#Blowing Rocks Beach

[greensparty]

RIP Paul Reubens 1952-2023

I've been out sick this past week, so less time blogging. I briefly wrote about the passing of comic genius and gifted actor Paul Reubens at the age of 70, but here is my expanded remembrance.

Reubens

Paul Reubens came up in the 1970s comedy scene in L.A. as a member of the The Groundlings. He and fellow Groundling, the late great Phil Hartman, worked on a lot of characters together. In 1978, Reubens created the character of Pee-Wee Herman, a man-child dressed in a suit and bowtie. It slowly started to catch on and soon enough he got an early HBO special in 1981's The Pee-Wee Herman Show. I rented it years later and it was wildly entertaining. Reubens himself had small roles in The Blues Brothers, an episode of Mork & Mindy, Cheech & Chong movies, and more.

Hartman and Reubens on Pee-Wee's Playhouse

In the 80s, there were a lot of comedians who created characters who were celebrities in and of themselves and the comedian was rarely seen outside of that character, i.e. Cassandra Peterson (a fellow Groundling of Reubens) as Elvira or Jim Varney as Ernest P. Worrell. Pee-Wee Herman was among the biggest of those comedic characters. When he appeared on MTV, hosted SNL, or was a guest on talk shows, it was Pee-Wee Herman who was the guest, not Reubens. But the character of Pee-Wee was so engaging: he was childish and but was wildly funny with physical comedy, and there was a real heart to him and had a moral compass that was admirable (i.e. running into a burning pet shop to save all of the animals). The 1980s was an era of comedians who had a unique voice literally and figuratively, i.e. Sam Kinison, Bobcat Goldthwaite, Emo Phillips, Gilbert Gottfried, and Judy Tenuta just to name a few. But Reubens was possibly the most unique voice of all of them.

Reubens in Pee-Wee's Big Adventure

In Summer 1985, my Dad took me to the movies to see Pee-wee's Big Adventure , which was a true meeting of the minds of young director Tim Burton making his debut and Reubens. The plot was so simple, but yet it worked: Pee-Wee's bike gets stolen so he has to go across country to find it and along the way there's loads of hijinks and LOL scenes. To this day visitors of the Alamo ask where the basement is! The film is highly quotable and it's also a movie that everyone I knew my age also knew and loved. In the years that followed Pee-Wee had cameos in a number of films including Back to the Beach, Moonwalker, and Flight of the Navigator, which technically wasn't Pee-Wee it was Paul under the pseudonym Paul Mall, but the voice was obviously Pee-Wee. The follow-up movie was Big Top Pee-wee, in which Pee-Wee has a small farm and the circus comes to town, shaking up his relationship. The movie wasn't as bad as a lot of people thought, but it lacked the pure artifice of the last movie. I think people also didn't want to see a movie where Pee-Wee cheats on his fiancee for a acrobat...just not what you expect from a Pee-Wee movie and Tim Burton not directing hurt.

Pee-Wee and friends

But the Pee-Wee character really shined on TV, in the Saturday morning kids' show Pee-wee's Playhouse (CBS 1986-1991). I was still of the age of loving Saturday morning cartoons and shows when it premiered and it was loads of fun: Pee-Wee's wacky and fun playhouse surrounded with various friends, screaming the secret word, being imaginative, and learning from each other was worth tuning in each week. I loved the show and in 1988, I even began buying some episodes as they were released on VHS. I also began buying the toys, talking doll and memorabilia (sometime in the mid-00s I sold my collection to a friend). The genius in the show was that it was super funny, but without being hurtful or mean-spirited. So many talents got their start on the show too: Lawrence Fishburne as Cowboy Curtis, Natasha Lyonne, and behind the scenes you had music by Mark Mothersbaugh, and before-they-were-famous production assistants John Singleton and Rob Zombie. The series became so popular that in 1988, they even did a primetime special Christmas at Pee-wee's Playhouse.

Pee-Wee's Playhouse toys I had as a kid

It's impossible to talk about Reubens without his controversies and run-ins with the law. In 1991, he was arrested for indecent exposure during an undercover police raid of an adult theater in Sarasota, FL. CBS pulled the remaining reruns of Playhouse, toys were pulled from Toys R Us, his voice was pulled from rides at Disney. He was cancelled way before there was cancel culture. True, he was a children's show host on TV at that time. But he wasn't in character or costume and he was inappropriate in, well, an inappropriate place...which in a strange way made it kind of appropriate given the inappropriate location. Whatever your opinion is, he got a raw deal. As a TV host and on the set of his show, he was very good with kids and had really positive lessons. What he did was private and separate from the Pee-Wee character. But Reubens had the last laugh when he presented the 1991 MTV Video Music Awards to uproarious applause and asked "heard any good jokes lately?".

Denis Leary, Ted Demme and Reubens at the Blow premiere in 2001

Reubens did slowly return in some supporting roles separate from Pee-Wee and many of them were scene-stealers: as Penguin's father in Batman Returns, as a vampire in the movie Buffy the Vampire Slayer (one of the greatest vampire deaths ever), the voice of Lock in The Nightmare Before Christmas, as Spleen in the underrated Mystery Men, and as Derek Foreal in Ted Demme's Blow. As Derek, he was the comic relief in the crime biopic, but he also showed off his dramatic skills too. A few years prior to the 2001 release, I was an intern at Demme’s production company Spanky Pictures and the book it was based on was in development. I was blown away by Reubens' performance when I saw the movie.

In 2002 as Reubens' second act was in full swing, another arrest was made, this time it was child pornography charges. Reubens had a apparently purchased bulk collectible magazines of kitsch muscle magazines from the 1920s and some he didn't order were slipped in. I am not defending him, but I think there is an extreme difference between this type of thing and actual criminals like Kevin Spacey or R. Kelly. In 2004, the charges were dropped in exchange for a lesser obscenity charge.

Apatow and Reubens

In the years that followed, Reubens continued to have some small supporting roles including The Raconteurs' music video for "Steady as She Goes", as well as episodes of 30 Rock and Portlandia. Then something happened in the 2010s: Pee-Wee came back! First in some Funny or Die videos Pee-Wee Gets an iPad! and Pee-wee Goes to Sturgis. He, then, did a Pee-Wee live show in L.A. and then Broadway and one of the last ones became the live HBO special The Pee-Wee Herman Show on Broadway. There was also the funny SNL sketch with Andy Samberg where they got drunk on the town together. Interest in Pee-Wee continued and in 2016, there was the Netflix special Pee-wee's Big Holiday, produced by Judd Apatow. I can't say that was bad, but the bar was quite high and it was hard to live up to the nostalgia.

Reubens himself was a comic genius. That's a term I rarely use, but it is fitting for him. He understood comedy and in the last week people who knew comedy have praised him. He had a lot to do with my early interest in comedy. His films, TV and wacky (almost drug-induced) style will be remembered. Between MTV News shutting down and the deaths of Andy Rourke of The Smiths, Sinead O'Connor and now Paul Reubens it is a bad year for nostalgic Gen-Xers like me. But fortunately Reubens' work will live on!

[torustars]

YOU AVOID HIS KISS

⊹ suguru geto, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

⊹ tooth-rooting fluff, a lot of kissing

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ you don’t know what took over geto while he kissed the finger that was secured by a silver band. you grinned and your free hand reached to play with the ends of his hair that looked almost like the sky outside your apartment. “really missed me that much huh?” you playfully tease him, only for him to nuzzle his nose against your neck, leaving soft kisses against your skin. “keen observation, darling. what gave it away?” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm laced in his tone. you played along with him, “the clinginess was a given.” he chuckled lightly and nodded, droopy eyes looking straight at you. “i guess so, why don’t you give me one of your kisses? i’m sure that’ll give me the strength i long for,” he leaned in, attempting to give you the hint he wants to kiss you. you pursed your lips to hide the smile that was appearing and kissed his forehead. his eyebrows furrowed and he was already sulking. geto pointed at his lips that were curving into a frown. “don’t be mean now, gimme kiss..” he mumbled and tried once more. you laughed softly, giving into his request and pressing your lips against his. the kiss was slow and sloppy, but enough to satisfy him. you pulled away and caressed his cheek. “you’re such a big baby, aren’t you?” you asked, to which he responded with “your big baby.”

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ gojo was sitting on the couch, manspreading with a book in hand. you glanced over at him while you were organizing the room. “since when did the gojo satoru read?” you asked, reaching to grab the plant on the top shelf. his diamond eyes looked up at you with a chuckle, watching you struggle before walking towards you. you felt a hand on your waist, looking up at you watched him grab the plant you were aiming for. “just around the same time you weren’t able to grab this plant,” he joked. you rolled your eyes and lightly elbowed his stomach. “i could’ve gotten that myself,” you retorted and he pulled you towards the couch. he sat down and your knee was between his thighs, hand still securely holding your waist. “perhaps, but don’t you need your strong, hunk of a boyfriend to give you a helping hand?” you raise your eyebrows in amusement, a laugh escaping your lips. “and didn’t my strong, hunk of a boyfriend scream like a girl when he saw a spider in the bathroom?” you watched his mouth gape in shock, “you better give me a kiss for that low blow.” you agreed and leaned in to kiss him before cocking your head to the side and kissing the side of his head. he huffed and pulled you closer to him, bodies pressed against each other. “guess i have to show you how to kiss, properly.”

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ nanami held your hand while walking along the beach, enjoying the sound of the sea hitting shore every ten seconds. you both stopped at a group of rocks, taking the opportunity to rest your legs. you let out a soft hum and look at your boyfriend, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “do you like the view, ken?” his eyes look at you for a few moments before glancing at the sea. “the view of you? indeed i do,” he said and you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. the moment felt special, a time where it was just you and him against the world. moments after, he took both of your hands and made you look at him. his eyes were searching for yours while he formulated his words. “hypothetically, if i were to ask you to move in with me, would you say yes?” he asked and you stared at him with surprise, your hands clutched his and you pursed your lips. “i.. i mean..” you hesitated for a moment, before nodding your head. “yes, yes i would kento,” his lips curved into a smile while he reached to caress your cheek. “well then, would you like to move in with me?” he asked, moving to kiss you before you responded. you press your finger against his lip, and nodded. “i’d love to,” you said before you kiss him. “you’re going to regret stopping my kiss,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling you closer.

© torustars (2022). do not repost, copy or translate any of my works or layouts. reblogs are appreciated!

[heartlilith]

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[j4ygyu]

confessing to his mute crush | pjs

pairing: jay x deaf!reader

genre: complete fluff

summary: jay and deaf reader both seem to like each other, just when he thinks that his confession was a pure failer the reader does something surprising.

“i. hope. i. am. not. late”  jay signed and chuckled as he fixed his cross body bag standing nervously infront of you which got out of place while he was running to the stop you had asked him to be at.

you smile at him, knowing he recently had learned sign language just to be able to communicate with you and so he was, a little slow and not so clear. 

you loved cycling alot, and bought this brand new bicycle and you had asked him if he wanted to spend a day out riding it and then go off to the beach and sit there. 

jay and you met through the same animal care shelter you guys volunteered to work at, his charming smile immediately caught your attention. however it was hard to communicate with your muteness, you only knowing sign language and him knowing none of it.

however within a span of few months, jay started learning it to be able to communicate with you. 

it made your heart flutter, i mean it’s the effort and dedication. still you asked yourself ‘does he even like me back?’

“is. this. the. new. cycle. that. you. bought?”he asked as you nodded and got off it, you touched the cute basket decorated with a small miffy teddy and a pink bow, it also had the dirty wrapper of chocolate you ate earlier. 

embarrassed, you took it out and threw it somewhere on the ground.

“i decorated it” you signed as he looked at you and smiled, making you blush as you looked away, anywhere but his eyes. 

“예쁘다” he said, even though you obviously didn’t hear him you read his lips quickly anyways. signing a quick thank you you sit back on your cycle and signal him to sit. 

he sits behind you hands on your shoulder as you begin to hit the pedal and ride around the city. 

some moments later you feel jay’s hand shifting from your shoulder to your waist now that you’re cycling in a well pace. 

the wind blows on your face blowing your hair back at his face too, you hit the break for a moment and turn around and give him an apologetic look. 

he smiles at you taking your hair and putting them to one side of your shoulder and keeping his chin on the other, staring at you the entire time he does so.

you squirm and try to get used to the feeling of his charp chin on your shoulder as it’s digging through. 

you shove the feeling off as you start riding again, this moment was really perfect for you, everything was so good. a nice cloudy, windy weather with your favorite person  friend hugging you by the waist and face on your shoulder, what a dream really.

you guys rode the cycle around the city, stopping by a store to get ice cream, as you parked your cycle near the store you guys stood on the footpath and he bought some ice cream.

you looked at him to see if he finished his and you caught him staring at you, he pretended to look around and controlled his cheeky smile but then something else caught your attention wired headphones connected to his phone in his pocket.

you grab them and gain his attention as he looks back at you “you like music?” he nodded and took his phone put of the pocket searching for something. 

curiously, you stared as you got closer to see his screen “this. is. my. favorite. song” he signed enthusiastically as you widen your eyes giving him a cheering gesture.

you stopped as you looked at him “i wish i could listen to it.. it must be nice” silence filled the space between both of you as you stared deep into you while smiling “it is.”both of you finished the ice cream before it melted.

after cycling and strolling around the pretty city here you were sitting on the rocks of the beach as the wind blew every once in a while.

jay had this thing forever in his mind, he loved you he loved you so damn much. everything you did got him screaming internally to wife him up.

“it’s fun being with you, you know?” you signed as jay felt his heart racing a million times in a second what could she mean by that? she probably meant as a friend right? or am i letting my stupid thoughts take over. 

“thank. you.” he says as you close your eyes and give him the widest smile. 

being with him made you feel full, it made you feel like finally you had a friend. but you quickly fell in love with him because of his mannerisms.

even though at school no one really bullied you, but there wasn’t something big for someone to  findi you interesting. emptiness fill inside of you, as for others you were just there, not enough things to be interesting for someone. or atleast for the people around you. jay knew these very well that’s why he hated the fact he fell in love with you so fast and was worried that you might reject him because of how fast everything would happen.

but little did he know that your feelings were pretty.. mutual you can say.

there was a wooden stick in your hand with which you were doodling on the beach sand with, jay was observing each and every move.

with that lavender sundress you were wearing it made everything 10 times cuter in his eyes. the way the wind slightly blew back your hair but you kept on fixing it.

you started moving the stick and you wrote your name’s inital with did adding a unfilled heart after it and looked at jay “want to try?” you ask bringing the stick closer to him as he accepts it. 

he looks at you for a second passing you a lovestruck look. 

J +

he writes before your names inital as you shoot him a confusing look with a nervous smile. 

he looks at you as his smile drops, emotions very visible in his eyes. 

=

he adds an equals to sign between your inital and the unfilled heart, following with filling the unfill heart that you drew. 

your smile drops as you stare back at him, completely in shock and he stares back with a regretful look in his eyes. 

you watch him take a big breath after looking at your reaction, not quite promising is it.

“i. like. you.” you sit there, puzzled. you don’t know whether to do something or cry, the moment feels unreal. 

it all felt so quick that you didn’t realise you haven’t responded to him yet for about past five minutes atleast. 

his hopeful looks now dies as he apologizes and stands up, “i am sorry, i am sorry, sorry i should leave i should probably leave.” he says as you try to read his lips “sorry…. should leave” you could pick up some of the words not many because of how rapid and low his mouth worked. 

you watch him stand up quickly wearing his bag not even sparing another glance at you as he starts walking away.

you felt your cheeks getting warm as everythinf starts getting blurry due to the upcoming tears.

you shake and get up dropping your own bag on the floor. 

“stay” 

did i say it right? you swore you heard the vibrations in your body of your own voice. not fully hearing what you said or if you said it right or no. 

breathing heavily, jay stops in his tracks as he turns around and stares at you in disbelief as you break down. right on that spot you were standing at. 

the word wasn’t clear and mix of broken and light cracks of course, a very weak one because of the vocal chords.

you felt bad for making him wait for so long or making his excitement go away for taking your no response as rejection.

you were just shocked, he actually liked you back? your entire life you felt so neglected and behind just because you were deaf, but now some thing good is finally.. happening?

now standing in a distance both of you staring at each other as he watches uncontrollable tears flow down your face as you sign a ‘i like you too.” while lowering your head and start sobbing. 

jay runs back to you and closes the distance, both of you hug like losers. 

because of the closeness you can feel his body vibrations and shivering, as you realise that he is crying you push him back to see his eyes now your eyes widened “why are you crying silly i should be the one crying..”

he just shrugs while trying to give you a smile and crying.

you bring your hands to wipe his tears off as you hold his face. his hands naturally rest on your waist. 

for a short moment you guys look deep into each other’s eyes as you lean in signaling for a kiss.

you felt him giggling like a teenage boy as he leaned in and pressed his soft lips to yours. 

he could taste the strawberry ice cream you ate earlier on your lips, your scent filling his nostrils and working as a hypnosis.

you pull away taking a long breath, “wasn’t it too long for a first kiss?” you sign while wiping away your own tears now and laughing.

once again complete silence fills the beach as the only thing playing if only you could hear, was the sound of the waves. both of you completely lost in each other’s eyes, it was like your eyes are speaking it all for you. 

but you noticed it, you noticed he was holding back a reply so you hit his chest “say it. say what you want to say.”

he broke the eye contact looking away at the sea, the waves coming and hitting the shore as his stupid smile came back on his face. 

he looked back at you and fixed your hair, brought his hands back to himself and signed at you. 

“i. could. kiss. you. for. an. eternity.”

[ma1dita]

its 10pm again.... 😈😈

rivals with benefits Luke who makes everything a competition. even in bed. 😼

IM ALSO SO SORRY FOR FLOODING UR INBOX

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: liv we're boxing because i literally could not rest until i got this right,,,, smut. public sex. wrap before you tap. creampie. all the nasty things. fuck man...

wc: 968

“That’s a point for me,” Luke says with a menacing grin. The both of you are soaked to the bone after paddling across Canoe Lake to see who could make it to the other end the fastest, and as you gasp for air while holding onto the wood post of the pier, you can’t help but somehow be convinced that he cheated.

“You’re built like a frog with those long legs of yours, how the fuck was I supposed to win?”

Daybreak spreads slowly across Camp Half-Blood, sunlight kissing where the sky meets the water and Luke thinks he wants to kiss you. Knows it, actually—deep down to his bones that the line between hatred and love must be lust.

He swims closer to you like a predator creeping toward his prey, wet curls stuck to his forehead as he admires how hard you’re breathing. You’re right there, and since you like to make a competition of everything from capture the flag strategies to how many campers you both can get to screech at nightly sing-a-longs, he thinks he has an offer you won’t be able to resist. Luke’s hands glide under your shirt as the both of you tread water, still fighting for dominance even when it comes to who takes up the most space to stay afloat. You lick your lips, fingers tugging at his camp necklace as you look at him curiously and raise an eyebrow.

“I’ve got an idea…”

“I’ll start my prayers,” you smirk, before seeing the hot burning want in his gaze. You can feel it in his fingers as they brush the underside of your breasts, nipples stiff in the frigid water. Shaking your head, a nervous giggle leaves you as your arms circle his neck, bodies separated by your thin, sopping nightshirt. If he touches the rest of you, he’ll find other parts that are wet too, warm enough to brave the chill of the morning breeze that settles upon your shoulders.

“The nymphs might see…” you whisper, even though the both of you know not a single soul is awake right now but time is running out like sand in an hourglass.

“You backing down?”

The kiss you press into his open mouth is a clear enough answer—tongues sliding and spearing against each other, hot and angry and bruising. It’s a fair shot, not knowing who’s going to come out on top.

—

“Oh, gods, please!”

Your hands and knees are scraping in the rocks and sand of the shoreline underneath the pier as Luke pistons into you at an alarming rate, each thrust a blow to your senses. He watches your head bob up towards the sky almost in reverent prayer and he’s grinning, continually sinking into your warmth while the rest of him shudders from the cold. Luke’s cock works inside your slick hole instead of against it, and he laughs at the irony of you finally letting him have his way. Your fingernails dig into the coarse beach, grains of sand making their way through every crevice as he fills your pulsing one with glee.

“Fucking knew you’d behave…” he grunts, one hand pulling at the thin cloth around your waist and the other holds onto your stomach so he can feel himself bludgeon you from the inside. “Can’t fight back when you’re getting your brains fucked out, hmm?” 

He watches your pretty tits swing from the stretched out opening of your soggy shirt as you choke out a sob of pleasure.

