a drink as he lets himself behind the counter to stand beside you in your workspace

he nods excitedly, "wooyoung’s pirate crew, ateez"

you think you know where this is going to go and you hate that your stomach sinks at the thought of what your future may become, because yeosang looks so happy to tell you about this and a happy yeosang is all that you could ask for

“the captain offered me a position as their lookout”

you pick out your next words carefully as you hand him his finished drink - a mint julep with two sugar cubes, just the way he likes it

"aren't…isn't being a pirate dangerous?"

“not as dangerous as you might think, actually. they’ve been showing me the ropes the last couple of weeks and…and i think i want to join them. officially”

there it is

the forked end of the road

you wonder how far two people can keep walking with their hands intertwined before the distance becomes too great and they have to let go

his words become a little muddled when he goes on to tell you about how they divvied up their recent loot to include his share too

how he’s gained more money than he’s made from the last two years of working as a merchant and fisherman combined

if he joins his old friend and his crew, he could earn enough to buy his parents a proper house; earn enough to build you your very own tavern

you want to tell him that you don’t need the tavern, just him, but you also know just how important his family is to him

his filial desire to take care of his parents was one of the very reasons you fell in love with him in the first place

before you can say anything though, the tavern keeper is interrupting to let you know that your shift is over

yeosang immediately perks up and herds you out of the place, claiming that there is a new fishing spot he discovered that he has to show you

and so you sit while he rows his modest boat, only the splash of his oars disturbing the peaceful stillness that has settled over the waters as the sun dips below the horizon

the waning light casts a soft, warm glow over him, like a gentle kiss against his skin and birthmark

if angels graced the earth, there would be one sitting right in front of you

“i missed you, mint leaf,” he confesses, gaze shyly averted. “i thought about you when i was gone”

“did you think about showing me this place?” you feel a little breathless

he nods, “every single night”

and that’s enough for you

it feels like everything is okay again

it doesn’t matter if you’re standing at a forked road

you think that perhaps, for him, you can walk on an unpaved path - just so that you can keep holding his hand

“y/n”

yeosang’s voice is deep

the word sounds foreign to your own ears but you don’t dwell on it

(because if you do, you’ll wonder whether it’s because you’ve forgotten the sound of his voice or because you want to hear him calling you something else)

“what would you like to order?” you ask

(because it’s easier to pretend that he’s just another patron than to admit that he used to be all that you ever knew)

yeosang fumbles a little but then regains himself, “oh, um- just a mint julep, please”

you turn your back to him to prepare his drink, hands reaching for the barrels lined along the bottom shelves without needing to look

you’ve made this drink too many times to count

half of those times were in the safety of the darkness that midnight offered; when the tears could flow freely without anyone seeing

it’s only when you start to mix his cocktail that yeosang realises he didn’t ask for his sugar cubes, but he figures the drink will taste bitter tonight either way so he opts to watch you instead

he wishes that he could walk past the counter like he used to and wrap his arms around you

he wishes that he could whisper endearments into your ears and press them against your lips

he wishes that he could show you that he still loves you

“do you still love me?” your voice wavers with hurt as you stand in front of him

he’s finally back after being gone for four months this time and you hate this conversation as much as he does, but it was bound to happen eventually

yeosang pleads, “more than anything”

“then why does it hurt so much? loving you…and being loved by you”

he doesn’t have an answer

but god be damned if he doesn’t try to find a way to fix things

“tell me, mint leaf, what can i do?”

you blink back your tears furiously, having already made up your mind while he was still at sea

“let’s break up”

because in the end, unpaved paths have too many rocks, too many thorns and too many arched roots; they were never meant to be walked along

you pass yeosang his finished drink without another word and then move further down the counter to serve a different customer

his eyes linger on you wistfully before he tears them away from you

it’s a good thing his hair has grown long enough to cover his face when he looks down

because his eyes start to grow wet at the sight of the mint julep you have made him

with two sugar cubes in it, just the way he likes it

perhaps, once you’ve loved somebody, you never really stop loving them

yeosang shows up again the next day and seats himself at the bar

you don’t serve him though, actively avoiding his end of the counter and letting another of your staff tend to him

he orders his usual but he leaves out his request for additional sugar cubes

it feels wrong for him to order it from someone that isn’t you

but you’re watching out of the corner of your eye as the worker mixes the bourbon, sugar and water, topping it with a few mint leaves and then sliding it across the counter for him

you let out a little sigh, half amused, when he takes a small sip and smacks his lips together at the bitterness

you take two sugar cubes and drop it unceremoniously into his pewter cup before you realise what you’re doing

yeosang immediately seizes the opportunity to talk to you

“my crew’s docked for the fortnight…” he waits to see if you’ll respond. you don’t, but you also don’t move away, so he continues. “we’re making some repairs to the hull and sails before our next raid”

you have half a mind to walk away after you reply, “i didn’t ask” 

he forges on regardless

“we’re going to work with another crew for this one. it’s going to increase our chances of a successful raid because-”

your voice comes out a little harsher than you mean for it to when you hiss again, “i didn’t ask”

yeosang’s mouth closes as he pulls away slightly, back straightening

then he says in a softer voice, “i’ve been doing well. wooyoung still takes care of me, even though i’m not new to the crew anymore. i also saw my parents today and they’re happily retired now…”

you don’t stop him from talking this time

because how many sleepless nights have you spent sitting outside your tavern looking up at the stars; how many times have you served a mint julep to a patron and accidentally added sugar cubes; how many moments have you been consumed by the thought of him, simply wondering if he is living well?

this is everything that you have ever wanted - yeosang in the flesh letting you know that, yes, he has been well

but it is also everything that you have ever feared - that he has been well even without you

you don’t know what to feel

“my parents asked about you,” he says gingerly. “how have you been?”

his voice is barely audible, as if he is afraid of what you might say

or perhaps, afraid that you might not say anything at all

“good. excellent,” you force a small smile, your eyes still focused on the mint leaves floating in his drink. you don’t think you can look at him. “i own this place now”

his body loses its tension, cheeks rounding as he looks at you with genuine relief

“that’s…that’s really good to hear”

his words sting

you are unsure if it stings your ego or if it picks at the wound in the shape of the person you have lost

but it hurts to know that he has worried over you in the exact same way you have over him, the whole time you two have been apart

you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the realisation and hot tears well in your eyes almost immediately

your bottom lip starts to crumple so you rush into the back room to escape

“y/n!” yeosang calls out after you, alarmed

when you don’t stop, disappearing into the storage, he jolts up from his seat and follows

your body shudders with every heaving breath you take, unable to stop yourself from crying even harder when you feel him tug you into his chest

you try to pull away but his sturdy arms tighten around you

yeosang refuses to let you go once more

“i hate you,” you sob, struggling against his hold as you hit his chest weakly

he hushes comforts against the crown of your head, soothing noises as he endures your fists

“you have every reason to”

yeosang holds back tears of his own

he feels your body gradually losing its fight, sinking into his embrace instead, hands desperately holding him close

your voice is so impossibly small when you tearfully confess, “but i still love you”

“oh, mint leaf,” he brushes the stray locks of hair away from your face and cradles your jaw tenderly, “i still love you, too”

he presses a soft kiss against your forehead, pulling away once only to reaffirm, “so, so much”

when he kisses you again, his lips taste salty against your own, but nothing has ever tasted sweeter than this

your breath no longer stutters but the tears continue to run down your face because your heart finally feels right after all these years apart

and yet-

you pull away

“we can’t do this”

yeosang feels his heart shattering

“why not? i don’t understand,” he whimpers

“you know why,” you say distressingly, “my life is here, yeosang. i can’t just leave and return whenever i want. but you, on the other hand? you can. you go where your crew goes - you belong with them”

“but my heart belongs to you. please, y/n,” he begs

his arms are still wrapped around you and you feel his desperation as his fingers cling onto you like a lifeline

you look earnestly into his bloodshot eyes, your own vision blurry, “yeo, you’re not the one who gets left behind here. you’re not the one who waits weeks, months, years on end, just hoping that the next person to walk in is the person that you want to see”

he wants to plead that he waits to see you, too, but he knows that he’s the one who leaves, too

“you’re the right one for me - the only one for me - but it’s not the right time,” you tell him gently

slowly, his arms lower themselves from around you

“it wasn’t the right time then and it isn’t the right time now,” he repeats, “then when is the right time for us?”

you shoot the question right back at him, “when is the right time for someone whose life is to sail the world?”

neither of you know the answer

nobody does, because loving a pirate has no certainties

but yeosang doesn’t give up

“if we can’t ever be sure, why don’t we just make it the right time ourselves?”

you caress his cheek sweetly, and despite having stepped away from you earlier, he leans into your hand, starved of your loving touch and affection

“yeosang…what if we’ve already had it? what if…meeting each other was already it? what if we’re just meant to love from a distance, not side by side?” your voice is poignant but resolute

he brings up a hand to cover yours, still warm and tender against his wet cheek

how is it that he can be touching you yet simultaneously feel worlds apart from you

“okay,” he accepts with a whisper

if loving you silently is the only way he gets to love you, then he will choose it in a heartbeat over losing you entirely

he thumbs away the remainder of your tears

“can i kiss you? one last time?” he asks

you nod

“one last time”

your lips slowly meet, slotting together as they find their home in each other’s dips and curves

his hands cradle the small of your back and neck and your own hands rest against his chest

the kiss you share is steady, longing and bittersweet

it conveys everything that you want to say to each other, and even then, it is hardly enough

thank you

i’m sorry

i love you

goodbye…

you can feel your eyes burning up again, but you focus on the feeling of yeosang’s lips against yours instead

because you know that the moment one of you pulls away, that is it forever

in the world of love, there are people who are ill-fated

they meet the right person, but at the wrong time

and then there are people like you and yeosang

not ill-fated, but star-crossed lovers

the right person…

but just not meant to be

[gremlingottoosilly]

Crybaby!Reader X Mafia!König

oh the poor woman..

Somebody free my girl!! Konig is an old, corrupted mafia dog who just loves to see you squirm. He never thought of himself as particularly sadistic towards women - he can be cruel towards men and traitors, but he was usually well-behaved around the ladies...well, you can say that you corrupted a gentleman his momma raised. The first time you cried in front of him, tugging on his sleeve as he was disposing of some dumb fuck who walked on you kissing at the VIP room of the club, you were dragged by accident - he knew he had to keep you. He was mesmerized by your tears; he loved your body trembling, and it got even better when he pushed his hand into your panties and felt the wetness of involuntary arousal collecting in the soaked fabric. God, you're beautiful - and you just signed your death sentence. He drags you with him everywhere, even though usually he likes to keep his pretty girls safe and sound in the various properties he owns - but he loves your reactions too much to keep you caged. It's a small mercy - you are not technically locked in one room, but you also have to witness him killing the enemies of the family like it's nothing - and then he would squeeze your soft, tear-stained cheeks and ask why you cry so much. He thought you were already used to things like this - he thought you knew better than to show your tears to someone who would lick them all away and say that they tasted sweet. To be completely honest, he adores you. Your trembling body, your soft features, your everything - you beg him not to shoot a guy from another gang not because you really care about human life, but because the sound of guns going off makes you really, really sad. Poor little thing, he is buying your affection with stuff later - he is giving you nice gifts; for example, he wipes your face with an expensive handkerchief and smiles when you tremble even more under him.

