#and for the love of god quit tagging your character hate in the tags!

[toaster-fire-art]

been busy and side tracked with school and work stress and so uuuuuh have a formal/informal introduction to some ocs that I've posted a few things with and other i havent, same story, drawn impulsively after drawing a small pilot comic for one of my classes.

Mini lore dump/general details below the cut if you're interested.

These OCs are part of a different story than the character sheets I created and posted before, who have more or less realtively stayed the same since they were created. Might go a lil insane and create chatater sheets for them, I love to make them to be honest.

Me and @belovedknightdraws created all these characters we were wee lads, like 8 years old and their designs haven't chnaged much aside from some logistics, some name changes, story beats, etc.

The first chunk are the main characters of the story, Viper and Calisto and the three brothers that go by the aliases Red, Fang and Killer. The secnd two are Izzy and Sy, different embodyments/parts of one soul of the same being if you will. Essentially functioning as an ally to the gang and an enemy depending on the context.

In it's simplest explaination I can give without just rambling, the main group are all vampires with different attachments or relationships to their existence as vampires. The girls however are also able to use magic, taught to them by charcters like Izzy and Sy who took them in almost as wards. Izzy is an enigmatic being establishing themselves as a god within their universe and others. Left abandoned after certain tramatic events, the brothers live in isolation before the girls more of less invade their house and decided they would be living there against the brothers' will.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Cod Scenarios

I had thoughts on these racked up in my brain about CoD characters having kids and what type of parents they'd be in a scenario or drabble manner.

Tag list: @puff0o0, @simp4konig, @blingblong55, @azereus, @rustic-guitar-notes, @shadofireshinobi, @anonymuslydumb, @skeletalgoats, @icarustypicalfall, @ghosts-cyphera,@connorsui is at it again, making me blush over her words, AHHHHH I LOVE HER. Did I tag almost everyone I know here? Yes, yes I did 😭

Characters Included: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

(Implied?? Wife!Reader, Parent!Reader. Not really specified, so gender neutral!Reader)

❥ Dad!John Price is the type of dad who'd fondly tell your kids about how you met, tell them stories about his time in the army, his experiences with their uncles and aunts from 141. Enjoying how their little faces express something great, admiring how cool their dad was for being so brave to constantly and willingly put his life on the line in the means of saving people. They tried telling him that they want to follow in his footsteps but that is a big no no. The last thing he wants is them willingly throwing themselves in danger and the risk was far too much.

❥ Dad!Johnny MacTavish is the type of dad to make his kids laugh by blowing raspberries on whatever body part his kids are ticklish on, he enjoys hearing their laughter and giggles. Definitely is the man who grew up with quite a big family so he'd love to have a full house if you were up to having it with him. He's such a family man to the bone, knows how things work around and mostly knows what to say and do when it comes to the kids.

❥ Dad!Kyle Garrick is the type of dad to dance with his kids, letting them have their little feet on top of his, letting them pick the music and guiding the little one. Having them smile and look up at him, his little one thinking it was just the best thing in the world to spend quality time with their dad. Swaying them around while they call him giggling, letting out squeals after he spins them. (I NEED GIRL DAD!GAZ 🥺😭)

❥ Dad!Simon Riley is the type of dad who absolutely HATES it when his kids cry, always doing his best to console them, depending on what made them upset. Being the one to patch them up when it's because of a "boo-boo", god forbid it's because of another person, he'd either make that kid piss themselves or that adult will NEVER see the light of day again. Because of that, the little one always finds themselves looking for their dad's comfort.

❥ Dad!Gary Sanderson who is the type of dad who finds so many ways to make his kid feel appreciated, whether that'd be through letting them help out and make them feel needed, thanking them and returning the favor for handmade gifts on days like Father's day or Valentine's day. The little one is always so eagerly awaiting for their dad to come home, knowing he'd be bearing so meaningful gift that goes in the memory box.

❥ Dad!Alejandro Vargas who is the type of dad who's strict but also not at the same time. Safe to say he did not have fun when Soap taught his kid to curse in Spanish when he first met the kid, that was probably Alejandro's fault for teaching Soap Spanish curses anyway. That kid is going to be loved I tell you, Alejandro has taken them to work just so they can see what he does and safe to say they loved being around everyone that Alejandro works with. (More likely that they still do this together however Alejandro is VERY strict since it's dangerous for the kid to even be out there)

❥ Dad!Rodolfo Parra who is the type of dad whose domestic, he has many memorabilias and scrapbooks of his kid's milestones, even kept the teeth that fell out. Always finding ways to spend time with the kids, whether it'd be through something as simple but meaningful as teaching them Spanish or taking them out to eat. His kids love and adore him, finding that the best time they spend with him is when he lets them talk about their day, listening in and validating their thoughts.