“Yes…f-fuck Luke,” you whine, reaching back to ease your hand against his abdomen but he pulls it behind your back to use as a better hold on you. Luke puts two of his fingers in your mouth and they prod at the skin of your cheek, spit dripping around the digits.

Despite the intrusion, you’re groaning loud enough over the icy smacks against your skin that for a moment he thinks it might actually wake the forest nymphs, but then he’s distracted by your pussy pushing and pulling him as his hips clap against your ass, leaving them raw for days to come. Light waves crash against the shore with your movements, splashing against your knees and you’re giggling at him with a dazed grin as you push your hips back harder against his thrusts, overpowering his control over you. 

He swallows thickly, groaning through the building sensation in his stomach as you rock back onto his cock faster and with the purpose of taking him down and winning. The both of you work in tandem as you writhe against each other in a battle to reach the end, unsure of if you’re with him or against him but gods, it feels so fucking good being under him.

“M’so close…Don’t fucking stop,” you shudder, and Luke shuts his eyes hard and takes a deep breath. Even if all 12 Olympians came down right now to smite him he wouldn’t be able to pull out. 

So he doesn’t. 

He couldn’t even if he tried—he cums so hard, his front meeting your back as you fall into the sand with a muffled yelp and he’s pumping thick rods of his release into your pussy. You shiver under him slightly until you realize your belly is warm from his efforts.

“That’s gotta be like 5 or 10 points,” Luke pants, nipping at your shoulder before he sits up. You’re laying there, ass up and motionless so he slaps a cheek before you start laughing.

“For me. At least you came,” you drone, having been on the brink of an orgasm.

He couldn’t argue with that. So he flips you onto your back and eats you out (sand and slick and all) until he’s ready again and by the time the morning bell rings, you’ve both lost track of who’s won your so-called competition.

[monstersighing]

MDNI 18+

Summer Storm

Tentacled Sea God Monster x AFAB Reader

Words: 1600

Content Warnings: NSFW, tentacles, non-human genitalia, light somnophilia, blindfolding, come play, praise kink, face fucking.

A prequel to this.

+++

You move to the town in spring. It’s a quaint place next to the sea and the job you lucked into keeps you busy during the day, but the nights are lonely.

The locals are nice enough but seem shocked whenever you tell them you’re living right next to the seashore. The rent was suspiciously low and the homes on either side of you are empty. You assumed it was because it was out of season and the other houses were holiday homes. Once, your colleague muttered about bewitching sea creatures. You laughed because who believes in things like that in the modern world. You chalked it up as a story made up to scare out-of-towners.

+++

Summer should be over, but a late heat wave has you hot and restless. You’ve left the window open a crack and the breeze blows over your skin as you lie on your bed. It’s humid and you’ve stripped down to your underwear. You hope the weather will break soon.

No one comes to this end of the beach to walk or even in a boat to fish, perhaps because of the sharp rocks that poke out of the sea, visible even at high tide. You leave the curtains in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in your bedroom open at night. You don’t bother to close them when you slide your hands up to palm your chest and tease each nipple.

You’re restless, so you tease your hands over the sensitive skin of your thighs, circling your fingers closer to your cunt and then away, over and over. You think about what you want: to be held tight, to be told what to do, to be fucked until you can’t think. You slide two fingers across your leaking cunt, gather the wetness and rub it over your clit. When you push those fingers inside your hole you imagine being fucked into and brought to the edge of pleasure over and over until your cunt not being filled would feel like a loss. You come hard, with your pussy clenching at your fingers.

I want someone to take me, you think as you fall asleep.

You dream of walking out of your home and onto the sand, and then into the cool water of the sea, guided by a voice that tells you it will give you what you want; that it will give you what you need. The water laps against your ankles, and you wade forward until you are knee-deep. You turn and look at your home on the seashore, your bedside lamp lighting up the bedroom.

You sense a presence behind you. Before you can turn, hands grasp your arms and sharp teeth press into the side of your neck.

“Mine,” a voice says, warm and possessive.

A body, tall and broad, presses against your back and then you feel something slipping over your waist. You look down to see tentacles. Tiny pinpricks of light shift over their surface, and their tips stroke across any exposed piece of skin they can reach.

“Yours? Take me then.” You push your underwear down your hips and kick them into the water, and press your ass back against the body behind you, then--

You wake up to the blare of your alarm.

After lying in bed for a few minutes replaying the dream – how vivid it was, and how strange - you shake it off and get up to get a shower before work.

+++

This dream is different. You’re laid out on your bed and being covered with a thousand touches. Tentacles shift against your thighs, others squeeze your breasts and use their suckers to pull at your nipples, making them stiff and tender.

You push your thighs together, aching for friction.

“No,” a voice says.

You jerk and open your eyes, but it stays dark. Your hands reach up and you feel something pressing across your eyes. Heavy, cylindrical, cool to the touch: another of this creature’s appendages, then? It’s pressed lightly across your eyes, like a blindfold.

“I came for you,” a voice says from above you. It’s the voice from the dream, low and vibrating.

“You- you were a dream.”

“I’m not that. I am what the people here used to call a god of the sea, and worship as such. I hear pleas like yours. And I decide whether to answer them.” The bed dips under his weight and you smell the bright marine scent of the sea god as he crouches above you. His hands press down on either side of your head, and he rumbles in your ear, “I heard you, and then I saw you. You looked so desperate laid out on your bed. So alone. I decided to answer. And now I am here.” He presses a thumb to your lower lip and strokes. “Do you want me to continue?”

You nod your head.

“Out loud.”

“Yes,” you say.

“Good girl,” the sea god says, and you feel a rush of heat flush down your face and neck.

“My name is [name], not girl,” you say.

There’s a huff of amusement from the sea god, and he says, “You may call me Lir.” And then the tentacles around your thighs tighten and pull your legs apart and fold your knees.

Lir’s finger trails up your slit and begins to rub at your clit. “You look perfect,” he says. You feel vulnerable, exposed like this.

“I want to see you,” you say.

“When you’ve earned it.”

He kisses you then. His mouth tastes of salt. His finger continues to rub at your clit as a tentacle joins it, circling your entrance. It pushes inside slowly, the girth increasing as it goes until you feel stretched and full. Another feeler wriggles in after. The two tentacles set up an undulating rhythm, pushing in and out in counterpoint. Pleasure rises within you in overlapping waves.

Lir’s position above you means you can feel his cock graze the skin of your heaving belly and drip pre-cum on your skin. The brush of his cock, the sound of his tentacles inside your wet hole: It’s both too much and not enough. But when you try to shift - to push the tentacles further inside or pull away, you’re not sure - the appendages on your thighs just grip tighter, holding you immobile.

The tentacles inside you twine then stiffen further, pushing at the walls of your cunt. You tilt up your chin, a silent please to be kissed, and Lir does. As his tongue slips into your mouth there is a simultaneous push in and up by the tenacles inside you, and they hit a spot that turns everything into white noise. They return to that spot again and again until you come with your hips trying to jerk up and failing, your body still pinned in place.

The tentacle over your eyes slips away, but you keep your eyes closed. The ones in your cunt untwine and slowly slip out of your swollen hole, leaving you feeling empty. Your legs are lowered to the bed.

“You were good,” Lir says. “So you may open your eyes.”

You do, and you see he is beautiful. Bent above you so your face is almost touching his, you can see his skin is mottled in shades of dark and paler grey. His eyes are large and intense, and his hair surrounds his face in black waves. His face looks kinder than you imagined, and his mouth is wide and generous.

You look down and see the proud jut of his cock. It’s thick, with a ring of suckers near its base. A fringe of small feelers surrounds it where a man might have pubic hair. You want it in your mouth.

“Please,” you say, “please let me-” And you don’t finish because Lir’s hands are around your waist to pull you up against the headboard of the bed. He rises and pushes his cock towards you, and you lean forward to suck it into your mouth.

The thickness of Lir's cock makes your mouth stretch wide, and drool drips down your chin. It’s too long to fit fully so you alternate between taking as much as you can and pulling off to twist your hand around the base whilst lapping at the head. Lir’s hips shift minutely back and forth. His hand settles on top of your head but it doesn’t push. With a frustrated noise, you pull your mouth off his cock and say, “Do it.”

Lir's hands tighten in your hair, and he pulls your face forward until your lips are stretched around the ringed base of his cock. You feel it head slam against the back of your throat, shift back and then slip past as he fucks your face. Back and forth, back and forth: his cock fills your mouth so fully that you can’t breathe. Your eyes water as he holds your head against his crotch and his cock slips deep into your throat. You feel his cock twitch, and with a grunt, he pulls you off and tilts your face back. He grips his cock with his other hand and pumps it - once, twice - and comes across your mouth and chin in spurts.

When your breath has become less ragged, you lean forward, close your eyes and lick the head of Lir’s cock clean. The tendrils around the base of his cock fan across your face as you do this, brushing the spilt come into your mouth for you to swallow. Your mind drifts, and it’s only Lir’s hand on your face that makes you open your eyes again.

“Sleep now,” Lir says. He turns you onto your side and settles behind you. His arm drapes over your waist, and his tentacles tangle around your legs.

“Sweet dreams,” you say. Lir makes a noise that might just be amusement and presses a closed-mouthed kiss to the back of your neck.

You look out of the window and see that it has begun to rain.

[momotonescreaming]

Modern au where Steve is a part time aquarium mermaid.

He's studying to be a marine biologist or something, living in a big city, loves swimming, loves the ocean, and leapt at the chance to work at his local aquarium. Even if most of his job is swimming around in a long, dark blue, mermaid tail. Merman tail? And honestly? He kind of loves it. He gets to swim amongst the tropical fish, gets to wave at kids and do tricks in the water. The aquarium discount is nice too.

Eddie always thought the ocean was cool growing up. It seemed freeing, even if he was never very good at swimming. When he was little, before he moved in with Wayne full time, apparently he had told his uncle he wanted to be a fish when he grew up. And being a poor kid in a landlocked state, he didn't exactly get the opportunity to go to the beach, or visit those big aquariums, and his interest in the ocean sort of stagnated there.

So when he got older, and him and Wayne moved to the city, his uncle got him an annual pass to the aquarium. And Eddie was going to make sure Wayne got his money's worth.

So on weekends off or afternoons after work, he'd go to the aquarium. Watch the penguins being fed, or the keeper talks in the otter enclosure. Walk through the tanks and watch the fish. And then at the end he'd sit on the bench by the huge tank they have with all the different sorts of fish in them. And he'd put on his headphones and listen to music, or pull out a notebook and work on a dnd campaign as he watches the fish.

One day, a gaggle of young kids rush in excitedly, chattering about how excited they are to see the mermaids. Eddie furrows his brow until he sees a person in the tank, peering around the coral and the rocks with his brown hair flowing around his head. He swims closer, and that's when Eddie sees the navy blue merman tail the guy is wearing. Hugging his legs, and blending in seamlessly with his waist. A girl swims out after him, in a matching pink tail and shell bikini top. They wave and blow kisses at the kids, doing twirls and flips and tricks.

And listen, Eddie's got eyes. The dude is hot as hell. Nice toned muscles, tanned skin dotted with moles, square jaw. He's exactly Eddie's type, but he's working, and in a fishtank, so Eddie sits and watches.

Eddie keeps visiting the aquarium in his free time, and by coincidence he keeps ending up in front of the tank when the mermaid and the hot merman is there. And the guy waves at him, and smiles, and Eddie shyly smiles back with a lil wave of his own. And Eddie swears it's almost like the guy is happy to see him. Not just putting on the act.

One day when the hot merman shows up, Eddie has been doodling fish in his sketchbook. And fuck it, he sketches the merman. He's hot and Eddie's an artist. Why not right? Only when he looks up, the merman is right up by the glass, watching him. They lock eyes, and the guy mimes at him in a watery version of charades. Are you drawing?. And Eddie nods, before taking a deep breath and flipping the sketchbook around so the guy can see. The merman squints as he looks before his eyes widen as he points at himself. You drew me?. Eddie nods again, blushing faintly, and watches as the guy gets all flustered and then pretends to swoon in the water. Eddie goes to sit back down and the guy swims off to get some air.

Later, Eddie's still drawing, listening to music on full blast through his headphones, completely in the zone, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He jumps, startled, and turns to see the merman in front of him, wearing jeans and a polo, looking a little sheepish. He apologizes for startling him, his name's Steve. And fuck, if he isn't prettier up close.

Eddie introduces himself, and the guy - Steve - asks him sort of sheepishly if he actually drew him? It was sort of hard to see through the water and the glass. Eddie says yeah he did, sorry if that's creepy, but drawing and watching the tank makes his brain quiet. It's calming.

And Steve says he get it. He gets Eddie. And they chat, and they flirt, and at the end, Eddie asks Steve if he wants to see the drawing, if he wants to keep it. And Steve light up, and he looks so happy, so before he can think to hard about it - Eddie writes his name and cellphone number on the bottom of the page - and rips it out and hands it to Steve.

And Steve beams.

[unluckilyimnot]

lazy day with bllk boys

characters: sae, rin, nagi, karasu, reo

fluff

m.list || rules || requests are open :)

note: i had more ideas but i got lazy lmao, feel free to ask for more

Sae + beach day

it’s better when it’s sunny but honestly he just needs it

he goes whenever he has a day off

you two usually eat around the harbor, take cute pictures, visit a little if you can

Sae loves beach more than anything in life but if you ask him he’ll never admit it. Yet that’s where he find himself naturally going when he needs some fresh air and needs to clear his mind. It happened to be rather cloudy today, but it means less people outside so he’s not complaining. He didn’t felt like dealing with people trying to talk to him. Beside you.

You always tag along since you’re a sea lover as well – and that you love collecting rocks.

“Sae, Sae look at this one !” you cheered while getting up and rushing to him. Showing off your really cute, red rock to him with a smile, he can’t help but nod with a little smile in return before offering his hand. You leave it to him so he could clean it up before giving it back to you. It’s an habit now, because you hate it when you have stuff on your hands.

You took his other hand and started walking around the beach again, admiring the view even without sun or boats. It was calm, just like you like as well.

“There.” He gave the rock back to you as he secretly promised and he couldn’t wait to see where you’re going to put it in his apartment.

Nagi + gaming

understand : usual day off

he’s always gaming anyway but that’s the rare occasion you play with him

“Ah… Ah! Aaah!!” you whined, almost throwing the controller across the room. You fell on your back, laying down with open arms. “I think I’m gonna die now. It’s fine, I can’t face the shame.”

“You did great.” Nagi added quietly, already getting ready for the next game. You two were playing Mario Party together, one of the only game you play in fact. “Come on, I choose the next one.”

No answer.

“Come onnnnn.” It was his time to whine but when you still didn’t answer him, he had to use his special technique : laying flat on top of you. A strangle oof left your lips before you tried to pus him. It’s your tall, heavy boyfriend against your limited strength.

“Move !!” you command but it fell into deaf ear. You cry even more, not really in the mood to receive the treatment you gave.

“Okay,I’m sorry ! I’m ready now move please ! I can’t breath !”

“You’re a liar,” he started, pulling himself up on one arm. “You’re still breathing.” You roll your eyes at his statement.

“No shit.” you scoffed before pushing him for good. “I’m gonna win this time.”

Nagi only nod, knowing dawn well you won’t but still loving your enthusiasm.

Reo + bath and skin care

he likes to take care of you and himself

his day off are dedicated to that

+ funny picture to decorate your wall

A mask now setting on you face, your whole body was immersed in hot, bubbly water and all your muscles were finally able to relax. Your back resting against Reo, you look up to catch him looking at his phone, with a mask on his face as well.

You two just had the best skin care routine hour and Reo had the wonderful idea to run a bath. That’s how you ended up with both you hair up and you blowing bubbles around like a child. It’s been a while, you missed it.

“Babe, hear this,” and then he goes on about some news about one of Mikage corporation’s partner and their research. You don’t get about everything about business but you still into it as well, but you weren’t really in the mood. Kissing his jaw, you answered.

“What about I don’t and you try to disconnect a little ?” You took his phone off his hand after whipping your hand. Reo sighs behind you but you didn’t mind. His head laid on your shoulder, waiting for you to come back in the water. After putting a soft, lofi background music you were back in the hot water and in your lover’s arms. Reo slowly stroking your arm while talking about some book he’d like to read, finally leaving work behind. You couldn’t ask for more.

Karasu + reading together

he likes some quality time on his resting day

some tea, a good book and you reading by his side

Karasu couldn’t ask for more when you asked him to make another tea pot. You already have finish it when he only drank 2 cup, but it also mean that you’re really into your book and he loved that sight. You gasping from time to time, holding your month or even when it shows that it takes you everything to not get up to run laps around the house.

You know he likes to have close while reading session but sometimes it just physically hurt you. And he makes fun of you every times. His laughter filling the whole place, light and so annoying but you can’t help but tag along after a few second.

You can’t even give it back because he doesn’t react at all, annoying you a lot, but you accepted it in the end.

All of that with the tea he kindly makes every single time you two sat down in his living room to read.

Rin + him reading for you or vice versa

depends on who’s tired

but he reads better than you

still find it calming when it’s you

“ “I’m just going to do it. Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.” “Huh ?” I asked –” you quoted, reading one of your favorite book to Rin. He was laying his head in your lap, kind of falling asleep from time to time but still catching up when something bothered him in your tone or the story.

“She’s annoying with her maze.” he noted.

“I think he is to not get it.” she answered, sounding a little offended. “He’s annoying all the time in fact. I get her, but I don’t get him.” she added before going on. Rin knew that, he heard about it enough, yet he never once read it and the last time you said you felt like reading it again, he asked you to read it to him.

You two don’t really share any tastes in books, but you still kind of enjoy it when the other is reading it for you. You usually get fed up by his reading and Rin found yours comforting, but maybe it’s just your voice. He likes the fact that you try, maybe a little too hard, to show the emotions. It’s deep too, in some kind, and he knows you’re especially close, if he may say, to the things you read. It’s like discovering you again.

i hope you liked it !

it's me, i collect rocks. the book y/n's reading in rin's one is Looking for Alaska by John Green.

[kablehell779]

*I am walking along the beach, humming under my breath. My hand is wrapped in a cloth, and I fidget with the buttons on my shirt. I look back to see my footprints, and in doing so, catch sight of you.*

I-oh, hi.

- @saga-of-a-bumblebee-2

*Sitting down on the nearest rock was Hyku, his hair blowing in the wind. Noticing that he was being stared at alongside the voice, he faces the source in silence*

[cherry-leclerc]

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 4.6k

*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 2

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

“You got lost, didn’t you?” 

Sticking your tongue out at Charles, you take a seat next to his broad figure as you start applying coconut sunscreen. “Would it kill you to not gloat?” You narrow your unusually soft eyes like weapons. 

He playfully shudders. “Ooooh. My blood ran cold.”

Throwing the bottle over at his lap, he chuckles before lathering his tan body with the white goo. You try to not make it obvious, the way you steal glances at him. Everything makes sense all of a sudden; his odd obsession with anything that could cover his handsome features, the mysterious Ferrari, how he could go from making you laugh to keeping his mouth shut and looking down whenever anyone was around. 

He had kept this from you for a reason, that much is clear, but you would still give him a chance to open up. Sliding on a pair of sunglasses, you twist your body to sit cross cross. You fold your hands over your lap. “Truth or dare?”

The brunette tilts his head with hesitance. “Y-you don’t want to take a dip?” 

“Let’s lay out for a bit.” You poke him with your toe. “C’mon. Play with me.”

He sighs, pushing his hat downwards. “Dare.”

“Hmm…I dare you to…read me your last text message.”

“Easy.” Pulling out his phone, he scrolls for a bit before showing it to you. 

You’re walking the opposite way. I said near the fruit stand. 

Burning up, you push it down. “I don’t count.”

“You never specified.”

He wasn’t going to play easy and part of you respected that. Clicking your tongue, you extend your shiny legs. He gulps. Truth or dare? “Dare.” 

“Call the last person you spoke to.”

Growing nauseous at his request, you shake your head. “I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?”

You stutter. “M-my boss called to check up on me. Wanted to make sure I was a-actually on my deathbed and not just faking it, I can’t do that.” The Monegasque squinted his eyes teasingly before leaning back against the gray rocks.

“Fine. You get a pass.” You let out a breath of relief. “But I get one of those as well.”

You felt as if you were making a deal with the devil with the way he was watching you, waiting for an answer. He might use it against your benefit, but you had no choice. “Deal.”

