#Revenge of the Island will be next

[thebrisingamen]

Total Drama Island

AKA the reboot reminded me of this ridiculous series so I did a stupid thing and made them all Pokemon/Pokemon Trainers. So here's a crossover no one asked for or cares about but I wrote up anyways

THE ORIGINAL TDI/TDA/TDWT CREW:

Beth, The Wannabe

As a Pokemon: Grumpig, due to her growing up on a Farm and being somewhat aware of her surroundings, since Grumpig is a psychic type. It's also a very bizarre pokemon and can be useful, even when people underestimate it, so I thought it would be fitting for Beth.

Her Team: As befitting her backstory, I gave her Grumpig and Miltank, some pokemon that can be powerhouses when used correctly. Dedenne due to her excitable nature and again, being underestimated and kind of easily manipulated. The same for Combee; a go with the flow, follow the leader type. Ditto for her desperate desire to fit in.

Sandshrew is the star of her team, as Sandshrew would be Beth's pokemon that shows her burying her feelings and curling up into a defense, but eventually evolving into Sandslash, a powerful ground type, reflecting Beth's nature as being more down to earth eventually.

Grumpig

Dedenne

Combee

Miltank

Sandshrew -> Sandslash (in TDA)

Ditto

Bridgette, The Surfer Girl

As a Pokemon: Floatzel, feels pretty obvious. Kind and goes out of her way to help people, pretty decent water type but not much of a fighter and has a very chill personality. A bit more responsible than our other surfers, which you'll see down the list.

Her Team: Obviously, I went with a water based team for Bridgette. Mantine and Dewgong being chosen as both of them are pretty chill types of pokemon, and you can surf on Mantine in Alola, to carry you from island to island. Spinda is representative of her incredible clumsiness on land and the constant running gag of Bridgette in physical comedy. Comfey also represents her soothing and calming nature in comparison to her teammates. Pelipper is Bridgette's powerful side coming out and probably her best pokemon.

Honestly I don't have a reason for Vaporean, other than it is an Eeveelution and Bridgette strikes me as the type to pick a popular pokemon and just evolve into a water type.

Mantine

Dewgong

Vaporeon

Spinda

Pelipper

Comfey

Cody, The Geek

As a Pokemon: Magnemite, as its a more modern pokemon, but like Cody, still "young" for a pokemon and according to the pokedex, can cause a lot of damage. Tends to show up and appear randomly when needed. Can be useful but hasn't "grown up" quite yet.

His Team: Cody's team I decided to keep mostly electric and strange pokemon, to reflect his nature. Magneton and Porygon reflect his kind of geekiness and general desire to try to be useful, but ultimately isn't as much. Phanphy and Treecko are more of a reflection of his kind of naive nature that grows overtime. Klefki represents his inability to respect boundaries. Beheeyem is Cody's intellect, but again, a weird pokemon that most people forget about/don't really respect.

Porygon

Magneton

Beheeyem

Treecko

Phanphy

Klefki

Courtney, The Over-Achiever/Type A

As a Pokemon: Espeon. Mainly because Courtney doesn't actually grow as a person until she gets actual friends in the series, and to tie-in with her intelligence and drive. Psychic type because while Courtney is competitive, she is not underhanded enough for me to think on her being a dark type. An Eeveelution due to her popularity as a character.

Her Team: Courtney's Team is reflective of parts of her personality. Tyrogue is often trying to better itself and constantly training. That she would make sure it evolves into the most balanced of the Hitmon's is 100% Courtney. Oranguru's entries commend it's command abilities, but in actual battle, this doesn't seem to come up, reflecting Courtney's need to have authority. Wigglytuff reflects her massive ego that can be easily injured, and the anger that comes with it. Ninetales follows the same footsteps, with the grudge to match it. Salazzle evolving shows Courtney's dedication to winning, using some tricks to distract others, but unlike Alejandro, Mal and Heather, they never go beyond distracting. She'd also pick "pretty" pokemon that are useful for her main team.

Oh and she EV trained the shit out of every pokemon. Courtney came to win.

Tyrogue -> Hitmontop

Oranguru

Salandit -> Salazzle

Wigglytuff

Ninetales

Vivillion

DJ, The Brickhouse with a Heart/The Teddy Bear

As a Pokemon: Audino. DJ is definitely a healer/support type Pokemon, but it had to be Audino, as the Chansey line is ALWAYS female. Audino fufills the same purpose and is SURPRISINGLY strong in battle, making it a force to be reckoned with at times.

His Team: DJ's first three pokemon represent elements of DJ from Island; Buneary for Bunny, the pet Bunny he found. Pachirisu for the squirrels and Stantler for the deer episode. Blissey represents his caring and kind nature that can also manifest into being able to punch you into submission, if he's pushed to do so. Tsareena represents DJs ability to eventually stand up for himself and again, despite being a grass type, doing well despite everything. Cyndaquil is his buddy, and represents DJs connection to everyone he meets; Cyndaquil would also be chill and help him with his cooking.

Buneary

Pachirisu

Stantler

Tsareena

Blissey

Cyndaquil

Duncan, The Delinquent Heartthrob

Jeez, he's had the most titles! Like Duncan has Four different introduction titles, according to the wiki.

As a Pokemon: Houndoom, because of course. An extremely popular character, Duncan would be reflected in an extremely popular pokemon--being Dark type was a necessity. Houndoom has been depicted as 'not all that bad' before, and that it looks scarier than it actually is.

His Team: Also would have a Houndoom on his team, as well as a Nidorino, reflected of his constantly tough persona and needling of others. Haunter and Purrloin allude to Duncan's prankster nature and kind of 'its not like a care' attitude, while also being able to help with the reflection on his criminal record. Krookodile is also an allusion to his 'tough but can be sweet' attitude. Granbull is the same thing, and honestly was the last member of his team, gotten after he met Zoey.

Houndoom

Krookodile

Nidorino

Haunter

Purrloin

Granbull

Eva, The Female Bully

Wow they like...made her cardboard, huh. Ah Well. It's Eva, everyone.

As a Pokemon: Surprising no one, she is the angriest of all Pokemon, a Primeape. It's really hard to find too much to say about Eva. A lot of her team is going to be like this as well.

Her Team: Poliwrath and Primape should be obvious; angry, aggressive pokemon whose wrath cannot be stopped. Hitmonchan and Steelix show her side that constantly works out and tries to improve. Charizard is quick to anger, but quite popular; an allusion to her return to the island that no on expected and her odd friendship with the E-Scope team. Stufful. Stufful is Eva's very rarely seen sweet side, though still incredibly destructive, albeit just by its nature and not because it is trying to be.

Hitmonchan

Poliwrath

Primeape

Stufful

Charizard

Steelix

Ezekiel, The Home-Schooled Guy

Again, a pretty low bar character. I mean its total drama I don't expect much, but c'mon y'all.

As A Pokemon: Sableye. Just. His storyline basically fits him turning into a Sableye, living deep in the caves and being obsessed with treasure.

His Team: Mudkip, one of the most hated pokemon designs of Gen 3, at least when it was coming out; reflects Ezekiel's standing amongst the rest of the cast, especially the girls. Kecleon shows Ezekiel's ability to fade into the background and hide, especially in WT. Drilbur, Dunsparce and Sableye reflect his descent into the darkness, living in the Caves of the island in ROTI. Macargo is the volcano he fell in.

Like does any one pokemon reflect him? No. his personality is about as much there as Eva's.

Mudkip

Kecleon

Sableye

Drilbur

Macargo

Dunsparce

Geoff, The Funniest Guy Around

As A Pokemon: Surfing Pikachu. Geoff is basically super chill, super likable and no one on the island seems to actually hate him at all. Like. It's kind of hard for even Chris or Chef to hate him? Up until the clip show later, Geoff is shown to be a pretty nice guy

His Team: Ludicolo and Togetic reflect Geoff's just likable, partying nature. Lapras shows his care for others and ties him to Bridgette more. Corsola is Geoff's environmental nature, and Kingdra can be where Geoff gets a bit full of himself. Surfing Pikachu is the same; Geoff's ego is his downfall more often than not.

Surfing Pikachu

Ludicolo

Togetic

Lapras

Corsola

Kingdra

Gwen, The Loner/Goth Girl

As a Pokemon: Frosslass; She's kind of cold and off putting, a strange person who prioritizes her alone time and freezes out people she doesn't like.

Her Team: Her team was a bit difficult; I gave her Cofigarius to relate to her fear challenge in TDI. Gothitelle, because obviously they keep calling her Goth Girl and it is able to predict the future and is often a loner. Smeargle to relate to her sketching hobby. Frosslass for the same reason; a lonely pokemon who doesn't seek others out, but can be fun. Liepard, because it is beautiful and moody, and unexpectedly vicious. Dusknoir because it is scary and kind of alien, receiving transmissions to transport the dead, and goes along with her "goth" aesthetic.

Dusknoir

Liepard

Frosslass

Smeargle

Gothitelle

Cofigarius

Harold, The Dweeb

Ah yes, Napoleon Dynamite joke character. Another pretty one-note dude.

As a Pokemon: Nincada, due to his obsession with Ninjas, and the annoyance he causes everyone.

His Team: Ninjask and Ferrothorn to call to Harold's Nunchuk "skills" and ninja obsession. Parasect because it is a strange and odd pokemon, reflecting how Harold is a strange and odd person; the same with Clefable. An inability to relate to others at times. Cradlily, because its useful and kind of creeps people out. Heliolisk, because Harold does a lot of posturing and is quick to claim he's good at something, without having the firepower to back it up.

Ninjask

Parasect

Clefable

Heliolisk

Cradlily

Ferrothorn

Heather, The Queen Bee

HBIC herself, Heather. How these kids didn't figure her out earlier is beyond me.

As a Pokemon: Vespiqueen; lots of minions, kind of aggressive and can kick ass where she needs to, when she has to do things herself.

Her Team: Beedrill and Vespiqueen, because of course she'd have the Queen Bee pokemon. They're also quite aggressive and powerful bug types. Salazzle and Dragalge, her other Poison types that show her manipulative and toxic side. Seviper because it is ruthless, like her and Heracross, as a powerful fighter that she usually has on her side.

Beedrill

Vespiqueen

Seviper

Salazzle

Heracross

Dragalge

Izzy, The Insane or The Psycho Hose Beast

Again, TDI didn't really know what to do with her; Izzy is kind of nuts. there's a lot and then again not a lot to work with here.

As a Pokemon: I settled on Kecleon, since Izzy changed her name and identity several times over the shows, and that is kind of Kecleon's thing to do.