❥ Dad!König who is the type of dad who finds himself absolutely terrified that he's responsible for such a tiny thing. He's extremely protective of them, seeing his little kid whimper and point at something that caused them pain (even if it was by their own accord), König finds himself comforting the little one by soothing their crying and kicking whatever inanimate object it was just to make them feel better. He already hurt himself once or twice doing that and it did make his kid laugh, anything that makes them happy right?

❥ Dad!Kim Hong-Jin who is the type of dad whose a bit irresponsible at times, he tends to roughhouse with his kid a lot. There's definitely a lot of physical and playful activities with him in the means of spending time. He doesn't mean anything by it, just quality time, his kid is one of the reasons behind him stopping his gambling addiction. He wanted to set an example for them. The last thing he wants is for his kid to remember him by something negative so he does his best to spend time with them a lot despite him getting deployed.

Sidenote: I wrote this at 1 am and it was fun but my eyes hurt now, I have plans to go out tomorrow with a friend. Now regarding your guys' requests, ISTG I'm not ignoring you guys, I'm just not in the right headspace to write them except for a few I'm currently working on.

[amyminhminh]

⋆*･ﾟ You ⋆ ☾*･ﾟ:

Tags: Wanderer x reader, gn!reader

Summary: Wanderer misses your presence while you are away and fortunately, you come back home.

──────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────────

Wanderer flipped the pages begrudgingly, his tired eyes drooping under the dim light.

Kusanali had made him write more theses more often lately, and not to mention his additional work of helping the young god around Sumeru. Everything was taking a toll on him and he didn’t like it one bit.

His beloved was out at that time. He missed your presence. Your sweet scent. Your voice… Your everything. He just wanted to see your small form slipping through the door of your shared home, tip-toeing on the floor boards to surprise him. He craved to feel your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he finally relaxed in your embrace. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything else.

“Hah…”

Puppets like him don’t experience exhaustion, yet his eyes threatened to close at any given moment. He didn’t want to write theses anymore. The only thing he wanted then was you. And you alone.

He was in a trance, thinking of you. He could feel the presence of your arms snaking their way on his tensed shoulder blades, hugging him from behind. Your intoxicatingly sweet smell tickled his senses. He breathed out in a huff.

“Boo.”

His eyes snapped open as he tensed up. He let his guard down. He would and had never let his guard down like that. But he did.

A head appeared in view and he froze like a statue. He would have activated his vision and attacked at that moment, but his body refused to move.

The thought went away as soon as he recognized the face that he had been yearning for.

“What’s got you so tense? Missed me so much?”

Your eyelashes fluttered at the sight of him working on his theses. He hated writing them but he just couldn’t bring himself to reject Lesser Lord Kusanali. Everytime complaints escaped from his lips, you would always ruffle his hair, treating him like a little kid throwing a tantrum over spilled ice cream. But what a sweetheart you were. You would often offer help if you had time, and he appreciated that.

You were always so kind, so understanding… to everyone. Even to strangers. It made him worry about your safety whenever you had the need to go outside without him. And having been betrayed three times in his life, he wanted you to show your kindness towards only him.

Sometimes he just wanted to lock you up in the house to protect you. To love you. To have all your affection for himself.

“Wanderer? Whatcha thinking about?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Slapping himself internally, he sighed at the overflowing thoughts circling around his artificial mind. He needed to stop with his possessiveness. It reminded him of…

Nevermind. It seemed like he stayed silent for too long.

“Nothing. Just brainstorming some ideas for theses.”

On your plump lips plastered a smile. The same smile he had adored from the first time he met you.

“You seem tired. You should take a rest. And don’t pull the ‘I’m a puppet, I don’t feel tired!’ on me. You sound like that adeptus from Liyue I know.”

Liyue? Adeptus? There you went, going around all places and meeting new people. Not like he could stop you. But he just couldn’t help the jealousy bubbling up inside his body, urging him to take action. Though he wouldn’t do things like those characters in novels. Yanderes… if he recalled correctly. The novel he had read was published by the Yae Publishing House. Yeah, Inazuma. He knew. But he had to admit the writing style was quite… enthralling to say the least. And a bit provocative, he had to add. All of the phrasing in the book made his mind wander to a certain fox…

Back to the point, all of the yandere’s actions were what his Fatui self would do. He as Wanderer would not cage you inside and punish you for being too close to others.