“Good.” Flickering his green eyes towards the crystal blue tides, he chews on the inside of his cheek. “It's your turn.”

Be smart, don’t blow it. Deep down, you wanted to ask about the simpler things. Your favorite color? What was your childhood like? Was it better than mine? But that couldn’t matter more than what information you actually needed. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

You groan. How were you supposed to get all the juicy details out of him if he kept playing it safe? Nonchalantly, he waits. “I dare you to stop picking dares.” His face pales. You feel bad for putting him in that position, but he quickly snaps out of it.

“Truth or dare?”

Swallowing a thick layer or saliva, you purse your lips. “Truth.” 

“Why did you lie to your boss?”

You gape at his question as you think of a way to avoid it. All he knows is that you have a month off and chose Italy as your destination thanks to your amazing friends. He didn’t know anything about the sleepless nights of zero ideas that had you on the brink of being fired, the reason you needed this article to work. Not only would it set your career, but it would also give you the respect you so desperately looked for in everyone who looked down on you.

“She would never let me come to Italy if I told her I need a break from all the pressure, y’know?”

Waves crash noisily as he frowns. “Mhm.”

“My turn. What’s your occupation?”

“I already told you,” he laughs, brown curls flowing against the summer breeze. “I work with cars.” A gist of hope zaps your heart as you wait for the rest. “I’m a mechanic.”

He wasn’t going to tell you - he didn’t trust you. Melancholy register across your face as you rise up carefully. “I’m in the mood to swim now.”

-

Life for the Scuderia Ferrari driver moves at a  fast pace, always on the go and traveling all around the world. At just 26 years old, the Monegasque has collected 5 wins and an impressive number of podiums, all while maintaining the longest Scuderia contract in history. 

But do we really know Charles Leclerc in his everyday life? A man without any responsibilities? 

Fortunately for us, I was able to sit down and speak to Il Predestinato as he he walks us through his routine for when he’s not on track-

“What are you working on? Seeing you be so quiet is bone-chilling.”

Poking your tongue out like a slithering snake, you feverishly slam your computer shut as you flip him off. “Catching up with friends. What can I say? The people love me.” The 26 year old rolls his eyes before picking up on his scribbles. Tippy toeing closer to him, you try to inspect the messy writing. “What is that?”

“Fuck, you scared me, you little gnome.” Hiding his small journal, you immediately push out your bottom lip.

“Show me! Show me! Show me!”

Clumsily, he opens it. “Grocery list.” But it's more than that. His letter isn’t easy to read, but it'll get you there. Diary entries. Blinking up at your roommate, you wiggle your brows. What’s it say? “Nothing important.” You don’t press him on it, but that doesn’t stop the curiosity from stirring inside of you. He stiffens. “Let’s go before they close.”

Pebbles crunch underneath your ballet flats as you sing softly. He smiles, content with the serene atmosphere. What song is that? Your jaw drops, stopping dead in your tracks. It takes him a while to realize you're not skipping next to him anymore. “Tell me you’re joking…”

“I’m joking.”

“Charles!” you wail as you fling your arms. “Beyond the Sea? Bobby Darin?” His face doesn’t change as he bats his eyes blankly. You gasp. “We’ll meet, I know we’ll meet beyond the shore. We’ll kiss just as before-.” 

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Playfully, you shiver, clutching your heart. “It isn’t good to be uncultured, Charlie.” The way you spit out his new nickname has him grasping how much he loves it - so long it's coming from you. Pulling out your phone from your back pocket, you wave your finger like some principal. “I’ll play it for you.”

The Monegasque shakes his head. “No, just sing it to me like you were.”

You sincerely don’t have a single clue where all this unknown courage comes from, but you oblige. All the way to the local farmers market, he’s grinning ear to ear. From your voice sounding angelic, to it cracking as you would try to intimidate Darin, he feels fortunate to see this side of you. 

Entering the sliding doors, you grab a basket as you drag him, shoes squeaking from the sudden pull. “We’re not here for snacks, we’re here for food. Y’know - vegetables, rice, chicken-”

“I need something sweet!” you complain as your doe eyes glimmer at the sight of the Italian desserts. “If I don’t get it in my system I will die. Do you want me to die?” 

“At this moment, it doesn’t sound half bad.” You gawk at his dark humor. Taking the tiny basket from you, he makes his way to the produce section. “Grab whatever you need. I’ll be right back.”

Once his back faces you, you feel your phone vibrating. “Amelia!” Your cheery friend waves excitedly. Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you for days! Wincing, you place your phone on top of a box of cookies. “I’ve been gone for five days, please relax. Plus, I’m fine. Enjoying my time off.”

Your friend snickers. “I still need updates to make sure you aren’t dead in a ditch.” Making an exaggerated face, you nod and the blonde giggles. “Don’t make me fly out there. Unlike you, I will demand a year off if needed.” 

“Oh, I believe you,” you murmur, hand reaching for a box of Baci Pergunia. “How are you guys surviving without your third wheel?”

“Stop it, you,” she hisses. “Instead, why don’t you fill me in - any cute tourists?” You freeze midair, already angling your body to grab bonelle jellys. 

“I’m not too focused on any of that..” 

“Of course not because you’re too busy daydreaming about Grayson,” she teases. “Honey! She’s missing him, I told you!” Bullshit, Roman yells back from the kitchen.

“Will you two stop it?” you grit. 

“Yes, darling,” Roman talks gingerly. “Will you please stop planning a wedding?” Your jaw drops while your friend nervously giggles. He’s joking. 

“Enough about me, what are you two doing? What’s on the menu?” 

The brunette’s eyes crinkle, showing off his blurry screen. “Sicilian meatball soup.” 

“Lucky!” you groan. “You’re messed up for cooking your grandma’s recipe while I’m not there.” He shrugs. 

“We miss you so we both decided to make an Italian dish.” She emphasizes her words as he smiles bitterly. “It’s like you’re here with us.”

“She cried for an hour or so. It was the only way I could calm her down.” Amelia bites the air at her boyfriend. He leaps back, returning to stirring the sauce. “I cook because I love you, stop that.”

You throw your head back with laughter. “Again, not dead, but I’m touched.” Hearing a bag crinkle, you look down the aisle and spot Charles making his way over. “Gotta go! Call you as soon as I can!”

“Wow, you’ve managed to grab all the snacks in the entire store,” Charles teases as he points to your stack. “Got you chips, too.”

“You’re not helping,” you grunt as you take it from him. He hands you your own basket for your treats. Cramming them all in, he examines you before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So, Grayson’s the boyfriend?” 

“Ha! I wish. He’s my boss’ son. Way out of my league.”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t think like that. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Then, he walks away, leaving you to follow after him like a lost puppy. You’re wary around him after that encounter, so you make sure to stand a few steps behind, waiting for him to finish paying. “What are you doing?”

“Che cosa?”

Sauntering over, he reaches down to take your things. Your breath gets caught in your throat from the sudden proximity. “I got it.” 

Bewildered, you start retreating all the sweets. “You don’t need to do that, you’re already paying for the other things. This one’s on me.” He scrunches his nose.

“That’s endearing, but I can’t. I’m on a diet.”

“Why?” You’re genuinely confused, and can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. “You look perfectly fine to me.”

He smirks. “Really?”

“I m-mean I think so,” you stammer. “But how would I know, I’ve never been on a diet.” Charles' watercolor eyes trickle all the way down before dancing back up. Butterflies flutter inside of you. 

“You don’t need it, trust me.” A pause. “I’ll pay for your things, it’s really no problem. Though I do ask you not to blame me when your teeth rot.” 

“Jerk!” you quip when he walks away, laughing loudly. You smile at the sound.

-

“You need to stop gobbling up all that crap, if not you’re not going to eat any of what I’m cooking,” his voice warns you. Setting the bag of gummies down, you kick your bare feet against the cabinets. 

Has it been an hour? Two? You can’t remember but it sure did smell good. He had asked you to just sit still and fix up a playlist while he prepared dinner, so there really wasn’t much to do. Are you almost done? Focused on cutting up a piece of onion, he shakes his head. A minute passes by before asking again. Not done, wait. 

As soon as your stomach grumbles, he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly. You chuck a carrot at him as he cackles. “Ta-da!” Inspecting the nicely done dish, you throw a thumbs up. Grabbing a spoon, you’re about to dive in before he slides the plate away. Your lips form a thin line. “Take your time. Really enjoy it - it’s flavor, it’s scent-”

“Jesus, fine. Give it before I bite your cheek off,” you growl. Glaring at him, you dip your utensil in slowly. He applauds before pulling out his phone and pressing record. “Is that really necessary?”

“You might not realize it, but this is a monumental moment.” Bowing his head, he urges you to try it. You shrug once, wrapping your lips around the spoon and let's just say - you’ve always had a killer poker face.

“Delicious, chef!” 

“Putain oui!” He puts his phone away. “What did you like about it? The pepper helped, didn't it?”

You grimace. “I want my two hours back.” His smile dies down. Seriously? Yanking the spoon from your grip, he tries the colorful soup and winces at the saltiness. 

“I followed step by step, why does this shit keep happening?” 

The Monegaque truly does seem bummed out as his shoulders sag, glasses sliding down his pointy nose. Scooting closer, you pat his shoulder awkwardly. “You need some serious help.” He shoots a deadpan look as you giggle. “I’m kidding! It’s not that bad.” Jumping off the counter, you tug the nearest apron. “Let me try.”

It takes another two hours, but you figure it out eventually. Standing tall, you place your hands behind your back. The Monegasque eyes the food. “Now, I want you to take your time. Really enjoy it, it’s flavor-”

“Stop it,” he grumbles before diving in. His eyes open wide as you wiggle against your heels excitedly. “You can’t be real.”

“Is it good?”

He nods enthusiastically, brown hair jumping up and down. “H-how did you…” Polishing your nails, you fake a bored expression. By praying. It’s looks as if he’s deeply considering your advice for a second but when you howl out, he flushes. 

“Don’t be so gullible, Charlie. Roman’s grandma taught me. I spent Christmas with him and Amelia.”

His face softens up. “What about your parents?” 

“We’re not close like that.” You confess so unbothered that it has him fluttering his eyes for a while. “Don’t feel bad - I do just fine. They call me on my birthday.” Metal clinks against the porcelain plate as he huffs, firm chest rising up before deflating.

“That’s the fucking standard.” You raise a brow. Why are you upset with me? “I’m not. It’s just that it’s not fair that they treat you like garbage just because you didn’t fulfill their wish. Or that you let others trample over you like a piece of shit.” You flinch. “Y-you know what I mean…”

“Sure,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Enjoy the food, Charles.”

-

He feels guilty for making you feel bad, but he wasn’t lying. It bugged the crap out of him that you floated through life thinking everything was okay. He’s never met Amelia or Roman, but he felt a strong gratitude towards the couple for treating you with genuine care. But you had filled him in on the rest; they way others would look down on you - all while you wore a miserable smile. I’m used to it by now. Doesn’t even bother me. 

Charles was always in the limelight - always probably will be - but he also knows he signed up for it. He knew fake smiles like the back of his hand. Whether it was a pretty girl trying to get money out of him or sponsors trying to get close to him just for fame. If it weren’t for his friends back home, he definitely would have lost faith in humanity. 

And then there was you. Someone so kind, who puts others' needs before yourself. You didn’t have to check up on him that day at the beach, you didn’t have to help him or give him shelter but you did. He thought you would be some crazy fan but when you blinked up at him like a curious expression, he could tell you didn’t know who he was. 

The Monegasque felt relieved that you treated him without any special treatment, that you saw him for who he really was, not just some F1 driver. He owes it to you to make things right and apologize.

He finds you eating a pint of gelato as you stare blankly at the eggshell wall. “Did you save me some?” You jump at the sound of his deep voice. Halfway done, you respond red-faced. You can have the rest. Leaning against the table, he shakes his head. “Let’s just share.”

You’re sure you can hear Amelia and Roman bickering from how quiet it is, but don’t dare to utter a single word. It’s bad enough that he knows that his words got to you, how can you look him in the eye? 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Peeking over at the brunette, you admire his side profile before humming. He continues. “But at the same time I don’t regret it.”

You laugh dryly. “Wow, this is some apology.”

Clearing his throat, he cages your body against the wooden furniture. “I’m serious - I don’t.” Avoiding eye contact, you stare at the sides of your bare thighs where his large hands lay. Suddenly the room feels suffocating. “You do need to stop letting others decide what to think about yourself. You need to stop pleasing everyone around you. Your parents, Eleanor, shit, even me.”

The green eyed boy begins to get blurry as your eyes foolishly well up. “I don’t do th-”

“Yes, yes you do, do that.” His accent comes out stronger than intended. You let out a shaky breath, then beam up at him. Okay, I’ll stop. He grinds his teeth together. “No. Don’t agree just because I’m telling you - do it for yourself because you want to.”

“I want to,” you whisper meekly. 

His heart breaks at the sight of you answering untruthfully but does say anything else. Instead, he hauls you off the table, planting you onto your feet. “Grab a sweater and meet me by the door in five minutes.”

-

He’s for sure going to murder you, Amelia was right after all. Shit, you mutter underneath your breath as he pulls onto the hills. The view was great - for sure a nice way to go if that’s the last thing you’ll ever see. 

Following him out, you pinch down on your denim shorts. Was it too late to run away? He left the key in the engine, maybe you could leave him stranded? 

“I’m not going to kill you, you can relax.”

Blood rushes to the tip of your ears. “What are we doing here at…” You check your phone. “Two in the morning?”

“Yell.”

You quirk your head curiously. “I’m sorry, say that one more time.”

He extends his arms out, enjoying the cool breeze. “Just do it. No one’s going to hear you.”

“That sounds like something a killer would say. Can I get a ten minute head start?”

He rolls his green eyes. “Trust me, it helps a lot. My trainer has me do it all the time.” You raise your brows. “I- uh- box during my free time. My boxing trainer has me do it when I’m too stressed.”

Ignoring his slip up, you shake your head. “I can’t scream, that’s weird.” His pink lips turn downwards. “You’re going to judge me!”

“I won’t!” Covering his ears, he signals at you. “Not a thing.”

You bite down on your sweater before shaking your buzzing hands. Once and he’ll drop it. Ahh, you let out weakly before smiling brightly. “You’re right. That was great!” Turning on your heels, you begin to skip away before he tugs on your sweater, flinging you back. 

“Not even the crickets heard you. Try again.”

“I did do it, you just didn’t like it.” 

“I’m not letting you leave until you do it the right way.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he peacefully shuts his eyes, enjoying nature's lullaby. He seems to let his guard down because before he knows it, he hears the Ferrari engine loud and clear. “Don’t you dare leave,” he warns as he runs up to his car. 

“Get home safe, Charlie!” you squeal as you step on the gas. Chasing after you, he ends up standing in front of the car as you shriek. As quickly as you can, you step off the break but the tip still manages to hit the Monegasque. You scream at the brutal sight. 

Scurrying out of the car, you drop down next to him as you flip him onto his back. His pretty eyes remain closed as he lays still. Wake up Charles, I’m too young to go to jail! Do you know how hard it is to prove your innocence when you’re a foreigner? You delicately tap his cheek but his head only rolls back. You yell out in panic as you let go of his heavy body. 

“Oh God, oh God, holy shit, holy fuck,” you whimper as you pace back into the red car. Squeezing your eyes tightly, you place your hands over the steering wheel as you think about what just happened. Amelia was going to kill you. Eleanor would personally write a whole article about you. 

“You were seriously going to leave me for dead?” a voice interrupts your thoughts as you scream. You face Charles and he yells back at the sudden ring. 

“What the shi- You’re alive!” Jumping over the console, you hug him, barely giving him room to breathe. Groaning in pain, he pushes you back. You hop off as you grab his left hand and raise up four fingers. “How many am I holding up?”

“Fingers? I have ten.”

Your heartbeat travels to your throat as you squirm. “I broke him.” Images of you behind bars enter your mind as you plead Charles to drop the charges. Amelia and Roman would travel to visit you in jail but only to demand their money back. You’d be in complete debt for the rest of your life and oh God what if the Italinas had a thing for the electric chair-

“I’m teasing,” he laughs as he rubs his head. “It hurts like a motherfucker, though, but hey, at least you let it all out.” Wacking his arm, you glare sternly.

“You did that on purpose?”

Grunting, he inches away. “I did not, are you crazy? But it helped you! How do you feel?”

You narrow your fiery eyes. “Angry…mad.” That's the same thing, he points out as you scowl. Nevermind. “I feel good.”

All smug, he leans against the passenger's seat. “I told you it would help.”

“Huh,” you let out in astonishment. 

-

It started out with a simple argument - pesto or tomato sauce. You were leaning more towards the green paste but he held onto his end stubbornly. Honeymoon phase is over? Spinning to face a little boy with whipped cream all over his cheeks, he quirks his head. My dad always likes to say - happy wife, happy life. Walking away, you’re both left with your mouths hung open as you put the ingredients down. 

“Did we just get scolded by a some little fucker?” 

Gasping at his words, you smack the side of his head. He yelps. “No Charles, he basically called us old! We’re ancient!”

“Nonsense. He’s just being dumb.”

Glaring, you put your hands on your hips as you pace the aisle. “What if he’s right? What if we are on the verge of death?” He laughs. All because he thought we were married? Closing in to his tall figure, you pinch your face up. “A married couple spend their life together - growing old. He called us old!” You walk fast down the supermarket as you run wild hands through your hectic hair.

Hurrying after you, he pants. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find him.” He comes to a sudden stop. And do what exactly? Tossing your head back, you groan in frustration. “I don’t know! Whoop him or something like that.”

The Monegasque lets out a snicker. Your face twists up. “Let’s just calm down.” I am calm, you grunt. He clicks his tongue. 

“We need to do something,” you declare. He sighs. Forgetting all about your errands, you drag him out of the store. Bright eyes flicker across the busy streets as you huff. Then you spot it. “We’re going.”

The brunette squints his eyes as he reads the small print. Amalfi Club. Theme: Halloween costumes. He scoffs. “But it isn’t even October.”

But your mind is set. “It’s perfect.” Bumping against his shoulder, you beam. “Looks like we can turn back time after all.”

-

Ballerina for me, you cheer. And Stormtrooper for you? You narrow your eyes in confusion. “I’m sorry, how do you even know Star Wars exists? Aren’t you French?”

“Monegasque,” he corrects you before frowning. “Stars Wars is a global success. Being from Monaco doesn’t mean we don’t know anything, thank you very much.” 

You shrug. “Be a tiny bit more grateful that I found our costumes on such short notice.” Yeah, yeah, he yawns. “I’m so excited!” you squeal as you finish tying your pink ribbon. You would for sure have a terrible headache by the end of the day. “Won’t you sweat with a helmet all night?”

“I think I’ll be able to handle it.”

It’s so crowded - packed - that your roommate has to practically shove you in as you yelp, arm swatting your tutu down. A cheap looking Tinkerbell gives you the death glare when you step on her foot. I can’t fucking breath! The Stroomtopper mask tilts as he brings his gloved hands to your shoulder. Do you want to leave?

“No!” A beat. “Let me just go get us a drink.”

Zipping past him, you can hear him calling after you but you choose to ignore since you knew he would drag you back to the shared Airbnb. Just water, you chime in as the bartender nods, eyeing your perky tits. Frowning, you pout somberly. “Ignore him,” a deep voice rips you away from your thoughts as you face them. 

Is everyone just okay with melting their face off? The towering man wears a red jumpsuit with the infamous Dali mask. “I like your costume. I binge watched all of Casa De Papel in a singular night.” Your cheeks flush when you realize you’re rambling. He chuckles richly.

“Thought I’d look cool.

There’s an award silence as you wait. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you scrunch your nose in disgust. “You must be sweaty beneath all that,” you ponder, fingers signals to the white mask. He sighs, wide shoulders rolling back. I’m thinking I might faint. A bright giggle slips past your lips and he grins from underneath, even if can’t see. “You remind me of my friend. He would rather die than take his helmet off. He’s a Strormtrooper,” you add. 

Large hands come up as he pushes the hoodie off, messy brown locks coming into view. Stubborn, aren’t we? You nod, thanking the man who comes back with your glass of water. “I should go find him…”

A heavy pant flows from the mysterious man. You’re leaving? He coughs to cover up his neediness. His accent makes your cheek burn up. “I sort of left him,” you respond sheepishly. He chuckles, finally taking his mask off, beads of thin sweat painingting his large nose. You breath hitches, waves of recognition hitting you all at once.