Her Team: Kecleon and Dodrio, to reflect her constantly shifting names and personas she takes on, as well as her escaping the RCMP. Ariados and Ursaring as a call backs to when she was pretending to be a giant spider on ROTI and her rivalry with the Bears on TDI. Haunter for her playful but scary personality and Gourgeist for the same, but also with her kind of crazy tied in.

Kecleon

Ariados

Ursaring

Dodrio

Gourgeist

Haunter

Justin, The Jaw-Dropping/The Eye Candy

Once again, very basic but also a lot to work with here.

As a Pokemon: Very obviously, a Milotic, Shiny as Justin is one of the prettiest players in canon.

His Team: All of his team is based on wealth, popularity and appearance of said pokemon. Mienshao is there because while beautiful, it can be deadly and Alolan Meowth is Dark Type, alluding to Justin's manipulative streak on TDA

Milotic

Alolan Meowth

Glameow

Furfrou

Eevee

Mienshao

Katie & Sadie, The Besties

Listen these two were easy because they are about as developed as Eva and Ezekiel.

As Pokemon: What do you know, it's the worst Pikachu knock-offs, they're Plusle and Minun. Can't function without each other. Their teams reflect this. They Specialize in Double Battles.

Their Team(s): As you can see, most of these pairs are already twinned pokemon or pokemon that evolve from a similar first starter, like Beautifly & Dustox. I had to get creative for the last three sets; Pachirisu and Emolga SHOULD have been an evolution line, but it wasn't and they're similar, so they became part of Katie and Sadie's set. Clefable and Pyukumuku also had a similar problem; I had to pair them with similar pokemon, but not quite the same. It does give these two some differences.

Plusle & Minun

Illumise & Volbeat

Beautifly & Dustox

Clefable & Wigglytuff

Pinchurchin & Pyukumuku

Pachirisu & Emolga

Leshawna, The Lively

Very good, made it easy to create her team.

As a Pokemon: Leshawna is a pretty powerful pokemon, and with all the new ones out, I think she'd be a Tsareena; powerful, tough and graceful.

Her Team: Zangoose, as a rival to Heather with her Seviper. Pangoro, as Leshawna is not afraid to throw down, but only if you make the mistake of making her your enemy. Charizard as Leshawna is incredibly likable, but not always having the same presence as Geoff. Tinkaton, because she's very powerful and will smack everyone down, and looks good doing it. Larvitar because Leshawna never gets the chance to evolve it into it's final form due to the network, but shows her popularity and ability to stand against this crap. Hydrapple, for Leshawna's ability to do teamwork and how well she works with others.

Zangoose

Pangoro

Tinkaton

Charizard

Larvitar

Hydrapple

Lindsay, The Ditz

Her title is mean but true. This girl is dumber than a box of rocks, but she's really very sweet.

As a Pokemon: Ponyta, because she's very clearly a rich girl who loves Horses, based on her bike, and Ponyta is very much a 'head empty, run in field' type which suits Lindsay.

Her Team: Galarian Ponyta, as Lindsay herself is pretty pure as a character, not really wanting to hurt anyone or get into a fight with anyone. Alcremie, the style because it is rare and hard to get, like her nail polish. Honestly, She just found the last four of her team and got them to join James' style; with love and affection. Her team is more fairy type as Lindsay is truly one of the nicer characters...Ever.

Azumarill & Altaria are Lindsay losing her cool and actually being mean, for once.

Galarian Ponyta

Alcremie (Rainbow Swirl w/ Love Sweet)

Azumarill

Altaria

Whimsicott

Flaaffy

Noah, the High IQ/The Schemer

Not very schemey; he often thought himself smarter than he was and was pretty insufferable. But I thought about his team and hope it reflects him.

As a Pokemon: I started Noah out as a Natu; a future-seeing bird, who eventually evolves into a Xatu, as he reappears on Ridonculous Race.

His Team: Natu and Abra represent Noah's self-importance and complete lack of wanting to participate in the team based challenges, which ultimately got him kicked off said team, as well as his over reliance on his intellect. Pidgeotto and Donphan for when Noah actually got to doing things in RR and Wyrdeer as Noah strikes me as the type to somehow evolve Stantler first and act like he meant to do that the entire time.

Natu —> Xatu

Abra —> Alakazam

Bronzong

Wyrdeer

Donphan

Pidgeotto

OWEN, The Big Guy/The Party Guy

Owen was a little tougher, as there is the low-hanging fruit to go for, but also at least something there to work with beyond one note. At least there are two!

As a Pokemon: Munchlax, to go for the low hanging fruit and evolving into Snorlax by the time RR happens, to showcase his growth.

His Team: To slightly subvert expectations, instead of putting a Snorlax or Munchlax on his team, I figured Swalot would work for his insatiable hunger. Being poison type is also fitting, considering Owen's running gag. This is also why he has Skuntank on his team, as well as Vileplume. Quagsire is a call to Owen's very open and friendly demeanor, Musharna to represent his sleepwalking and eating, and Misdreavus to showcase his 'fun' side that can turn sour when he goes too far.

Swalot

Musharna

Misdreavus

Quagsire

Skuntank

Vileplume

TRENT, The Cool Guy/The Deep & Mysterious

TDI did him dirty and once again, there's not much to work with here. But I tried.

As a Pokemon: Gogoat. Trent is supposed to be pretty cool, lots of people like him but...that's where the buck stops. Unlike a lot of other characters, he doesn't get to have a shining moment beyond physical comedy and the canonical ship with Gwen. But, he's cute! and sorta popular!!

His Team: Obviously, he'd have a Gogoat. Espurr is there for Trent's reliving of his horrors. Lapras because he, like Geoff, can be caring and supportive. Shuckle to represent his odd fears and the obsession with the number 9. Flygon as Trent In-Universe is supposed to be a super cool dude. Now.

Zubat. Zubat represents the show and fandom reactions to Trent, as well as tying into his penchant for getting poisoned/stunned/etc. TDA it evolves in to Golbat and finally, in WT, Crobat because Trent FINALLY ended a lot of his personal drama and got...Crobat.

I didn't use any of the musical pokemon for him, as I felt that would be too obvious.

Gogoat

Lapras

Zubat —> Golbat —> Crobat

Shuckle

Flygon

Espurr

Tyler, The Jock

Tyler, oh Tyler. Kind of forgotten about, and once again mostly used for physical comedy.

As a Pokemon: Passimian, which is the sportiest pokemon I could find and thats how Tyler would define himself.

His Team: Passimian and Machamp to represent his passion for sports; Bewear and Linoone, both useful pokemon that are described as kind of klutzy, especially Linoone (can't break and can crash...often). Wooloo, for the same reason. Tyler is not kept down by his injuries. Armarouge, for Tyler's dedication to constantly trying, and often being a good sport.

Bewear

Passimian

Machamp

Linoone

Wooloo

Armarouge

Alejandro, The Arch Villain

And boy does he deliver this well!

As a Pokemon: Oricorio, Baile style most of the time, but he can switch between all four, depending on who he is needing to charm/talk to or what moves he needs in the moment. As one of the few pokemon capable of this, I felt this suited him; he never fully transformed into a different person, which is why I didn't go with Ditto.

Also, WT definitely leaned into his Spanish/Latin origins, which this pokemon also does.

His Team: Alejandro is a threat and that's why he has our most powerful starter, Blaziken. Also representative of the fiery volcano he faced in the finale. Sneaseler and Meowstic (F) are the pretty pokemon that are quite powerful and ruthless on their own. The same can be said of Galarian Linoone, but that is representative of Alejandro losing his facade. Zorua and Meowscarada are similar reasons; Meowscarada because it's whole thing is luring other pokemon into a false sense of security before ambushing them with it's moves, and Zorua due to the illusion ability it has and it's cute and disarming appearance (hence why not Zoroark).

Meowscarada

Zorua

Galarian Linoone

Meowstic (Female)

Blaziken

Sneaseler

Sierra, The Obsessive Uberfan

Oh Sierra, she's a funny character.

As a Pokemon: Mimikyu; constantly obsessed with and wanting to have everything ever of the TDI team, to the point of being creepy about it all, and surviving attempts to pry into her own backstory.

Her Team: Mimikyu, for her obsessive tendencies. Nickit, to steal "Keepsakes" from the people she's a fan of, Cosplay Pikachu to showcase her obsession/fangirl tendencies again. Morpeko represents her quick switches from 'Nice' to 'MEAN' rapidly when it involves Cody. Dragapult as its entries paint it and its line as kind of crazy and obsessed with their interests, which is definitely Sierra. Flareon is more because Sierra's aggression is not obvious, but can be deadly when unleashed, and its cooling off ability only works for so long.

Mimikyu

Dragapult

Morpeko

Flareon

Shiny Nickit

Cosplay Pikachu

[wzardjellies]

Just got done w/ revenge on my rewatch and I have an au going on in my head where Jo gets a more developed character arc and dawn gets further in the competition bc they form an alliance lesbianism ensues (they make each other worse/better)

[total-twilight-drama]

sha-fallen angel 2: fallen again

redid this drawing from almost a year ago to try and improve it lmao. maybe went a bit overboard with the chromatic aberration but i think it looks cool

original under the cut for comparison:

[jockmewalking]

haven’t done these in a while!

[starryluminary]

The lights are so bright, but they never blind me

[camellia-salazar]

Oh no.. I'm starting to like the same things that I did in my freshman year...

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Pixar did not have to go as hard as they did with the Kronos Unveiled scene in The Incredibles (2004), yet they did anyway and gave us one of the best scenes in modern cinema. Literally cannot stop thinking about how good this scene is, from the animation to the build up to the soundtrack.

I don’t think I truly understood how dark this scene - and this film - was a child: Syndrome is systematically and strategically luring in superheroes and killing them off in order to test and improve his Omnidroid design… these people were not only supers but they also had family and loved ones too, just like Bob, and one day they would have just disappeared because chances are they weren’t telling people where they were going because it was "top secret" and against the law. They thought they were doing something good, like helping the people in the island, while also getting to relive their glory days, perhaps even paving the way for superheroes to make a proper comeback… only for Syndrome to kill them in cold blood.

Most of these people can actually be seen at Bob and Helen’s wedding in the beginning of the film - they weren’t just random supers, they were their friends, people they worked alongside and cared about. It’s even worse when you realise that Bob probably blames himself because, after all, Buddy/Syndrome was his biggest fan and he dismissed him by not letting him help.

The relief on Bob’s face when he realises Syndrome doesn’t know where Helen is - meaning he also doesn’t know where their children are because he didn’t realise they were married at this point - is so realistic and gut wrenching to see. The relief contrasting with the anguish of knowing how much danger they and their entire family could have been in the entire time without even knowing...it's so well-done, you can literally feel it.