Or would he?

“Hey, you seem out of it today. What’s wrong? Are the theses’ topics too hard to work on? You know what, I’m taking these. You need rest and I, myself will guard by your side so you can have your beauty sleep!”

Your lips touched the tip of his ear like gentle sakura petals fluttering down in the start of spring. The soft breathing of yours sent pleasant vibrations to his body.

“And I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!”

For a moment, your lips fluttered against his forehead, then his nose, then his cheek. You kissed everywhere on his pale porcelain face. Your kisses were coaxing him to sleep. But you left his lips alone. As if you were teasing him, you didn’t even bother eyeing them.

“Alright. I will freshen up and join you in bed.”

Wait. No kiss?

He could not believe it. His hand rushed to take hold of your wrist and twirled you around to meet his face. Time seemed to slow down as he smashed his lips onto yours, feeling your breath hitch among light gasps.

Two bodies squished up to one another on the sofa. The house was only brightened up by small lamps, competing with the twinkling of the stars in the vast dark sky he once called fake. Beautiful as it was, it could not compare to the sight of you leaning onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck, head leaning back as he peppered featherlight kisses on your neck.

He was suppressing his desire to just throw you on the soft sheets and bury his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that had his mind go hazy. He could not deny that the presence of you being there had boosted his energy somewhat. The strange grogginess had disappeared the second you came in. He wanted you so badly that it was hurting. But he needed to consider the fact that you had just come home, your rest was necessary. Perhaps he would have to wait until the next sun rose up…

“Wanderer…”

Lifting his head to look into your eyes, he gazed at you as if you were the most enchanting thing in the world. And you are.

“I love you.”

“So much.”

“What’s with the sudden affection?”

A chuckle rose from your throat as his eyes bore into yours, twinkling in the warm light.

“I love you, too. Now, come on… don’t you want me to freshen up? Let go, you big man baby… Actually, minus the big part-”

Before he could react, your frame sprung up from the couch and you sped to the bathroom, not forgetting to stick your tongue out at his face.

“I’m going to get you back for this…”

He huffed out with a sigh. Without noticing, the corners of his lips curled up into a slight smile. This was what he had always wanted. To love you.

And to be loved by you.

──────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────────

Word count: 1162 words

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (3; final)

«« 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 tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out

[AN]: final part oh my god if youve read the other parts up till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it, im really proud of this fic and im so happy so many of you have enjoyed it so far. @highvern betaing as always ty for not giving up on me. AS ALWAYS, PLS TELL ME YOUR THOTS IN THE RBS OR THE REPLIES OR SEND ME AN ASK LITERALLY WTV MUAH MUAH HAPPY READING <3

THIS IS THE NICEST PRISON Hoshi has ever been in, which was saying something, because he had been in quite a lot of prisons. 

But it was uncomfortable nonetheless, six grown men tied up and shoved into a crouching space to be done with as the men that prowled above pleased. 

Hoshi would be lying if he said he hadn’t had to restrain from pushing some of those sorry soldiers into the ice waters beyond the glaciers. He had resisted, the crew had resisted, but just enough to convince them of their unwillingness. 

Hoshi had realised early on that there was no possible way of getting aboard Tigress without somehow climbing aboard the King’s boat first. The king wasn’t about to simply hand Hoshi’s ship over, and there was no indication that they'd wait till after nightfall to depart. 

Hoshi also knew that the King would refuse to have him die so easily in the waters of the Green Islands, his pride depended on it. He imagines the man drawing up the specifics of the most gruesome execution the Kingdom would ever see. Hoshi was counting on it. 

The bounds could’ve been broken out of and the locks somehow picked, but Hoshi also knew that he had to wait. Wait for you to find him first. 

“What’s taking her so long?” Jun asks. He’d been the most anxious out of all, the shaking feet and restless moving making it clear. 

“The bomb won’t…go off still strapped to her, will it?” Minghao asks and Hoshi isn’t quite sure he wants to know the answer. 

“It shouldn’t. Not until she pulls the tab. But…”

“But?” Hoshi whips around. “Why is there a but? You were supposed to make sure there was no but!”

“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!” 

“Are you sure we can’t break out and look for her ourselves?” Mingyu grumbles, the most compromised with his longer limbs folded in uncomfortable positions.