“Valid.” He extends his tan hand towards you. “I’m Carlos, by the way.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

[woso-dreamzzz]

Beach

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Alexia Putellas x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You go to the beach in Spain

Spain is hot.

You don't like it much.

It makes you hot and sweaty and it means that Momma or Morsa carrying you makes it so much worse.

You blow a strand of hair off of your face and huff.

You don't particularly like the beach either. It's too sandy and it gets everywhere so you've had to forego your shoes and socks.

Momma and Morsa are nearby, relaxing on their towels and reading. You're meant to be sitting by them, making a sandcastle but it's an activity you've grown bored of quickly.

With every passing moment, you shuffle a little bit further away until you can slyly stand up without either of your mothers noticing.

You don't like the ocean either. It scares you a little bit and Erin at Not-Wolfsburg once told you that in Scotland sometimes the waves crash against cliffs and make rocks fall off.

The ocean is scary and you don't like swimming so you stick to the beach, periodically looking back so you can check that your Momma and Morsa are still there.

You crouch down in the sand, poking at it with a stick you've found. You keep yourself occupied like that for a while before looking up and coming face-to-face with a puppy.

It's very small and kind of fluffy and a similar colour to the sand.

"Hej!" You say. Now that you're not in London anymore, Momma and Morsa have been speaking to you in a blend of Swedish and Danish again and you're very happy to greet this puppy like that.

The puppy stares at you for a moment and you offer it your hand. Momma tells you to do that a lot when you meet puppies at the park.

It sniffs you for a moment before it's little tail wiggles and it licks your face.

You laugh, patting it on the head. It pants and lays down at your side, sniffing your stick for a moment before trying to gnaw on it.

"Nej, valp (no, puppy)," You say, moving the stick away to poke at the sand again. The puppy whines a little but rests its head on its front paws and watches as you draw in the sand.

Silence reigns between you for a long while before muffled footsteps are hurrying closer and the hot Spanish sun is blocked by a shadow falling over you.

It's a woman.

She's kind of tall compared to you and she's dressed comfortably in just a sports bra and some jogging bottoms. She looks highly distressed though, as she stares at you.

She clicks her tongue and orders," Nala." The puppy stands up to join her, allowing the leash to be clipped onto its collar.

"Hola, nena," The woman says, crouching at your side as she continues to look distressed," Eres muy pequeña (you are very little)."

You stare at her blankly as she looks around the beach, looking at each group of people for some reason.

"¿Dónde están tus padres (where are your parents)?"

You don't know what she's saying. You don't speak Spanish. It's not one of your languages. You think for a moment. As much as you love being able to speak your Swedish and Danish on holiday, Morsa tells you often that not a lot of people abroad understand either and you know that your German won't be much help either.

So, you settle on your English.

"Hello."

She looks taken aback for a moment and then even more distressed when she comes to the conclusion that you're not a Spanish child. Her head whips around as she tries to weed out which of the beachgoers you belong to.

"Hi," She says when her search comes up empty," Are you lost?"

You shake your head, poking at the sand.

"Where are your parents?"

You dismissively point in the vague direction of where you left Momma and Morsa.

"What is your name?"

"y/n," You reply," I like your puppy."

"Thank you. Her name is Nala. I'm Alexia."

"Cool."

You start to dig at the sand, making a hole. You wanted to bury Morsa in a hole earlier but she wouldn't let you.

Alexia sits down next to you, seemingly unwilling to continue her walk and leave you alone. "Are you on holiday? Where are you from?"

"London," You answer," But before was Germany and Momma and Morsa from Sweden and Denmark."

Alexia nods along, sparing another look down at the beach as if she would just be able to tell which tourists looked Swedish or Danish. She knew now to look for two women so at least that narrowed down her prospects.

"Your English is very good," She says, quickly regaining your attention when it looks like you are going to start walking away.

"Thank you. Morsa makes me practice."

"That's good. English is a very good language to know."

You giggle. "Morsa says that too."

Alexia notices that you get a bit restless and clicks her tongue, sending Nala over to keep you distracted for a bit. This wasn't how she expected her day off to go. She glances around the beach again as Nala gives you little kisses on your cheek but nobody seems to stand out to her as looking for their child.

She stays with you for a bit longer before spying Harder and Eriksson further down the beach. Your English is good but it would probably be easier if you had someone who spoke your first two languages. It would hopefully make it easier for you to find your mothers if Harder and Eriksson were around to translate.

"Hey, y/n," She says softly," Why don't you come with me? I think we should go find your mums."

You look back at the hole you're digging and sigh. Alexia is an adult and Momma always tells you to listen to adults when she and Morsa aren't around. "Fine."

Alexia takes your hand in hers and Nala pads around between you two.

As the two of you get closer, Alexia notices the way that Harder and Eriksson seem to be in the middle of an argument, voices hushed and harsh as they squabble in a blend of Swedish and Danish.

"Eriksson," She says," Harder, I was wondering if you could help. y/n, here has lost her-"

"Princesse!"

She's cut off by Harder, who surges forward to wrap you in a hug.

You wrinkle your nose up in annoyance and try to push away, poking at Harder with your stick.

"What have I told you about wandering off?!"

You huff. "Didn't wander!" You insist," You say wandering is walking away until I can't see you anymore. Could still see you!"

"Don't sass your Momma, y/n," Eriksson says firmly before turning to Alexia," Thank you, Putellas. For finding her. She's got this awful habit of wandering around when we stop looking. Last time she ended up with the Arsenal girls."

Alexia is still a little confused. She supposed it made sense. You spoke about your parents being from Sweden and Denmark (which Eriksson and Harder are) but that you were visiting from London (where they both play) but used to be from Germany (where Harder used to play with Caro).

But, still, it's an incredible coincidence that you just happened to be stumbled upon by another football player on a crowded beach in Spain.

It makes Alexia laugh a little under her breath in sheer amusement. "Sounds scary."

Eriksson laughs as well, looking over to where you've got a sullen expression on your face as Harder flips between lecturing you and fluttering her hands around your body to make sure you're not injured.

"You have no idea. Thanks though, for finding her."

"It was Nala that found her."

The little dog wags her tail at the mention of her name and you manage to pull away from Harder to pat Nala on the head.

"Princesse," Eriksson crouches down next you, brushing some sand off your cheek," I want you to say thank you to Alexia for helping you."

It's a little disconcerting to see Eriksson and Harder so soft and domestic. Alexia knew that they had a daughter, had known for a while now ever since you made your debut to the world the same day as the infamous World Cup kiss.

She knew that Harder and Eriksson were parents but knowing it and seeing it are two different things. You've got Eriksson in your face but Harder in your stance. You look like a perfect blend of the two in everything you're doing.

"Thank you for helping me Alexia," You say.

"And?"

"And sorry for wandering off, Morsa."

"Okay, princesse." Eriksson presses a kiss to the side of your head. "We'll have to get you a bell to wear soon, if you keep wandering like that."

You huff out an annoyed breath and kick your foot, spraying sand everywhere.

Harder laughs, draping a towel over your slightly burnt shoulders as you yawn.

"I think she needs a nap," She says to Eriksson, allowing you to sag against her as you fight off your exhaustion," Time to head back to the hotel, I think."

"Good thinking," Eriksson replies before turning back to Alexia," Really, thank you, Putellas, for getting her back to us."

"Er...No problem. She's a great kid."

Eriksson smiles as she turns to look at you, blinking tired eyes up at Harder, who whispers to you in Danish.

"Yeah, she is."

[toxicanonymity]

night walks masterlist

Updated: 3/10/24 (art)

mood board by @milla-frenchy 🖤

This is an AU moreso than a series. Very little plot. Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed. Turns out he's a little obsessed with you. You find him irresistible, despite your initial efforts to stay away.

OVERALL WARNINGS: Non-outbreak AU, drug use, Dubcon, unsafe P in V, dirty talk, stalking

LATEST: Beach Walks

gif by @iamasaddie. see bottom of post for more art

reader curated spotify playlist

MAIN TIMELINE

NIGHT WALKS (2k) - ORIGINAL. Joel gets you in his basement and you fuck.

"Deleted Scene" - Joel reveals his breeding kink.

Night Walks 2 (1.9k) - When you don't come back for more, Joel takes matters into his own hands.

Night Walks 3 (1.4k) - Joel breaks in and has his way with you. (Darkest)

Liquor store run-in (350) - You run into Joel in public and he gropes you.

Night Walks 4: All dressed up (1.3k) - You run into Joel at a gas station and end up fucking him.

Restaurant drabble (400) - You run into Joel when you're out with your friends.

Night Walks 5: Harder (2.8k) - You get jealous. You hang out and can't get enough of him.

BLOW (2k) - You do a line of his dick then give him an amazing blow job and later he puts it in.

Night Walks 6: Morning After (900) - You wake up at Joel's and he's not ready for you to leave.

Night Walks 7: Soaked (3.5k) - You're still there and it's storming so you stay for a while.

Night Walks 8: Menace (4k) - You're set up on a date, but Joel reminds you why you want him.

Interludes: 4th of July (200?) - You go to the pool. POV: Neighbor (Ethyl).

Night Walks 9: Late Night Dip (2.3k) - You go to the pool and he dicks you down. Interlude: ✨Ethyl's house.

Beach walks - Prequel (3.8k) - Joel is acting shady and you hook up with someone else.

Beach Walks (7k) - Joel can't let you go. ✨surf shack lore

HCs, ALTERNATE READERS & TIMELINES ⤵️

Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet - Various HCs in a standard format.

Pregnancy - How would he react to pregnancy?

If someone refused him - What would Joel do if someone flat-out refused him and really didn't want it?

Alt. timelines (AUs of AU)

PREQUEL: Night Gawks: Before Night Walks (450) -. Joel notices you as soon as you move into the neighborhood and jacks off.

FUTURE: Sleeping beauty (750) - You and Joel have a consensual non-con agreement. He breaks in, chloroforms you, ties you up.

FUTURE: Day walks (150) - You and Joel are out hiking and he's being irresponsible.

night caulks (100) - Joel being a rascal

ALT: Leopard print (4.5k)- ft. Tommy

DIFFERENT READERS (AUs of AU)

(2003) Night Chalks (400) - Joel takes a liking to Sarah's engaged teacher and starts to seduce her.

Night Chalks 2 (380) - Joel gets her in the back seat of his car.

(2008) Night Talks (2.8k) - Joel gets Sarah's best friend high and takes her virginity.

(2018) Night Drives (1k) - You order a lyft after a girl's night out and end up in Joel's basement.

Misc: If you're desperate: Dr. Rock has NW roleplay (1st person)

NIGHT WALKS GHOSTFACE

Every inch

Every inch 2

Every inch 3

main joel miller masterlist

Art & Visuals

TRAILER (video) by @iamasaddie

POV Ring doorbell by @swedishscumfuck.

Joel on vacation w/ blurb.

Man cave/basement floor plan

Booty text by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog and @missannwinchester

meet me in the moonlight by @iamasaddie

mood board by @milla-frenchy

gif by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Pumpkin mood board

beach walks collages by @lunitawrites

nw collage by @selfproclaimed-moviecritic

beach walks by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

sleeping beauty by @milla-frenchy

✨night walks vibes by @xdaddysprincessxx

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (1)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »» 

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final]: 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tagin following parts

[AN]: thank you so much to @highvern for betaing for me and helping out with the plot so much, this fic would not exist if it weren't for her!!!! and thank you reader!!! for clicking on this and reading it, this one's been about 7 months in the works and I would love to hear what your thoughts are when you're done, plsplspls leave a rb or a reply with your brainrot lol <3 happy reading

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground. 

No, that’s a branch. 

Or is it a plank? 

He doesn’t try to find out as he yanks his foot out of whatever stopped him from moving. A tree root, he finds as he kicks the remnants of jungle rubbish from the surface of the shrouded root. He kicks it to satisfy himself. 

His crew resides on the beach; where he can see them attempt to build a fire before sundown, the mound of discombobulated twigs making up most of the sad pile of wood. Hoshi trudges up to it and drops another handful of puny branches into the mix. 

Exhaling loudly as Mingyu calls for him, he falls to his bottom and sits cross legged on the sand. Mingyu trudges up next to him to inspect his pile, sighing when he realised this was all he had to work with. He picks up two hefty looking stones and begins to strike them together, putting his faith in the primitive fire. 

Hoshi stares into the horizon, watching the died down waves drift onto the shore, moving closer by the minute. 

Hoshi thinks, which he can’t say is something that he does very often. Perhaps that’s why he was sat on this nature-overrun island as a shipless captain of his shipless crew. He chews on his tongue as he thinks of his Tigress, his beloved hunk of wood and metal; the beloved hunk of wood and metal that he could not see on the shoreline, because she was taken by the royal navy. 

He wonders if Tigress would ever forgive him for letting that happen to her, for letting those clean, soft handed soldiers rip her away from his grasp. 

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

Mingyu is frantic over the small flame that erupts in the middle of his leaves, dropping his rocks to blow into the fire, encouraging it to grow. 

“Captain, it’s done! We can rustle up those fish we caught, have supper sorted.” 

“Hm.”

The bustle of the entire crew lasts until night has fallen and they’ve gotten food in their stomachs. Hoshi hasn’t moved from his spot for hours, something the others noticed very quickly, but decided not to mention for fear of waking something dangerous. They understood he was suffering from a broken heart. 

It isn’t until the first of the crew had begun to doze off that Hoshi speaks. Chan is propped up against a tree while Seungkwan and Jeonghan laugh at the dangerously low coconut that hangs above his head. Mingyu readjusts his trousers after a full meal. Minghao stretches onto the sand, feet facing the water. 

His voice isn’t loud, nor is it commanding, nor does it have his usual edge of jest—in fact, it sounds nothing like Hoshi at all. 

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

YOU'RE AWOKEN BY THE sound of yelling. Which is never a good sign in any case, but especially not when it’s pitch black outside and you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

The grogginess is quick to fade as you try to understand what’s going on outside your quarters. Your room isn’t a mess, all the trinkets and royal seals remaining in their places on the walls and shelves. Nor is the ship lurching or moving in odd angles to indicate an unexpected spat from the skies. A quick peek outside the window shows you clear, calm water amidst the mostly dark expanse of ocean. 

There is only one other answer in your head that would cause this much commotion—especially on a boat where the admiral resides (and a princess). 

Slipping out of the covers, your feet hit the cool hardwood floors of your quarters, a small shiver going through your spine from the cold, with nothing to cover you but your thin nightgown. You’re in the middle of tying your robe to see what the ruckus was about outside when a particularly loud thud hits outside of your door. You immediately freeze. 

Staring at the doorknob, you attempt to move backwards in the space, heart beating faster as you watch the knob move slightly. The back of your knees hit the bedside table with a thud, the sound has you gasp out loud. Whoever it was outside your door jiggles the knob harder, the force exerted having you scan the room for something you could use as a weapon. 

Spotting the letter opener on your desk, you lurch across the room to grab it, holding it in front of you as you back away from the door. The knob continues to bang against the wood as you refuse to take eyes off of it. There’s sounds of men outside, loud and rambunctious, momentarily halting the grievances. 

Until the knob moves again, slower this time, a light click that could be heard as it unlocks itself, opening into the low light of your quarters. 

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door. 

“Lieutenant,” you voice in recognition. “What’s going on?”

He eyes the letter opener that you hold defiantly in front of you from across the room, and it has you retracting your force slightly. 

“Pirates, your Highness,” he breathes out. “We must get you to lower deck—”

“Where is the Admiral? The Captain?” you ask as you take a couple steps forward. 

“They’re handling the situation, your High–” 

An arm has come up behind the soldier that pulls him into a headlock, a swift pull to have him dragged away from your vision. You would’ve gasped if your voice hadn’t been caught in your throat, refusing to make itself known as fear brews in the pit of your stomach. Your hold on your makeshift weapon is tighter than ever before, yet you doubt how it’s going to help you as the culprit finally steps over something to appear in your doorframe. 

His clothes are in a disarray; slashed, torn and covered in grime. There’s a deadly looking machete in one hand, the blood that coats it has you eyeing the trail that drips onto his hand and on the floor. His forearms are perched up on the doorframe as he inspects you, tongue to cheek as he stares. 

Threatened as you feel, there was less hunger in his gaze as you had expected, more like he was trying to figure out who you were. He eyes your tiny letter opener you hold like a knife and lets out a little exhale you think might be a laugh. It has you gripping the handle impossibly tighter. The man moves his face into the hallway, to where you know the staircase to the main deck is. 

“Hoshi!” he yells loudly. “How’s this for bait?” 

Your back is pressed inexplicably against the wall, wanting to sink into the wooden boards as you attempt to gain your bearings amongst the nauseous bouts of mortification that surge through you. Your only exit is blocked.

No. You have one more option. 

The sound of more men bounding down the hall has you praying there were more soldiers here, but the calm regard the man has for the approaching people has your heart sink to the depths of this very ocean itself. 

More faces peer into the room, men with the same haphazard, grimey clothing complete with  equally sinister weapons in their grasps. One of the men breaks out into the biggest grin as he lays his eyes on you. You nearly throw up. 

For the first time in your life, you wish you’d listened to your father. 

“Jun, you savvy motherfucker,” the grinning man explodes, slapping the man who found you on the back. 

Another voice speaks from behind him, “Ships cleared, captain.” 

“Perfect. Bring a spring upon ‘er. Get as far away from those cleans as you can, let them fend for themselves in a tiny boat for once.” 

Captain. The grinning, stupid looking one is their captain. 

He regards the rest of his crew as he finally steps through the threshold, waving them away as he enters your quarters.

It was taking everything out of you to not buckle your knees as you stood, every step he takes is turning your strength into dust. He keeps his eyes on you, eyes on your sorry excuse of a weapon. He registers the mix of fear and determination in your eyes. 

He stops a few feet away from you, looking directly at you past the makeshift knife you hold. 

He says nothing as he drops the knife in his own hand to the ground with a loud clang. He removes a pistol, a couple more knives, a grenade and a sword. Weapons drop to the floor one after the other, emerging from all over his body and clothes. All in a pile on the wooden floors. He puts his hands in the air.

“No weapons on me. I merely wish to talk.” 

The look on his face is not ordinary, some strange combination of mock innocence and jest. You don’t answer him.

He continues, “You can keep your… scalpel… if you so wish.” 

“What did you do to the soldiers?” you finally rasp out.

“They’re not dead, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yet?” you ask with a slight tremble to your voice. 

“They’ve been shoved into a boat with a map and a compass to fend for themselves. I’m not entirely ruthless,” he adds with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “Admiral, were they calling him? You must be his wife.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, guess not. Daughter? Captain’s wife, Captain’s daughter?”

Your previously stagnant brain is now running a derby with all the thoughts galloping across your mind. He doesn’t know who you are. Yet, anyway.

He’s scanning the room now, nodding at the trinkets and trophies scattered across the place. “Can’t imagine giving a lieutenant’s anybody quarters like this.” He circles back on you, eyes sharp. “Who are you, darling?”

You don’t think you have anything that should give you away, but the way he starts pacing the room has your anxiety going through the wooden roof.

He has his back turned to you. You’re not sure if he’s confident or careless considering you could drive your weapon into his back and make a run for it. But then what? By the looks of it there’s an entire crew of pirates pacing the deck. Perhaps the soldiers haven’t gotten that far; they know you’re still on board, they know it’s their heads on a pike if they leave you here. 

He’s reached your desk during your thinking, inspecting your stationary, picking at the bejewelled quills and paper weights as he mutters nonsense to himself. 

“Oh!” he announces, a little too enthusiastic. “What’s this?” 

He brandishes the loose leaf of paper, and you recognise the print on the back immediately. It was a letter from your father, the King.

“How on Earth did you read this, the writing is illegible.” He flips the paper over, double taking when he sees the royal seal on the back. He looks into the letter closer now. 

You wait with baited breath. 

“The kingdom needs their princess…your father…ah.” 

Should you plunge the knife into him anyway? You almost do it, but stop when he begins to turn around to face you again. His eyebrows are raised, a slight hint of exasperation on his face when he begins to laugh a loud, loud cackle. 

It’s mortifying, especially when you don’t understand what on earth was so funny to elicit a reaction like that. The man is downright hysterical. He wipes a lone tear from the corner of his eye as he drops the letter back onto the desk.

“W-what’s so funny?” you try to sound brave.

“It seems, miss princess, that we’ve gotten more than we bargained for,” he says, looking straight at you as he sobers up. “You’re the King’s daughter, now, are you? What are the odds the first ship I hop onto with a royal seal slapped on it, held the crown jewel of the kingdom in its gallows.” 