It’s also worth noting that originally the next target wasn’t Mr Incredible but Frozone - that was who Mirage was trailing, hence why his location is “known”. Imagine if she/Syndrome hadn’t realised that Mr Incredible was with him and they’d lured Frozone in instead as planned; he would have gone to the island to fight the Omnidroid 8 in a volcano setting. We saw how being in the burning building dehydrated Frozone and made it impossible to use his ice powers - presumably it would have been the same in the middle of a lava filled volcano, and he’d have been slaughtered just like the other superheroes before him.

This scene shows an entire generation of superheroes - Bob, Helen and Lucius’ generation - wiped out all because Syndrome felt slighted by his hero as a child, because he internalised that slight and let it drive him to revenge. And, if we take into account the deleted alternate opening scene, it’s mentioned that superheroes "aren't supposed to breed” - meaning there’s a likelihood that Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack are among the very few supers of the next generation. I know that it's deleted and so not really canon, but it's definitely a concept to consider, I think.

Then there's the fact Syndrome named the project "Kronos" - Kronos was a God who overthrew his own father in order to take over his rule, and then he ate his own children to prevent them doing the same thing to him. It feels like it reflects Syndrome once looking up to Mr Incredible and even saying "I could be your ward!", meaning Mr Incredible adopting or fostering him - the project name is a metaphor for Syndrome destroying the Supers, especially Mr Incredible, who he viewed as a father figure. The Omnidroids he built killed two birds with one stone: not only was he able to acquire the data to upgrade the robot to its final design, but it also eliminated the real super heroes and so left him as the last remaining "superhero", even though his powers are man-made, not something he was born with.

Not only did he want to become the only remaining superhero by killing the real ones in revenge, he also planned to sell his inventions at some point so everyone can be super - because "when everyone is super, nobody is". It's like a final blow to the memory of the superheroes he had killed.

I've talked too much about this scene but God... I love it so much more as an adult because it's just so chilling to think about. I'm sure other people can put it much more articulately than I just tried to, but I just really wanted to appreciate this scene.

[rafesfavgirl]

covered in you — r. cameron

part 1. this isn’t technically a part 2, but definitely could be, so take it how you want it ;) enjoyyyyy

❝ oh, i can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland my house of stone, your ivy grows and now i'm covered in you ❞

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

context: for the first time since you and jj broke up (you found out he was cheating on you with kie), you go out to a party on figure eight, where a certain blond kook finds you.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: definitely +18. mdni. revenge sex (i don't condone… unless it's with rafe ofc), p in v sex, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering, slight spanking, SMUT with little to no plot

"well, well, who do we have here?" you hear a familiar drawl while sitting at the egde of some kook's pool wearing only your bikini, your feet hanging in the water.

you tilt your head up and roll your eyes, going back to sipping on your drink.

he chuckles at your choice to ignore him. "y/n y/l/n," your name leaves his mouth as he moves to sit beside you. "what brings you to this side of the island?"

"what's it to you, cameron?" you ask, turning your head towards him.

"no reason," he shrugs, sipping on his own drink. "just figured you'd be busy with that loser pogue boyfriend of yours."

"well… not that it's any of your business, but we broke up two weeks ago," you tell him.

you weren't really sure why you did, but it must've had something to do with the alcohol currently running through your system.

a snicker falls from his lips. "oh, shit."

"i'm so glad you find that amusing," you say.

"no, no, it's not that," he stops laughing, now locking your eyes with his. "it's just…"

"what?"

"you are so out of maybank's league," he says. "i'm surprised you even gave him a chance."

"you really think so?" you ask, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "pogue status and all?"

had he always been so sweet?

"oh yeah," he nods. "guy's a fucking idiot."

your eyes trail over his face, half-expecting him to be joking, before trailing down the rest of him from his broad shoulders to his sculpted arms, his strong chest, and finally, his defined abs.

fuck. were you seriously hot for rafe cameron right now?

the vodka taking over you, your next few words catch him by surprise. "you wanna get out of here?"

a smirk playing at his lips, he stands up and holds a hand out to you. "come on," he nods his head to the side. "my truck's outside."

—

"god, maybank fucked up," rafe says between kisses, his hands trailing all over your body as you grinded your hips against his.

you let out a giggle and throw your head back, your hands tugging on his hair as he sucks softly on your neck.

"you got a condom?" you ask, your fingers tangling through his hair.

he reaches towards the center console, and opens it, pulling out a small blue wrapper. "right here," he pulls his lips away from you and holds the condom up between you, a smirk on his lips. "get in the back."

you happily oblige and move from his lap to go between the two front seats, over the console and into the backseat.

rafe quickly hops out of the car and opens the passenger seat to join you, closing and locking it behind him.

"fuckkkk baby," he says, his eyes glazing over your bikini body from the way the small fabric of your triangular top clung to your breasts, to your exposed stomach, and finally, the spot between your legs, which was desperately aching for his touch.

"shut up and kiss me," you snake a hand behind his neck to pull him in for a passionate kiss, his mouth parting to give your tongue access to dance with his.

his hand trails up your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin as he stops by your hip and fingers the tie of your bikini bottom.

he slowly unties the string while you untie the other and lift your hips slightly to let him rip them off your body.

"shitttt y/n," he drawls against you, a finger swiping up your soaked cunt. "you're so wet."

"mhm," you nod, fingers gripping at his hair.

his thumb begins rubbing small circles on your clit, eliciting a small moan from your mouth.

he smirks against your lips. "you like that baby?"

"more…" you moan. "rafe…" kiss. "please."

he slips a finger into you, your mouth dropping open when he curls it inside you.

"say my name again, doll," he says, his lips connecting to your neck as you tilt you head back in pleasure.

he adds another finger, and begins slipping them in and out of you, the sound of your squelching juices filling the truck.

"rafe— fuck," you moan, closing your eyes. "just like that."

he continues at a slow pace before picking up the speed, his thumb working relentlessly on your clit. your orgasm begins to build in your core, one hand gripping tightly onto his shoulder as you feel yourself get closer and closer.

it's not long before your body is trembling and you come undone on his fingers, a deep chuckle emerging from his lips.

"damn baby," he smirks at your state and brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices off of them. "you're sweet."

panting and coming down from your high, you let your back rest back against the seat, facing forward. "give me a second."

"oh, no, no, no," he tuts, leaning his head in towards your ear, as his hand reaches down to rid his bottom half of his shorts. his teeth grazes your ear in a nibble, causing you to tilt your head against him, while he opens the condom wrapper and slips it onto his long, hard cock. "i still need to see you ride me, pretty girl."

his arm snakes around your waist, grabbing your hip to swing your leg over him, putting you in a straddling position, your eyes only focused on him.

he looks down between the two of you, and positions his cock at your center, a moan escaping your lips at the slight contact.

slowly, but surely, he presses your hips down against him, every inch of his dick filling you up.

"fuckkk, you're so tight," he groans, throwing his head back on the seat as you lean down to pepper kisses on his neck.

"that feel good?" you ask, slowly beginning to bounce your ass on him. 

up. down. up. down.

"so so good," he says, a hand trailing up your back to tangle into your hair.

his other hand keeps you steady, his cock slipping in and out of you at a good pace.

"pull my hair," you whisper against his neck, and he does—tugging on your hair and making your head tilt back.

that elevates the pleasure and you begin bouncing faster on him, his hand gripping your ass tightly.

"just like that, baby," he groans, looking down to see himself going in and out of you. "just like that."

when you begin to slow down again, your thighs wanting to give up, he pulls you off of him. "turn around."

you do as your told, the alcohol and pleasure mixing together as you push your ass up in the air and lay your head against the seat.

"this is mine, now," he smacks your ass as you do, and repositions himself behind you, one knee on the seat as he aligns his dick with your cunt again. "you got that?"

he pushes into you without warning and leans his body down against yours. "who's ass is this?" he lays another smack on it, and you just know there's a red mark on it now.

"yours, rafe," you moan, as he begins ramming into you.

"that's right, pretty girl," a hand slips under you and grabs one of your tits, the fabric of your bikini top moving to the side as he twirls a finger around your hard nipple.

"so so good, rafe," you mewl, making him fuck you faster at the sound of you moaning his name.

another orgasm begins to build up inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"yes, rafe," you moan. "keep going."

he does just that, sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass ringing loud and clear.

"cum with me, doll," he whispers against your ear, as you reach your high.

he follows soon after you, his body falling limp against yours as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

"we're definitely doing this again."

since i couldn't help myself, here's part 2/3.

safe to say i'm never listening to this song the same way again. reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

[angelplummie]

here for revenge.

being lily's best friend - you grow up with her - you're in the donaldsons orbit for all your formative years. you develop a crush on art that turns into love as you grow older. your home life isn't so glamorous. you spend lots of weekends at the donaldsons. art has tucked you in. brought you snacks when you stayed up late for movie nights, making you and lily promise not to tell tashi. you were there when art and tashi got divored, held lilys hand and pretended not to be happy inside at the thought of getting closer to art.

lily gets into college - a big smart one because she has tashi's ambition and leaves you behind, you're still stuck at home because your dreams have always been smaller.

maybe its not appropriate, to still spend time with art. but he's lonely. tashi left, and now his daughter has and you're the only one left in his life that actually wants to be around him, that has always looked at him with stars in your eyes. its probably not healthy. there should be a boundary there. your lilies, not his.

but you like being around him and he likes having someone to take care of. you come over and he makes you eat something healthy and you needle him about spending all his time at home and how he should get out more, and he rolls his eyes, tells you he should be saying the same to you, you're young and beautiful and you should be dating around.

but how can you date around when art donaldson is your dream man? when you're happiest at his side, eating what he makes you. you want more though. you want to share his bed, warm it for him, you want to make him not so lonely, you want him to stop seeing you as a little girl and as the adult you've grown up to be - so you start wearing less and less around him. start acting more and more like a housewife.

art accepts it without even realizing. now you just need to find the right opportunity to pounce.

WHEW. this one is long so buckle up

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

you roll your eyes.

“mr donaldson, how come you never started dating again?”

he chopped the lemon with a deft clunk, eyes never leaving the knife.

“never felt the urge.”

“what does that mean?”

“what i just said. never felt the need to.”

“hm.”

you sat on the island, next to the chopping board. your legs swung haphazardly, and you watched art as he chopped.

why was he playing this game? he could’ve told you to leave, to stop coming back and bothering him, that this was inappropriate. and yet. he didn’t even tell you to get your sorry butt off the counter, or some such dad-ism. the low glow of the many warm lamps that adorned such a luxurious house illuminated art so softly, he looked as young as the day lily was born. he was as fit as back then, if not meatier. he didn’t have the pouch your dad had, but the years had given him a thickness. instead of wasting away like most lean men did, he struggled to the other side. he got broader. layer upon layer of muscle encased in a thin finishing of fat. he was skinnier when you were a kid, but he had no reason to be lean now. under his chin a tiny hammock of pudge rested as his head tilted down, kissed by light stubble. his blonde hair was streaked in silver, but that somehow made him younger looking. made him glow. he had grown it out, by your suggestion. he was everything in the world a man should be.