“The minute they know we’re loose they’ll swarm her. There won’t be a way to get to her, not without fighting off every last bastard on this ship. They’ve taken our stuff too, we don’t stand a chance.”

They did, actually, stand a chance. But that was only if they were to break away and head straight for Tigress that was empty and standing right beside this very ship. But they couldn’t. Hoshi couldn’t. Not without taking you with him. 

Nobody dares to suggest the easier route, and he doubts it’s just because of what he wants. 

But panic was beginning to trickle into Hoshi’s veins anyway, the closed off brig refusing to give him any indication of the time of day. 

The sun was only beginning to set when they were taken to the ship, and he knew they were near done for if they didn’t finish what they started before nightfall. He can’t tell how long it’s been, and it eats away at his insides. 

Please be okay. 

And then he hears it, the sound of a body hitting the floors with a loud thud, a chortle of air before it’s knocked out. He finds himself sitting up straighter, pressing his hands to bars of the prison, trying to peer out the narrow walkway that leads to the doors. 

And then you appear in the lamplight, haphazard and ruffled up beyond measure. 

The knife in your hand drips with blood, your shirt torn at the arms, your hands bloodied and bruised. 

When Hoshi sees your face he almost doesn’t recognise you. 

There’s angry blooming marks of red and purple all across your neck and collarbone, your eyes bloodshot and red, watering like you’d been swimming in salt water. 

“Who did this?” he asks before anything else, watching you drop to your knees in front of the prison, unanswering as you fumbled with a giant ring of keys in your hand. 

You jam each key into the lock, twisting it to no avail. Your hands are shaking. 

The crew finally twist out of their loose bonds, Minghao lurching forward immediately, swatting your hands away. He picks out a few skinny pins from his boot, picking the rusty lock. Despite the strange angle, the bars creak open within seconds. 

“There’s…There’s ropes hooked onto the ship on the main deck.” 

Your voice sounds like you’re speaking through sandpaper, talking while struggling to emerge with the bomb you had. 

Hoshi doesn’t know what to do when he crawls out of the space. 

He’d had it all figured out in his head, what would happen in every possible outcome. You getting hurt wasn’t in any of his universal conclusions; especially not on this ship. They’d kill his crew, they might even kill the King with themselves, but you were meant to remain unscathed. 

“Why–why do you look like that? What happened?” Nothing registers in his head, not even when Jun is pushing him out into the hall. 

“Get up to the deck and get out across the lines!” Jun gruffs in his ears. “That bomb’s gonna go off with us still on here.”

He sees the canister that lies in the same prison they had just exited, he sees your mouth moving without sound. All he can think of are the distinct fingerprints around your throat and how it looked like somebody tried to kill you before they tried to kill him. 

“Soonyoung,” he hears you say in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for him to snap out of it. 

His crew is looking at him expectantly. He looks back at the door and sees the crumpled bodies of the prison guards. 

So much for leaving quietly. 

The minute Hoshi is out the door of the brig, he finds a chest next to the collapsed, bleeding soldiers. Kicking it open, he can only scoff as he finds the entire crew’s weapons in such close vicinity. 

He feels better with his dagger at his hip, along with the rest of his knives that he slips into the loops. Even more so with the rest of his crew armed and ready. 

“We know where the deck is.” He swallows, eyeing his crew’s weapons in their ready hands. He knew they’d agreed to ensure the clean sinking of the ship, but the fallen bodies on the floor were an ode to a different route they’d have to take. “Don’t hesitate if someone gets in your way.”

Taking cautious steps to the upper decks, he finds more bodies collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and unconscious. He opts to ask you the details later, wondering how you were able to take down all these guards by yourself. 

It isn’t until they reach the stairs that lead to the main deck that he comes across a guard. 

Before the witness can raise any alarm, Hoshi’s slamming the butt of his dagger into the side of his head, knocking him clean unconscious as he falls off the side of the short railing. 

Clambering up the steps as quietly as possible, he raises a hand behind him to signal his crew to halt, peering into the main deck first. 

The sun is still out, but low in the sky as it dips in the sky. There’s a few people on the deck, pacing and moving about in preparation for departure. Angling his gaze, he finds ropes suspended over the edge of the railing, parallel to the water. 

He can’t see Tigress, but he knows that’s what the ropes are hooked on to. 

“Jun,” he beckons. “How long till the bomb on the other ship goes off?”

The bomb Jun had planted in the first ship they had arrived in should be going off any time now, and Hoshi finds himself needing it to go off now. 

Jun barely opened his mouth to reply when the ship shuddered. 