And then he starts walking, towards you, for that matter. Imperative because you know for sure that this is how it all ends. 

You know you still have your one last option, the option that is now pressed against your back as you shimmy to it with miniscule movements. The window is cool on your hand that rests on the glass, you know the lamp will be enough to break it, enough for you to push through and fall into the abyss of the dark, dark sea. He knows who you are now, and you’d rather drown than die at the hands of a pirate—or go through whatever it was that’s curling the minds of all the men on this ship. 

He takes another step forward, hands on his hips. “He’s not going to like this, is he? His dear daughter in the hands of the Kingdom’s favourite degenerate captain.” 

What?

He then adds in a whisper to himself mostly, “Or least favourite with all the wanted posters off the churches and brothels.” 

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi. 

The man who had found you had called him Hoshi. Hoshi the pirate. Hoshi the pirate that’s been giving the Kingdom and its court absolute hell for as long as you can remember. 

The man that you are now trapped alone with on a ship is the most feared pirate the Kingdom has ever seen. 

You don’t doubt your face has gone grey, feeling your breathing turn near erratic. “Oh God.”

He smiles wryly as the life is sucked out of your very soul. 

This was bad. Very bad.

“Now, fear not, you will soon be returned to daddy dearest,” he places a mildly dramatic hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honour.”

He paces back to pluck the letter off the table, pocketing it. “All you need to do is relax and tell me a few things so we can part ways as soon—”

“No.” The word blurts out of your mouth before you can stop it, horrified at the thought of giving information to any pirate, let alone this one. 

“No?” Hoshi looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He laughs a little incredulously, “Oh, I see, can’t tell all the delicate details to a scary ol’ pirate.”

He smiles a little bit, “Worry not, miss princess, we shall only need a few minor details. Just enough to have your father sprinting to get you out of here. We all win.”

He stares at you almost expectantly, and you wonder if you look as confused as you feel. 

“Well, I’ll be bidding you goodnight now, I’m sure we’ve interrupted your beauty sleep enough. Rest assured we won’t be bothering you for the rest of the morning.”

Hoshi begins to make his way to the door, picking up his pile of weapons off the floor before wrenching the door open. He’s calm as ever, but your mind is in a disarray.

A ransom, but whatever for? Gold could’ve been retrieved by raiding any ship, and it sounded like he’d chosen to hop on a ship belonging to the navy. Come to think of it, as much of a nuisance this man has proved himself, you don’t remember a case where he’s directly meddled with the Kingdom. All of this can’t just be for gold. 

Steeling yourself, you bet your odds against your voice and asked him, “What do you want from my father?” 

You watch as he halts in his tracks, halfway through the door as he finally looks over his shoulder. The look on his face has you wanting to break open the window immediately and let the water flood in, once and for all as you take these bastards down with you. 

“Your father has something of mine. And I intend to take it back,” he says, before finally slamming the door shut. You hear a shuffle and a thud, and you do not doubt that he’s locked you in. 

Your knees give out almost immediately, dropping to the ground as you breathe in quick, shallow breaths. Trying to look past the dizziness, you try not to think about the last thing he’d said before he left, moreso the look on his face as he did. 

The first rays of morning sun are beginning to shine through the windows, casting the beginnings of a glow in your quarters. You think of the supposed assurance he had given you, that they wouldn’t hurt you, that they intended to return you. 

The thought leads to a faraway memory, yet one that’s tucked itself into a front corner of your mind, you can almost hear your father's voice as he says it; never trust a pirate.

You remain on the floor, and you remain wide awake. 

THE SUN IS HIGH in the sky by the time you put your limbs to work. 

The first hours after the pirate locked you in your quarters were spent trying to reign yourself to earth. You can’t be entirely sure your soul has come back to your body, but whatever little of it that has landed is whispering some very dangerous things. 

The lamp remains, the ornate jewels glinting almost enticingly in the afternoon light. The flame inside it has long died, but you itch to give it another purpose. You don’t note the trembling of your hand as you reach for it, pushing yourself to your feet as you get a feel for the heavy hunk of glass and metal in your hands. 

If there was a level of regard before, it disappears when you set eyes on the bright window and the creases of crystal blue water. With all your strength, you don’t think twice when the lamp makes hard contact, a loud thud erupting as a result, but no damage when you pull away. 

You go again, harder this time, and only vaguely register the glass of the lamp that shatters into your hands. Gripping the metal bit tighter, you swing for the third time, pulling back for the strongest blow yet. 

A hand wraps around your elbow and you’re yanked backwards, landing on the floor. There’s a kick at your hand that’s flown into the air, the one that holds the bludgeoned lamp. It goes flying across the room as you retract your hand into yourself. 

You don’t register a thing as you’re suddenly being pulled back up to your feet. Face to face with the pirate captain, your soul finally clicking back into place. 

“Didn’t think I scared you this bad.” He’s made a joke, but all you can see is his face that’s a mask of rage.

The initial instinct is to move away, pulling your elbow out of his grasp in an attempt to flee. You fail as he tightens his grip to a painful degree, hauling you towards the ajar door of the quarters. 

It’s only then that you realise that there’s more people in the room.You note another big, burly man next to the window you just assaulted, inspecting it with another shorter man. You don’t get to note more as you’re pulled into the narrow hallway, begging the saints he doesn’t take the turn towards the lower decks. Instead you find he leads you upstairs to where the main deck is. 

Walk the plank? Did navy ships have planks to walk on? Not that you’d mind too much, you were trying to drown yourself and this ship in any case. But then there’s a settle of dread in the pit of your stomach, realising death may be the most merciful thing this man could give you. 

The pirate captain pushes you against a mast, one of his other minions rushing in with coils of rope on his shoulder. The sun beats down on the deck, not a gust of reprieve from the wind. 

“Keep the ropes tight, she’s got less wit than I’d thought,” the pirate captain says with a grunt, huffing as he lets go of you. He takes a few steps away, hands at his hips, the image of vexation. 

The person who ties the cords around your hands whispers slowly, “Stop moving.”

But you can’t, not when the panic is near the lip, not when all the possibilities are flashing gore filled images into your vision. It's scary to blink. 

“Why won’t you let me die?” you ask to the back that’s turned.

He turns around, not even bothering hiding the exasperation that paints his face, mouth opening furiously before closing again. “Why won’t—Because you were trying to take us all with you!”

“Kill me!” you all but scream. “They won’t know till you’ve gotten what you want, I’d rather be dead than let you try whatever’s brewing in all your sick heads!” 

He’s silent for a moment, noting your defiant gaze, your pull against the ropes, the heaving of your chest. Taking a few steps forward, Hoshi seems to be attempting to bring the boil in his blood to a low simmer, “Listen, princess. We’re pirates alright, but me and my crew, we keep to ourselves. If your daddy the king hadn’t decided to meddle and steal my fucking ship, you would’ve been home in your pretty palace, asleep in your bed of gold by now.” 

The pirate captain’s face is closer than you’d ever be comfortable with, seething in a way that has you pressing further into the mast. “We may be degenerates but we keep our own morals, as twisted as your people heed them to be.” 

When he finally pulls away, you take a breath and thank the air that simply exists, eyes downcast as you attempt to look braver than you feel. 

“I’m not pushing you overboard. I’ve duped your people once, they’ll be more prepared next time. We need you alive while you’re in our hands.” 

“How are you going to summon a ransom? You sent away your only messengers,” you ask, a sad attempt at a mock, but also because you wanted to know what his plan was. 

“Your useless Admiral’s taken up that job.”

“By lifeboat? You’ve left them all for dead, how do you expect this genius plan to work?” 

“They could’ve swam to shore if it came to it, we were close enough.”

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

“Do I need to gag you too?” he gives you one last irritated look before stalking off towards the lower deck. You’re left alone in the cooling afternoon heat, the sound of the sea keeping your ears company along with your own slowing breaths. 

Everything he said has a good enough chance to be a complete and utter lie. Never trust a pirate. No weapon to cut yourself out of your impossibly tight binds, nothing to protect you or give you reassurance besides a pirate’s word—the worst pirate’s word. 

Your battered thinking leads you straight through the setting of the sun, the orange glow of the sky shrouding the ship in the dreamiest backdrop while you live what you can only sum as a nightmare. Perhaps not, for you doubt your mind could ever conjure up a terror like this. 

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all. 

Having managed to wiggle your tied hands downwards, you had seated yourself with your head against the wood of the mast, staring into the translucent skies. So much freedom that taunts you in its illusion of proximity, yet so far still. 

There’s murmurs below deck, the only semblance of life you’ve heard in the past few hours after the stupid pirate captain stormed off. It seems to be on the stairs, a heated argument. 

“Obviously this wasn’t part of the plan, the chances were supposed to be zero to absolutely none. We landed with that scumbag’s successor, that’s just our piss luck and nothing more.” 

“You wanted a woman for bait, this should work the same.”

“Hao, I wanted a woman for bait to trigger a lukewarm reaction, this princess could either doom us all or make our job a fat punch easier, and I’m not betting on the latter.”

There’s a pause. 

“If only she’d cut it with the random hysterics and creepy-staring-at-the-sky we could actually get something useful out of her.” 

“Pray that window holds up or any chance of a miracle is gone to the wind.”

It’s like you’ve woken up with the way the stupid idea begins to form in your head. You think of your father, the kind of man he is, the kind of ruler he is. All the ‘if’s are guiding you to a conclusion. One that gives you a fighting chance, one that may go beyond this massive navy ship and clear into the rest of your life—if you make it that far anyway. 

Your father and his men would come, give this unhinged pirate what he desires so dearly, you know that for sure. But you also know it wouldn’t be for you, but for the crown that’s destined to fall upon your cursed head. 

If it’s his ship that he wants…

The next time you see one of the pirate captain’s goons on the deck, you ask for an audience. 

“DID YOUR STUPID FATHER drop you on your head as a baby?” 

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull. 

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant. 

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?” 

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.” 

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?” 

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully, “What?” 

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone ever has.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest. 

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit. 

Is he about to cut your hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt. 

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long. 

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level. 

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it? Carry out a fucking waltz with Jack Ketch?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?” 

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.” 

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard. 

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope. 

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.” 

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion. 

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.” 

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed. 

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour. 

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?” 

THE SKY IS A lighter sheen of blue, leaning towards the premature hours of the morning. He’d left you untied, and as you gaze into the duned waters in the minimal light, the urge to jump in and create a ripple that goes beyond just the water is less tempting than you’d thought. The prospect of having a dead father, and a dead king, was enough to snap you out of your hysteria despite it being a plot of your own devising. 

You’ve been alone for a while, little indication that there was other life on this ship at all with the lack of human activity. There wasn’t much that you knew of sailing or ship handling, but leaving the deck unmanned for this long gave you the vague impression that you were on a vessel with poor practising pirates. If they’d thought you’d be equipped to handle any hiccups, they’d either find out the hard way, or whenever it was that you could find the wit to bring it up to the pirate captain and his strangely attached crew. 

Something that sounds distinctly like boots are thudding gradually up to the main deck, the unmistakable blond of the pirate captain himself coming into view. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but the low thuds are sending your heart racing, panic overcoming your senses for a brief moment before you recalibrate. It’s only then that you realise it’s been more than 24 hours since the ship was hijacked. Somehow, you could have believed it was a lifetime. 

He’s disturbingly nonchalant, hand at the sheathed hilt of the dagger at his hip, a casual glance around at the empty abyss of ocean and sky. When he reaches the far end of the deck, right above the prow, he stops. 

“Are you going to push me off the rails?” you ask, half genuine, half trying to fill the silence as you face one another. 

“No.” He said it plainly, the single word reply leaving you even more uncomfortable. 

“Have you thought about what I said…with your crew?” you ask, hand coming up to grab the railing for support. 

“I did.” 

“Do I sense an objection?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat

“Not exactly,” he says. “We want to hear your master plan for this heist before we agree to anything.” 

He’s asking for a plan, a plan that you do not have.

You aren’t sure how he figured it out, perhaps it was the slight darting of your eyes as you thought of a response, but he seemed to read you like a book. He snorts loudly, “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“You’ve done this before, you’d know better.”

“And if I led you astray?”

You look at him, this time right into his dark eyes, “Then you lead me astray.” 

“Your contentment with death is wildly unsettling.” There’s a ghost of a sneer at his lip. 

“I’d rather be lounging in the bottom of the ocean than live with a prospective future with my father.” 

“So I’ve heard.”

There’s a huff that leaves you as you steel your voice. “I’m not trying to set you up if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I doubt you’d have that capability,” he says as he leans his forearms over the railing. You briefly consider pushing him over but think better of it. 

As much as you wanted to be a sneaky link, you simply didn’t have that trait. You blame all the dependency your father’s fostered into you, ensuring that you couldn’t rule without his influence. 

“Are you willing to brew a plan or not? I need to time my dip in the ocean accordingly,” you say, sounding almost disgruntled.

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

He’s made himself familiar with the ship, you soon realise, as he leads you right downstairs to the lower deck towards the war room. When he opens the door, the room is lit with lamps, casting a golden glow on the reddish interior, warmer than the rest of the ship. 

“Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid,” he tells you as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You only exhale in response as you turn away from the door, towards the large table in the centre. It’s slightly cluttered, studying the scrawled notes as you realise they’re all from the Admiral, his directions and plans of course littered across the table. Turning towards the map on the walls, you lift a finger to trace the lifted ridges of snow capped mountains, trailing towards the dipped shallows of the blue water. 

It was an exact replica of the tactile map in the war room back home, and you’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. Not that you’d been away from home for too long, but the end result of what you're about to do, regardless of the outcome, would change your life forever. 

You feel yourself breathing in the lingering scent of mildew, a strange comfort in the warm quarters.

There’s a creak at the door, and you quickly retract to find the pirate captain back at the door, walking in with a trail of men behind him. You recognise them by their faces, watching as they all take their places in the edges of the room. They look relaxed. You note the pirate captain taking his place behind the main drawing table. 

“Your throne, miss princess.” He gestures exaggeratedly towards the lone cushioned chair across from him. You’re hyper aware of all the eyes that are trailed on you, and you feel almost embarrassed to take the only seat. 

It only lasts for a moment. You walk up to the chair with what you hope exuded confidence and take your place across from the pirate captain. His men circle the edge of the room, and you count five other men. 

He sighs, “I think introductions are in order.”

“Mingyu, Minghao,” he points to the two men that had inspected your window right after you tried breaking it open. 

“Jun,” he gestures to the one who had found you in your quarters the night it all went wrong. 

“Seungkwan and Chan,” you recognize the latter as the one who’d tied you to the mast at his captain’s command. 

“They’ll be helping kill your dear father.” 

It’s silent for a moment as you attempt to moisten your mouth. You’re reminded you haven’t eaten or drank for hours, not since one of them had come up with a tray of whatever they could find for you from the reserves. 

“I know I may not be the most admissible person to trust, or vice versa—” You hear someone snort but choose to ignore it. “But I’m willing to make myself useful to you if it means you would help me too.”

“Would it not be easier to lock him up instead?” someone asks, and you turn to find Seungkwan asking the question from next to the tactile map. 

“He has too many people indebted to him, too many that are too loyal for their own good. I cannot truly rule for as long as he’s alive and well.”

“And how do you expect his loyal court mongers to let you bid favour to the people who killed their king?” the pirate captain asks with a raised brow. 

“Which is why it needs to look like an accident.” 

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question—”

“We need to be transparent with each other if either of us wants to make it out relatively unscathed.”

He doesn’t look too happy but he answers anyway, “My ship and five hundred thousand for all our trouble. Two months from now at the Green Islands up north.”

The Green Islands were anything but green, the glaciers being near uninhabitable owed to the ruthless weather. It was smart enough, it’d be near impossible to bring as much violent power that far north, no matter how influential anyone is.  

“Is five hundred thousand all I’m worth?” you feel the beginnings of a sneer rise up your mouth. You aren’t sure what prompted it but you don’t want to fight it either. 

“Didn’t know I was bartering for a fucking princess’ case, did I?” he snaps. “Now tell us how you want us to commit the undetected homicide of a King.”

“We need to blow up his ship.” To your surprise (and maybe even a little horror), the pirate captain breaks into a slight grin. Neither do you miss other bits of his crew releasing a bit of a snicker. 

There’s a flare of defiance within you, “Do you have any better ideas then?” 

“No, no. Go on,” he says with his head hung. You’re surprised he has the character to shield his smile. 

“He doesn’t frequent the seas but I’m almost sure he’d be present at the exchange.”

“Almost?” he questions.

You hesitate. The combined chance of needing the crown home and seeing to the downfall of his enemies would be enough warmth to send him to the greenlands himself. You were confident, but your father could also be unpredictable.

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.” 

The pirate captain lifts his head, locking eyes with you. You try not to look as weak as you felt, as unsure as you felt, pooling all the remaining confidence into your face. 

He swallows before looking away, addressing one of the crew members. “How big are we talking?”

Jun looks up like he’s only just begun to pay attention, fumbling over the revolver in his hands as it thuds to the ground like a theatrical mistake, “What?”

His captain sighs before replying, “Explosion. How big does it need to be to blow up a naval ship with a King on it?”

The man brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his nape. “If it’s anything like this one, we’re gonna need a lot of ammo.” 

“Just enough to sink it,” you speak before you could decide not to. “Even better if they don’t realise it’s happening.”

He thinks for a moment. “We could plant it in the bilge somehow.”

“But how do we get on that ship? When they’re giving us a tour of the lower decks?” The man you recall as Seungkwan scoffs. 

“Throw a grenade on board somehow?” you hear one of them suggest. 

“Real subtle, Chan,” you hear another mock. 

The war room is in shambles before you know it, loud voices talking over threats to slit throats and to shove people overboard. The room is humid and it feels as though the light from the oil lamps are fading. You close your eyes amidst the utter chaos, rubbing the heel of your palm on your temple in an attempt to soothe the throbbing vein. 

“Enough!” The pirate captain has spoken and you have the urge to ask what took him so long. 

Tranquility once again and you almost thank the man. Before anyone can say another word, nausea begins to build in your stomach. 

It takes you a minute to realise the room was spinning and that you weren’t completely losing your mind. The ship begins to rock harder as the seconds tick by, everybody in the room seemingly still as they perceive the change.

“Batten down the hatches,” the pirate captain says to no one in particular.

Chan is the only one who moves to the door to leave before he’s interrupted. 

“All of you. Those clouds weren’t looking too nice up there, we’ve got a storm on our hands.”

By everyone he surely did not mean you, because as the room rushes out and you hear the thuds of boots clamouring up to the main deck, you’re left alone with the captain. Yet again.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady, and you wonder how he’s able to remain balanced while on his feet. It isn’t long before your chair begins to slide as well, the legs croning as they slip on the hardwood. You spring up on instinct, hands coming to the bolted down drawing table to stabilise yourself. 

The pirate captain seems unphased, moving the curtains on the far end to try to get a glimpse at where the water breaks. He steps like he knows exactly where the evermoving floor would be, barely glancing below to gauge his footing. 

“Shouldn’t you be up there?” There’s effort in your voice, your grip on the table as hard as ever as the ship banks to a hard left. He barely grabs the wall in support. 

“Huh? They can figure it out themselves, they’re big boys,” he grunts.

“Your big boys were at each other’s throats a moment ago,” you grunt back, stumbling at a particularly forceful lurch. 

“If you weren’t so ill prepared they wouldn’t need to use their brains, that’s always dangerous,” he shoots back. He’s on the other end of the room, pushing the unbolted cabinet back in its place 

“I gave you a job and it's up to you to see it done, I’m not—ah— I’m not supposed to be planning at all!” 

“Are you?” He’s turned to look at you know, mouth hitched in a snarl as his forehead reflects a light sheen. “Because trying to murder a—”

“Trying to murder a King isn’t a normal task,” you finish for him in a hiss. “Yes, as you’ve reiterated a million times.”

“Great, so you know!” Sarcasm is a deadly look on him, you realise as he walks over from the cabinet to where you were in the middle of the room. The waves have given in, the rocking becoming significantly slower. “Now do you mind telling us about a plan that actually has better odds?”

Your white knuckles have relented, the hands that gripped the table coming loose as you stare back at the pirate in defiance. “I should just hand you over.”

“It’s sweet you think you’re in charge here,” the grit in his voice is evident. “This isn’t your turf anymore, miss princess.”

“You don’t trust me, and you don’t give me reason to trust you—ugh.”