[always-just-red]

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, ok? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Ok, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.  

“I need to go, ok?” Your eyes are shining.

“Ok,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, ok?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you ok?” he asks after a second.

Ok? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.  

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

[bookofbonbon]

christmas kiss - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Summary: A drunken Coriolanus has a particular Christmas gift request of you on Christmas day.

Word Count: 1.3k+.

A/N: Merry Christmas! Just a bit of light-hearted fun. No hidden or dark motives. Technically based within the "You Keep Him There" universe because it was easier to just take the background from there but, it's during their first year together and she's still very much in conflict with her own feelings.

Coriolanus Snow is drunk.

Drunk and clingy. 

It’s simultaneously endearing and disturbing. Endearing because you think there is a certain cuteness about him when he’s drunk; disturbing because it makes you think there is a certain cuteness about him and as far as you were concerned, cuteness and Coriolanus simply did not belong in the same sentence together. 

It makes you dislike him more - more so, when he insists on squashing himself in between you and the couch’s armrest despite there being room for an entire other body beside you - on the other half of the couch. 

Drunk and clingy. 

“I think that was a rather successful first Christmas gala, don't you?” he smiles, completely ignoring the fact that he’s half on top of you. 

“I suppose,” you grunt, pulling yourself out from under him and standing. 

It was time for bed. 

“Wait- where are you going?”

He follows you like a lost puppy.

“To bed, Coriolanus,” you tell him stiffly. “It’s almost midnight.”

You don’t wait for his response. Climbing the stairs two at a time, you don’t bother to look back at him or say good night, instead making haste for your bedroom, your safe haven. 

You couldn’t do drunk Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t like his vulnerability or sweetness, his wide eyes and handsome smiles, his easy laugh and pink tinged cheeks. There was no room in your heart to like him and that is exactly what drunk Coriolanus could do, make you like him.

You feel yourself immediately calm once you enter your bedroom - thankful that the two of you agreed that the separation of sleeping spaces would be for the better - however, when you turn he’s standing at your door. 

When the hell did he get there? 

As if he can hear your thoughts, he says, “the elevator is faster than the stairs.”

You make an ‘O’ with your mouth - of course it was. It had just been put in a couple of days ago, you’d completely forgotten that it was there. 

“Right, well.” you compose yourself. “Goodnight, Coriolanus.” 

“Wait, no-” 

His hand blocks your door before you can close it, an exasperated look on his face and you’re sure, on yours too. 

“Coriolan-”

A loud groan emanates from deep within his throat - you back away in caution, he better not throw up on your bedroom floor -  followed by an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

“Coriolanus, coriolanus,” he mocks, pulling a face. “You know you don’t have to use my full name every time.”

“Fine, Coco,” you smile, saccharinely.

“What? No! What the hell is Coco?”

“What? Yes! You’re what the hell is Coco” you mock him this time. “What do you want, Coco?”

“Don’t call-” he pauses, thinking for a moment “We’ll discuss that name later, right now I want to discuss my Christmas present with  you.”

“What?” you almost laugh disbelievingly.

“No. Christmas presents are not up for discussion. I buy you something, you buy me something and either we like it or we don't and if we don’t then we pretend that we do,” you dismiss him and go to close the door again but it's blocked - by his foot this time- again. 

“I want you to kiss me.”

This time you do laugh. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” he folds his arms stubbornly. “I don’t want whatever’s wrapped under that god awful green tree downstairs, I want you to-”

“I kiss you all the time,” you snap. 

“No, I kiss you all the time. You never kiss me.”

“I kiss you back.”

“But you don't initiate, you never do” he practically whines. You're surprised he doesn’t stomp his foot too.

“And what makes you think I’m going to start now?”

You could, you absolutely could but, why give him the satisfaction?

“Why not? It’s Christmas, spirit of giving and all that and I want you to give-”

“Fine,” you cut him off. Needing him to stop talking so, you could think - cogs turning in your head.

“Fine?”

"Just a kiss, right? That's all?"

"Just a kiss, that's all," he confirms.

It’s not as if you’d never initiated a kiss with him on purpose, you just weren’t in the business of making first moves when it came to him. It didn't bother you to kiss him - you just didn't know if it was something he wanted. It was impossible to tell, not when he acted one way in public, another in private and another… when drunk. 

“But, if we’re making Christmas gift requests then you have to ask me sober,” you negotiate. 

“What?” his face blanches, as if he’s seen a ghost. “That’s not fair, it’s Christmas now.”

“It’s Christmas now and Boxing Day tomorrow, when presents are actually exchanged so, if you want your kiss, you have to ask me tomorrow-”

He begins to grumble, “Whatever. There’s only five minutes anyway left till Bo-”

“And sober! You will not be sober in five minutes!” you speak over the top of him. “Now… I’m going to bed and so should you.”

You finally close the door.  

-

You go about your morning routine as usual, Coriolanus nowhere to be seen- not even as afternoon approached and you readied yourself for lunch with your mother’s side of the family. 

Perhaps he’d dug himself a grave and instead, went to bed there, out of embarrassment. You breathe a laugh at the thought. 

Gathering your things, your sensible heels click against the marble floors as you make for the front doors - an avox helping you into your coat and then opening the door for you. 

You clear the landing - and almost forget about the stairs - when the undeniably alive voice of Coriolanus calls out to you as you finish descending the several steps.

He’s dressed for gardening, having obviously been in the greenhouse with his roses this entire time - not the type of gardening you were hoping he was doing.

“Leaving so soon?” 

He looks at you with a lopsided grin, not a hint of hangover in the air - probably a result of one of  those little experimental concoctions he’s always working on - as he walks toward you, pulling his gardening gloves off and handing them to a nearby avox.

 “Not so soon, it’s midday…” you trail off. 

He’s close, too close, he smells like roses and dirt - it makes your stomach flip because of butterflies or because you’ll be sick, you don’t know. 

“I believe you owe me something.” 

“I thought you wouldn’t have remembered, you were very drunk last night.”

“You thought wrong.” 

He smiles handsomely, like one of his drunken ones-

“Are you still drunk?” 

He laughs, the sound is stupid. 

“No, very much sober as were the conditions.”

"You still need to ask."

"For Christmas," he says slowly. "I want you to kiss me."

“Okay,” you shrug and step closer to him.

You can see the way it confuses him but, you don’t let him dwell on it. Placing a hand on his chest to steady yourself, your breaths intermingle as you bring your lips closer to his. There's a searing heat on the small of your back as he pushes you closer to him - if he presses you any closer, you think the two of you might become one. You brush your nose affectionately against his, feel his heartbeat heavy beneath your hand and at the last minute, you veer to the left and press a kiss to his cheek.

Pulling back quickly, you step out of his reach, leaving him a floundering mess as he comes to terms with what you had just done. 

After a minute, he says “that was not the deal!”

Offended and perplexed but, even you can see the hint of a smile on his face. 

“It wasn’t not the deal. You said a kiss, you never said where,” you laugh, walking backwards to the car and getting in.

“Details, dear Coco, it’s all in the details!”

You don't hear him laugh but you can see his body shake with it. 

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2023. All rights reserved.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: thinking about some nerd!anakin fic where he had heard the reader talk with her friends that she's not passing physics and since he has the biggest crush on her since second grade he later suggest to help her..if she'll help him with something else ;)

Nerd!Anakin who inside was a little dirty minded boy that wished nothing more to have a loving girlfriend to do with her all the cool, nice things he always wanted to do (and he meant more joyful activities than sex)

Nerd!Anakin who has a collection of technical manuals and scientific holobooks that he reads in his spare time. His nightstand is filled with them, and he gets excited when a new one comes out. He’ll stay up late, curled up on the couch, devouring a manual on hyperdrive mechanics or some obscure sci-fi novel, eyes glued to the hologram.

He also loves telling you all about the technical details of what he's learning. You may not always understand everything he’s talking about, but his excitement is so adorable that you just let him ramble on.

Nerd!Anakin who has a soft spot for droids, and he might even give them 'upgrades' just because he thinks they deserve a treat. “You’ve been working hard, buddy. How about a new power cell?”. He’ll talk to them while he works, explaining what he’s doing like they’re his assistants (his fav is R2D2 obviously)

Nerd!Anakin who gets ridiculously excited about the latest gadgets or tech upgrades. When something new comes out, he’s like a kid in a candy store. Whether it's a new holo-terminal, a high-speed pod engine - he’s always the first in line to get it. He’ll show it off to you, explaining every little detail with enthusiasm. “Look at this! It has a new feature that triples efficiency!” He gets that adorable spark in his eye, completely geeking out over the smallest improvements.

Nerd!Anakin who would love when you'd do your nails; he'd ask soon later (when you two are alone) if you could play with his hair to only feel you scratch very gently against his scalp

Nerd!Anakin who was a great whimpering mess whenever you touched him (poor guy had never felt woman's touch before);

a sharp gasp left his mouth as you touched the mushroomy tip of his member, his hips jerking towards you without thought. he was already embarrassingly close, and now your teasing was only driving him closer to the edge “please-“ he let out a pleading moan, the words barely leaving his dry mouth

"please what ani? Use your words like good boys do"

He tried to focus enough to form a coherent sentence but it was getting so hard when all his mind could focus on, was the way you made him feel “I’m close-“ he gasped out, his hips rocking frantically against your tightening fist “I’m so close baby, i need it” he let out a sobbing whimper

"can you hold it in a little?" you asked gently

he groaned at the question before nodding almost desperately “for you, anything” his glasses sliding down his nose

You only hummed, all proud of your actions. How easily you could tear him apart by your single touch. Using her free hand to move his glasses so they were a bit more comfortable on him. You increased your movements, making sure to

he could feel the heat in his abdomen tighten as your hand moved faster. he was struggling to keep himself together, not much to your surprise "oh-oh god-“ he let out a loud gasp and a groan as your thumb moved over his tip again, that little touch sending electricity up his spine “oh-fuck…” one hand digging into the couch for some kind of grip “I can’t hold it—please please please” tears of desperation and overwhelming began to prick at the corner of his eyes

Nerd!Anakin who when was nervous, draw circles and designs on the back of your hand to relax himself

Nerd!Anakin who did your own minifigure from Legos

Nerd!Anakin who always had perfectly ironed shirts

Nerd!Anakin who in general was perfectionist in everything he'd do. If he had a mess in his room, he couldn't focus normally. If just one thing was moved inches apart, it drove him wild

Nerd!Anakin who made cupcakes with his mother for you

Nerd!Anakin who's a true mommy's boy

Nerd!Anakin who teared up after you gave him his first blowjob. He felt so overstimulated when his thick member was hugged around your warm throat, your tongue working on his shaft..it was way too much for the first time, he'd gasp and ask you to slow down because if you wouldn't, you'd already have his cum dripping down your throat

Nerd!Anakin who gave you flowers - sometimes real one and sometimes he'd do them from origamy

Nerd!Anakin who has a little sketchbook where he draws schematics for future projects—droid designs, custom technology accessories, etc. He’s always thinking of new ways to improve things, and his sketches are filled with intricate details and notes.