For a moment, Hoshi thinks the bomb in the brigs had gone off, but when he finds the clambering of boots to one side of the ship, opposite to where the ropes tied to Tigress, he realises their surrogate ship had given its last gift to the crew. 

The rest of the ship would be bounding to the main deck to inspect the noise soon, so he shoots a quick, “Hurry!” behind him before stepping onto the main deck. 

The entire deck is occupied with the ship that lies a ways away across the expanse of sea, the beginnings that would soon lead the entire ship to be engulfed in flames. It’s tilting at a dangerous angle. 

Hoshi stands as he uses the crew straight towards the ropes that lead to Tigress. Glancing, he finds Mingyu and Chan already hanging on the suspended ropes, making their way towards the empty deck of their ship. 

Hoshi keeps his eyes on the occupied men on board, still staring at the lightshow that was their old ship. It isn’t until one of them turns, eyes towards the stairs that lead to the lower decks, that his eyes dart to the unfamiliar men on the deck. 

“Fuck,” Hoshi curses, before lunging, grabbing the man by the shoulders and covering his mouth, dragging him wordlessly to the edge before throwing him off the ship and into the icy waters below. 

“Go!” he hears you rasp brom behind him, ushering him to the ropes. 

The crew is gone, Jun making the last jump to land on the deck. They’re running around, pulling ropes and fastening the sails to push the ship off into open waters as soon as possible. 

There’s two ropes that tie the two ships together, and Hoshi ushers you onto one of them, pushing you to suspend yourself before he follows. 

“There’s not enough time, go to the other one!” you tell him, pushing him to hold onto the other tattered rope. 

Soonyoung eyes your state, “Are you sure you can—”

“Yes! I promise I can, please, before they cut both the ropes.”

So he trusts you, eyes straight ahead to the railing of his ship, gripping the rough, frayed rope to push himself towards the deck. His hands burn, but he finds himself moving ever closer to his final destination. 

His hand grabs hold of the wooden railing of his Tigress at long last, pulling himself onto the deck of his beloved ship. Immediately whipping his head to his right, he tries to find you reaching the ship with him. The crew is preoccupied in attempting to get the ship ready for departure, he finds your form nowhere. 

When he looks back, the rope he had climbed was gone, leaving gaping space in its absence. He trails the second rope, from the hook that had dug into the railing of Tigress’s wood, trailing it to the naval ship’s deck. 

What he sees puts his heart in his throat. 

You stand on the deck of your father’s ship, swarmed by now alert guards and soldiers who swarm you, yelling profanities and orders as they watch their prisoners get away right in front of them. 

Hoshi watches as you lift your dagger, and cut the last rope that ties you together, free to fall and hit against the hull of his ship.

He calls out your name in what could only be described as a guttural scream. 

His crew halts whatever it was they were doing, taking the steps to realise what had just happened. 

Hoshi’s boot meets the top of the railing, ready to take the plunge into the water. He’d climb back up the ship and get you out. He doesn’t know what you were thinking, what he was thinking when he left you there, but he’d get you out. 

Arms pulling him, he’s yanked back and positively thrown onto the deck.

“What is wrong with you?” Minghao yells, pushing his captain back as he springs up. 

“She—”

Your father emerges from the crowd of guards and soldiers that run rampant on the deck, approaching you at the railing of the main deck. 

Hoshi sees the hand that remains on his shoulder, the blood that covers the still bleeding wound, the effort it takes him to simply walk. 

The bruises on your neck, the wound at his shoulder that looks like it was slashed through by a knife. 

And then it clicks in Hoshi’s head, what had truly happened in the hours that you were out of his sight. And all he sees is red.

WITH THE WAY THE words on the pages seem to double, you would’ve thought you were going mad. 

You’re a child, barely grown into your own body as you sit in the dimly lit library of the palace, utterly exhausted, wishing to be anywhere but sitting at the wooden desk with your name on it. The moon barely shone through the window, your only source of light the fireplace that burned in the corner and your lamplight. 

It was a time where you felt like you could prove yourself, that perhaps, the reason your father refused you his approval was because you were simply not working hard enough. And now, at an hour where you should be fast asleep in your four poster bed, you attempt to understand diplomatic structures and everything that made your country what it was. 

It was late, and there was nothing you would’ve liked more than to put your head on the table and rest your eyes for a few tantalising seconds, which you do, right over the book you were reading. 

You awoke in the same place, shaken awake by a panicked looking servant, the sun shining through the great windows of the palace library.