The waves seemed to have decided she hadn’t had enough just yet, this particular lurch sending you hurtling backwards into the wall, back hitting the hardwood as the stable pirate himself loses his footing. You could almost believe you’d landed sideways with the gravity that’s lost its way beneath your feet. 

The chair you were once sitting on is hurtling towards you with a vengeance, gaining momentum as you simply watch it approach like a wooden bullet. A boot clad foot kicks it to the other end and you realise the pirate captain’s gotten hold of his bearings before you have. 

“What happened to being transparent with one another?” he huffs, breathless and wide eyed as he attempts to pull himself to his feet. 

There’s another lurch that sends you both skidding towards the table, just short of grabbing on before you’re hurtled into the cabinet that had moved again, and now slams back into the wall with the weight of the sea and two humans with a bang!

“Fine. You give me your ammo to blow up the bilge, let me on the ship with my dear father and one of you scoops in and saves me before I drown with him,” you yell over the sounds of clanging and banging of everything on this cursed ship, and the whooshing and thunders of the skies, winds and water. “And if I riddled the chances of you letting me drown with my father? Where does that leave me?”

“On the bottom of the seabed,” he deadpans. “But that also leaves me without my freedom.”

You find the opportunity to look at him for a moment, and he’s looking at you too. He looks away towards the door, already making moves to walk out and join his crew above deck. The conversation was over, and it was evident in your lack of reply.

Mother nature, however, sends another one in as a surprise and you're both sent flying to the other end of the ship, yet again. 

There’s a cushion to your blow this time as you find yourself landing right into the pirate captain’s chest, hand above his heart in your instinct to save yourself any more bruises. Between your bickering and the staggering of the ship, his shirt had flown open nearly down to his navel. 

Your eyes barely register the nasty scar across his left pec, instead moving upwards to lock eyes with him. It’s insanity, how you instinctively dart your eyes towards his half open mouth. 

“If you wanted me that bad, miss princess, you could’ve just asked.”

Whatever airborne drug that’d been willy nillying in your noggin seems to spin into a rage as his words register a moment too late. Clenched jaw and a vice grip on his shirt, you spit back. 

“I don’t ask for things. They come to me.”

There’s a crash above you and you realise the oil lamp that was suspended above has shattered, raining glass over your forms. 

Expect you don’t feel it, because he’s ducked over you and suspended his arms in the air to catch the crystalline. 

Before you can decide whether it was instinct or not, you hear a yell at the door.

“Captain! One of the—oh.” 

A barely balancing Mingyu, is staring into the now dimly lit war room, his captain and their supposed prisoner pressed against one another in a dark corner of the room. 

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards. 

“Get back up,” he snarls, already pushing past you to stalk towards the door. He actually makes it this time, shoving Mingyu into the hall towards the stairs. 

Not as much as a glance back before he slams the door shut, leaving you in the tattered war room alone, shards of glass at your feet.

THE STORM SEEMS TO have done its damage as it calmed itself for the rest of the morning and well into the day. 

One of them had come down and escorted you to your quarters, Chan telling you that you could keep it while the rest of them adjusted in the other cots and quarters aboard. Changing out of your ragged, days old clothes felt luxurious, the familiar scent of your quarters putting your tense shoulders at ease; or at least a semblance of such. 

Neither you nor the captain have attempted to speak to each other after the incident in the war room. Having berated yourself for letting your guard down enough, you chalked it up to the lack of food and sleep and put the matter to rest in some deeply buried chest in your head. 

For now you board up the door of your cabin (because you haven’t completely lost it), and burrow under the covers for some much needed shut eye. 

You aren’t sure how long the universe lets you rest, because unless you’ve slept all the way to the Green Islands the banging on the door seems incessant enough to warrant an arrest of its own. The sleep is slow to leave, and it’s hard enough to push an entire drawer against a door, the bleariness paired with whoever the fuck was outside the door isn’t making it easier to push it away from the entrance either. 

By the time you’ve wrenched the door open, you’re thoroughly annoyed, and met with a very alarmed Seungkwan. 

“Oh thank goodness, I was about to try opening it,” he says, looking genuinely relieved. “I thought you might’ve….anyway.”

“You weren’t trying to break in before?” you ask.

He only thrusts a tray of rations and water towards you, “Captain said to give this to you.”

Accepting the tray, you try to balance it in one hand with furrowed brows, “Oh.”

“Um. That’s it, sorry for waking you up.” He makes a move like he’s about to turn around and leave but falters. “If…if you need anything a bunch of us are on the main deck.”

And then he’s gone. 

You take it as your cue to shut the door, kicking one of the heftier pieces of furniture against it before moving back inside. 

When you peer up your tiny window, it’s late afternoon and the beginnings of orange on the surface tell you the sun is beginning to set. You decide it was a good enough amount of sleep. Setting the tray down on the smaller than usual desk, you find that these pirates do not have a knack for subtlety. Many of your letters and papers are haphazardly stacked and shoved into one corner of the table, very obviously sifted through. 

Not that you care too much, there was nothing awfully important that you wouldn't have told them yourself. Ripping off a piece of bread from the tray, you take pleasure in chewing as loudly and as open mouthed as you wished, plucking the parchment at the top of the pile to study. 

It’s another one signed by your father, not a question of your wellbeing in sight as he scrawls ink on paper all the incorrect things you did in the Southerner’s banquet last month. If anything, you were glad the stupid Admiral was away from your presence, his incessant habit of reporting your every breath and turn to your father was becoming too much to handle. 

This was one of his tamer letters, less insults attached to his criticisms but a pain to read anyway. You don’t brush away the crumbs that fall onto the parchment. 

There is not a diplomatic bone in your body. Perhaps move on from drinks and dessert and into more important territories besides the Duke’s son. Our kingdom needs a ruler that’s strong, not one that forgets where she is after a sip of brandy!

If you squint hard enough, it almost reads as a parent scolding a child for a spill, like regardless of what you did, he might just love you the same. 

You wonder how good of a mood he was in when he wrote this. 

Sifting through the rest of the papers you take a mental note of every reason he’s given you to believe that you’d be a hopeless ruler, a few years ago you even questioned why he kept you around before realising his contradicting intentions. As you read, letter by letter, you think of reasons you know are going to make you a better ruler, better than him and better than his stupid court of old men.

These pirates are a blessing, you think, and you aren’t about to let this chance from the universe drown in these waters.

HOSHI ISN'T IN TROUBLE. No, he isn’t. On his butt on the sleek floorboards of the ship, his own golden dagger glinting in the sunlight as it's held in a threatening hold, except it isn’t in his hands. 

It’s pointed right into his jugular vein, held by some grimy sailor who considers himself something akin to a pirate. Perhaps the stench this sorry excuse of a crew carries around may be their idea of a criteria, but as Hoshi remains inches away from death, all he can think about is the atrocious fingers around his dagger, and all the scrubbing he’s going to be doing after this is all over. 

Mingyu had warned him, told him to take down the flag of the navy from the mast, the royal seal in the smack middle of the ginormous thing. He brushed it off. He wasn’t quite sure if he was tipsy, hungry or just plain exhausted when he made that decision, because he’d forgotten just how stupid some of these simpleton sailors could get. 

They were taken by surprise, their only weapons mops and buckets of soapy water as they were ambushed by some overlooked wherry that had suddenly thrown hooks over their railing and climbed up like uninvited sewer rats. 

In the initial confusion, interrupted mid-chorus of some pretty siren and her pirate prince, the first few intruders had simply crumpled over onto the slippery deck, a few slipping overboard completely from the suds and water on the wood. His crew, and Hoshi himself, could only stand and watch as the newcomers sabotaged themselves for a few incredulous moments before they gained their bearings. 

Chan and Seungkwan swang their mops right into the necks of a couple, sending them into the ocean without waiting for a splash. 

Hoshi slips out his dagger with practised ease, swinging the butt of the hilt over the head of another ambushing intruder, right on the head as he crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. He kicks him over for an indication of where he came from. No ink that shows an alliance, no brooch or jewels with a crest. 

New guys, ones that were clearly still learning the ropes. 

Hoshi’s crew had better senses than required for him to yell out orders, and it only took a few more disgruntled minutes to disable the remaining extra men aboard. 

“Where the fuck did these guys come from?” he asks no one in particular, mostly just annoyed that they were disturbed. 

Minghao, who’s peeking over the railing replies, “It’s a tiny thing. They either lost their actual boat or didn’t have one at all.”

He vaguely registers him making a jerking arm movement over the exterior before he hears a wail and a splash. “Disgusting.” Minghao holds his hands away from his body like he didn’t want it anymore. 

Hoshi’s mistake was keeping his guard down, because before anyone could warn him, the dagger that he held loosely against his hip had slipped out his palm. The next thing he knows, his neck is in some grimy sleeve’s grip, and the point of his dagger is lodged into his own throat. He holds his breath, afraid he might pass out completely from the stench alone. 

“Not a move.” He sounds like a boy more than anything, but his grip indicates a harsher life. “Everybody into that fishing boat. I’ll throw this one in when you’re done.” 

He sounds unstable, but that only makes him more dangerous. Hoshi can’t try to wiggle his way out of this one, one wrong move and it’s the end. His crew can’t do anything as they stand with broken mops and empty buckets as their weapons. 

It was stupid of him to even allow himself to be cornered like this, not when he’s weaselled his way out of more dangerous situations with more ease than this. 

His crew looks at him, and he can only close his eyes in encouragement. He watches as Jun steps over one of the defeated bodies to reach the hooks that’ve lodged into the railing. His movements are slow, and he can tell he notices the unhinged nature of this boy that he doubts is barely over 17. 

Chan follows, then Seungkwan as Jun double checks the integrity of the ropes. He’s stalling. 

“Hurry!” It was supposed to come out as a threat, but it sounded more like a plea from the boy. 

And then Jun stops completely, his eyes trained on Hoshi. His eyes are wide, his grip on the rope so tight he can see the whites of his knuckles from the other side of the ship. 

No, he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking behind him. Before he can register, there’s a loud bang of a gunshot, and Hoshi feels the body of his captor slump against his back, his dagger dropping to the ground with an ominous clang. He falls with him, turning over to push the dead weight of the body off of him. 

There’s smoke in the air when Hoshi looks back and it takes him a moment to realise who just basically saved his life. 

You stand in your nightgown, shawl over your shoulders, and a revolver, Jun’s revolver, clenched tightly in both hands. It remains frozen in the air, hovering as he takes in your face. Eyes wide, mouth open slightly, the colour drained from your face. 

Hoshi scrambles to get up as the rest of the crew swarm both him and you. He grabs his dagger before anything else, looking back to see a bullet lodged in the back of his captor’s skull, blood pooling the deck. 

He looks back at you shoving the revolver back into Jun’s hands eagerly, like you didn’t want to feel the warmth of the metal any more than you wanted to make that shot. 

He looks back at the cooling body, and then back at you, an undeniable warmth overcoming his chest. 

You just saved his life.

“Are you alright?” he hears Chan ask you. You nod slowly, and then quickly. 

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks. 

“Uh, in one of the quarters. Downstairs. I went down because I thought it’d be safer, you were handling it and I didn’t want to get in the way. But then…all your weapons were there.” 

Your voice sounds airy, like you were in a daze. Hoshi comes to the stark realisation that this may have been your first time with a weapon, and then even more horrifying, your first kill. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought it was getting out of hand and—” 

“It’s alright,” Seungkwan says. He watches as you let him lead you back down the stairs below decks. 

It was like the shock turned you into a different person, complacent, less defiant. Seungkwan clearly had more of an emotional range, because it certainly took Hoshi too long to realise you might be on the edge of panic. 

Hoshi doesn’t say a word as you disappear, the smell of gunpowder from the singular shot wafting through the deck. He doesn’t realise he’s staring into space until Mingyu interrupts. 

“Should we—”

“Throw them overboard,” Hoshi says, voice flat. 

“But, this one seems like he’ll come around. We could question him and drop him off wherever next—”

“He’s a shit seaman, if even a pirate, he’s got what came for him. Throw. Him. Overboard.” Hoshi is out of breath, yet grits the words out through clenched teeth. “All of them.”

Hoshi slips his dagger back into its sheath at his hip. All he can think about is your blown pupils and you in your nightgown. All he can think about is how they were almost bested by a child. All he can think about is how you had to make that final shot to save his ass, that he couldn’t do it himself. 

Mingyu senses his mood and asks no more questions, simply pushing the remaining bodies out into the water. He vaguely registers Minghao sending the men a prayer into the sea. Mingyu’s already trying to get the stupid naval flag off the mast, stripping off his jacket and disposing of it at the base to start climbing. 

Chan pushes a clean rag into his chest, and he looks down to receive it and notes a tinge of blood at his collar. Right, he was bleeding. 

They go back to cleaning, except it’s a lot more silent. 

Jun walks back up to help, but this time he has both of his clean, black revolvers strapped at his hip.

THERE WERE FEWER PEOPLE in the war room this time around, the captain sits beside Mingyu, Jun and Minghao as they attempt to sketch out a crude rendition of your discussion. The pirate captain does nothing but use his dagger to pick under his nails, barely speaking as he listens in on the conversation. 

Not that you cared, you and the rest of his crew seemed to get along better than you did with the captain anyway. Saving the man’s life seemed to hold no weight to him, not that you expected it but a ‘thank you’ would have sufficed. 

“Keep the grenade til the last minute if it makes you feel better, so you’ll know I’m not trying to sink the wrong ship,” you sigh as you clarify. Minghao doesn’t reply as he scribbles the details. Jun rolls his eyes at his meticulous nature. 

“We need to port in the next couple days if I’m gonna finish this grenade in time,” he says, looking at his captain pointedly. 

“We can stop at Port Ash,” Hoshi says. 

Port Ash was no man’s land, which also meant it was every man’s land. 

Being mostly occupied by pirates and other thieves and criminals it was considered dangerous territory for anyone who didn’t speak in lies, deceit and fists. This crew would fit right in, but you worry for yourself. 

“That’s not gonna be till a week and a half,” Mingyu interjects. 

Jun frowns as he looks at Mingyu and then back at his captain, “I can’t wait that long.”

“We’ll pick up what we can at Hasry when we stop for rations,” Hoshi replies. 

“But—”

“Deal with it. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Jun looks like he wants to say something, and Mingyu has the good sense to interject again to ask more questions about the plan. 

“How much manpower do you think the king’ll have?” he asks.

You sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “I have no idea. Could be five, could be fifty.”

“Not even an inkling?”

“Considering how he wants the lot of you gone, it’s probably on the larger side. But…” you pause. 

“But?”

“He’s smart. Always seemingly one step ahead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he catches us blind.” 

“I know enough about that,” Hoshi snorts. There’s a glint in his eye that suggests something, but you don’t press.

“I was wondering…we should probably change course even if it takes us longer. My father might intercept—”

“Did that. Didn’t take the obvious alternative route either,” Mingyu replies, and you note that he looks proud of himself. “We can take our time too, the ransom note suggested we took the way past Scarsfield.”

“We should be careful of other boats anyway,” you say, gulping down a lump in your throat before continuing. “Those other sailors could’ve been my father’s men too, for all we know.”

“They were on a smaller boat too,” Hoshi adds, he looks like he’s making connections in his brain. “What’re the odds they were dropped farther back into a smaller boat?”

There’s a pause as you absorb what he’s implying. “Are you saying they’re on our tail?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “He’s done it before. It was a sorry attempt then and it was a sorry attempt now.”

“How did you shake him off last time?”

The panic in your chest is barely there, but as you register the possibility, you find yourself breathing increasingly heavy. 

“Circling farther out before going the opposite way so we wouldn’t cross paths.” He shakes his head. “But we can’t do that now, not when we can’t afford detouring. The port stops are as late as I’m willing to go.”

“What if we skip Hasry? It’s our more obvious stop, we’ll just stop at Ash later,” Minghao suggests. 

“We’ll starve, we’ve got no food,” Hoshi gruffs.

“Portwater?” 

“Too far.”

It’s silent yet again as everyone racks their brains. You feel very useless all of a sudden, you didn’t know the names of harbours or ports this far out.

“We’ll just port at Hasry and be extra careful, there’s nothing we can do.” Hoshi sighs at his own ultimatum. 

He gets up and walks around the table to the door, “I’ll update the others.”

You glance as he walks past you, his figure leaving a gust of wind in your face. He smelled nice, which was saying something considering the state some pirates are known to be in. As he brushes past, your gaze is met with the other side of the war room, an empty oil lamp bracket on the wall. 

The memory of the storm floods your mind, and suddenly your cheeks are burning. Snapping your head back, you're thankful they’re all absorbed in the papers and plans on the table, oblivious to the memory that’s flashed before your eyes. Mingyu was the one who saw you in your compromising position, and you didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he’d do something as dumb as dish out his captain’s ‘affairs’. 

You file out the room with them. They don’t escort you to your rooms, make sure you stay in one place, restrict your wandering anymore. Perhaps they’d realised you weren’t actively attempting to sink the ship anymore, or that if you jumped off the edge it didn’t matter to them that much, but you appreciated the space anyway. 

Briefly catching Seungkwan filling Mingyu in on the past couple hours they’d been below deck, you turn over to catch his eye. He waves, and you wave back. You don’t realise what you did till it already happened, noting the smile on his face as he did it. You choose to move past it and find the captain. 

There was something you wanted from him. 

There’s no trace of him on the main deck, eyes scanning the area to no avail. A movement from above catches your peripheral attention, eyes squinting as you crane your neck up to look. Hoshi has leaned his back against the railing of the crow’s nest, arms crossed, visible hand occupied with a brass telescope that glints in the sunlight. 

He isn’t using it though, merely gazing at the horizon with furrowed brows. As though he could see better without the device in his hand. In the few minutes that you’re looking at him, you notice the muraled, multicoloured shirt that blows with the wind, a kaleidoscope of beiges, greens and reds. The crop of his blonde hair blends in with the clear blue-white sky. 

Briefly wondering how he’s managing the impossible heat, a hand coming over your own eyes as a visor, you simply look back down. Seungkwan is next to you. You aren’t quite sure how he got there, but he stands next to you, hands on his hips, a pleasant expression on his face. 

“Is there anything you want when we dock? We’re trying to make a list,” he says. Somehow, the prospect of pirates making lists boggled you a little. It was a little jarring, not quite sure why he asked a captive anyway.

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

“I don’t think so, no,” you reply and then juggle whether you should push it with another measly formality. “Thank you for asking.”

“That was your first kill, wasn’t it?”

“What?” You knew what he was talking about, but you weren’t expecting him to bring it up in the moment when he’s asking you about restocking supplies. And especially not with a smile on his face. 

“That day, when you used Jun’s revolver to shoot the lad.” 

A kid. He was a child. 

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

“What made you do it?” he asks, remaining as nonchalant as ever. 

“I—I don’t know, it looked like there wasn’t another option,” you say, not quite sure of yourself either. 

Why did you shoot him? You’d never laid hands on a gun before, your father forced you into the category of archery and crossbows, not that you were very good at them either but it was also because you simply wanted to spite your father by being plain bad. It worked, because it only took a year and a half and an arrow straight into his study window to retire from the sport entirely.

Even then, your targets had been apples, barrels and tree trunks. Never a person. 

You’d heard of what people tended to do in pressuring situations, and with the way the aftermath unfolded, it didn’t seem like you made the wrong decision to pick up that revolver anyway. 

But the feeling lingers, the same one that you saw as you gazed into the back of the boy that held the captain of this ship hostage. It felt wrong. Like watching the pirate captain cornered was a picture you couldn’t quite make sense of in your head. 

So you pulled the trigger. 

“In any case, we’re glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. “That’s a lot for a pirate to say.”

“I know.”

BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi it’s already the next day, and you’re only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry. 

It’s an anxious ordeal, the crow’s nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway. 

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

He was piling coiled ropes when you’d said it, pushing the heap to the side, sweating through his clothes. There was a flash of confusion on his face as he registered you. 

“Why? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?” he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. He’s too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly. 

You ignore the way his previously loose shirt now sticks to him, ignore the way the droplets land on your boots when he shakes his sleeve. 

“We’ve discussed what we might be up against, I don’t want to be useless when the time comes.”

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

“Anyone can shoot a gun,” you say, getting the sudden urge to fidget with the front of your shirt. You try to make your voice sound as declarative as possible. “I want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.” 

He doesn’t say anything as you look down, fiddling with the tassels on your shirt. Your excuse was the sun and the way it was beating down on the deck this afternoon, getting tired of squinting to simply look straight. When the silence prolongs you look up to push further, juggling with bringing up the fact that you saved his life and that, as Seungkwan very graciously told you, he owes you. 