Sometimes, he’ll show you a design he’s particularly proud of, grinning ear to ear as he explains how it works. “What do you think? Pretty sleek, huh?”

Nerd!Anakin who was a true worshipper of your body. Would press such gentle kisses all over your body as if you were a ceramic doll he was scared to break

Nerd!Anakin who's glasses got foggy everytime he made love to you, his curls sticking to his forehead and his pinky, swollen lips quivering to hold back his own orgasm

Nerd!Anakin who adored math and physics (but not as much as he adored you). And of course, he loved to help you with those subjects

Nerd!Anakin ho invited you to weekly movie marathon. With all the snacks ready and a fluffy blanket

Nerd!Anakin who adored to cuddle with you. It was something so precious for him, and whenever he had a chance, he'd just wrap his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzle to your soft neck

Nerd!Anakin who liked to play with your hair like brushing them out of your face, twirling the strand around his finger and watch intensively, as if it was the most important/gorgeous/captivating sight he had seen, how it hugged his finger so perfectly

Nerd!Anakin who had his 'sexual education' with you;

Anakin hesitantly reached out, his hand trembling as he lifted it towards your chest. He hesitates for a moment once more, not sure if he's ready to do that. He just felt so sinful watching you naked..but oh so good.. so, before the thoughts would envelope his entire mind, he gently cupped one of your round, full breasts. He instantly marveled at, not only the softeneness but the weight, the way it filled his palm, how it was so beautiful, seeing your raspberry ripple hidden thanks to his large hand made him feel so fuzzy all inside

As he squeezed the soft globe tentatively, feeling its weight sprawl all over his senses, he couldn't help but let out a low moan, his body responding to the newfound pleasure. Guilty feelings fade away, leaving him all needy for more of you. His fingertips graze over your nipple to harden it, eliciting a soft gasp from both of you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with wonder. "I-how i-" he stuttered shyly "-what should I do now?"

"whatever you want..you can kiss it, play with it, anything you want Annie"

Anakin's eyes widen at your words. To have the whole access to your body felt more pleasurable than anything in his life. He leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the underside of your breast. You gazed down at how his glasses pressed against your skin, making your breath hitched. He then brought his hand up to gently squeeze and caress the soft mound at your left breast, almost nuzzling to the right one. He looked back up at you, seeking approval, as if not sure if he could go any further

"go on, they're all yours" you encouraged

Anakin smiles shyly at your encouragement, feeling emboldened. He starts to kiss and lick at your breasts, alternating between the two. He gently nibbles on your nipples, sucking on them and releasing them with soft popping sounds. "Ahh... they're so soft... and t-tasty..." he mumbled the last part more quietly, as if embarrassed that he actually thought about your breasts in that way

he accidentally uses a bit too much pressure with his teeth, causing you to hiss in pain. He immediately freezes, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm so sorry... did I hurt you?" His voice soft, laced with adorable concern.

"no--its okay..just try to use a little less teeth..and relax"

Anakin nods, his expression turning gentle again. He leans back in, this time more careful, his touch feather-light. He alternates between sucking and licking, paying close attention to the way you react to his touch. "Like this?" He asks softly, his voice muffled against your skin.

"just like that" you tugged on his curls

After the moaned sentence left your mouth, Anakin felt a surge of pride. He continues his gentle ministrations, his own body growing harder with each passing moment. He looks up at you,l with his eyes hooded. "Can I... can I kiss you lower now?"

Nerd!Anakin who was scared to eat you out at first, cause it'd be his very much first pussy. But when he did, he had no idea how to do it. He used his teeth a little too much, his tongue a bit too forceful but in time he got better

Nerd!Anakin who loves space documentaries. He'll make you sit with him on the couch to watch them, enthusiastically pointing out facts you didn’t even know he knew. He’s the type to lean over and say things like, “Did you know that this system’s star is actually binary? And it formed 4.6 billion years ago?”

Nerd!Anakin who uses cheesy, nerdy pick-up lines that leave you both laughing. He’s the kind of guy who would say, “Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.” He says it with so much confidence that you can’t help but find it endearing.

When you tease him about it, he’ll get all flustered, scratching the back of his head with that sheepish grin. “I thought it was clever..and you'd like it, maybe give me a small kiss or something.."

Nerd!Anakin who is fiercely protective of his tech projects. If someone tries to mess with them or touch his tools without asking, he’ll get all defensive. “Hey, be careful with that! I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

But when it’s you? He lets you mess with his projects all you want, even if it makes him a bit nervous. He’ll give you a dorky smile and say, “Just don’t break it, okay?” But secretly, he loves sharing his passions with you.

Nerd!Anakin who, as smart as he is with machines, is absolutely terrible in the kitchen. He’ll try to make you dinner as a sweet surprise, but something always goes wrong—he burns the food, the recipe doesn’t turn out, or the kitchen ends up looking like a disaster zone.

He’ll stand there, looking embarrassed but hopeful, holding a burnt dish with a lopsided grin. “Uh, it’s a little... crispy..”

Nerd!Anakin who leaves you small, nerdy notes;

On a sticky note on your fridge

"You’re the binary star to my existence. Without you, my orbit is off. Also, I reprogrammed the toaster. You're welcome.”

In your notebook or planner

“If I could rewrite the laws of physics, I'd bend space-time just to spend an extra 5 minutes with you.”

"The only code I can’t crack? How you make my heart race this fast.

Tucked inside your favorite book

“You're like the perfect algorithm: complex, beautiful, and always leaving me wanting to solve the equation that is you.”

On your desk after a long day

“You must have a gravity field around you, because I can't seem to stay away. P.S. Check under the desk, I might've added a small modification.”

Next to your coffee in the morning

"You must be a supernova, because you light up my entire galaxy."

Left on the keyboard of your laptop

“I may be fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, but none can express how much you mean to me. Except maybe binary: 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.”

On a scrap of paper in your bag

“If life were an RPG, you’d be the rarest item—a perfect balance of stats, charisma, and intelligence. Also, +100 beauty.”

Tucked in between your sketchpad pages (if you're into art)

“You’re the canvas, I’m the artist... together, we create the perfect masterpiece. P.S. I’m still better at drawing starships though.”

Left in your lunchbox

“Did you know you increase productivity in starship repairs by 43% just by being near me? I’d call that a superpower.”

Taped to a little DIY gadget he made for you

“This little thing is just like you—ingenious and holds everything together. Also, try pressing the blue button for a surprise.”

Next to your favorite snack

“You’re like the perfect engineering schematic: flawless in design, and I can’t stop marveling at the details.”

In your locker

"I’d cross the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs just to see your smile."

“Did you know a day on Venus is longer than a year? Just like how waiting to see you again feels like”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet (I have not forgot about you now ;) )

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[reminiscences2]

𐙚 -oneshot?

pairing: e-1610!miles morales x fem!reader

genre: boyhood, crushes, suggestive

summary: miles figures out his feeling for you with ganke.

ೃ⁀➷

a/n: randomly came to mind, idk.

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ _____________________________________________♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚

"so you're a hundred percent sure it's not a crush? i'm pretty sure jay's plotting on her." ganke teased, laying himself on the floor.

they were having one of their late-night talks, which were rare because of how often miles had to prioritize his spiderman duties. they were both laid on the floor, admiring the ceiling in their pjs.

"dude, i dunno. i mean, i get nervous when i see her, but technically i get nervous around everyone i don't know." miles rambles, gesturing his hands around as he talks.

"you didn't get nervous around me!" ganke poked.

miles turns and narrows his eyes at him playfully. "yes, i did! i was awkward as hell." he cringes internally, remembering how embarrassing he was a year ago.

"that's a different kind of nervous, miles," ganke scoffs.

"how are you so sure?"

"well, i've used this technique for the past 2 years right?"

miles quiets down to listen, wondering whether he's teasing or helping.

"if you don't know if its a genuine crush.. first picture somebody you find completely unattractive, right? a real eyesore."

"that sounds targetted."

"hey, focus!" ganke laughed, hurling a pillow towards miles.

"okay, okay!"

since he recently had frequent run-ins with the same villain in the past month, so much so that his face started to appear in his dreams, that was the first person to come to mind.

the villain was abnormally blown up, with distorted body features all over. he almost felt bad for how uncomfortable their normal posture felt. technically, did they even count? they didn't look human.

nonetheless, he refocused.

"now, imagine that person, on top of you. how does that make you feel?" ganke took on a faux professional voice.

"threatened and disgusted. no offense to the .. person i'm thinking of, of course." miles blurted out in a deadpan tone.

ganke burst out in laughter, covering his mouth to avoid attracting attention to people outside the dorms.

"miles, saying no offense at the end of that sentence does nothin' to help you." he scoffed, turning to look at him. "jus tryna be polite." miles muttered, chuckling.

ganke shuffles back to his original position.

"okay, now that you have those feelings and that picture set aside.. picture her." ganke started, trying to not sound cheeky as he tried peeking at miles's reaction.

as miles closed his eyes and settled into his imagination, a few images of [y/n] in different places he bumped into her at school pop in and out. a slight blush spreads across his face, but he keeps himself steady.

ganke narrowed his eyes at him, keeping his laughter in. "now.. imagine her on top of you."

miles's eyes shot open when he remembered the way the questioning was going. but that didn't stop his brain from generating a few provocative ideas of [y/n] on top of him, straddled on his lap.

wait, was that a bikini?

his face was now flushed, hotter than a volcano.

"ganke!" he yelped in embarrassment, launching a pillow straight to his face.

ganke burst into laughter, not able to hold it in anymore. "yep, definitely a crush!"

"that's not fair, i didn't know you were gonna do that!" miles groaned, tossing as many pillows as he could. probably with more strength than he was supposed to.

"you have a crush on [y/n] [l/n]!" ganke teased, cackling.

"shut up, man!"

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ _______________♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚

a/n: man I need ideas

[howtofightwrite]

In writing a fighting scene how many sentences need to be it is always said it needs to have a variety of how long? Technical jargon better be ditched, or sometimes needs to be written? Is there any advice on how to do this, I still trying to get an idea of how to write fighting scenes? from tournaments, corridor battles (narrow and wide), room battles, field battles, war battles, or even hit-and-run battles?