“what about you?”

“i hate boys. they’re all stupid.”

“you got that right. you’re too good for all of them, never settle.”

“maybe it’s just boys my own age. theyre so immature.”

arts wide chest heaves. his eyes flick to you then flick back down. you see it all, and cross one leg over the other.

“maybe.”

“what were you like when you were my age?”

he laughs at the memory.

“stupid, immature, evil. if i was anything to go by you should swear off men entirely until menopause.”

air left your chest cavity.

“i don’t wanna wait. i want a fully formed one.”

you watched the muscles in arts forearms flex as he squeezed the lemon onto salad. the main course was cooking, was singing loudly on the stove. art had gotten into cooking after the divorce. it took all his attention and put it in one place, something complex and delicate and time consuming. it helped to clear his head. it wasn’t helping right this second.

“i shouldn’t say that,” he said curtly,”boys your age aren’t so bad. give them a go and quit hanging out with an old man.”

“but i like you, old man.”

art was so harsh on himself. he really wasn’t that old. and you really weren’t that young.

he pressed his lips together and kept squeezing. his pink lips, that gave his face the everlasting youth it held. he shrugged his shoulders in that way he did when he was confronted with the truth of your arrangement. there was something going on. something very, very, very wrong. you were the same age as his daughter. 3 months younger. he was the worst man in the world. the worst person to ever breathe. what could he do though? tell you to go? tell you to leave his house and never come back? what would become of you then? without him, what pillar of paternity would you rely upon? what new low would you reach? what men would you come across, and what would you do to please them? while he gingerly entertained you, you dangled something in front of his face that others would not have the restraint or morality to resist. if you had to move to another target, your next victim might not care so deeply for your wellbeing. were you not altogether safer, sitting in his kitchen, eating his caesar salad, rather than inhaling second hand cigarettes from old wrinkled fucks who might murder you, or worse-

“art?”

“mr donaldson.”

“you got a bunch of lemon pips in the salad.”

“oh.”

he set down the lemon.

“are you ok? you seem tense.”

“i’m good. are you cold? i can turn on the heating if you like.”

“no. it’s actually quite warm in here.”

he hears the zip of your hoodie and starts away from the island, under the pretence of getting a paper towel to deposit the lemon seeds on. your jumper clatters to the counter, and you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. low cut top. he knows that’s what you’re wearing. because that’s all it’s been for the past 2 months. your mini skirt flowers around you as you sit, but when you stand each swish and sway of the fabric is a death sentence. god forbid you take the stairs for some ungodly reason.

“hey, you know what you said about never having the urge?”

oh, fuck off, he thought. fuck off. leave him be. leave him alone. release him.

“yes.”

“you can’t really mean that can you?”

“sure i can.”

“i mean, you can. but i don’t think you do.”

you twirled a strand of hair in between your fingers. your stomach grumbled, loud enough that he could hear. you were so hungry you could die, but if you ate what art was frying your breath would smell like fish all night.

“let me check the salmon.”

“i’m not that hungry. you can’t mean that you never had the urge to. everyone has urges.”

“well sure. but after tashi, i needed a breather. a grace period, if you will. you can’t go from marriage with a woman like her right into dating.”

“but it’s been 3 years. you must be over it by now?”

he ignored the hope in your voice. ignore, ignore, ignore.

“i am over it. but. women scare me.”

he walked languidly over the salmon. it was ready.

“i don’t scare you, i’m a woman.”

a woman. he turned off the stove, and turned to fix you with a stare for the first time tonight. a woman. that was not the word he would use to describe you. your eyes were the size of saucers, and you bat your lashes languidly, like you knew how much you were making him suffer. you sat up pin straight, and twisted your spine to make eye contact with him. your body. he tried not to look. tried not to look in front of you and see the twisted grin come across your lips. but he was a weak man. the weakest of men, and his eyes dragged over where a fatherly view should never cross. your perky new tits, the press and curve of your ass against the counter, the plush of your thighs. it seemed you had grown up overnight, and didn’t know you were still a baby. you’re a baby. you knew what you were doing to him. you knew. he blushed involuntarily.

“you scare me most of all.”

his voice trembled. he hadn’t meant to say that. hadn’t meant to dignify you will any response at all. it had crossed his mind and then it crossed his lips.

your eyes lit up with extreme delight. he liked to make you happy, but his stomach churned with the thought of why.

“why?”

he turned back around, and plated up your salmon, adding potatos and asparagus from the same pan, drizzling it all in the residual oil.

“why art?”

“mr donaldson.”

a twinge of irritation tickles your stomach. what was he fighting this for? you’re all grown up now. you both knew what was going to happen. he was resisting fate, the inevitable.

all your life you had known he was the man you were meant to be with. from that first time he kissed your forehead as you dozed off on the couch, thinking you were asleep. when his strong arms would carry both you and his daughter, flinging you around, threatening to dunk you in their backyard pool. when he would catch your eye in the rear view mirror as he drove you around and winked. he was so nice. so nice and brave and kind and warm, and if you had to be with any man it should be him because you’ve loved him since you were 8, and now you’re old enough to claim it. you’re not just a dumb kid with a crush. you love him. you understand it being one sided back then. but it isn’t anymore, and you wouldn’t let him deny it. with gliding footsteps you approached him, drawing closer every second he didn’t turn around. a hand rests on his shoulder blade.

“just stop,” you breathed after a pause.

his spatula clattered to the pan with a metallic thunk. you pull your hand away like he burnt you. he gripped the counter with a sigh and hung his head.

“you stop. stop it now,” his voice was stern. you felt yourself shrink. art was never stern.

“i know what you’re thinking, and it’s not going to happen. this has gone on far too long and it stops right now.”

a mere few paces from his wide curved back, you blink. the urge to touch him is overwhelming. you want to press your hand to his back, feel him under your palm and tell him you know he wants this. you know he wants this just as bad as you do.

but you don’t, because he’s angry at you, and he’s never been angry at you before.

“i’ve let you come here and cooked you food and watched movies with you because you’re a good kid. because i knew you as a kid and i know your problems with your father and i wanted to be there for you when lily is away. but you have taken this too far. you’re my daughters best friend. i have cleaned up your vomit twice, i baked you a cake for your 13th birthday- it’s not right. i’ve tried to be understanding, i’ve tried to ignore it, but you never drop it. never. your lack of self respect is staggering. you have to drop it right now or, im sorry but you can’t come back here anymore.”

every muscle fibre was clenched. if the counter top wasn’t marble it would’ve crunch and fell away under his grip. he couldn’t take it anymore. he didn’t know how much longer he could be good. didn’t know how much longer he could take resisting you.

maybe he was harsh. but it was the right thing to do. the only thing to do. he rested his elbow on the counter, and between his forefinger and his thumb held the bridge of his nose. he exhaled loudly. he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, hadn’t planned it. but now it was out. he had stared the elephant in the room dead in its eyes. he felt lighter, somewhat liberated.

until he turned around after a few too many seconds of silence to see you turned away from him, slightly hunched over. he stepped closer, and saw your hands covering your mouth. you body jolted, and you drew in quick, grasping breaths. you were crying. he said your name, and you didn’t turn to look at him.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry mr donaldson.”

all the relief he felt was replaced by swift, acute, crushing guilt. your hair fell over your face, shielding you from him. he said your name once more. you sniffed.

“hey, hey hey hey.”

against his better judgement, and because of the aching of his heart, he took you gently by the shoulders, and turned you to face him.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

tears spill from your eyes and you wipe them away with a heavy hand, refusing to meet his eyes. his neck craned down to your eye level, his thumbs began tracing circle in your shoulders. a thoughtless gesture but one that made you cry even harder.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. im just so sorry.”

“hey, it’s ok. it’s alright.”

“it’s not alright. i’ve ruined everything. i’ve made it- so- weird. i just thought that you- you wanted me. i’m so stupid.”

your mascara runs, painting your face with your turmoil.

how could you be so dense? you had been making him uncomfortable. he didn’t want you. the only reason he even let you hang around was obligation. because of what you meant to lily. you didn’t mean anything to him. you were just some kid. did he even think you’re pretty? you bet he didn’t.

worse than that, you had disappointed him. him. he was supposed to be everything your dad wasn’t. and now he was disappointed. you had failed. you had ruined everything. what even were you? were you even human?

“don’t. you’re not stupid. don’t say that.”

“i’m sorry. i just- i wanted to make you happy. that’s all i ever wanted. i wanted you to be happy with me. you were so- so- so crushed after the divorce, i-i just-“

he guides you over to the bar stool, and you let him. you sit across from each other. his hand touches your cheek, the other holds you shoulder still. the touch of his hand quietens your babbling, your eyes round and wet and open.

“you do make me happy.”

your lips parted, plump with crying.

“i do?”

he cringes at the hope in your voice, at the feeling in his chest that it stirs. the feeling in his whole body at touching, after so many years, your soft skin. the last time he held your face you were 8, crying over a bumped knee. he had very different feelings now than he did then. sympathy and concern had ebbed, making way for much darker, much more corrosive emotions. he felt guilt and want broil in the chambers of his stomach, and the evilness inside him told him how easy to would be to get what he wanted. how close he was.

“yes. you’re my favourite buddy, we have a great time together,” he ruffled your shoulder like you pat a dog, speaking quick to placate you.

the hope in your eyes dwindled.

“so,” you sniffled, “you don’t feel anything for me? you don’t-don’t want me at all?”

with your convulsive sobbing your chest rose and fell, and with each jolt you spilled further out of your thread bare top. he closed his eyes, and swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. inhaling deeply, his fingers released your shoulder.

“it doesn’t matter what i want.”

“yes it does, it matters the most,” you answer immediately, tears gone from your eyes, now sliding down from your water line and down your cheek, “what do you want?”

what does art want? when was the last time he asked himself that question? years. at least. he drew away from you. you felt sick.

he turned on the stool, ducking his head and cradling his face in his hands

“i want…”

what the fuck was he saying? he couldn’t say this to you. he couldn’t. but he was.