It seems your disappearance from your bedchambers had put the entire palace in disarray, not realising the princess was fast asleep behind the giant pile of books other servants had already skimmed past thrice. 

Not only were you unable to recite the rankings of the constitutions with the vigour your father required, but you were unable to give him a reason as to why you were absent for both breakfast and morning lessons. 

He made the servants kneel in the throne room for hours, and did not fail to tell you that it was all your fault.

And now, in the ice cold of the Green Islands, old and wise enough to know that your father simply needed a reason to despise his heir, you accept the hands around your throat as his final act of terror. 

Red faced and arms shaking, your father does not speak to you as he presses down on your windpipe with all his might. Your vision is going dark and splotchy, and you decide, for a moment, to let him have this moment. 

He’s too preoccupied in applying his pressure to realise that you’ve raised your right foot enough for your hands to fish out your knife from its place, taking positivity in the handle of your knife that fits in your hand. 

Before you can lose consciousness, you raise your arm high, and plunge it directly into his neck. 

Howling, he releases you from his hold, both of you dropping to the floor of the ship with a resonating thud. You cough, sputter and hack, cold hands finding your now warm neck. 

Your father lays clutching his shoulder as he remains in agony on the floor, and you realise you missed the crucial plunge in your own disarray. 

It was good enough, rendering the old man incapable of finding his bearings. 

You watch as he writhes on the floor of the quarters that almost became your figurative deathbed, the same hands that wrapped around his own daughter’s throat now clutching the shallow wound that renders him useless. 

Standing over him, throwing your own shadow on his body, you feel a surge of power, a rush of adrenaline that shoots straight to your head. Perhaps this was your circulation returning from the deprivation, but you let the feeling imprint in your soul, let your father’s broken figure bring you satisfaction.

You leave him there, writhing in pain, digging your knife under the lock of the quarters, pulling back to break it away from the door. The guards stationed outside do nothing as you leave, and it isn’t until you’ve taken to lower decks that you hear the distinct yell of, “Your Majesty!”

Two more guards, who don’t expect an altercation from their princess, simply buffer as you send your knife plunging into them both. You do it deep this time. 

Nobody was innocent, you knew these people as your father’s closest men, and knew that all of them were to remain silent as their King murdered his daughter. And when the remorse doesn’t do that thing where it trickles in after doing a bad thing, you decide you weren’t part of the innocents either.

It’s easier than you would’ve expected to get to the crew in the brig, letting out a sigh of relief as you appreciate the familiarity of people on your side. 

And when Hoshi took his place to guide everyone out and into the open space of the main deck, you let your racing mind rest and decide to trust the man in whatever decision he made to lead you all out. And he did, he led himself and his crew right into the ship that was theirs, safe and where they would have the upper hand. 

Hoshi didn’t know it when he climbed onto the ropes that lead to his boat that he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stayed, hadn’t used your voice of authority to keep the soldiers from attempting to shoot at the escapees, cut the rope while Hoshi remained suspended from it, still only halfway there. 

You didn’t look at him when you sliced both ropes before either party could pull back, didn’t register him screaming your name across the void, pretending it wasn’t taking everything out of your strength.

But you couldn’t jump into the water, not now when a dozen of the royal guards remained ready to take the plunge to save their princess as their duty. The same guards that would comply with their king when told the princess was dead for reasons they all knew but were to forget. 

The bomb had to go off first, and you had to keep them away from hooking another line to the ship in the meantime. You were operating on a flawed plan and an overenthusiastic crowd of guards that were moments away from shooting a canon straight into the side of the disconnected pirate ship.  

The distraction comes in the form of your father parting the crowd of soldiers like the red sea, swatting every soldier that attempts to help his bleeding form for anything it was worth. He approaches you at the railing, and for once, you don’t look at the ground in his presence. 

“Bold,” he heaves, the effort in his voice apparent. “Bold of you to think you could slip away.”

“I haven’t tried to slip away, father,” you correct. “I’ve stayed right here, even after you failed to kill me. And I, you.” 

“Nobody is going to listen to you, child. Give in. This is the easy way out,” he says. 

As if on cue, Jun’s bomb goes off for the second time, but this time the ship shudders with more force. It has your father unbalance and fall, along with multiple other soldier’s stumbling. You grip the railing tight, counting on your father’s need to live. 

Despite your horrid throat and the ache in your body, you announce as loud as you can. “The bomb is in the brig, this ship is sinking.”