So, there are multiple questions here, but some of these are going to be kind of quick.

How many sentences do you need? Enough, but no more. You need to be able to communicate to the reader what's happening in the fight. Or, at least, be able to communicate what your PoV character experiences from the fight. The more you add to it, the longer it will take your average reader to read the scene, and (to an extent) the slower they will perceive the fight.

This creates an awkward situation for a writer. If you have some, “really cool visual,” but you can't convey that quickly and efficiently, it might need to go. Especially if it's the kind of thing you'd see in a film, or comic, but that your character wouldn't be directly aware of. For example, a character isn't going to know that a blade narrowly missed their head, shaving off several locks of hair in the process, because they're probably not looking in the direction of their hair when it happens, and they're probably not going to feel it. In attempting to completely articulate that moment, you're going to slow down the fight.

Now, there is an application for this. The better a character's reflexes (really, the faster they are at processing information, which isn't technically reflexes), the more ability they'll have to actually perceive these kinds of moments as they happen, and the slow the fight will be, for them.

Technical jargon is characterization. A character who doesn't know how to fight, and has no prior aptitude for violence, probably won't have a particularly extensive vocabulary for violence. So, if that's you PoV for a fight, they don't know what they're seeing, and they might not have a vocabulary that extends much beyond hitting, punching, and kicking. This applies both to the attacks they can (intentionally) make, and what they can see and understand when other characters are attacking.

A character who is a combat veteran, with extensive training will have a much wider range of options open to them, and also a much greater capacity to accurately articulate the violence they see. They're likely to use and recognize things like stances, parries, restraints, holds, and throws.

This can lead to a specific situation that's counter-intuitive (at least in comparison to what I said at the beginning), but also very real. An inexperienced fighter, can find themselves quickly losing to a skilled opponent without really being able to understand what just happened to them. In this specific case, accurately communicating the details to the audience can be to the detriment.

So, this is all for limited narration. If you're using omniscient narration, then you'll need to make decisions on how to describe the combat. This is one situation where it's really difficult to avoid characterizing your narrator. Though, this should help make that characterization a conscious choice, rather than an accident.

Beyond that, asking about the different venues, that's a little to vague to really give any coherent answer beyond simply pointing to the earlier paragraphs. For example, when you're looking at armies clashing in a massive battle, the PoV is still the most important factor to assessing how it should be written. A general, commanding the troops from a hill behind the front lines is going to be far more interested in the overall strategic state of the battle. They'll be directing troops, trying to get orders through, watching the enemy, and trying to anticipate what they'll do. A soldier down in the melee will have a radically different experience. They may not even have the tactical background to fully appreciate the way the battle is progressing, beyond simply that there are still people trying to kill them, and they're preemptively returning the favor.

At a grander scale, a footsoldier in a war might not even have the frame of reference to really understand the state of the world beyond the scope of their orders and the battles they find themselves in. They may know who they are fighting, but, not really understand why. And, if they encounter enemy forces unexpectedly, they may have no idea what that really means for the war as a whole, where a general or commander would likely be able to understand and explain how that happened. In fact, a diplomat or spy, with extensive experience from before the war, may have entirely different understandings for how and why the enemy is maneuvering than even a general would.

Again, violence, whether it's on a personal, or a mass scale, is a venue for characterization. Who your characters are will dictate how they perceive, understand, and interact with the world around them. There isn't one way that a fight in a corridor will occur, because there isn't one kind of person who will walk into a corridor with violent intent.

If it sounds like I'm thinking of Glen Cook's Black Company novels, I am. I'm also thinking of Sandy Mitchell's Caiaphas Cain novels, and a few other stray examples.

Ultimately, this is all about characterization of your narrator, regardless whether that narrator is also a character in the story or not.

-Starke

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[taintedpearls]

can you do vi and a breeding/mommy k!nk??

⋆⭒˚.⋆ vi with a breeding/mommy kink — daily click

nsfw + reg txt under cut , thank you for the request

this girl is genuinely obsessed with the thought of making u a mom herself like.. okay technically she can't but in moments like this she definitely thinks it's possible.

she brought up the idea of a breeding strap awhile back and you completely forget the two of you even had the conversation, but you were more than open to the idea of it, assuming it was to feed into vi's delusions of being able to impregnate you.

now you wished you had agreed much sooner.

both of your legs are pressed against your chest with vi's forearm keeping them down as she pounded into you repeatedly, the dildo stretching you in a way that felt so good.

"how's that feel?" she groans from above you, eyes in a trance and focusing on the point where a white ring was forming at the base on where the two of you were connected, mesmerised by how easily the dildo was sliding in and out of you.

you're unable to give her actual words, instead mumbling out a bunch of gibberish mixed with your moans of pleasure, mouth open and eyes screwed shut as you clawed at your girlfriends back.

"c'mon... words mama..." she encourages, moving her arms that were pinning you down to gently lift up your chin, being met with the sight of your teary eyes and cheeks. she cant help but groan and throw her own head back at the sight of you, rutting into you helplessly and needlessly, slowing her pace down significantly. she swears she can feel the way your gummy walls are clenching around her 'dick'.

"fuck.." vi whimpers, speeding her pace back up and dropping her head into the crook of your neck, trailing soft kisses up to your ear. you move your hand up to play with the pinkettes hair gently, kissing the side of her face.

"f- feels so good vi" you moan out, tugging on her hair ever so slightly and pushing your hips back into her, chasing your release, chasing what the feeling what be like for her to nut in you.

"you gonna cum?" she asks breathily, stopping her kisses for a brief moment before sucking on your sweet spot, biting and nipping at it.

you nod your head a little too quickly, moving your hands back to her back and gripping onto her like your life depended on it.

"you can let go... its okay baby, this is gonna make you-" she pauses to gasp at how the harness is rubbing against her clit perfectly, trying to quickly recover and finish her sentence "this is gonna make you carry my fuckin' kids huh?" she encourages, and that was all it took for the knot inside you to snap, faux cum dribbling into your hole as your own release leaked out.

vi came quickly after you, groaning into your ear and slowing her pace down significantly to now overstimulate you too much, pulling out quickly to catch a sight of what you looked like right now

ethereal.

leaning down so her head was parallel to your pussy, you laid above her, panting and trying to catch your breath, whining at the loss of being filled.

"want me to clean this up for you?"

this is the filthiest thing ive written pls forgive me...

alternate beginning i scrapped:

"you can look now," she tells you while adjusting the harness ever so slightly on her, you've been sprawled out on your bed and staring up at the ceiling for the the five minutes while hearing vi shuffle around in the bathroom for a 'treat'. looking up, your line of vision instantly went to your cocky girlfriend and the dildo that now rested on her hips.

"babe... what?" you questioned, letting out a breathy laugh at the situation, memories of the conversation slowly coming back.

"you wanna try it out?"

[kazz-brekker]

hotd episode 2 thoughts

aegon screaming hysterically and smashing up viserys's model of old valyria…alicent unable to get through a sentence without sobbing…helaena staring blankly at the wall and clutching jaehaerys's blanket…i love acting but also that all kind of broke me.

genuinely i am enjoying tom glynn-carney as aegon SO much, he's quickly becoming one of my favorite actors on the show and gives his character so much nuance.

otto using his grandson's horrific death as a pr stunt…truly that man never stops working, he's always on the clock.

i also LOVED the big blowout fight scene between rhaenyra and daemon, it's about time someone dragged that man to hell and back. "the darkness you sheathe within yourself like a sword" and "i don't trust you" and "you're pathetic" go OFF rhaenyra!

criston please don't send someone else on a suicidal assassination mission because you were slacking your duty and banging alicent while the heir to the throne got decapitated. oh, who i am kidding, that man has never had a normal reaction to anything in his life.

i'm so glad we got an actual scene with baela (and the promise of more with her and moondancer in future weeks!) since she and rhaena have been horrendously underused so far.

aemond you have so many issues please go to therapy not a brothel. also i've blogged about this before but the idea that he really thinks he's an equal threat to daemon honestly is so silly.

alyn AND addam of hull spotted, we've got the complete set, and a little teaser of seasmoke as well!

the scene between corlys and rhaenys where corlys was like "if daemon would just submit to rhaenyra and enjoy being a bottom as i do on occasion" made me laugh so hard my sister asked me if i was okay.

i'm very intrigued by the scene between rhaenyra and mysaria (especially the mutual bonding over being exasperated by daemon) since they're technically on the same side but very much at odds in the book and i'm curious to know if this will continue in future episodes.

i really like that this season is emphasizing the perspectives of smallfolk like the hull brothers, hugh hammer, and the brothel mistress, it's something i felt was missing in season 1.

this really was an episode of targaryen men getting absolutely dragged by others for their poor political decisions. can't say i support otto's decisions most of the time but he was 100% correct about aegon.

also the moment where otto realized he had schemed for 20+ years to land a total idiot who just fired him on the throne…delicious, but rhys ifans played it so well i honestly still felt bad for him.

daeron mention! at this point i was honestly starting to think they had cut him from the show so that was a surprise.

as an identical twin i very much enjoyed the erryk and arryk drama but i must admit that i ALSO could not tell the twins apart when they were dueling. someone please revoke my twin card.

alicent walking into a room, seeing aegon crying, and just walking out was kind of funny ngl.

i really didn't expect criston and alicent's dynamic this season but i'm honestly enjoying it a lot. the mutual self-flagellation over their affair, alicent repeatedly slapping him and criston allowing it…really fun honestly.

caraxes is properly coming back next episode and it's true, i HAVE missed that noodle boy <3

also it looks like our first proper looks at harrenhal, moondancer, and a bracken vs. blackwood fight!

[tangerinesgirl]

Hi! Can i request vampire Frank smut where he and the reader had been flirting the entire night, and at the end he is a vampire and has killed all the others(including lambert and abigail) and the reader is the only human left, hut since Frank took a liking to her ,he ends up asking him to stay with him and they end up fucking to "satisfy the flirting" plssssss (ur an awesome writer btwww)

Fuck Around, Find Out

**SPOILERS FOR ABIGAIL (2024)**

Reader x Frank (Abigail)

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: 18+, nsfw, explicit

Warnings: flirting, smut, choking, violence, language, technically p in v but no explicit reader body parts mentioned, Frank being feral, rough sex, some hints of enemies to lovers

Notes: tysm for the kind words! 💕 Sammy uses they/them pronouns for reader once, but otherwise reader has no specific gender, so everyone can enjoy this fic! Some use of Y/N.

🦇

You freak out. Everyone freaks out. You've all just put a death sentence on each others heads by kidnapping a freaking vampire. Did Lambert know? How could he do this to us? Lots of thought are going through your head. You snap out of it and see Frank choking and threatening Peter. The whole operation has gone to shit.