“i… you’re a very gorgeous girl. you’re sweet. you’re smart. you’re funny. i like you very much.”

he said it like he was confessing to murder. elbow resting on his knee, his hand covered his eyes with splayed fingers. god, he was going to hell for this. even saying the words felt like the deepest sin imaginable, and he was sanitising his truth extensively. what he thought about at night, when you went home and his house became cold again, when he got into the shower and mechanically relieved himself into the drain, that was truly deplorable. when he touched himself, it was you he thought of. invariably. everything a man could possibly do to a girl, everything a girl could possibly do to a man, he had laid up in his bed and touched himself to with you in mind. ropes and ropes and ropes of cum in your honour, so gently splattered on shower walls and bedsheets he needed to wash anyway. sometimes he came on his torso, just to feel young and frivolous, like you were. and when he did his brain would turn back on, and he would feel so guilty that he would lay there to soak up his guilt, a punishment for himself from himself. so yes. he wanted you. he wanted you very, very badly. with every fibre of his being, he craved you. and with every fibre of his soul, he hated himself for it. but apparently he was still talking. what his morality urged him his mouth couldn’t hear, or wouldn’t obey.

“so don’t think you’re delusional. you had every reason to think i might reciprocate.”

you watched him, glossy eyes wide as ever. he peeked from beneath his fingers, immediately covering his eyes again when he saw you watch him. he shouldn’t have said that. he shouldn’t have. that was bad, it’s only giving you hope, and there is no hope. he can’t, he can’t. he want to so badly but he can’t. god, no he can’t. it would be so easy but easy isn’t right and how could he ever look his daughter in the eyes again if he did? how could he look at tashi?

“mr donaldson?”

“mm,” he replied miserably.

“kiss me.”

slowly, exhausted, he lifted up his head. mistake. now he was thinking about it as he looked at your face, puffy and damp and shining like a star.

why did he look so disgusted? what was so wrong with you? you couldn’t stop yourself from barreling ahead, feeling his premature rejection like a rock in your stomach.

“just once. then i’ll leave and i’ll never bother you and you won’t see me anymore and i’ll go to church and ill get a therapist, but just once.”

he looks so tired. so tired and so fucking good. his eyes smouldered with deep thought, the thought only a mature man can have. he was so mature. he was so much larger than you. he could hurt you if he wanted to. he could make you do anything but all he did was look at you so tired it made you squirm inside. as your sobs died in your throat, regret and embarrassment become indistinguishable from desire.

he blinked slowly, and opened his mouth. the white of his teeth glittered. his tongue pawed the inside of his cheek. he was thinking about it.

how could he be thinking about it? he was the worst person in the world. and yet. and yet. one kiss. he could control it with one kiss. one kiss wouldn’t hurt. one kiss. he had kissed your head before. your cheek. what was so different about this?

wordlessly, he moved off the stool. heart in your mouth you waited. a tremulous breath shuddered from your chest as he took one step. two steps. three steps. until he was stood above you. his face was unreadable. not cold. not warm. just looking, appraising from above his brown lower lashes, down his strong kissable nose.

“one kiss?”

his hand rose slowly, palm facing upwards. his finger tips grazed your jaw, your chin, tilting your head up. fireworks burst in your stomach, and you resisted the urge to moan.

“one. that’s all.”

one. that would be all. one kiss and he would put this silly fascination away for good. a kiss is deniable. a kiss is nothing.

he stoops down, can feel the nerves vibrating from your skin. his head tilts slightly, and your eyes lock as he descends to your level. his hand moves into your hair, a combing hold. and you kiss. no tongue. your lips connect, mush and expand over the others. his nose touched your cheek. your arms remained stiff by your side as they gripped the stool. you felt the pinkness of his lips, felt the edge of his cupids bow. and then he pulled away.

there. one kiss. he had done what he had to to get you to drop it. had fulfilled your criteria, and now you could move on. now he could move on.

but if that was true, why was he leaning in again? why did almost tasting your saliva, a substance he had thought about in great detail, make him hungrier for it? why was almost having it worse than never coming close? why did he pull gently on your hair, making your head tip back, opening you mouth so he could kiss the part of you he craved; the inside part? why was he hard if it was over?

his tongue flicked gently inside, asking permission. your mouths closed together, making the kiss noise you hate hearing but love making. they open quickly and in sequence. your hands rise up to gently hover over his chest, barely grazing his shirt. you didn’t want to touch him too hard in case he dissipated into a cloud of smoke, an illusion.

but he was very real, and under your timid girlish touch he was undone. a soft exhalation like a groan into your mouth, and his tongue protruded. it touched yours and you tasted the salt on it, shivering. his other hand fell back to your shoulder, gripping so hard it was like had no idea what he was doing. feeling your mouth against his was all that there was. there wasn’t right, there wasn’t wrong, there was only sensation.

all the want he had saved for solitary and depressing masturbation now burst through his veins, into his actions and he kissed you with all the passion in him. with everything he’s never said, with all the times he held back with you, with tashi. he kissed you like if he didn’t he would die, breathing and groaning and grunting involuntarily. he mashed his face to yours, crushing your lips, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before recapturing your mouth in a sloppy open mouthed kiss. it felt like steam evaporated from where your met, so hot and wet.

you didn’t know what was your and what was art, where you finished and art began. you meshed like the broken pieces of a vase slotted against each other. his tongue became so wild it clipped the side of your mouth in its frantic exploration, and you sighed.

ultimately it was you who had to pull away. you pulled your hands into your own chest, gasping for breath. he didn’t move an inch. he gripped your shoulder still, cradled your face the same. he opened his eyes, chest rising and falling graciously.

he surveyed you, still too high from your touch to feel guilt, with lazy eyes. he was so fucked. your eyes sparkled like glitter. your lips shined pearly with his spit. his.

“art?”

“yes?”

“it’s not just one kiss is it?”

despite himself, despite everything, he smiled.

“no. i don’t think it is.”

[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 laughs 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

[pinkponyclubbb3]

Eat Up

Warnings: smut, cursing,public fingering,praise

make sure to read my other fic revenge part 1 part 2

summary: Out with a group of friends for dinner Chris & Matt can’t seem to keep their hands to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘To this day, his identity remains unknown. Leaving everyone wondering what he's doing and where he Is now… ’

I finish my makeup and turn off the TV. I look back to see Matt, Chris, and Nick staring at the screen with horror. “What the fuck was that?” Nick screams as he points at the TV. “You guys didn’t want to wait outside while I got ready.” I put my hands up in defense. “You fucking psychopath, why do you watch that while you get ready!”

“Stop being so dramatic.” I roll my eyes at Matt. “Okay we have to leave now the restaurant is 20 minutes away.” We all grab our stuff and head to the car. I stay behind to switch my earrings, when I get the idea to scare the triplets. I follow behind Matt without him noticing me. I hide behind the truck until they’re all in the car.

Matt honks the car horn. “Y/N! Hurry up!” I slowly make my way to the front and jump up and scare them. “What the fuck!” Matt screams. “Y/N!” Nick has his hand over his heart. I get in the car and start laughing with Chris. He’s trying to act as if I didn’t scare him. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

20 minutes later

Chris holds the door open for me as I step inside. “They’re at the table in the corner.” Nick says as he looks up from his phone. We all follow behind Nick trying not to get in anyone’s way. I see madison’s beautiful face and give her a little wave. We put our stuff in our seats and say hi to everyone.

“Hi baby you look so pretty!” I’ve only known Madison for about a year but there’s something about her that makes it feel like i’ve known her my whole life. “Thank you! Your dress compliments you so well.” I shake hands with her boyfriend and introduce myself. Few minutes later we see our other friends Luna, and Grayson. I’m sitting between Chris and Matt while Nick is sitting in front of us with Madison and her boyfriend.

I look over at Luna,who’s next to Matt, and say hi to her. I fake smile at Grayson. We used to date, but being tied down to one girl wasn’t enough for him. “Are you okay with him being here?” I break out of my gaze and look at Matt. “It’s fine,Matt we’re all friends.” I smile at him.

Everyone is looking at the menu, figuring out what they are going to order. The waiter comes to our table and we make eye contact. Fuck me. He has green eyes and dark brown hair. “Hi guys my name is Alex i’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

“Please do.” I whisper to myself. Matt looks at me and hits my shoulder. “Shut up.” Everyone orders their drinks and I go last. “What can I get for you beautiful?” I blush at the name and order a Long Island iced tea. I feel Chris’s hand squeeze my thigh as he notices me looking at the waiter for a beat too long.

“What?” I whisper to him as the waiter leaves. “Stop looking at him like that.” I give him a confused face. As I was about to say something, Nick asked me a question. “Can we sleep at your house today?” Completely forgetting it’s Friday, we have never missed a weekend sleepover. “Fine but you guys aren’t going to take up my bed like last time.” I hear Matt laugh as he remembers I woke up on the floor once.

35 minutes later

I see Chris's hand on the table. I focus specifically on his middle and ring finger. Everyone is too distracted in their conversations to notice I’m just daydreaming.

‘Keep touching yourself like that. Show me how bad you want to get off.’ I whine as I feel Chris thrust into me. I shut my eyes and hear Matt say, ‘Did we say you could close your eyes?’ I whine and shake my head no. ‘Open your eyes then, sweetheart. Look at Chris while he fucks you.’ I open my eyes and try my hardest to keep eye contact. ‘Such a good, obedient girl.’

I snap out of my daydream when I hear Matt whisper, “Are you okay?” I look at him, and he looks down at my thighs. I didn’t realize I was pushing them together to relieve the tension I had built with my daydream. My eyes widened, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Yeah, why?”

He puts his hand on my thigh, and I tense up. “What were you thinking about?” I’m not sure if he knows or if he’s genuinely wondering. “I- nothing. Pay attention, Grayson is telling a story.” I turn to Grayson, but I’m too caught up in my mind to care what he says.

“I see what you’re doing, you know.” I look down, and his hand is placed on my upper thigh. I turn to him. “Matt, we’re in public,” I whisper. He leans in. “Tell me to stop then.” my breath hitches. “Pay attention to Grayson.” I just nod as I feel his fingers exploring between my legs.

I bite my lip when I feel him reach my underwear. “Lace?” I hear him ask. I nod, trying to pay attention to Grayson, who’s next to Chris. “Dirty girl.” I bite back a smile. I let out a soft groan when he touches my clothed clit. Chris turns around, and his eyebrows are furrowed. “Why’d you do that?” I come up with something quick. “I accidentally stepped on my toe with my heel.” I look into his eyes, hoping he will believe me. He just nodded and turned over.

Matt pulls my underwear to the side, and his finger explores my dripping wet cunt. “Fuck. what were you thinking about, sweetheart?” I debate on telling him. Matt, Chris, and I have never done anything sexual with each other nor talked about it. So, all this is new to us, but I hope this isn’t the last time.