The fallen king trembles in a rage you had never quite seen before. Any other time of your life, you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole to be the subject of such anger. 

Except, in the setting sun, a burning ship in the background, a pirate ship that awaits you, and the ground beneath your feet that was actively sinking into the freezing water; you smile at your doomed King. 

“Get to the brig! Secure the lower decks, do not let this ship sink or so help me God!” His voice rings across the deck, spittle blowing from his mouth at the situation. 

And just like that, your father gives you the final gift of clearing the main deck out for you, leaving but a few straggling soldiers that are too preoccupied with either the sinking ship or their bleeding sovereign. 

Looking back, you find the crew of Tigress standing at the railing, you find Hoshi already half over the edge and send him a slow nod. 

Turning back to your father that remains on the floor of the ship that would become his coffin, you utter your next words; for yourself, and the girl that was every second before this, all the way to her first ever memory of sad:

“You’ve taught me to be a ruler fit to be the best for our Kingdom. Consider your death my first act of service for the Crown.”

And then you jumped into the darkening void of the waters below. 

THE COLD FEELS LIKE every nerve in your body ceased to work. 

It was nothing at first, the temperature so intense it had your body numb in the face of shock. And then it grew, to a striking cold, and then a feeling that pricked every inch of your skin like a million needles plunging into your body. It was only getting worse with each passing second, before it was so painful it was hot, going from cold to searing and blistering like you’d plunged into the licks of flames. 

Nowhere in your body did you find a rational sense of mind, something to tell you to kick, flail or float. The warped sky was an orange through the green, only more vibrant. Like there were two ships actively burning on the surface of this water. 

Hoshi’s face appears behind your closing eyelids, like a mirage or a taunt. Like he was there with you when he wasn’t. 

Would he come for you? Would he take the plunge for the girl he held in his arms, promising her something to fill the gap of a companion, right before she killed her own? 

You’d given him what he wanted; your father, his worst enemy, dying as he sank slowly into the bottom of the ocean. You’d run your course of use, and if he was as smart as people claimed, he’d leave you to suffer the same fate as your father. 

He could find his freedom elsewhere. 

And you would find your freedom in the close of your eyes, and the sinking feeling of nothingness. 

Except, you feel a hardness against your body, stronger even than the current of the waters. Moving impossibly upwards, you remember opening your eyes to find a leather cord suspended in the float of the water, before you remember nothing. 

THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.  

But as unnatural as it seemed, Hoshi had no inclination to register anything but the way the ship in front of him tilts so far out it's already half submerged in the waters. He’d assumed they might have to ready the cannons, but with the way debris and hollowed wood floats in the waters below, they would not need to. 

The King was about to be introduced to Davy Jones’ Locker at the hands of his enemy and successor, but Hoshi could not care enough right now to relish in it. 

Right now, he stares at the direct circumference of water your body had made contact with and disappeared into, like the world would explode if he lost his place. 

“Should I jump as well?” Mingyu asks, already half taking his boots off. However, when the man turns to find his captain gone, he lurches over the railing to find his captain diving into the water through all the debris.

Hoshi lets the momentum of his dive take him as further down as possible, whipping his head around as soon as his eyes open into the abyss. The water ripples and erupts in showers of bubbles as broken pieces of ship come apart to fall into the water. It blurs his vision immensely, any ripple that could be you in the water coming out to be yet another piece of wasted wood. 

The deeper he goes, the more the water presses into his ears. He was a good swimmer, good at holding his breath when needed, but even he had limits. 

When he cannot see any sign of you, he begins to feel the churning of something skin to panic brew. Panic was never good, not this deep in the water. 

Twisting and turning, flailing about in place, moving dangerously closer to the burning ship that continued to drop flaming bits of killing slabs, he finds no sign of you in the water. 

Instead, he watches men in uniform sink deeper and deeper in their failed attempts to stay afloat. 

All he can think about is if they were losing the battle for air, then so were you, somewhere deeper in the void than he was. He prays that he’s looking aimlessly, that you’ve already somehow made your way to the surface by yourself, and you were safe on the deck. 

The beaded bracelet that remained on his wrist, but belonged to you. 

“A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

Even without the encasing on his wrist, you had given him more than enough reason to want to come out of this alive, to want to live beyond just for himself and his duty to the crew he’d taken in. 

He chose the life of a pirate because it was his only out, and every member of his crew that he recruited in succession, he acted as the hand he had needed so desperately in that awful brothel where his mother despised him and his father, a faceless man of Port Ash. 