Frank drops Peter as he admits defeat. Frank has clearly lost the plot too, you decide you have to be the calm voice in the commotion and maintain composure.

"If you put your hand around my neck, you'll lose it", you snap at Frank, letting him know his actions were completely out of order.

"Oh yeah?", he swaggers over to you, putting the back of his palm on your cheek, stroking it. "And...what about putting my hand around a different body part?"

A click. Frank looks down, your gun pointing directly at his crotch. "I don't know. Try it. Fuck around. Find out."

Frank is clearly impressed, he tries to hide it but you can see the glint in his eyes. You squint as you smile at him sarcastically. He backs away, with his arms held up in surrender. You holster your gun in the dip at the back of your jeans. Frank swipes a hand through his hair, either in exasperation or to try and maintain a calm appearance somehow. As he does so he gives you a subtle wink, and gives each member of the crew a plan to take down the ballerina vampire.

*

Frank, Sammy and Peter essentially tumble down the stairs after their encounter with Abigail. You and Joey look at each other as if to say "we told them so", and start working on the casualties.

You walk over to Frank, "You know this is the second time I've saved your life tonight".

"I wouldn't count a pencil to the hand as a fucking life saving event."

"Hey lead poisoning can be very fatal."

"You know there's not actually any lead in-"

You pull the stake out of his leg in one swift motion, Frank cursing every deity under the sun. You quickly bandage his leg up to use as a tourniquet, it's not great but it'll do for now, at least it's stopped the bleeding. Frank looks at you with gratitude, but is too self-righteous to say anything. You look at him and can't help feeling more attracted to Frank seeing him disheveled like this. You quickly snap out of it and start tending to Peter's wounds.

As you're working, you can't help but see Frank in the reflection of a bookcase looking directly at your ass. You smile to yourself and turn around, "Hey we're supposed to keep grab ass to a minimum, remember?" Frank smiles and looks you up and down, clearly thinking unholy thoughts. Your body shivers as he does, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

Sammy chirps in, "Yeah, they're right. You were fully checking them out, you weren't even subtle dude."

Frank barks at Sammy, "I think the rules have gone out the fucking window now. And maybe you should mind your own fucking business and flirt with Peter some more."

"Sammy is flirting with me?" Peter is dumbfounded, but low-key delighted.

Frank rolls his eyes. You swear if he rolls them anymore tonight, they may as well turn into marbles.

*

You back away from Frank, slipping on Lambert and Abigail's blood, the warmth seeping through your jeans, you try to find purchase with your feet to try and stand up. Frank is clearly relishing in his new found life, this is what he's always wanted afterall. Pure unadulterated power. He feels his new fangs with his teeth, moaning, you feel awkward yet somehow aroused watching him, maybe you should leave and give him a moment. He snaps out of his daydream as you start to stand up. Frank tilts his head, curious, looking at you like a wild animal and smirks. "Like what you see?"

You don't say anything. "Come on Y/N, we had such a good thing going earlier. I can tell what an impression we made on each other...what I made on you."

He grabs your shirt and pulls you closer to him, he takes a deep sniff of you. "I can fucking smell it on you." You recoil as you can smell Frank's blood on his breath, but it's also somehow...hypnotising. Primal. "I mean you've clearly got me going, I've got you going, we have chemistry... We just need to get it out of our system. Don't you agree?"

You think over the events of the night, you can't help but feel somehow more attracted to him? Even if it is totally wrong, after seeing him stab a guy quite literally in the back. But seeing Frank just being given eternal life and the power he's always hungered for... and he's choosing you?

You nod slightly.

"I'm going to need you to use your words."

"Yes sir."

Frank wastes no more time and crashes his lips into you like a man starved. You try to grip on to his face or his hair, but you can't find purchase as the blood makes your hands slip. The metallic taste invades your taste buds as Frank kisses deeper, pushing you against the wall. Frank's hands roam your body, his hands slide down the back of your jeans, grabbing your ass as you grind into him.

You unbutton and remove your jeans and underwear and start to undo Frank's zipper and pull down his pants. You can't help but widen your eyes at the size of him, and he notices, this will only fuel his cockiness even more. His lips smash back into you, he can barely keep himself off you as he moans into the kiss. Frank briefly snaps out of it as he feels your hand on his member, positioning him at your entrance. Frank lifts up your legs to wrap around his waist, and pushes himself into you.

The air escapes your lungs as he thrusts inside you in one push, your back slamming against the wall. The size of him hurts at first, but he fills you up oh so good. Of course Frank is bigger than average, he clearly knows, it's all in his attitude. Frank thrusts into you, moaning every time he does. He puts his hand on the wall behind you to try and push into you deeper, but the wall swallows his hand up, leaving a huge hole in the brickwork. Frank still needs to know the limits of his new vampire strength.

Frank gets agitated and aggressively picks you up, him still inside you. He swipes his arm to remove all the items off a nearby desk and lays you on top of it. He grabs your legs to forcefully move you to the edge of the table as he continues to fuck into you. You can feel the table buckling underneath you. You try to tell Frank when-

The desk collapses on the floor, you still on top of it. Luckily Frank's hands were still underneath you, cushioning most of your fall. Frank doesn't care in the slightest, the only thing that matters in the world right now is fucking you. He continues to pound into you. You swear he growls in your ear at one point. You can feel yourself starting to clench around him as you reach your peak. Frank notices and puts a hand around your neck, squeezing slightly. This is exactly what you needed to send yourself over the edge, you cum around him, hard. Your legs wrapping around his waist, your walls squeezing him tight.

Frank lets out a gutteral moan as he arches his back as he cums inside you. The warm liquid starting to seep out of you. He feels amazing, all of his senses heightened. He comes down from his high and takes himself out of you. He dips two fingers into the pool forming underneath you. He runs his fingers along his fangs and licks them clean. He mumbles an "oh yeah" under his breath. Frank looks at you, spread out on the floor, the room a complete mess. It really is a sight to behold. He bites his lip, "I think I might just keep you".

[bippiti]

505 cl16

where you reminisce on your first love

wc 3k

an done for my 1.2k event! first fic in the series, lmk if you wanna be tagged and as always pls like + rb<3

(starts in 2014, ends in 2024ish)

i'm going back to 505

you rushed down the road, feet peddling as hard as they could as you biked down the street. your eyes glanced down to your watch, squinting before you read the time. great. you were going to be late.

you thought that was you’re biggest problem, and then a new one came crashing onto you, literally.

while you were busy checking the time, you failed too notice someone else running in your direction. you don't know what had them too preoccupied to notice you- but you could technically say the same thing about yourself so-

you were bought back to the moment by the stinging you started to feel on your knees, you hissed looking down and seeing red. ugh

you began to apologize, looking up and stopping mid sentence.

wow. he was pretty. really pretty

you slapped yourself mentally, wincing while standing up. it was definitely going to scar. you reached your hand down to help the mysterious boy up, who sharply inhaled when your hands met. he had scraped his hands up pretty bad when you guys collided.

"i'm so sorry again"

"you're completely fine, i should've been paying more attention" he said while laughing

he has nice laugh

"anyway, i think i should properly introduce myself, i'm charles le clerc" this time he was the one to extend his hand out

"y/n l/n, nice to meet you" you smiled as you shook hands

then you remembered what had gotten you into this mess. you checked your watch again. you were definitely late now.

"i'm so sorry charles but im running late to a painting class, i really need to go" you picked up your bike, kicking the dust off of it.

"wait i am too, are you going to mme. callarios?"

you looked back at him in shock. "how did you know"

he shook his head, "you're going in the wrong direction, since we're heading the same way mind if i show you?"

you didn't see why not, so he climbed in front of you and began to head towards your class

-

if it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

the bike halted as you reached your destination. building 505. you stared at each other nervously before walking in. the class had started at 1pm, and it was nearing 2 when you arrived. granted, it was a 4 hour class but still.

you cringed internally as you felt all eyes on you when you opened the doors to the class.

"y/n, charles! great to see you. we've split up into partners, so you both will have to work together. decide who will be the painter and who will be the model for the first piece. switch in an hour and a half!" she explained quickly, ushering you both to the only empty table.

you both sat across from each other, and after a small game of rock paper scissors, you were adjusting in your seat getting ready to pose for the next 90 minutes.

-

when you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect?

you didn't know how you managed to keep a straight face, his stares were piercing into what felt like your soul. you knew that he had to be like this, he was painting you after all. but knowing that didn't help. after silently uttering some words of encouragement to yourself, you maintained a straight face.

after what felt like forever, you heard the timer go off, and with one last stroke of the brush charles was up and you were swapping places. you cracked your knuckles before sitting on the stool. this was gonna have to be the best painting you've ever done.

before you knew it you were hearing to now familiar ring as you finished off the details of his eyes. you stood up, backing away from the piece. not too bad you thought.

after everyone had finished, you went to the room across as they all dried. it was acrylic, so it wouldn't take too long. there were snacks and refreshments scattered throughout the space. grabbing a drink and seat, you started to learn more about charles. he had two brothers, one older and younger. his mom still cut his hair, you thought he might be embarrased but he showed it off proudly.

“all these years and she still hasn't given me a bad haircut”

“if my mom could cut hair like yours, i'd be getting it done by her too”

“you should come by her salon sometime, i think she'd like you”

“really?”

“yeah, she's out of town so next month when she's back”

with those plans made, you collectively went back into the painting room. you both swapped paintings and looked at them for a while.

you gauged his reaction, at first his face was blank and you were scared that you had made him look like a troll or something, but slowly a smile creeped up onto his face, he looked up to you.

“it's really good”

you smiled and looked down to yours, he had gotten your likeliness down to a t. he left clear marks and left the strokes visible.

looking up you saw him searching your eyes for a reaction, just like you had.

“you did so good, i love your painting style”

he seemed relieved when you said that, smiling. as everyone around you began to pack up and leave, you both exchanged numbers before grabbing your paintings and going your separate ways.