I pull out my phone and type, ‘Thinking about you and Chris fucking me.’ I’m not usually this bold, but I have alcohol in my system. I show him the phone under the table, and the second he reads it, he inserts a finger inside me. Without thinking, I grab Chris’s shoulder and squeeze it. “Oh my fuck” I attempt to whisper but fail.

“You good?” Chris asks, concerned. I nod and say mhm. He receives a text, and he turns his full attention to me. He wastes no time putting his hand on my upper thigh. I want to stop for the sole reason of us getting caught, but a sick part of me is turned on by the idea. I gasp loudly when I feel Chris’s hand on my clit.

Madison looks at me. “What happened?” Matt and Chris put on a face that lacks real genuine concern. “I can feel my calf cramping.” I say the first thing that comes to mind. As i’m looking at Madison she’s completely oblivious to what’s going on. “Those are the worst!” I groan again trying to cover it with a cough.

Matt’s fingers are going in and out of me at such a fast pace. “I can feel you’re about to cum, y/n.” I nod my head. Everyone looks up as the waiter brings our food. I see Chris smirk and turn to us. “Look at the waiter who was flirting with you while you cum.”

“What!” I whisper yell. “Do it, or we won’t let you,” Matt whispers. “The Chicken Alfredo?” The waiter looks at me and winks. “Th-thank you.” I start stuttering as I feel their fingers moving at a faster pace. The waiter furrowed his eyebrows for a quick second. I bite my lip; I feel the knot in my stomach growing. I grab Chris’s thigh, trying to stop myself from moaning out loud.

“Look at him, y/n,” Matt says with a stern voice. I look at the waiter, and Chris looks back to ensure I’m looking. I can’t hold it anymore the euphoric feeling taking over my body. My legs are shaking. My hand is covering my mouth as I try not to make a sound.

A soft moan escapes my mouth, but thankfully, Nick drops his fork at the same time so no one hears. Their fingers slow down, helping me ride out my high. “Such a good girl,” Matt whispers in my ear. I tried to steady my breathing and saw Chris licking his fingers clean.

“Eat up,sweetheart.” Chris says.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: thank you soooo much for reading i hope u enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it! let me know if u want to be tagged in all my future fics!✨

tag list: @eliana-4200 @naisblogsblog @mattstromboli @watercolorskyy @taliaslutiolo @gracielovssturniolo @mylove4lana

[angelbwrry]

𝒜𝒯𝒯𝒜𝒞𝒦 𝒪𝒩 𝒯𝐼𝒯𝒜𝒩 𝑀𝒜𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯

eren jeager.

❀ cherry hill. eren j. 11k.

cw 𐙚 nsfw link, plug! eren, long plot,cannabis consumption, lots of angst, little bit of domestic violence by readers bf, ony, armin and connie cameo, car sex, toxic-ish reader, black reader, spanking, toe-sucking, oral, size difference, dirty talk, cream-pie, creaming, multiple orgasms, cervix kissing, pet names, thumb in ass, fluff at the end, lowercase intended! or in which you and your best friend do the dirty. . . minors shoo!

❀ fuck it, guess we both ain’t shit! eren j.

cw𐙚 revenge sex, choking, creaming, video-taping intercourse, spanking, connie crying . . . lmao! minors, shoo!

❀ island love. eren j.

cw𐙚 beach sex, creampie, unprotected sex, drabble.

❀ yummy. eren j. 3k.

cw𐙚hockeyplayer! eren, black reader, fingering, creaming, dirty talk, unprotected sex, pussy slapping, cervix kissing, praise, pet names, daddy kink, size difference, overstimulation, creampie. or in which he fucks you in his jersey. mdni

❀ shut up and ride. eren x connie. 6k.

cw𐙚 threesome, spanking, throat-fuck, creaming, fingering, oral, anal, size difference, dirty talk, overstimulation. you're a car enthusiast aiming to win a race for some extra money, but the handsome guys next to you already intended to take the victory.what happens when you three bump heads? mdni

onyankapon.

❀ fresh set. ony.

cw𐙚 oral, fingering, creaming, dirty talk . . . ony loves when you get your nails done! mdni

❀ big n bad. ony.

cw𐙚 toxic! reader, cervix kissing, unprotected sex, spanking, creaming, vibrator! in which ony doesn’t like your attitude. mdni

connie springer.

❀ nympho freak. connie s. 4k.

cw𐙚 car sex, oral, fingering, creaming, multiple orgasms, spanking, dirty talk, i think that’s all? . . . in the midst of july, your partner proposes a road trip, which initially goes smoothly until you both find yourselves lost. as tensions rise along with sexual desires, the situation becomes more . . . sticky. mdni

❀ pull a him on him. connie s. 2k.

cw𐙚 cheating, fingering, choking, dirty-talk, squirting, multiple orgasms . . . connie springer is a fucking asshole and you’re stupid. minors shoo!

❀ pretty boy. armin a.

cwᯓᡣ𐭩 nsfw link, virgin!armin, masterbating, cockwarming, sex outdoors, size difference, minor mention of blood as armin fucks readers throat, cum-eating, eren + connie cameo . . . or in which he can’t stop getting hard at the thought of you. mdni.



🫧 angelbwrry 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine taking Rayleigh and Shakky out on a date

This is part 2 of this post

Rayleigh: so you want to take us out on a pretend date to spite your first mate and captain for bullying you?

Reader: I know how it sounds, but I figured it'd be a good way to get back at them.

Shakky: While I'm all for helping you get revenge, I don't understand your logic.

You: well, Rayleigh is Shanks's father figure.

Rayleigh: That's not how I'd put it, but I suppose I'm the closest thing he's got.

You: And while I know you two have an open relationship, I thought fucking my captain's father figure would be crossing a line.

Shakky: probably a wise move.

You: And I wanted you to go on a fake date with you, Shakky because Benn has had a crush on you for years, but has been too nervous to ask you out on a date.

Rayleigh: so a date, with both of us, would be two birds with one stone.

Shakky: Oh, I know about his little crush, his poker face is terrible

You: I know, right? I saw him in here earlier, looking at you, he was about as subtle as a sea train.

Rayleigh: *turns to his wife,* What do you think?

Shakky: I dunno.

You: I'll pay for dinner.

Shakky: Deal.

Rayleigh: Pick us up at six thirty tonight.

That night during dinner

Rayleigh: *drinking straight from the wine bottle you ordered*, So how's the brat supposed to know you took us on a date?

You: Well, he planned on dining here at seven, so by the time our food arrives, he should be here. But you know him, he's not good at sticking to plans. If he doesn't come, we could take a picture as a backup plan.

Shakky: Sounds like a plan, in the meantime, we should have a proper date.

Rayleigh: yes, tell us about yourself.

An hour later

You: And Shanks, buck ass naked, slips on the wet rocks, falls, and smacks against the surface of the water!

Shanks: (y/n)?

You: *looks over to notice Shanks and his inner circle gawking at you*

Rayleigh: hey sport

Shanks: what's going on here?

Shakky: what does it look like? We're having a date with this little cutie. *wraps her arms around you and rests her head on your shoulder, giving a pointed smirk at Benn*

Rayleigh: *puts his arm around both you and Shakky and pulls you into his side,* They were just telling us about your skinny sipping mishap on Koala Island.

Shanks: No

You: yep

Benn: *glaring daggers at you,* You little shit, how long has this been going on?

You: Not long, this is the first date.

Shanks: Is this because of what we said two weeks ago?

You: a little

Shanks: *pouts,* We were just teasing.

Shakky: You're interrupting our date, it's quite rude.

Shanks: Fine, enjoy your evening.

Later

Shanks: *alone, passed out drunk on his table*

Rayleigh: *sighs* this boy I swear.

Shakky: Want to ditch him with our tab?

You: Yeah, but we're not gonna leave him without the cash, *pulls out his wallet and puts the Berry you brought along inside before sliding it back into his pocket*

The next day on the Red Force

You: *walks onto the ship only for everyone to stare at you*

Benn: You have some explaining to do.

Shanks: *bursts out of his cabin,* Did you fuck them?

You: no, I thought that'd be crossing a line.

Shanks: then where did you stay last night?

You: In their guest room, I helped Shakky open this morning because Rayleigh had wandered off after our date... Look, it wasn't a real date, Boss, I was upfront with them about my intentions.

Shanks: We didn't bully you.

You: It certainly felt like it to me, and when I voiced that hurt, you didn't apologize, and basically told me to stop sulking. So I wanted you to know how it felt, so I asked Rayleigh and Shakky to help me get back at you for bullying me.

Shanks: I see, *reflects on his behavior for a moment* I'm sorry we teased you, it was supposed to be a joke but ended up hurting your feelings.

You: Apology accepted.

Shanks: Now, please never date any of my former crew mates from my time with Roger.

You: I promise I won't knowingly date any of them.

Shanks: I don't like the way you phrased that, but fine, I guess.

Benn: Now that that's done, tell me how in the hell you got Shakky to go on a date with you.

You: Again, it was a fake date, but I simply asked.

Benn: I was afraid you were gonna say that.

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[wizashcs]

Hi hi

May I ask for some spicy stuff where the s/o starts teasing some boys in front of their man/crew? You can take is as you like ~

With Crocodile , Iceburg (He dosn't get enough love), Sanji? Ty ty

Well, well, well… If I have to work with Sanji I really should put on my apron. Sure thing, hon! I’ll do some jealous men for you!;)

One Piece Headcanons - Jealousy

Characters: Sanji, Crocodile, Iceburg

cw.: jealousy, revenge, possesive thoughts/speaking, voyeurism, slight degradation, fingering, oral fem!receiving, oral male!recieving

fem! s/o

(These will be more like scenarios, because no way I can write these shortened💀)

Sanji

You might be used to Sanji’s flirty behaviour towards women by now, however it doesn’t mean it makes you less annoyed. Since you two are together, Sanji shows true love to you, and avoids talking to other women the way he used to. Still, his love and respect towards them becomes a little too much here and there, and he’s not smart enough to notice it in time sometimes. One day, you had enough. When you stopped at a smaller island to buy some goods for the next cruise, you’ve met a few guys around your age at the docks, selling fish and other sea creatures for pretty high prices. Suddenly, a little mean lightbulb lit up above your head. You thought if you used your female charms, you might even get a little bit of a discount on some products, and at the same time, you could teach your dumb man a little bit of a lesson.

You walked towards the salesmen, putting on your kindest smile and honeyed words. Sanji immediately noticed your quick disappearance, he obviously started looking around to find you. You never leave without a word, and that made him worried. And then, he saw you, talking to those men. Oh those men must pay for getting around you, when you’re all by yourself, without him to protect you. You’ve successfully persuaded those boys to give you some of the fish cheaper, when all of the sudden, Sanji appeared beside you. A lit cigarette hung out of his mouth, his eyes looked annoyed, but to you, he spoke sweet like honey.