The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back. 

The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water that’s somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldn’t make out. 

He wrings it as you can only watch, mouth gaping like a fish. Hanging it over one of the suspended ropes to dry, he mutters as he walks to the lower decks. 

“Fine,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ll get you a knife at Hasry.”

Hasry. Right. 

The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. There’s not much to see but fishermen both returning and leaving for another week's worth of fish supply. Minghao manages to pay and convince the harbourmaster that they were merchants on their way back to the Kingdom, stopping for supplies. The naval make of the ship helped, and then the crew pulled lines and ropes secured from masts in ways you couldn’t quite decipher. 

You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed you’d be joining them. 

Hoshi deemed it safer, keeping the rest of the crew on board while he, along with you and Seungkwan, ventured into the village to get what was needed and leave before the sun fully set. If they really were being followed, the ship was going to be the first thing they seized. 

Pulling the grey shawl further up your head, you attempt to look as blended as you could, Chan pressing down your shoulders to force you into a slouch. 

“Stop walking like you're important,” he had said. 

“I’m a princess,” you snapped back, but he wasn’t listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebody’s attention. 

The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that you’d run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than you’d expected, the faint scent of baked goods in the air mixed with, onion soup, was it? In any case you were glad you were past the fish market, the yelling and the stench nearly sending you to the pavement, gagging. 

When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall that’s selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop. 

You can only observe from afar, instructed to not interact with anyone while he was gone. Hoshi was gone to get food supplies, but returned empty handed. Systems were in place, that the crates would be on their way to the “big naval ship” at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.

“They said there was a blacksmith up this alley” Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. “We can get your knife there.”

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused. 

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

“Don’t!” Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows. 

“It’s fine, they’re too far,” Hoshi says. “Let’s get this over with.”

You do find a blacksmith, an older man with a greying beard and bloodshot eyes that presents Hoshi and Chan with an array of knives and daggers. Either they were able to give an excuse, or he gave no mind to the third woman that trailed behind, the blacksmith continued to deal with the two men as they haggle over prices. 

There’s another seller a ways away, and she’s laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. It’s a woman, not much older than you were, unravelling a long string of leather cord. She cuts it, strings a charm through and seals the frayed end with a candle flame that burns at her side. 

The curtain she’s laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you can’t make out any of it from where you stand. 

Glancing behind you, the men are still occupied with their bartering, seemingly forgetting of your presence. Taking a step back, you pretend to skim through the neighbouring stalls, glancing breezily at woven baskets, layers of folded fabric and towers of painted ceramic cups. 

You stop before the laid out array of more necklaces and earrings, scanning the ground. The vendor looks up and gives you a big, crooked toothed smile, urging you to come forward, to take a look at what she has to offer. 

Something does catch your eye, and you immediately crouch down to see it better. Picking up the necklace from the charm, you let the gold and red rest on your fingers as you study the make. 

“That one’s new,” the woman says. “Practical too.”

The small brass letter opener that’s looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size. 

“It’s quite popular among the busy merchants,” the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. “Easier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers and—and in their cabinets.”

She lets out a laugh, “Quite pretty too.”

You stare at it for a moment, “How much?”

“Ten coin.”

You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again. 

“I’ll do seven!” 

You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt you’d be recognized just by the sound of your voice.

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp. 

“How about that pretty thing on your finger then?” she asks. 

The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your father’s court a few years ago. You stare at the band, worth boatloads more than what this woman in an alley was offering you.

But you find yourself moments later, middle finger empty, and pocket lined with the long leather necklace with the miniature letter opener charm. 

By the time you return to the blacksmith’s shop front, Chan is handing the man his coin as Hoshi holds an object sheathed in fabric. They turn around just soon enough to make it seem like you never left. 

“Why are you standing so far away?” Chan asks. “Come closer.”

You listen, moving closer to the both of them as they get ready to make the trek back to the docks where the ship waits. 

“The crates have probably been loaded too,” Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume he’s pocketed the knife somewhere. “Let’s hurry and leave before—”

“Princess?”

It was your mistake that you turned around to acknowledge the title, something you realise as soon as you register the man that spoke to you. 

Henley was a stout man, dressed even now in the finest suit of a berry colour, hair white as a ghost. There was no reason for a merchant so rich he had ties with the royal family to be wandering in a harbour market, but he also had every reason to be here. 

If it was the recognition in your eyes, or the fact that they were just being smart, you feel one of the pirates wrap their fingers around your upper arm and pull you to walk away from the alley. 

“Princess!” Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you aren’t running yet. 

Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard it’s deafening any other sound in your ears, you still don’t know which one has a hold of you, but you let them guide you into a speed walk as you exit the narrow alleys of the main market. 

The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. There’s nothing in your mind other than Clarence Henley and his rich suit, his gold pocket watch, his trimmed, white hair. His face that you only ever saw within palace walls, always accompanied by your father. 

There’s a good chance you’re shaking, because you can feel your body rejecting it with the pain in your palms that you can only consider to be your own nails pressing into your hand. 

The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. It’s only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and you’re suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.

It’s immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. You’re led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall. 

“Are you alright?” 

Snapping your head up, you’re met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze. 

“Oh, erm.” Your voice sounds…not like your own. 

“It’s okay, breathe.” It helps, because it really did feel like you’d forgotten to breathe. 

“We’re leaving in just a few, everything’s been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, don’t worry.”

Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas. 

The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless. 

When you’ve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean. 

“Captain said they couldn’t run because it just would’ve been more suspicious,” Seungkwan informs you as you nod. “Did you…did you recognise him? The man at the market.” 

The thoughts come flooding back, the colour of his suit, the jarring nature of a man of such wealth standing in a rundown port market. 

“He’s a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my father’s. If he even has any friends.” 

You pause as you think about the near blackout you’d had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality. 

“I think…” you trail off. “I think I just felt like it was the end. I finally had an opportunity to get rid of that tyrant and seeing something that was from home, felt…it felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.”

Seungkwan doesn’t say a word as you digest your own words, accepting your own fear that had rendered you useless in the time it probably mattered most. 

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

At the door stands Hoshi, a stern expression on his face as he looks directly at you on the bed. In his hands, the same fabric covered knife he acquired at the market. 

You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known. 

“He’s right,” Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. “Blades have a way of calming you in any case.”

You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwan’s sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshi’s own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to. 

Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, “Can we start now?”

He smirks. 

ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air. 

“Your opponent’s baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,” he comments, continuously unhelpful. “Swing faster.”

It’s nighttime, nothing but a few oil lamps on the floor of the deck keeping you and Hoshi in the light. Your shoulder burns, your forearms are liquid, and your non-existent opponent remains forever stronger than you. 

“I’m done,” you huff, thoroughly spent. Crumbling to the floor, you bring your non-dominant hand up to your aching shoulder in an attempt to massage it. 

It’s been a while, the moon high up in the sky when you finally decide to quit it for the night. He lets you go without a fight, and you doubt you’d have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway. 

The following day, he’s tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that you’re finally swinging at something tangible; him. 

He leaves himself open, an invitation to strike wherever you want. You feign for his shoulder, but he sees you coming from a mile away, already deflecting your flattened blade that comes for his thigh.

“Don’t look where you want to strike, you’re giving yourself away.”

Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. He’s immediately cocking a brow, telling you to come at him again. You go for his middle, slashing your knife in an arc as he simply deflects. 

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts. 

Coming down with your knife again, he blocks you but this time with his forearm, pushing you back by the wrists. It was a battle of strength, as he forces your wrists down. He was stronger than you, and there was no way you could push away, so you dispel your own force. He stumbles from the sudden forward force, and you pull away to take a swing from above. 

He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when you’re ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand. 

There’s a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away. 

There’s an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You don’t get to say anything because he beats you to it. 

“Deep enough,” he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. “Keep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.”

Oh. 

“Alright,” he says again, moving back into position.

“Are you gonna wrap that?” you ask, referring to the bloody hand. 

“It’s fine, I’ve fought with worse,” he says. 

You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck. 

“You’re getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourself—JESUS!”

You’ve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasn’t expecting it, still talking over your glances at his palm. He had his guard down, and you took the chance. He ducks on instinct, but it could’ve been another scar for him to remember if you’d made it. 

You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.

“Nice try,” he says. “Really nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.”

“I lost my footing,” you defend, but even you knew that wasn’t an excuse. 

“And I just stabbed you in the back. And now I’ll have to present your corpse to your father and hope he’ll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.” 

The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right. 

“You’d just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,” you say. “You’re a slippery thing.”

He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. It’s a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. There’s a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands. 

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

You can only roll your eyes as a scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You simply turn around, settling to the floor, going back to massaging your still aching shoulder. That last blow only made it worse.

“I don’t regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.”

You remain silent. 

“Come on,” he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. He’s washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

“Because I don’t ever do things I’d regret.”

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

“Right-O,” he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.

“Funny,” you answer. “Because I dont think I’ve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.”

He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.

“You’ve looked into my eyes?” 

The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face might’ve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck. 

“I’ll send Jun up, practise with him.”

You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form. 

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass. 

But you don’t, mostly because he’d probably manage to deflect that too. So you resort to sitting cross legged on the deck, staring at your dagger while waiting for Jun to meet you upstairs. 

Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things you’d already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. It’s quite pretty, you’ll have to admit. It’s plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. You’d gotten used to the handle and how it fit in your palm, Hoshi assured you that the more you used it, the more the hilt would mould into your grip. 

Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck. 

“Should’ve picked a plain old gun,” he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. “Job’s done and you don’t need to get within ten feet.”

“Don’t have to reload a knife, do I?” you comment, taking the first swing. 

Jun may have an affinity for guns and explosives, but his handling with a knife was still nothing below an expert level. He pushes your arm off before spending you into a ballroom spin, flatting his blade at your collarbone. 

That could’ve been your throat.

“No, but by now I could’ve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,” he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again. 

That could’ve been your throat.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK PASSES with your days and nights muddled into a strange mixture of swinging knives and taking breaks slumped against the deck of the ship, unmoving. 

It’s a particularly hot day, the giant glowing orb beating down on the deck with no mercy. Not that it stops you, because the sun remains unwavering, high in the sky, and you remain unwavering in your wide legged stances as you lunge for Chan again. 

Chan’s entire being glistens in the afternoon light, the beads of sweat that he wipes off his forehead only seem to reappear every couple minutes. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, taking long breaths through his teeth amidst the difficult, humid air. 

You don’t doubt you look the same, one hand in your hair suggesting you just took a bath in your own sweat. But Chan seems accustomed to the heat, and while you weren’t, you couldn’t deny your growing comfortability with it all. 

It’d been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. You’re determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what you’ve been doing for the past week or so. 

There’s a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing. 

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

It’s all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. You’re succeeding, pushing the man further and further back. 

“You’re getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,” Chan seethes through his teeth. 

“I’m trying,” you grunt through the effort. 

You’re set back for a couple minutes before you go back to pushing. Your lungs burn, your entire side is numb from exertion, but you give more than your body is made for, and you succeed—kind of. 

Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute you’ve got eyes on Chan’s hands and his blade, and the next he’s gone. There’s a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what you’ve done. 

You just pushed Chan overboard. 

You scream before you can help it, dropping your knife with a loud, resonating clang. Pushing against the rails, you peer down to find a giant ripple on the surface of the ocean, whipping your head around to the stairs leading below deck to find Mingyu and Hoshi bounding upstairs. 

“What? Where’s Chan, he was supposed to be with you,” Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck. 

Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know. 

By the time Chan’s pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, you’ve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle. 

With the way the two men had merely sighed and threw the ladder over the exterior of the ship, you concluded that this must happen enough for them to be beyond the point of concern. It only adds to it when you see Mingyu nudge Chan’s unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense. 

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

He’s sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position. 

“It’s fine, happens.” He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well. 

“Now, Chan,” Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. “What’s the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?” 

Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, “Be aware of your surrounding—ARGH.”

Hoshi pushed him into the water. 

You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chan’s head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean. 

Just as you’re about to say something to Hoshi, he’s stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice. 

“One time was a mistake, twice is a problem!”

To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. He’s also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours. 

The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding you’ve done enough damage to your body, you announce that you’d be retiring for the day. 

“Thank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, I’ve been hearing clanging in my sleep,” Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck. 

In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat. 

Grabbing a clean washcloth, you fill a bucket of freshwater from one of the barrels on deck and lug it into your quarters. The soaked washcloth does wonders for your overheated body, feeling enormously better after a change of clothes. 

Your scalp, however, remains itchy and burning, so you decide to go back up to the main deck, hoping to manoeuvre a hair wash situation without needing to mop the floors of your quarters. 

Refilling the bucket of freshwater, you set it down before scanning the empty deck for another spare bucket. You try not to scoff at the unwavering determination of the pirate crew to keep the deck unoccupied for such long increments, that last altercation teaching them absolutely nothing. You wonder how they’ve managed to survive for so long like this. 

Shaking the thought, you use the spare bucket as a way to deposit your waste water as you pour cups of clean water over your aching scalp. The feeling does wonders for you, letting the water wash away weeks worth of grime, sweat and stress. 

You’re almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones you’d packed for yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you rub them into your scalp. You don't expect the clench that seizes your chest, but you falter when it happens anyway.

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it. 

It smells like the palace, like the incense your ladies in waiting always burned, the stench of citrus having made its way into your bones from the years of exposure to the scent. It’s too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes. 

The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt  hitting your nose. You’re more aggressive when you dunk your cup into the bucket this time, too aggressive as you feel the half full bucket tip over and spill water all over the deck as you cause yet another accident. 

Cursing loudly, you try to blink away the suds from your eyes, soap still in your hair as you try to figure out how to get another bucket of water without ruining your fresh change of clothes, mentally kicking yourself at not thinking this through.

“You realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?” 

Wet hair still in your hands, you attempt to peer up at the voice, only to find Hoshi standing above you, arms crossed over his chest with a funny expression on his face. Huffing, you grumble out in response, “Can you just get me a fresh bucket?”

“Hm, I don’t know, can I?” He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun. 

Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding you’d figure it out yourself if this dumb pirate was choosing to be of no help. But before you could latch your fingers on the handle, the bucket’s snatched away. 

At first you think he’s being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. “You—”

Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. “Try not to paint the deck with it this time, I’ve already mopped twice.”

The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you can’t say it to him. So you make a scene of splashing into the bucket with vigour, sending spills over the rim and taking mild satisfaction in hearing him sigh at the sight of more mopping. 

He’s already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time you’re done as you remerge with clean hair, wringing your own mop of hair to deposit the excess water. Straightening out your back, you take hold of the spare cloth you brought along with you, patting your hair with it. 

The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshi’s grumbling form as he mops up all the water you’ve spilled. 

“You know, I should really be making you—” He halts as he makes eye contact with you, your hands still occupied with patting your hair dry, flicking the wet strands. You have a rebuttal already prepared, waiting for him to finish his jab. 

“Make me what? you grind. 

You can’t make out the look on his face, somewhere between constipated and on the edge of a yelp, he keeps staring at you. You note a slight trickle of water making its way down your neck and chest, bleeding into your shirt as yet another water stain. 

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise. 

And with that uneventful climax, you trudge back down to your quarters, a strange brewing in your chest.

[AN]: congrats you made it to the end of part 1!!!!! reblog ur thots and opinions or send me an ask, id love to hear the turmoil in ur minds lol

[blue-jisungs]

heyy, how are you doing? hope life's treating you well during the last days of the year 🤚😔

I wanted to request smth but I'm not sure if I should send it here bc I didn't see a link? anyways. I was wondering how would wonwoo or scoups deal with a s/o that hasn't dated nor kissed before and therefore is scared of the commitment and all the pressure that comes with catching feelings? maybe I have a friend who's insecure about that, iykwim

thank you for taking the time<3

firsts (and hopefully, not lasts)

author’s note. hi dear anonnie!! i’m doing good, thank u for asking <3 i hope life was treating you tenderly too!! :D

++ thank u mother @l3visbby for proofreading<33

summary. having a conversation about your worries with wonwoo, who’s understanding and caring

also this turned so self indulgent like 😭😭😭 i relate to all the bitchless single ppl out there fr fr … so worry not, i getchu…. i mean, your friend >_<

word count. ~1,5k

sometimes you wondered how did that happen. that meaning you and wonwoo dating. him, a talented and handsome idol with lots of charisma, good traits and fans. you, being a simple human with an ordinary life.

it was even quite… boring. nothing really happened in your life. highschool, then college. working and studying, an endless cycle. you were never the one to party – or get invited to parties. sure, you got along with your classmates and co-workers (or even their friends!) but you couldn’t help but feel envious when in their early 20s they already had dated, partied and had the fun of their lives.

you met wonwoo while on a vacation on jeju. for something that felt like ages, you decided to take a trip. alone. just with yourself.

while having a lonely stroll around the neighborhood, you stopped to pet a cat. it had a collar, it certainly wasn’t stray - and surely, loved belly rubs. so while you were petting the feline, wonwoo noticed you. heart warming upon seeing the simplicity and beauty of human nature, he stared for a while longer and went back to the place he stayed at.

he passed you a couple of times – on a beach, when you were secretly petting the cat, when you were riding a rented bicycle with wind blowing your hair.

you were cute and wonwoo decided that ‘screw it’ and approached you once you were reading a book under a byeonggeul tree. and the rest was history.

you’ve been dating for almost three months. yet… you haven’t kissed. wonwoo understood that, how could he not? he respected your boundaries and told you to take your time. he didn’t know the reason – that you haven’t kissed anyone, that he was the first guy you held hands with, that he was your first everything. and in moments like these, when the realization hit you like a wave crushing on rocks by the shore, you were terrified. how come you’re 27 and still a loser? bitchless loser, as many of the younger people would say. sure, wonu never made fun of you (simply because you never talked about it or mentioned it to him) but your friends, that knew you for a long time now… you felt it in your bones that they’re making fun of you.

“hey, is everything okay?” your boyfriend’s (gosh, that sounds so beautifully strange. you never thought the possibility of having a boyfriend is something that was actually possible for you) tender voice reached your ears. tearing your dozed-off eyes away from a random spot in the wall, you nodded with a shy smile.

wonwoo sat next to you, placing his warm hand over yours.

“come on, i can see something is bothering you. you’ve zoned out” he snickered and you just send him a smile “you do that a lot lately, you know? is something bothering you?”

‘you. you are the reason of my bothers’ you thought, sighing.

“well…” you started and already knew it was a mistake. wonwoo cocked an eyebrow.

“so there is something” he hummed, satisfied “you know i won’t judge, hm?”

he knew exactly what you were thinking. one would think it’s kind of creepy. actually, you found it adorable. he knew you so well, almost as if you knew each other since childhood.

“i know but… it’s silly” you mumbled and your eyes met his warm, ebony irises. wonwoo fixed his glasses with a swift flick and shook his head. you opened your mouth to say something.

communication is key, they say. you should probably tell him what’s on your mind, right?

you just sighed.

“how do you… bear with me? we… we haven’t kissed and–”

“i hate to interrupt but i’ve told you this. i don’t mind. you being comfortable it’s the most important thing to me and i would hate to lose your trust” he said, a bit sternly but you knew it was pure care speaking through him.

“i know but… i haven’t kissed, wonwoo. like, never. and actually, i’m scared. because this is my first relationship. my parents and friends have this pressure on me… and it’s so draining. ‘you didn’t even kiss yet?’, ‘when are you going to introduce him to us?’, ‘does he take you on dates?’, ‘do you live together?’, ‘are you really committed?’... ‘are you sure you like him?’... and how… how would i know? i’m scared” you burst out suddenly, words leaving your lips like water erupting from a waterfall. you see his eyes widen in shock, lips parting.

“scared of what?” wonwoo asked, blinking slowly “me…?”

“no. yes. i mean, no!” you laugh and see a wave of relief wash over him. then he frowns, so you explain “i’m scared of what you’ll think or… or where we will be in the future. i’m scared to do some things with you but also… kind of excited? i’m scared of committing but i’m also frightened of not committing! like, with all respect, how will i know i love you? do you just wake up one day and know it’s love? i’m scared i’ll get hurt or even worse, hurt you. i don’t know what to do…” your voice died in your throat.

great, you overshared. now he’ll think you’re actually insane.

you could see wonwoo was baffled. you sat in silence for five minutes, his thumb drawing circles on your hand in a soothing manner.

“that’s… a lot to process” nonu let out a small laugh and you smiled.