-

not shy of a spark

you had texted back and forth a lot since then, and soon enough you found yourself at the doorstep of his moms salon. after being welcomed in you sat down and showed her photos of the haircut you wanted. she nodded, and began to wet your hair

“charles talks about you a lot, you know”

“does he really” you said with a laugh

“he does, i think he likes you dear”

that shut you up, she smiled warmly

“at this age, love is everywhere, make sure you grab it while you can”

you left the appointment with amazing hair and a lot of questions, you didn't think he could possibly like you back. but now, who knows

the knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

-

I'm going back to 505

you walk into the painting studio, excited with the a dragonfruit in your hand. today was still life day, normally you found it boring but mme. callarios had let everyone bring their own fruit.

you spotted charles when you got in, and lifted your dragonfruit for him to see. he put his hand up, showing off the orange he had started to peel. he tore off a piece for you, and offered it once you got closer.

your hand was cramping as your eyes continued to squint at the pink fruit in front of you. you regretted picking dragon fruit barely half an hour in, the seeds and the outer skin were proving difficult to paint accurately, you glanced over to charles, his was coming along nicely. you ended up pushing through the ugly phase and were somewhat proud of the piece. it had definitely been your most challenging one so far

-

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

you were biking to charles' place, over the weeks you had both become closer, and he wanted to cook for you. you were somewhat scared, charles didn't seem like michelin star material, but maybe he'd surprise you.

he did end up surprising you, but not in the way that you thought.

pasta was on the menu for the afternoon, and you sat on the counter as he went around getting all the ingredients ready. basil, pine nuts, garlic, and olive oil were all pushed onto an island before he began on the pasta. getting out the flour and egg, he began to knead the dough together.

he looked nice in moments like this, comfortable. you liked to think that maybe you could see more of him like this, when he's quiet and the silence isn't awkward. existing together in his apartment kitchen. once he was done cutting the dough into pieces, he salted the water and dropped the pasta in. he came over to you and you both began talking.

you ended up getting so immersed in the conversation that the pasta was forgotten- at least until it was too late. you glanced over to the stove, eyes widening as you saw smoke rising from the pan. you both jumped up and yanked it off the gas, bringing it to the sink. what was going to be amazing pasta was now a charred rock. you couldn't help but laugh before getting side eyed by charles.

"i guess we're going to have to order pizza instead"

you ended up binging some random show you found on netflix, and as a souvenir took home the rock of burnt pasta, you named it char, short for charles charcoal

-

In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side

charles had become a f3 driver now, and hadn't been in monaco for a bit. you watched all his races, and you were the first person he called after his first win in pau-ville. he was excited, and so were you.

you're feelings for him had kept growing, and you couldn't help it, no matter how much you tried. you loved everything about him, his eyes, and how they'd light up when he saw you, his smile, and the dimples that formed when he did. his hair, his voice, just him.

soon enough he was back in monaco and you were excited to see him.

you grabbed coffee and began walking around the streets, stopping at building 505, walking into the currently empty studio. you looked around some of the paintings before sitting on some stools.

you knew him too well now, 3 years of friendship will do that. he was nervous, when he bought his hand up to his face you had saw he had bitten his nails. you didn't bring it up, but before you could say anything he started to speak

"i've been trying to figure out how i should say this for the longest time. i've known for a while now, but it really hit me in pau. i couldn't have don't any of this without you, i don't even think i'd be who i am without you y/n. and now that i'm back i can' t handle not telling you. i like you, i really like you"

you were stunned for a minute, before you kicked back the stool you were sitting in and kissed him. the puzzles had fallen into place, you couldn't believe it.

he deepened the kiss, bringing his hand to your waist as you sat in his lap. your fingers ran through his hair, tugging as you began to roll your hips against his.

you pulled away, panting. smiling at him before you began to kiss him again, his hands roamed down to your shirt, tugging it up as he separated from you again. you raised your arms, and took his off as well. a silent beat skipped between you both and you laughed

"are we really about to do this right now"

"yeah, i think we are"

you pulled him closer to you once again, his tongue slipped int your mouth effortlessly and you almost moaned, god he knew how to make you melt.

soon enough, the rest of your clothes followed suit and you were on the cool tile floor. as his hand started to trace your inner thigh you grabbed his hand. he looked up, somewhat confused but before he could say anything you spoke,

'i've never done this before"

he relaxes almost immediately, and smiles down at you

"neither have i"

you weren't ashamed to admit you were shocked, sopmeone like him.. never? not once?

he could see the gears turning in his head and he spoke up

"there were girls now and then sure, but i always wanted it to be you, it's always been you honestly"

you couldn't see yourself rn, but you were sure you were giving im heart eyes by now.

"it was the same for me too actually" you said sheepishly

"was it really?

"yeah, it was" and with that you bought your hands up to his shoulder, flipping him onto the floor. you kissed him softly, turning his face to kiss along his jaw, his neck, going further down to his chest, then stomach. pausing for permission, after seeing his nod you pulled down, eyes widening as you saw it. well this was gonna be interesting

you left kisses on his tip, working your way down before you took him all in your mouth. he hit the back of your throat and you almost choked, but hearing the moans coming out of his mouth kept you going. you could feel him start to pulse, and before you could do anything else he was bringing you off of him, kissing your lips as he turned you around.

“can’t have you doing all the work can i cher?” he said as he pulled your underwear down, almost moaning when he looked down at you, all of you.

he traced his hands down your sternum, down to your waist and legs. spreading you open he dipped his face down.

you could feel his tongue inside you, pulsing before he started scissoring you open. he was good- too good at this. you don’t know if you could handle it. soon enough, he was back on top of you, kissing you gently as he lined himself up with your entrance.

he cleaned you up afterwards, he was quiet, soft. you could get used to this

-

but I crumble completely when you cry

it had been months since that night, you and charles had been going strong, but after he joined f2, something changed. his eyes no longer lit up when he saw you, he started buying things for you instead of making them. you’d wake up to your phone being full of messages, but none of them from him.

it hurt. he hurt.

it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he called you, asking where you were.

you answered, mme. callarios’ place. he said he was going to be there soon.

you felt your heart drop, wether it was excitement or fear, you couldn’t tell.

you knew the minute he stepped through the door it was going to be bad. you could read him like a book. you composed yourself as he came closer, pressing quick kisses to the others cheeks, you painted a smile on your face and smiled at him.

his eyes were full of emotion, for the first time in months. it’s almost funny, you knew it was coming but the moment the words left his mouth you broke down

“i’ve been seeing someone else”

“i see”

at first it didn’t register, not really. a heartbeat later you felt the tears pricking at your eyes. you turned around trying to excuse yourself, but before you could take another step a sob escaped your lips. you started to cry. you couldn’t shut up, why couldn’t you just shut up? you could feel yourself gasping for breath, all the air in the world wasn’t enough for your lungs right now. you were getting lightheaded, knees turning shaky before ultimately giving up on you. the impact resonated around the empty room.

he stepped forward, kneeling down. his stupid, warm hands brushed up against your face, trying to wipe away your tears.

you couldn’t even push him off of you. you really were pathetic.

you managed to fight your way up, shaking and all but running out the door.

never again, you were never going to love anyone like that again

-

i’m going back to 505

you walked into a crowded room. your latest collection had been getting a lot of coverage in the media, and it was the last day it was up for the public. the pieces would be going to the individual buyers first thing tomorrow.

building 505. it no longer made a bitter taste seep into your mouth. it’s crazy to think a decade ago you were standing here painting him, how time flies.

the first few months were the worst. he was the only thing you could think of, you were a broken record. so naturally, you did the one thing that made you feel close to him again, painting. and it saved you

you could get out every thought you were too afraid to say out loud, every emotion you didn’t want to feel with simple strokes on canvas

you didn’t think anything would come of it, honestly. you were meant to go into investment banking, like your parents. the universe had other plans though

one of mme. callarios’ friends was a museum director, and took a liking to your pieces. he asked you to do some works on commission. word got around fast, and now you’ve made a name for yourself as an artist, in some ways all thanks to charles

charles. now he had his dream job, f1. working with the team he used to tell you about, the team he worshipped.

you were happy for him, sometimes you wonder if he was happy for you. you still think of him when you eat pesto, you still keep char in a jar under your bed, you have all of the paintings you made that summer in a closet collecting dust. there were pieces of yourself that you gave to him that will stay his even though you’re done.

none of that matters now though, you turn to someone who’s called your name and start explaining the piece they’ve asked about

[nomoreusername]

How Girl's Work

Pairing:Platonic Ivy Trio x female reader

Summary:When Thomas asks about your pads, you try to explain the female body.

It didn't seem important to hide them. I’m a girl so I’ll sometimes need pads. They’re all guys and have no idea what they are. I keep them in a box under one of the medical beds.

Nobody cares to ask. It's a clear box with some light, mysterious, square things inside, with my name written on plain ducktape.

I honestly should have known better. Thomas loves asking questions. From the day he arrived he was curious about absolutely everything.

“What's the box for?”He asked, pointing at it.

“I’ve always wondered that too,”Minho admitted from the other bed.

“Can't say it didn't catch my eye at first,”Newt shrugged.

“I knew letting you guys be here on days off would end up being a mistake,”I sighed.

“We're helpful sometimes,”Thomas defended.

“Yes, but you you're also you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”Minho asked quickly.

“Whenever you go, chaos follows.”

“Hey, that's usually those two. You leave me out of it,”Newt said firmly.

“The point is, you're all nosy.”

“Okay, but what's in the special box?”Thomas repeated, making sure we didn't get off track from the original topic. How kind.

“Pads. They're just for girls.”

“Well, that’s sexist,”Minho responded with a completely serious voice, raising his eyebrow as if I had offended his ancestors and future children.

“No. It's literally only made for girls to use. At least once a month I have to use a few a day.”

“For what?”Thomas interrogated, sitting on the bed. Taking a spot on each side of him, the other two waited for me to answer.

I guess I’m doing this then.

“You know how I sometimes tell you all to just leave me alone for a few days?”

“Yes,”Newt nodded, leaning forward as if he was about to take notes.

“That’s because at least once a month I get a period.”

Minho nodded in an ‘ah, yes’ way as if he knew exactly what that was. He did not, but I’m gonna pretend not to notice. It's just easier.

“Like at the end of a sentence?”Thomas asked.

“No. My uterus lining sheds, which means I’ll bleed from down there.”

“What’s the point of that?”Newt asked, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was pulling knowledge about it from the back of his mind.

“It has to do with my eggs.”

“You have eggs?”Thomas asked, his face devoid of color as he was doing his best to figure it out. Minho rested his chin on his hands like a great philosopher that knew everything there was to know about women.

“Yes, but they're pretty much microscopic. They're important, because it's how the human population would continue.”

“So humans come from eggs?”

“Technically, yes. You guys know about pregnancy?”

“You mean that hellish sounding thing where you have nine months of growing a human?”Newt checked.

“Yes. Periods make sure I have enough to get pregnant and have one of those.”

“Why would anyone want one of those?”

“Because some people want to be parents. That and accidents happen.”

“So I might have been an accident?”Thomas asked in true horror.

“I couldn't have been an accident. Who wouldn't want me around?”Minho shrugged.

“I wouldn't be surprised if all of us were accidents,”Newt added.

“Well, it's a possibility. If your mom didn't plan to have a baby, then yeah. You were an accident.”

“How does the accident happen?”

“We’ll save that for another day,”I trailed off.

“I understand this perfectly,”Minho insisted.

“I have more questions though,”Thomas said, putting his hand up.

“I need you to clarify something.”