“You okay, lovely?.” He said, and looked at the merchant. “What’ya you lookin’ at, making the fish rot in the sun? Go and do you job.”

“Sanji… I was doing business.” You murmured, but he was too busy started arguing with the fishermen by now.

“We can talk about that on the ship later, alright apple pie?~ I’ll finish the business for you.”

You let out a heavy sigh, but in the inside, you kind of had your fun. Seeing him looking at those poor guys with his anger filled eyes just because he became jealous of them, talking to you. Your plan worked, but you’re not that mean to not bring up the subject again. Sanji came back to the ship around fifteen minutes later, with a basket of fish… He really finished the business instead of you.

You walked to the kitchen, so you could speak your concerns too, and possibly apologize for your behaviour as well. Sanji was in the kitchen, chopping up some vegetables for lunch, when you entered. He seemed bothered, but he still smiled at you when you appeared.

“Lunch will be ready in two hours, but if you’re hungry I can make you a quick snack, love.”

“You’re the snack itself.” You joked, and hugged him from behind, pressing a kiss on his back. “You know, when those guys gathered around me… I started it.”

Sanji went silent for a bit, and wiped his hands into a clean kitchen rag.

“Even if a woman starts ‘something’, it’s not right to gather around her like that… That must have been scary for you.” You could hear his voice is disappointed, but he didn’t start blaming you, not even a little bit. Your stomach clenched from feeling guilt, so you continued.

“I was trying to get some discount with honeyed words, and… There was a little bit of revenge towards you.”

Sanji turned around this time. He seemed worried. He believed he messed up something hard, and the worst part was that he didn’t know how.

“What? Did I do something wrong, love?”

“Not that wrong!” You tried reassuring. “It’s just sometimes you’re still too kind to other women… It made me feel jealous and I kinda wanted to make you as well…”

“Oh, mon chérie, oh no–” He breathed out, before leaning towards you to kiss your forehead. “I swear to you, I will be more careful with my words… I didn’t mean to hurt you, or make you think you’re not enough. You’re everything I have, and I shall show it to you every day, every way possible… Forgive me.”

“Sanji–“ You spoke his name out of surprise, as he fell on his knees down at your feet, hugging your legs and burying his face into your skirt.

“Darling, I’m begging you on my knees,” He pleaded, and looked up to you with his ever loving eyes. He was desperate to make up to the mistakes he did. “let me please you, right here and now. Let me make it up to you.”

“Sweetheart, it’s fine, you don’t have to– We are in the kitchen!” You tried to reason with him, but there was no use. He wanted this.

“Please.” He whispered, as he started pulling your skirt up, so he could reach your thighs with his mouth. He began to kiss the inner part of your thigh, his fingers gripped your skirt tightly. You didn’t want him to stop, each time he pleaded you to let him eat you out, it got a little harder to think. Eventually, you gave in. He grabbed your panties with his teeth, pulling it down all the way on your legs, until it hit the ground. He teasingly kissed around your womanhood, on that little straight line that separates your pussy from your thighs, and then, down again on your legs. He wanted to show you how appreciated you and all of your body’s hidden treasures are.

“I love you. I promise I’ll cherish you the way you deserve it, my love.” He kissed the words into your thighs, just right before he leaned to your wet cunt so he could finally give you everything he can to make you forgive. His tounge immediately found your favorite spot and speed, because he remembers everything you previously told and showed him about your preferences. You moaned his name quietly, grabbing into his blonde tufts, pleading for him not to ever stop. It only made him even more eager and confident to take you the stars. Don’t expect that you’re going to walk out of the kitchen on your own legs. The number of the orgasms you will get because of him in the next thirty minutes will make your feet go so shaky, that you won’t be able to walk without getting suspicious.

Crocodile

There was a meeting with greater influence at Baroque Works. Your husband, the Warlord Crocodile himself wasn’t paying much attention to you for a few days, since this occassion was a pretty important one. Men and women with high influence gathered to talk through political events, future plans and statistics, with the company of ridiculously expensive champagne and wine. You’ve always hated these kinds of meetings. You’re not important and feared enough to catch anyone’s attention by your power, but Crocodile insists on you to be there at all times, even while he knows you hate these occassions. The truth was, he loved showing you off the people. He loved the feeling that he could make everyone know that a beauty like you, belongs to him, and him only.

Meanwhile Crocodile enjoyed the evening with the people you barely heard about in your lifetime, you sat on your reserved chair, wondering about how much you just want to leave the room and do anything better, than this. You were bored, and a little annoyed at Crocodile as well. He spent long days ignoring you, because all he cared about in the last few weeks was his work, and this meeting. You usually understood how busy he was, but you hated how you were used on these events. Just a wife image? A trophy? The bare thought of it frustrated you. Out of your boredom, or annoyance, a childish idea run into your mind. You stood up from your chair and walked across the room to a man you never even heard about. It didn’t matter how he looked like or what he was doing here, you just wanted him to play a role for a game you wanted to entertain yourself with, (and possibly fill your husband up with anger). Even though he didn’t pay much attention to you on these meetings, sometimes his eyes wandered to you, just for a quick check that you’re there at all. It happened just like this as well, when he noticed you chatting with a man. You chuckled at his unfunny jokes, touched the man’s arm playfully. He didn’t understand your unusual behaviour, but it was sure as hell he didn’t like what he saw.

In that moment, he didn’t care about the subject of the conversation he was having with someone, he left without a word just to reach you.

“You may leave now.” He spoke to you, and you looked up to him, smiling smugly as a fox.

“But I’m having so much fun, darling.”

“I bet you do.” He replied quickly as he grabbed your hand tightly. He looked at the man you were small talking just yet, and told him to piss off, while he was dragging you out of the room. “I don’t want you here causing trouble for me. We’re going to talk about this later.”

You shrugged your shoulders, without a feeling of any responsibility. Honestly, you were a little satisfied too. He deserved a little bit of a reality check by now.

A few hours have passed, and you sat at your desk, reading some book your husband gave you for your birthday. It was one that you were longing to read for years, but it’s so rare because of the lack of copies that he had to spend months researching until he could buy you one of those few. You loved this book dearly, because it always reminded you how much you’re in love with eachother, despite every stupid arguements. You were two pages from the next chapter, when your door opened, and Crocodile came in.

“How was your night, dear?” You asked, not looking up from your book.

“Quit this attitude, until I have my patience.” He said, throwing off his heavy, black furcoat from his shoulders to his chair.

“Yeah, everything is about you, no one cares about my patience!” You choked out and closed your book. You stood now on your feet and started walking to your shared bed, when he caught you by your wrist.

“Your patience? How many hours of work did you put in this project so it could happen, huh?” You shrugged your shoulder again. “No hours, yet there was a place for you at my table, you could participate in such an important event.”

“Oh, don’t make me laugh, Crocodile! You only tolerate me on your dumb meetings, because that would mean you could show off how hot stuff your wife’s made of. What? Is it a problem if I show off my body by myself?” In that sudden moment, he caught your chin with his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Do you hear yourself when you say such stupidity? You vowed yourself to me. Your body, your mind and soul belongs to me.”

You couldn’t help but get excited at his words…You were frustrated, angry, but never scared. After all, being his was all you had. Your voice became emotionally shaky once you started speaking again:

“Yes… And for that, I did this. All because I wanted you to see me, to have your attention on me. You don’t know how hard it is to deal with you and your work sometimes. I don’t even know when was the last time you actually looked in my way.”

Your bold words caught him by surprise. He took the burnt cigar out of his mouth and pressed it against an ashtray on his desk. Then, he began to laugh, while he walked to you again. He pulled you to your bedroom’s huge window and pressed your back against the cold glass.

“My attention?” He leaned down to your ear, so he could whisper. There was something in his quiet voice that messed up your mind. You wanted him so bad, now more than ever. It was so damn long you could feel his scent in your nose. “Don’t worry, you certainly will have that, after all your hard ‘work’… Now turn around, and bend over.”

What he said caught you off guard… Did he really get aroused from all this? You slowly turned around, and pressed your palms against the window you were standing by. You arched your back like a cat towards him, obeying his words. It was as quick as lightning when he used his hook to tear off the panties you had on until now. The expensive, laced fabric simply fall on the ground, and no one ever talked about them. You didn’t really have time to react to that anyway, because the next thing you felt was two of his fingers pushing their way inside your pussy without any warning. You squirmed and whined by his rough fingers moving inside you, rubbing mercilessly against your sweet spot. As you moved around, he pressed your back down with his hook to keep you in place, and so you could arch your ass a little more for him.

“Quiet. I don’t want anyone to notice how you’re getting fucked until passing out, but at least you can enjoy the thought of being seen. Isn’t this what you wanted, my dear?”

Iceburg

(This will be funny af because the man’s whole career is a headcanon.)

This happened back in the days when you and Iceburg were yet just a couple. His hair was longer back then, but the beard on his chin grew strongly. You loved Iceburg dearly, and he felt the same way towards you. We could say you were pretty popular pair, everyone knew you two were dating for years now. He was young, and worked as a shipwright with a guild. You were always supporting towards him, though you didn’t really have experience on how to do this work, however bringing lunch for him and his colleagues was enough, and very appreciated.

It was a similar hard day for him in work, so you prepared a bunch of food for him and the men he worked with. Though, when you arrived to the workplace, your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. You asked around his coworkers, but no one could say anything more than “He was here a minute ago.” You didn’t start worrying by that, of course, especially since you liked the men he was working with, you thought it would be fun to just talk to them a little until Iceburg arrives back. You gave some of the lunch you prepared for the workers, whom were happy to have you for at least a chat while they take a break. Since you were a fine lady, some of the guys tried to flirt, but there was someone who was showing off his abs to you. To say the truth, you became actually pretty amazed by seeing how big his arms were, so you asked him if you could touch it.

The mean leaned closer to you with his arm, and you gently rubbed it. That was the exact moment when your boyfriend arrived.

“What’s happening here?” He asked, and you flinched, putting your hands away in an instant.

“Baby, finally! Where have you been?” You asked him as you hurried up to him, but he was too worked up with the thing he just saw a few moments ago.

“I saw a turtle walking around the streets and I put it back to the water where it was safe… But honey, why were you touching that idiot’s arm? You don’t love me anymore?” He asked you with serious concern.

“Of course I do, babe, I was just surprised by how big his arm is… I know this sounds dumb like that, but there was nothing more to it.” Not only you, but the workers as well tried reassuring their boss to not worry, which seemed to work.