“i know, sorry. it’s just been on my mind lately” you mumbled. wonwoo brings his leg to the couch, then puts his other hand and grabs both of yours. looking you in the eye with seriousness, you tense a bit. uh oh.

“to be honest, baby…” your boyfriend starts (and the nickname still makes your stomach swirl with butterflies - even though you always thought it would make you cringe. surprisingly, coming from wonwoo’s lips, it doesn't) “it’s hard to answer all of these. i really like you and i truly hope our relationship will last. but human heart is really unpredictable. we don’t know what the future will bring and we can only do our best and hope, it’ll only be positive things”

you nod. you’d like that – wonwoo was a person you could never get tired of.

“i didn’t know i’m your first boyfriend. and… i feel very touched that you trust me enough to share it with me and be with me. if you’re scared that kissing or something will overwhelm you… i’ll do my best to guide you into everything you want. and if you don’t, i’ll understand that” he said and you suddenly feel like crying. your friends always say that men are shit. wonwoo must be a real angel, then.

“i can’t really tell you how you’ll know you love me. everyone realizes in their own time, their own way. i don’t think… i don’t think i’ve ever experienced romantic love, to be honest” the words left his lips and you stared at him in shock “we’re not so different, dear”

you melted, feeling your lower lip start to quiver.

“and… thank you for sharing your worries with me. i’m really proud, you know? you were scared of others’ opinion, what i will think… of your own emotions. and it's normal. it’s understandable, especially in your first relationship. but i’m here for you, okay?” he cooed, his lips forming into a gentle smile.

“you’re not… angry?” you asked quietly. his face morphed into confusion.

“no, why would i be?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

“well, it kind of sounded like i wanted to break up. which, i don’t of course. but um… you know… a girl tells you she’s scared… i dunno…” you rambled and blew air into your cheeks.

“i’m not, of course i’m not. in fact, i’m happy. i know now how you feel, i know what’s been troubling you. and i just want you to know that… with time, it’ll become natural for you. i mean, i’d hope so” he grinned “also, for the record, i won’t judge your kisses. of course i wouldn’t but… if that makes you more comfortable, then–”

“but be honest, do you even want to kiss me?” you huffed. he giggled, shaking his head.

“duh! what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i didn’t want to kiss my gorgeous partner?” wonwoo asked a - obviously rhetorical - question, squeezing your hand gently. “i do. i really do. but as i said…”

you loosened your hand from his tender hold and smacked his arm jokingly. he looked at you disoriented but with an amused smile.

“take my time… blah, blah, blah. okay. i will, you know it” you said and sent him a serious look “but promise me… if i ever do something wrong, you tell me. right away. like… ‘y/n you’re being a bad partner!’”

wonwoo scoffed and seeing your serious look, he nodded.

“i will. i swear on my love for chan” he said and placed his hand on his heart with a proud smirk.

“awww- wait, what?” you laughed and wonwoo followed along, the comforting sound of your laughters merging together in a beautiful melody.

and you have a strange feeling in your heart. you’re not sure what is it but you’re certain that it’s its way of saying ‘you’re safe with him’.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth

[neoplatinum]

north and south poles | minatozaki sana

summary: sana wonders, are we not the two sides of the magnet?

pairing: childhood-friend!sana x fem!reader

themes: extremely angsty, best friends to ?? to ??, internalized homophobia, gender dysphoria, sana's not too great of a friend, reader is a pushover until she isn't, implied sex, original male character, [----] x reader

wc: 3.3k

(side a: we can't be friends - ariana grande)

when sana's seven, her mother explains the cardinal rules in life. that boys and girls are polar opposites, like two sides of the coin, or like left and right. boys and girls are like the north and south poles of a magnet. and for a long time this holds true.

boys like to play rough, kick dirt over each other, chase after poor cats in hopes of catching them, or smack each other in the head. it's all a bit too gruesome for sana. she never did like watching them play, it felt like they were fighting. boys are like boxing matches, competing for a top winner. but girls are different.

girls are gentle, they play with dolls together, creating groups to play house or sliding down slides, and everyone cheers each other on. girls also like sharing cool things they found: cute rocks, rings, and toys. girls are like gentle waves crashing against the beach.

sana makes this distinction very early on, boys are boys and girls are girls. there's no in between for a seven year old sana. and life gets explained to her pretty easily by her mom. be a pretty girl, and you'll marry a good man who'll protect you and your family.

but her mother also told sana that you were a rowdy kid. a girl that played with the boys; you liked kicking dirt at the boys, chasing cats to catch them, or smacking each other in the head. but you were a girl, you also liked playing with dolls, and sliding down slides. you especially liked cute rocks, so you were someone she needed clarification with how to categorize as a kid.

so she asked her mom about you.

"oh her, she has no manners. her parents probably don't have enough time to teach her all that. they're both always so busy at work." her mother's chopping onions as she speaks, not lifting an eye at sana. and little sana rocks herself back and forth in the kitchen, a little confused by her own mom.

she's met your parents, they were nice people. offering royal milk tea to her, even if she wasn't allowed to have it. they always gave sana first pick for dishes they made, always. and like them, you often gave her parts of your lunch whenever sana was given too little.

and when sana enters middle school, this cardinal rule starts to shake a bit. boys are boys and girls are girls, but you are a girl, with boy-ish tendencies.

you liked playing rough with fuji, throwing dirt at each other even if it stained each other's school uniform. you liked shoving bigger boys when they were mean to girls, even if you had a black eye and sana had to rub a hard boiled egg over it.

but you were also as gentle as a girl, you held sana's hand gently whenever she wanted to walk along the rock wall, balancing on the ledge. you also helped blow and wash off sana's cuts whenever she scraped her knee in dance. just like how her mother does it.

you were the in between, and in between's don't exist in her mother's cardinal rule. when her mother and father sit at the dinner table and sana's mother asks her which boy in class she thinks is cute. sana doesn't think of any boy, but she thinks of you. you with your rough exterior with the older boys, but gentle and soft to sana, always.

"fuji?" her mother asks her. and sana thinks about fuji, a dependable friend in her life. a boy that is also gentler, although sometimes she thinks he's too loud during basketball. he shoves harder than you do, when you three play tag together. his hands are more rough, he towers over sana and really she sees him like an older brother.

sana thinks fuji is exactly the guy that her mother would like for her to marry.

"yeah, i think so." but sana really doesn't think so, her mind drifts off to your long hair and your soft shoulders.

--

when sana's twelve and excited to go home with you after the sga meeting, fuji confesses to her at the back of the school. he presents to her a letter. and through it all, the only thing she could gather was that sana was the prettiest girl in their class, and she has the prettiest smile.

all these compliments feel nice, but it doesn't stir her like you do. when you tell her that her hair is pretty today or that the bow she chose to match her shoes makes her look look fashionable. she stands by the wall, hands behind her back and staring at her shoes. all she can afford to do is nod at the words.

she knows this much, fuji is nice enough. he doesn't kick her chair like some other boys in the class; he always lets her walk inside the sidewalk when there are cars. so when he asks for a first date, she agrees, not letting her eyes look up at him. he walks away relieved, but sana can't feel anything other than a weight in her stomach.

another cardinal rule her mother told her is that lying is wrong.

so she asks for your opinion, and as she stands by your desk, watching you peacefully take a nap. she thinks about just ripping up the letter in her hand. she readies herself for the best performance of her life. to ask you a question that's self-indulgent. if you'll be her first kiss. and just like that she broke another cardinal rule, lying to you, but mostly to herself.

she thinks your lips would be soft, smelling like that cherry lipstick you like so much. and when you do kiss, she feels like she's floating. your hands are soft, when they cradle her jaw. moisturized with that cherry hand cream she gifted you. your hands are smaller too, they fit her head nicely. and most of all you're gentle. you pull apart, and sana nearly falls forward, body leaning into the kiss.

you stare at her in expectation, and panic surges through her body. you aren't fuji, you are the girl that's always played rougher than other girls. a girl that'll always give her 100% during class sprints, while all the other girls lightly jog. and the first thing she can think of is that she wishes you were a boy.

so she say's the exact words that tear your heart apart.

“wow yeah, that was good.” sana fiddles with her school skirt, “i wish you were a boy, you’d make a girl very happy kissing her like that.”

sana says that, but she watches as your eyes fall, hand dejected, and she can't help but feel like everything she knows about love is wrong. you don't say anything, so she leaves, closing the sga door behind her.

eyes welling up in tears as she thinks about how wrong this all is. if only you were a boy. she sinks onto the floor and cries into herself. when sana goes on the date, and fuji kisses her at her doorstep, she thinks of you. how he has to bend down to kiss her, and it all feels so wrong. later that night she starts a pros/cons list between you and fuji.

the only thing she has written for fuji is that "mother would like him." she tears the sheet of paper and tosses it into her waste basket.

--

when sana's eighteen and talking to her friends about boyfriends. all they have to say is that sex is amazing. they all talk about their first time and when they ask sana of what she thinks, she confesses that she's never done it.

"doesn't fuji ask you to?" one friend asks.

"no, he doesn't." the girl looks at sana weird but then shakes her head quickly.

"some guys are like that, they might not want to do it yet." she comments and then the conversation shifts on to talk about the latest school gossip.

sana's quiet for the rest of the week. she thinks about it, sex with fuji, and all she can do is groan. it's the natural progression of a relationship, but she feels like it's a weight in her stomach. that same weight she felt when he confessed to her.

so she does what she naturally did next when she was twelve; she finds you. she hasn't visited your house in years, it's still the same, even though there's a new door that she doesn't recognize anymore. and when she rings it, she finally sees you up close after so long.

she thinks about what she came here for in the first place. oh right, sex with fuji. so she comes up with the best excuse she can, that fuji wants to have sex. she knows its absurd, she's lying through her teeth, none of the reasons makes sense.

but the way you look right now, she can't think of anyone else she wants to have sex with. it stirs low in her stomach. her wanting you, so she lets a bit of truth in her lie.

"i need you to be my first, i want you to be. it can't be anyone else." sana is firm, but you look conflicted. eyes flitting all over the room. debating your morals.

she grabs your hands. eyes with want as she stares at you, and then you say yes. and suddenly the weight is lifted. sana feels like she's floating again.

when you pull her into your room, she feels like she's invincible. this room has always been so safe, and the way you stare into her with want, she thinks she wants to stay here forever in your arms.

the way you ask for permission, the way you constantly ask her if this is what she wants. asking if she's feeling good, gentle hands smelling like cherries that slip off her clothes. she thinks she'll stay naked like this forever if you asked her to.

her mind fills with you, shouting your name into the night where only you two exist in this world. she thinks this is right, this is what love is all about. this little bubble lasts only a night.

weeks later, she proposes sex to fuji, and he nods adamantly. like a horny teenager boy, which he is. but it all feels so off, even though she know's that he'll never cross boundaries. his hands feel too rough, he's too fast and he never asks sana how she feels.

sana feels the emptiest when she thinks back to how she thanked you when she left your room, when all she wanted to say was "i love you." and cherish you for the rest of her life.

--

when sana's nineteen on her birthday, all she can think of is how she hates fuji's arms around her shoulder. how you stare at the arm like it's the most offensive thing in the world. and sana agrees too, it is offensive, so she shoves it off, playing it off like she has an itchy shoulder.

she smiles at the way you relax back into your seat, like you staked your claim on her. it makes her feel wanted by you. even if she knows its wrong that you kiss her messily in the bar bathroom five minutes later, she feels like life is right.

--

when sana's twenty, bored out of her mind in her apartment with fuji. she thinks of you, she often does anyways. eyes wide when she comes up with the best plan. she purposely fights with fuji, calls him too suffocating, watching tears roll down his eyes, and she feels bad. she really does, she hates seeing him cry because of her, but she needs to get away.

so she calls you, bags packed and waiting by the door. her heart leaping in her chest when you knock on the door. grabbing her bags and asking her to stay in the car. giving stern words to fuji before finally leaving together. away from fuji.

sana stays with you for weeks, waking up and sleeping next to you. always attached to the hip, just like magnets. she lets herself believe this is her life, living with you, being with each other forever. she fits perfectly in your hold, as well as you in her. she always tells you she loves you, but only after you fallen asleep. she whispers it into your ears like they'll be heard. like a spell she put you under.

she doesn't think about fuji until he texts her much later, asking if it's okay to meet up and make up. so she goes back, feeling awful about letting her boyfriend believe she's mad at him. she avoids you for months to not feel the guilt. but it eats at her every day.

--

when sana's twenty-four and enjoying a stroll in the city with fuji. he proposes to her, with both their families around for the surprise. as she listens to him, one knee up, professing his love for her. she looks at her mother, her mother with happy tears in her eyes and she can't find herself to say no, so she says yes instead.

wedding planning is fun when she thinks about it as a wedding with you, so the best she can do is ask you to be her maid of honor. she presents to you the wedding invitation in your apartment. talking your ear off about how happy she is, watching you get more and more upset.

just waiting for you to tell her you want to run away with her, to elope together. move away and change names and live in europe together. she lists off all the things she can think of that a girl would like in a wedding, but you never ask her to run away. she knows its selfish, to want you to pull her out of her life, she just can't find the courage to pull herself out of it.

you show up to the wedding, in a gorgeous dress that she thinks that she would marry you in right now. you give a speech about how you, fuji, and sana all met. you talk with so much passion in your voice. she thinks that you might actually be happy for them. sana cries tears out of despair, maybe you really do think sana loves fuji. but she's in love with you.

when you make an analogy that fuji and sana are like magnets drawn to each other, the whole crowd awws, and sana feels her heart break. thats how she sees you and her, a perfect match. the rest of the wedding becomes unremarkable to her.

when you disappear, sana searches for you: eyes wide and frantic. calling up all your friends and family, but they all say the same thing, "she said she's going on vacation for a while, soul-searching?"

sana visits your house everyday, waiting for you to show up like hidden treasure. ever since she's found out she's been pregnant, she's been trying to find tell you about it. you should be the first to know, but you don't show up until a month later.

and when sana wakes up to the sight of you, it's like she's whole again. she walks away from that conversation sadder than ever, you don't drown in her eyes anymore. hands shuffling and changing positions often as she explains about her new incoming newborn.

--

when sana's twenty-five you walk out of her life. after the long labor and intense pain she went through, out came her little baby girl. wailing and crying at the introduction of the world, fuji's trying to wipe down sana's sweat and calm her down, but sana's drowsiness leads to her calling out your name instead, fuji think it's strange but doesn't comment on it. she sleeps for a long time.

when she wakes up to fuji excitedly telling sana that you are visiting. she tries her best to smooth out her hair and her heart rate jumps at the news. so she gets ready for you to visit her.

she thinks she'll name her daughter after you, the same girl she's so in love with. when she proposes the idea, you shut her down. she's never heard this tone before, so harsh and so mean. but she deserves it, the same way she knows she deserves all things bad to her when you look so dejected every time she leaves. she needs you by her side, she can't do motherhood alone with fuji, she doesn't think she can do life without you.

but then you say it, words that make her feel like her heart got pulled out of her chest. you pulled it out. you're moving away, a whole different country, a whole life without sana. and you want to, be away from sana. she can hear it in the way you say it, the way you stand up from the visitor's chair, having only sat there for a minute. the way you walk out of the room. you would have kept walking out had fuji not stopped you.

and sana's angry, after all this, you walk away. she can't tell who she's angry at anymore. angry at you, angry at fuji, angry at her mom, angry at the world. and she lands on it, she's angry at herself. with hot tears running down her face, you look back one more time, and you still leave. like you just double checked that it is exactly what you want to do, leave sana all alone.

--

when sana's thirty and thinking, "yeah, i am okay after all this time." she isn't. because her little girl has just run into you. and nearly hit her head, falling back. but with gentle and caring hands, you stand her back up. asking her daughter if she's alright. and as her daughter runs back to sana, sana can see you for the first time in five years.

your hair is longer, you look more tired, more lines on your face. but your eyes are still so wild, familiar eyes that she's found herself dreaming about for years. for five years to be exact, she dreams of you returning. so you walk up to sana and fuji, calm and collected about seeing them after five years.

but sana's panicking, like she's seen a ghost. you basically are a ghost in sana's life, she's been wondering lately if you really have been there in her life, if not for photos she really wonders if this is all a dream.

a dream that comes crashing down, you pick up a small girl, she's younger than sana's daughter. but she's got your wild eyes and cute nose. and sana thinks that she could die here. right now the rug could be pulled out from under her and she wouldn't utter a peep.

you have a daughter, and a wife. a gorgeous wife who smiles at you like how sana used to. and her eye line follows, you look your wife with the same passion of when you were both eighteen and far too stupid to understand anything in the world. you look at this woman like you used to look at sana.

"it's been a while." sana's voice cuts in. she needs to hear your voice after so long.

"yeah, i guess it has." you reply, finally looking at her after so long. sana gulps, willing the tears away. you sound the same, lighter than your last conversation, like you've made peace with it.

"honey, you're crying." fuji says wiping away sana's tear and you smile at that. like you've finally accepted fuji as her husband.

"oh i didn't notice." sana laughs, rapidly wiping her tears away. she's embarrassed, here she is thinking that you still love her, but you don't. not anymore.

sana tries her best to talk with fuji and momo. them talking about their line of work and interests. but sana can only stare at you.

eyes wide open.

--

a/n: i think im actually evil for writing this. like no joke. but anyways!! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[fishsticksloser]

I have another idea for requesttttt >:D

Okay, so the request is for rottmnt boys (obv) with S/O that loves beach (swimming is the ehh part) mostly just spending hours looking for seashells, sea glass, stones, etc. SO, whenever S/O gives the boys gifts even small once, they always find one or few seashells with the present like a small charms >^<

Thanks ahead🫧

-Ed

Collecting Shells

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff

A/N: thank you @mapleleavesart for your help with this! I've been struggling a lot and I'm so happy to have your support.

Donnie

He's always making you gadgets and stuff

You didn’t really need them

Only half of them didn’t blow up

Donnie had to figure out a better way to make you happy with his gifts

Since he thought you didn’t like them cause you weren’t using them much (he feels guilty when they blow up)

So he starts watching you carefully

What made you smile the most, what got you excited

When y’all went to the pier and you immediately started picking at the sand

And handing him glass and rocks that were similar in color to his skin/eyes/etc

He realized that you loved collecting this kinda stuff

About a week later he makes you a little music box

Which is pretty nice all on its own

You thought it was just a plain jewelry box at first

He urges you to open it, there’s shells and seaglass inside

Along with an oyster necklace

And your favorite song playing inside

Donnie is very proud of this one and is eager for your inevitable praise

He'll occasionally make you more jewelry and such out of the sea glass, especially the ones you said reminded you of him

Leo

My guy goes above and beyond with this one honestly

You like to collect sea shells, sea glass, cool rocks, etc?

He is going with you to collect stuff

He’ll go out on his own on nights you two can’t talk and go to the beach and looks for stuff you like

This boy is so desperate for attention and approval

He’ll give you a handful of stuff the next time you see each other

His tail wags when he sees you get excited about it

Every time he thinks of you he’ll portal another one (shell, sea glass, etc) from his secret stash

He starts leaving some in odd, innocuous places

You find them for months to come

In your kitchen, your bathroom, on countertops or desks right where you can see them

Others are hidden in drawers or cabinets

You found one in a pot as you were making dinner once

But once he portaled it on your desk while you were working

You smile when you realize that he’s thinking of you as often or more often as you think about him

Mikey

Mikey also loves cool rocks

He stacks them

You’ve made a few towers with him once

He’ll hand you any pretty rock that reminds him of you

One beach trip he ran up to you and said “look! It matches your eyes”

He put it in your hand, smiled, and dashed off again

He decided to paint you the beach But it didn’t look complete

He went to the beach and took some sand and a few shells and pieces of sea glass

He laid out glue on the canvas

Sprinkled the sand over the beach part of the painting

And placed the shells and sea glass purposefully

It gave the piece some nice texture and some visual interest

Then he gifted it to you and insisted you hung it up in your room

So that, even when you were home, you have a part of the beach watching over you

He was so happy to show it to you, and to have his artwork hanging in your room

Raph

Raph knitted you a sweater

Put it in a bag with your favorite colored tissue paper

When you opened it and saw the sweater you thought that was it, because he had been promising to knit you something for ages

However, upon his urging you looked at the bottom of the bag

There was a small wooden box

Like the ones at craft stores that were meant to be painte

You open it

There’s a small collection of sea glass and rocks that you'd given him

You love it regardless

Raph grins and hugs you, picking you up as you both laugh