“What would it mean-”

“This is where you shanks are always hiding,”Alby remarked, walking in.

“Only sometimes,”I defended.

“Well, I need to borrow your helpers.”

“They're all yours,”I definitely allowed, looking over at them. With heavy sighs, they stood up to follow him. A night in the pit for more girl knowledge was not worth it.

“Make sure not to bleed out the next time you get your period,”Thomas whispered as he passed by me.

“Thanks Thomas. I’ll keep that in mind,”I nodded.

“Good luck,”He said, giving me a thumbs up as he followed everyone else out the door.

Yeah. They really do not get it.

[jays-bookmarks]

There was only one bed, but... (Dan Heng x gn!reader)

It's basically this picture. You're both nerds who don't know how to flirt and continually dance around your feelings.

Summary: March tries her best to set you up with the man you've been pining after since you first joined the Express, but her best-laid plans are foiled because both you and Dan Heng are socially incompetent. Words: 2.5k Warnings: secondhand embarrassment, awkward pining, reader is "short" (tiptoes to reach the top shelf lol), reader has some skimpy nightclothes

It had been a long day for you, March, and Dan Heng. After what happened during your mission, all you wanted was to flop down on a bed and sleep. As your group made its way to the inn, a very sheepish receptionist came to greet you. He apologized and explained that there were only two rooms left available.

“Oh, that's okay,” you said, glancing over at your teammates with a shrug. “I can share with March.”

March, however, quickly declined.

“No, uh—you should go with Dan Heng!” she said.

Your eyes widened at her words. “What? Why?”

You couldn’t hide the small blush on your face as you glanced over at Dan Heng. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice your nervousness, having been equally surprised by March’s sudden proposition. He tilted his head, waiting for March to explain.

“Well…” March looked a little nervous under Dan Heng’s scrutiny. She gave you a meaningful look. “Since you’re so new to this, wouldn't it be safest to stay with Dan Heng? Don’t forget he’s the guard of the Astral Express! Besides, I, uh… snore pretty loud!”

She ended her sentence with an awkward giggle. You narrowed your eyes at her. You knew March was only taking this opportunity to set you up with Dan Heng, but you tried to play it cool and let him have the final say. There was no way he'd agree… right?

“...I suppose that makes sense,” Dan Heng said, turning to you. “Are you alright with that?”

“Huh? Uh—yeah!” You froze up under his gaze, then quickly glanced away. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your face was so hot that you were sure Dan Heng didn’t miss your blush this time. You weren’t expecting him to agree so easily… but then again, why would he refuse? Despite the shiftiness of her delivery, March did make a sound argument. And Dan Heng clearly didn’t have any feelings he needed to keep hidden…

From the corner of your eye, you saw March pumping her first in victory before quickly hiding her hands behind her back. She bit her lip to suppress a grin. You shot her a glare, but she only giggled in response before ushering you all down the hall.

Once you saw the room you were staying in, your heart dropped. Of course, there was only one bed.

Dan Heng seemed completely unfazed, immediately moving to set his stuff down on the floor.

“You can have the bed,” he said, glancing back to where you stood frozen in the doorway. His gaze lingered on you for a moment. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but then he turned away and began taking off his coat.

You tentatively stepped into the room.

“A-are you sure? I… think there's enough room on the bed for both of us…” you said, but you could already feel yourself combusting at the thought of sharing a bed with Dan Heng. Sure, the bed was technically big enough for two people, but just barely. Trying to share this bed would definitely result in you two being squished uncomfortably close together.

You glanced over at Dan Heng, who shook his head and set his coat on the floor as a makeshift bedroll.

“I’ll be more comfortable on the floor," he said. Then, after a pause, he added in a quieter voice. "It would be best to keep a distance…"

Your face fell at his subtle rejection. Or, maybe you were just reading too much into it. He was probably just used to sleeping on the floor like he did in the archives. Or maybe he saw your awkwardness around him as you being uncomfortable with his presence. Or perhaps he just meant it would be easier for him to jump into action if the two of you weren’t tangled up together in bed. Oh gods, why did you word it like that? You shook the thought from your head and took a deep breath.

“Right, well… do you want an extra pillow or anything? A blanket?” You gestured to the bed.

Dan Heng shook his head again. “Don’t worry about me,” he said.

You sighed and turned to the closet anyway to look for an extra blanket. You had to stand on your toes to take it from the top shelf, but you managed without having to grab a stool. With that small victory spurring you on, you held the blanket out to him. But Dan Heng shook his head once more.

“You should take it,” he said. “It’ll be cold tonight.”

“And what are you gonna do? Just freeze?” you retorted.

He chuckled. “I’m used to sleeping in all sorts of conditions. I’ll be fine.”

He seemed adamant about letting you take the extra blanket. Unfortunately for Dan Heng, you also knew how to be stubborn. You frowned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Come on… Just take it,” you said.

Dan Heng didn’t budge. You huffed, pouting a little.

“Please?”

He simply raised an eyebrow in response. You pursed your lips, trying to find another angle.

“Okay… how about this? If I get too cold tonight I’ll come and steal it from you. Deal?”

After a pause, he sighed and took the blanket. You grinned as you watched him lay the blanket down next to him. Grabbing your bag, you went to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed.

By the time you returned, Dan Heng was settled on the floor. He had Cloud-Piercer in his lap and was polishing the tip of the spear. You gestured to the bathroom as you passed.

“It’s all yours,” you said.

He looked up and you noticed his gaze briefly flick over your body. You blushed as you realized how little your sleepwear actually covered. Dan Heng quickly looked away, placing Cloud-Piercer against the wall as he stood.

“Thank you,” he said. He paused when you didn’t move from where you stood. “…You don’t have to wait for me. Rest.”

“Right… um, goodnight!”

“Goodnight.”

Despite the way your heart still hammered in your chest, you fell asleep surprisingly quickly. But not long after, you awoke to the sound of movement from the floor beside your bed.

As you blinked the sleep from your eyes, you heard Dan Heng mumbling something in his sleep. Concerned, you leaned over the bed to check on him. His brows were furrowed, and he was covered in a cold sweat while he tossed and turned. Was he having a nightmare? You stared at him for a moment longer, pondering whether you should try to wake him up. He was always such a private person… would he appreciate you butting into his personal life like this?

Still, you thought it would be best not to leave him to suffer. Sliding out from under the covers, you crouched down next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. You called his name, trying to gently wake him up.

“Dan Heng…”

In a flash, you were pinned to the floor, your wrist held at a painful angle behind your back while Dan Heng’s other hand gripped the back of your neck. You sucked in a breath, too shocked to even say anything. A beat passed.

You heard Dan Heng quietly say your name in a surprised voice. He seemed to realize what had happened and quickly released you. His hands hovered uncertainly around you as you pushed yourself back into a sitting position with a groan.

“A-are you alright?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“I know,” you said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I was just—”

You shrugged and rubbed at your wrist to ease the pain. A look of guilt flashed over Dan Heng’s face.

“Anyway,” you continued. “I should be asking you that. Are you okay? Were… you having a nightmare?"

Dan Heng opened his mouth to reply, before closing it again. He seemed hesitant to say anything. You could tell he was still shaken up by his nightmare, whatever it was. Eventually, he let out a sigh.

“...No. It’s fine. Forget it happened,” he said.

You paused for a moment, biting your lip. If he didn’t want to talk, then you couldn’t exactly force him to open up. You nodded.

“As long as you're feeling okay…” You began to stand, but paused halfway to look back at him. “Um, but if you want to stay up and chat about other stuff… just as a distraction… I wouldn't mind.”

Though you were making the offer for him, part of you secretly wanted this late-night conversation. It was a way to get to know him better. As a friend, of course. You looked at Dan Heng, hoping he would accept.

“...I suppose I wouldn't mind a distraction at the moment.”

You let out a small sigh of relief. Flashing a smile, you returned to sit down beside him on the floor. After a brief pause, you realized that Dan Heng had expected you to start the conversation.

"Um. Okay, well…" you floundered for something to say. You were never good at holding a conversation, and the fact that Dan Heng was sitting so close to you wasn’t helping you in the slightest. You tried to tell yourself not to think about it—he had already rejected you, anyway, you could take a hint—but your body was reacting on its own. You hoped that he didn’t notice the flush on your cheeks in the dark room.

Dan Heng remained silent for a while longer, waiting for you to finish your thought, but when it became clear you had nothing to say, he let out a quiet chuckle.

“It seems we’re both quite bad at conversation, aren’t we?” he said.

You laughed as well, feeling a bit of the tension between you dissipating.

"Yeah… I guess I should've thought of that when I offered…"

The two of you fell into silence once more. Since you were so preoccupied with searching for a topic of conversation, you were unaware of how Dan Heng was struggling not to stare at you in your sleepwear. The chill in the room seeped into your exposed skin, and you shivered slightly, bringing your knees up to your chest.

“Here.”

Before you could react, Dan Heng had leaned over you. You froze, your mind going completely blank as you felt his breath fanning over your cheek. His arms trapped you on both sides and you tried not to move lest you accidentally touched him. Your eyes flicked down to his lips…

But then Dan Heng pulled back, and you felt something being draped over your shoulders. He had grabbed the spare blanket from behind you and was now wrapping it around you. His hands, no longer covered by his gloves, grazed your bare skin as he did so, leaving a pleasant tingling in their wake. When you finally managed to snap out of your shock, you reached up to secure the blanket with your own hands, and Dan Heng retreated into his space once again.

You thanked him quietly, hoping your voice didn’t shake too much. He nodded in response before glancing away with a cough. If you weren’t panicking so hard over what had just happened, you would’ve laughed and called him cute.

But you were panicking, and right now teasing him was the last thing on your mind. You tried desperately to think of something, anything, to change the topic and move away from this tension between you two.

You blurted out the first thought that came to your mind.

“Uh... what's your favorite animal?”

You blushed immediately after the words left your mouth.

“Um. Sorry, that was kind of a stupid question…” you said. “I'm... not very good at... talking."

Dan Heng chuckled. You let out a relieved laugh as well, glad that you hadn’t made things more awkward, at least.

“The white tiger,” he said. “They’re quite striking, and very elusive... To the people of the Xianzhou, it is known as the Guardian of the West, representing the season of autumn.”

You nodded as he spoke, trying to indicate that you were paying attention to his words and not the way his lips were currently curled into a smile. He turned his gaze to you and you quickly looked away.

“What about you?” he asked.

You blinked, pleasantly surprised that he was willing to continue the conversation. Glancing up at the ceiling with a hum, you thought about your answer.

"I like dragons,” you said. “Oh, actually—aren’t the Vidyadhara, like, dragon people? Can they turn into dragons?”