Half of an hour later you went back home to his house, so you could wait for him there until his shift was over for the day. Around four hours have passed when the front door opened, and Iceburg stepped in the house with a giant teddy bear in his arms.

“Honey, I brought you this bear. Promise you still love me?” He asked, tucking the teddy bear into your arms without further questions. You had to drop everything you had in your hands just so you could hold the surprising gift.

“Iceburg, where have you got this? I told you that I love you, you shouldn’t have bought this for me… Where do I even put it?”

He crossed his arms and looked around the house:

“I don’t know yet, I didn’t think about that. Once I get rich there won’t be a problem with it because we’ll have much more room.”

Sometimes you just had to let his reasons go, he won’t take that giant plushie back to the store, and you couldn’t even ask him to anyway. You put the teddy down on the floor, and turned to him to kiss him. He hugged you by your waist, embracing you tightly to him. You knew his previous concerns were true, he was a sensitive type ever since you knew him.

“I love you, baby.” You murmured between your kisses. “There’s no way I could love anyone more like you, you know.”

“I know…I’m sorry I became jealous.” He kissed your ear as he leaned down to you, wandering to your cheek and mouth with his lips. You felt like you wanted to show you more of how you love and appreciate him. You pressed your palm on his chest, pushing him a little backwards so he would sit down on the couch you had in your livingroom. You sat on his lap, while your hands began to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing, honey?” He asked with a pinch of blush on his face.

“Just making you sure that you have no reason to be jealous.” Your smile widened as you started drawing circles on one of his nipples with your thumb. You could feel his erection grow in his pants, and you couldn’t help but begin to move your hips back and forth carefully, rubbing your hungry pussy against his rock hard cock. He sighed quietly, pulling you into a kiss by tucking his fingers in your hair. His dark red lipstick left stains on your mouth, and you loved it every time.

As your passionate kiss deepened, you unzipped his pants, and crawled out of his lap, kneeling down in front of him. You looked up to his messy, blushing face, as you helped his cock out of the tight pants he was trapped in. You stroked it gently, giving it a little bit of lubricant with your saliva.

“I’ll give you the head of your life, babe.” You whispered as you finally took it in your mouth, moving your tounge on his tip desperately. His quiet moans and sighs filled your brain, keeping you motivated to get more of his sweet reactions out of him. His fingers squeezed your hairtufts tightly, but careful enough not to hurt you.

“I love you, (y/n).” He groaned out your name, as he reached for your free hand to hold you. You locked your fingers together, meaning that you two are there for eachother. No matter how many people you cross the streets, no matter how long you’re apart from eachother. You’re always there, and no one can tear you apart.

[chukys-mouthguard]

I have a request, Could you do where the reader is Luke's twin sister and they are it is there 21st birthday and Jack and Quinn are there to celebrate with them and Luke and the reader both get really drunk and Jack and Quinn take care of the when they are both drunk and hungover

Also love your fic's read them every time you post

seeing double

Genre: fluff

Featuring: Hughes brothers x Luke’s twin sister reader

Summary: it’s you and your twin brother luke’s 21st birthday and your brother’s Jack and Quinn have the pleasure of taking care of you both

Note: I’ve never written with the reader being a sister before, so this was new to me, but i think this still turned out cute 🫶🏼

“What time is it??”

You shouted over the music as you frantically searched the room for a phone to check yourself.

“Uhhh, 11:55.”

Your eyes wide as you quickly ran to the back door to look for the boys. Finding them all hanging around the fire pit shotgunning beers.

“Luke Warren Hughes! Get your ass in here and take a shot with me at midnight!”

It was yours and your twin brother Luke’s 21st birthday, well almost, and you were a bit more intoxicated than he was. But you were determined to change that, wanting to be sure that your twin brother was actually letting loose for the night. Luke not being much of a partier, he left that to Jack. But your older brothers were doing their best to get Luke to have more than just 2 beers for once.

The boys came in from the fire pit, joining you and your girl friends around the kitchen island as shots were passed around. Once everyone had a shot you noticed the time was now 11:58, hurrying to get out your toast before the clock struck midnight, finally signaling your birthday.

“Life is a waste of time. Time is a waste of life. So why not get wasted all the time, and have the time of our life!”

The group throwing back the shots in unison, followed by a loud roar of happy birthday. You and Luke taking another shot just the two of you as your friends recorded videos for Snapchat, Jack and Quinn both laughing at the two of you knocking back tequila like it was water.

“There’s no way we make it to breakfast with mom and dad tomorrow.”

“Not a fucking chance!”

The group had settled on flip cup and pong as the two games of choice, which was music to your ears knowing Luke was a secret weapon when drunk.

“Uh oh, it’s the Hughes showdown!!”

Quinn and Jack somehow made a miraculous comeback to face you and Luke in the final round of beer pong.

“Luke, we cannot lose to them! We will never live it down!”

Luke nodded his head through hooded eyes, the tequila shots very much hitting him like a ton of bricks. Noticing him swaying back and forth, you’d realized you were most likely carrying the team this round. Chugging some water you did your best to sober up and be sure to beat your brothers and earn bragging rights.

“It all comes down to this Lukey! Your shot, don’t fuck it up!”

Quinn and Jack teased Luke as he could barely see the cup at the opposite end of the table. Your final shot had missed by a mile, and at this point you were in desperate need of your bed. The tequila rightfully kicking your ass after one too many shots.

“Fuck.”

Luke cursed as his ball completely missed the table, bouncing off into the other room as Quinn and Jack hugged in celebration. The bragging rights would surely be held over you and Luke’s heads for months.

“Don’t sweat it Lukey boy, you’ll get a shot at revenge one day.”

Jack tapped him on the shoulder as you threw back another shot, hoping the taste of alcohol would make you forget the embarrassing display you put on in that game of pong.

By 2am, you and Luke collectively had enough alcohol for the entire Michigan Hockey Team and you were feeling it. Both of you dozing off on the couch as the party had come to an end.

“Y/n, y/n! Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“I am in bed.” You groaned at Quinn, not wanting to move as you were very much comfortable on the couch squished next to Luke.

“Jack, can you take Luke? I’ll deal with y/n?”

Jack nodded as both boys picked the two of you up off the couch, Quinn carrying you while Jack simply threw Luke’s arm over his shoulder.

“Fuck Luke, stand up!”

Quinn laughed as Jack practically fell to the floor as Luke was purely dead weight. “Switch me, clearly your off season workouts aren’t cutting it!”

Jack rolled his eyes as he took you in his arms, letting Quinn take over with Luke.

“Jack, put me down.” The tequila now rearing its head as you grew nauseous from the boys carrying you.

“Y/n I’m taking you to bed, hush.”

Trying your best to fight out of Jack’s grip, you only made yourself more sick. Your hand immediately flying to your mouth, signaling to Jack you needed a toilet or a trash can, and fast.

“Shit, y/n don’t you dare!”

Jack sprinted to the bathroom with you in his arms, trying his best not to make the situation worse. Setting you down, he let you have a minute to hopefully settle your stomach, Jack never being good with puking.

“Do you need anything?”

He stood back as he watched you sitting on the floor, eyes closed as you took deep breaths, trying to calm your stomach.

“No, I think I’m-“

Before you could finish you were cut off by your nausea getting the best of you, Jack trying his best to be there for you despite him wanting to run as far away as possible.

“Jack, hold my hair please?”

“What? How?”

“Just grab my fucking hair like a ponytail and hold it back so I don’t puke on it!”

He cautiously made his way to you, grabbing a hold of your hair, standing as far back as he could, doing his best to distract himself from what was going on.

“Jack! Where are you?”

Hearing Quinn struggling carrying Luke down the hall, Jack called out, revealing your location only for Quinn to appear moments later.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you guys were in here….damnit.”

Quinn stopped to catch his breath as Luke groaned against his shoulder. “Quinn, I’m gonna yak.”

Jack sighed as he looked from Luke to you, wondering how he and Quinn got roped into dealing with you two knuckle heads.

“Look, I get you guys are twins, but really? Going as far as to puke together? Can’t you do anything without the other person?”

[hanasnx]

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN has been doing nothing but training. Bulking up for his role as Anakin Skywalker in the upcoming Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith film, his entire day is mapped out from start to finish. He hasn’t had enough time for you lately, and you’ve been feeling neglected, coming out from your shared bedroom in nothing but a baby tee and underwear. The soft padding of your feet against the hardwood alerts him to your impending presence, and he glances at you, a curl gracing his plump lips. “Hey, baby,” he drawls affectionately, putting the finishing touches on an egg-white omelet. His diet has been consistently cleaner since he’s had to change his body for the Anakin role.

You rub the sleep from your eyes and round the kitchen island with a yawn, wrapping your heavy arms around his waist from behind. He’s gotten so much thicker, harder. You can feel it through his shirt. Muscles and defined tendons like a bag of fucking ropes as they shift under your touch while he works on his breakfast.

“I made you some too. Know it’s not your favorite but,” Whatever spill is on his thumb is sucked off between his lips quickly. “it’ll be good for you. I’ve gotta go soon.” You unlatch from him as he makes a move to reach for the drawer to pluck a fork from it.

“Baby?” you say, but your voice is too quiet while he moves around. “Baby?” you reiterate louder, but not by much, an uneasy waver to your tone as you fiddle with your hands.

He looks at you expectantly, a concern to his eyes that makes you feel small for interrupting him. You question if it’s worth bringing to his attention.

“I miss you.” you tell him, meeting his gaze with glossy wide eyes.

He doesn’t quite understand, you can see it in the way he smiles at you. “I miss you, too.”

“No, like,” You gesture with your hands, and step to him. “like I miss you.” Warily, you clutch at his shirt, and meet his gaze again, hopeful that he’ll get what you mean.

The expression of realization blooms on his face and he mouths an, “Ohh.” He glances away, but comes back to you, stooping so he can wrap his arms around your thighs, picking you up. The sudden motion of how you shot up with his height when he straightened makes you squeal. Now at eye-level with him, you drape your arms around his thick neck, nuzzling your face on his as he settles you on one arm. Your knees bend while he’s got you, keeping you pressed into his side, holding you. He twists the fork to slice into his omelet, cutting himself a big piece that he stabs into and bows his head to bring to his mouth. Staying this close to him helps you feel better, even if his attention is on his breakfast. When he gets a second, he walks around with you, gathering the supplies to get your meal onto a plate, set onto the kitchen island next to his. It’s smaller than his. He readjusts you, bouncing you on his hip once to get a better grip on you, his arm underneath your ass.

“Open your mouth.” he tells you, bringing you a piece of your food and feeding it to you. “There you go. Good job.” Something about him attentively babying helps close some of that distance you’ve been feeling.