“Only some could turn into dragons. The power was a rare inheritance, passed down only to those who could successfully complete numerous rites and challenges.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Dan Heng began to explain. You nodded along, your fatigue beginning to catch up to you as you listened to his soothing voice. After a moment, you yawned and leaned against him with a sigh. Your tired brain had pushed the memory of your awkwardness from just moments ago to the back of your mind. You didn't notice the way Dan Heng stiffened at your touch, nor the way his breath hitched as he stopped mid-sentence.

A moment of silence passed, then your eyes flew open as you realized what you had just done. You quickly withdrew, stammering apologies.

"I'm so sorry! I don’t know what— I'm sorry!" Your face was flushed and you couldn’t meet Dan Heng’s gaze.

"No… it's fine.” Dan Heng’s voice was quiet and seemed to waver slightly. He took a breath before clearing his throat. "Don't worry about it…"

You took a breath as well, willing your heart to calm down. "Right, um..."

You glanced down at the floor as you fidgeted with your hands. That tension was back again. You were acutely aware of how close you came to touching each other every time one of you shifted on the bedroll. The silence stretched on as you once again wracked your brain for something to say.

“It’s getting a bit late…” you finally said. “Should we go to bed?”

You weren’t trying to drop any hints, per se, but you didn’t think your heart could handle any more accidents tonight.

“Yes... let’s try to be well-rested for tomorrow,” Dan Heng said.

He stood and offered you his hand. You paused, a little surprised, before you flashed a nervous smile and took it. You couldn't help but stare at the way his muscles flexed in his arm… You quickly shook the thoughts out of your mind and handed the spare blanket back to Dan Heng. You sat down on the bed, leaving him to settle back on the floor.

“Goodnight, Dan Heng,” you said. “And... thanks for chatting with me.”

“Goodnight. And—” Dan Heng paused for a moment, seemingly debating something in his mind. After a moment, he continued with a faint smile. “It was... nice to talk to you as well.”

[familyabolisher]

hi!! i hope you’re having a lovely day :-) i really enjoy reading your blog and how you pick apart Things & was wondering if you have any tips and guides for reading and analyzing poetry? ive always struggled w forming coherent thoughts abt poems and would love to know how you approach it. thank you sm for your time ✨

so the big thing that made poetry "click" for me was realising that i was trying to read it the way i might try to read a novel -- identify a discourse taking place, look for points in the text that supplement my argument, construct a position on what the piece is "about" based on these points -- all very undergrad essay-core and frankly a v boring way to think about novels as well, but like, completely mind-numbing when it came to poetry. i think a better approach is to interface with the poem at the level of language and technical construction. i find that it helps a lot to know the technical terms for particular phenomena in the language of poetry, but even without that shorthand knowledge, you'll get a lot out of poetry when you start looking at the choices being made at the level of individual words or even syllables. so instead of asking "what is this poem about?", we can start to ask, for instance:

what is the tone of this poem? is it sparing or loquacious? emotional or detached? asking questions or answering them? what's the vantage point - is this a detached omniscient third-person narrator making observations, or are we as the reader being guided towards a particular perspective on the part of the speaker?

what is the mouthfeel of this poem? can you find any 'shapes' -- any assonance, any internal rhyming, alliteration, anything that causes you to pay attention to particular words, phrasing, etc. why is your attention being called to those moments?

what is the rhythm of the poem? is it free verse -- if so, can you find any points in the piece where more or less attention to rhythm is being paid? why does the line break on this particular word? are the sentences short or long? how is the poet interfacing with their chosen meter? what does this meter lend to the poem? if you're reading multiple works by the same author, compare their use of meter -- do they use the same meter regularly or switch it up, and why were those switches made?

if you can annotate a poem, do so. note down anything which seems linguistically interesting, even if you don't know the "correct" technical word for it -- any clusters of words with similarities whose placement might be interesting (eg. what words are rhymed!), any noteworthy rhythmic discrepancies, placement of line breaks, anything that sticks out. i like to think of reading poetry as a playful exercise -- you're playing around with the words, seeing how they work, enjoying the rhythm and texture of the piece as it comes to you, and trying to construct "a reading" only after the fact.

i think there are times when the reading-for-a-discourse approach can be v helpful and illuminating, but it's best to stumble on those opportunities organically rather than focusing all your energy on trying to answer the "what is this trying to say?" question. if a particular discursive component of a poem sparks your interest (like eg. you read the rime of the ancient mariner and notice how the poem interfaces with contemporaneous abolitionist discourses as well as colonialist ideas about polynesia, just as an example), you've obviously got a compelling hook from which you can anchor a reading, but going in expecting such a reading to jump off the page will often just result in frustration.

this doesn't mean that we don't take the discourse of a poem seriously, or that we don't understand the "rules" of poetry to be postdiscursive phenomena highly contingent on social context. if anything, understanding poetry at a mechanical level opens up significant doors for answering these types of questions -- we can understand, for example, the reactionary nature of the academic revolt against free verse and the desire to return to metered poetry better once we understand the function of form and structure in fascist aesthetics. similarly, spending this kind of time with a poem makes it a lot easier to get a handle on what it might be "about," and what sort of choices are being made to render that "about"ness coherent.

also -- and this is true of anything, including poetry -- if a poet isn't working for you, try reading somebody else. a lot of poets that people will say are good and interesting are neither of those things. poetry has the advantage of being (usually!) a quick read compared to novels, so it's far easier to shop around, read widely, realise what you like and dislike, and engage accordingly.

one of my favourite pieces of literary criticism and examples of the value of this sort of reading practice comes from nabokov's epilogue to lolita, in which he both defends the novel in question against accusations of salacity and speaks very disparagingly of efforts to read a thesis statement into it. he writes:

Every serious writer, I dare say, is aware of this or that published book of his as of a constant comforting presence. Its pilot light is steadily burning somewhere in the basement and a mere touch applied to one’s private thermostat instantly results in a quiet little explosion of familiar warmth. This presence, this glow of the book in an ever accessible remoteness is a most companionable feeling, and the better the book has conformed to its prefigured contour and color the ampler and smoother it glows. But even so, there are certain points, byroads, favorite hollows that one evokes more eagerly and enjoys moretenderly than the rest of one’s book. I have not reread Lolita since I went through the proofs in the spring of 1955 but I find it to be a delightful presence now that it quietly hangs about the house like a summer day which one knows to be bright behind the haze. And when I thus think of Lolita, I seem always to pick out for special delectation such images as Mr. Taxovich, or that class list of Ramsdale School, or Charlotte saying “waterproof,” or Lolita in slow motion advancing toward Humbert’s gifts, or the pictures decorating the stylized garret of Gaston Godin, or the Kasbeam barber (who cost me a month of work), or Lolita playing tennis, or the hospital at Elphinstone, or pale, pregnant, beloved, irretrievable Dolly Schiller dying in Gray Star (the capital town of the book), or the tinkling sounds of the valley town coming up the mountain trail (on which I caught the first known female of Lycaeides sublivens Nabokov). These are the nerves of the novel. These are the secret points, the subliminal co-ordinates by means of which the book is plotted—although I realize very clearly that these and other scenes will be skimmed over or not noticed, or never even reached, by those who begin reading the book under the impression that it is something on the lines of Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure or Les Amours de Milord Grosvit. That my novel does contain various allusions to the physiological urges of a pervert is quite true. But after all we are not children, not illiterate juvenile delinquents, not English public school boys who after a night of homosexual romps have to endure the paradox of reading the Ancients in expurgated versions.

It is childish to study a work of fiction in order to gain information about a country or about a social class or about the author. And yet one of my very few intimate friends, after reading Lolita, was sincerely worried that I (I!) should be living “among such depressing people” —when the only discomfort I really experienced was to live in my workshop among discarded limbs and unfinished torsos.

[writingquestionsanswered]

i've recently started writing fanfiction, but even after meticulously planning everything out before starting, my writing feels very choopy, emotionless and passive for the most part, and if i try to include description, it feels i'm overdoing it. i mean, it is the firsts draft technically, but the low quality makes me demotivated to continue writing. i know i need to finish the first draft before reading back and editing, but seeing the state of it now, i feel like i should complete the first draft then rewrite it instead of edit it so i can frame sentences better. but i worry it will take too much time, time i cannot afford to spend for writing fanfiction as a college student. is this just a beginner thing? what should i do to make my writing interesting? or am i asking the wrong questions?

Fan-Fiction Writing Feels Choppy and Emotionless

I don't want to assume you've never written fiction (because you could be a writer of original fiction just beginning to write fan-fiction), but unless you are an experienced writer of original fiction--then yes, it's a beginner thing.

Writing fiction, for whatever reason, is something people think they'll be able to take a crack at for the first time and do brilliantly. Which is funny, because we never feel that way about anyone else. Most people don't pick up a guitar for the first time and expect to be able to shred the solo of Purple Haze. Likewise, people don't generally pick up a violin for the first time and expect to sound like Lindsey Stirling, or pick up a tennis racket for the first time and expect to win a game against Venus or Serena. But for some reason, people who sit down to write fiction expect to be able to do it really well right from the beginning, and it just doesn't work like that, just as it doesn't work like that with anything else.

The good news is this: the discord between what you're actually writing and what you want to be able to write means that you know how good writing should sound. That gives you a leg up on a lot of beginning writers. The bad news is no amount of knowing that or knowing what specifically to do to achieve that translates to instant amazing writing. Just in the same way that if you pick up a guitar for the first time, someone can tell you, "In order to shred the Purple Haze solo like a pro, you should do this, this, and this..." but that still doesn't mean you can instantly do those things. You still have to learn how to do those things and practice doing those things. Writing is the same way.

Choppy writing can be the result of a lot of different things... lack of planning, lack of structure, not knowing how to control pace and flow, and more often than not, just outright lack of practice. If you learn how to write your name in calligraphy, even knowing how to hold the pen and what strokes to make doesn't mean you're going to do it pretty the first time. Your early attempts will be choppy and rough, but every attempt will be better than the last. Same with stories. Luckily, these are things you can improve in revision.

Lack of emotion, too, can be caused by a lot of different things. Not knowing the characters well enough, not putting enough thought into how the character development connects with the plot (or what the character development is if you're writing a character-driven story), and not having a good grasp on bringing emotional and sensory details into the story. Passive writing can be sought out and changed to active writing when it makes sense to do so. Again, these are all things you can fix in revision. The next time you write a story, you'll have a better idea of how to implement these things the first time around.

So, ultimately, what I'm trying to say is do write the story despite how not great it feels. Then, use your revision as an opportunity to learn the things you need to know to make the story better. If it still feels choppy, read up on structure, pacing, and flow, then see how you can fix what's there. If it still feels emotionless and uninteresting, read up on emotional and sensory detail, and add it where it's lacking. This combines the learning process with practice in a targeted way... you're learning and practicing the things you specifically need to work on, rather than overwhelming yourself by trying to learn everything there is to know about writing.

The next story will be a little better, the one after that will be even better. ♥

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