Amphitrite was not kind, it was a lesson he learned quickly in his first ventures out at sea. So he too, had to learn to be unkind, to survive in the horrid bellies of ships that weren’t his own. And when Tigress came into his life like a vessel of hope, he found a home in her merciful wood, in the ship that he could call his very own. 

Hoshi lived as a free man on his ship, with his crew that had become his brothers in ways beyond what the thick of blood could offer. He did not care if he lived or died after that, as long as it was on his ship, in the waters that held no quarter for anyone, but gave him everything that nothing else could give him. 

And so when you approached him with a proposal so bizarre yet so apt for a man like him, he could not refuse. It may have been the way he saw himself in you, terrified of the prospects  but thirsting for an escape more than the fear that came with it. 

Besides, the king was a nuisance that needed to go, and he found himself agreeing to play the hand too complicated for you. 

What he did not expect was to end up here, in the depths of the ocean in the most uninhabitable part of the earth, trying to pull you out of the cold, unrelenting sea. 

Hoshi realises in that moment that this might ruin him, the possibility of breaking the surface without you. 

He decides that if the heavens do not let him find you, he would simply drown in the same waters that gave him purpose, and find peace with the idea that he would lay rest in the same waters as the person who might have given him something more. 

Kwon Soonyoung, the deadliest pirate to cleave the seas, was in love with you. A princess, so undeserving of a man like him; a bastard, a rogue, a good for nothing criminal. 

And when he spots the all too familiar build of your form, the linen shirt under the corset he had tied for you just hours ago, the dark brown trousers that signified the change he’d brought into your life, he swore to leave everything he’d ever known to thank the skies and seas for bringing him to you.

His burning lungs, screaming and searing for air, grabbing for your suspended arm that looked as defeated as your closed eyes. Tugging you towards him, he wraps his arm around you to press you to him as tight as he could. 

Relief. And with the warm sting in his eyes that he doubted was from the salt in the water, he’s sure of everything he’s felt with the feeling of you in his arms. 

With the bruising on your neck, the bleeding wound in your father’s shoulder, he finds it within his breaking body to begin kicking upwards. 

Every limb, every cell, every hint of life in his body shrieked with its efforts to make him stop. There was no air in his lungs and he’d lost track of time in his search for you, he doesn’t know how long he has. 

But if the blots of nothingness in his eyes were anything to go with, he doesn’t presume he has much. In a last ditch effort, he attempts to kick his boots off to weigh him down a little less, holding your dead weight tighter than anything. 

He was so close, he could feel the warmth of the upper levels of the water change in its temperature on his skin. The glow was near blinding as the orange refracted on the disrupted surface of the ocean, so close yet so far. 

Inch by inch, kick by kick, memory by memory, he does everything left in his drained power to touch the surface. 

And he does, breaking out hand first into the burning air of the world above, taking the longest gasp of air he ever has in his life. Once he’s sure he knows where he is, he pushes you up further on his chest, your head resting against his collarbone, still unconscious. 

“Stay with me, princess,” he pants into your ear, hoping you could hear. “I’ve got you.”

Chan and Mingyu are in the water beside him, pushing him towards the pulley that awaited them. 

Mingyu makes an attempt to take your weight of his already struggling captain, but Hoshi finds himself holding on to you tighter, simply urging him to help him back on the deck. 

The minute your head hits the wood of the deck, he’s checking your pulse. There’s no regard for the chaos that ensues around Tigress, both him and his crew too preoccupied with the way you were not breathing. 

“I–I can’t feel anything,” he stutters his words as Seungkwan places a less panicked hand at your neck, under your nose. 

“It’s weak, she’s taken in too much water.”

In an instant, he reaches for his knife at his hip, only to realise it was gone, lost somewhere in his rescue. 

“Knife,” he rasps before repeating louder. “Someone give me a knife!” 

The minute a hilt is in his hands, he’s pushing you over, to reach the back of your constricting corset, pushing his knife into the complicated sailing knot he’d tied it into before, breaking it free. With both hands, he takes hold of the top of the corset and rips it clean in half. 

Turning you back over, he presses his hands over your clothed stomach, pushing into it with all his strength in an attempt to get the water out of your system. He keeps his eyes on your face, and when he sees no sign of you coming round, he feels another set of hands pushing him off. 

Seungkwan takes over for his weakened captain, pushing into your stomach harder, attempting to get a break out of you. 

“Why isn’t she coming around, what’s going on?” He throws the question aimlessly as he takes your unmoving face in his hands, trembling from everything. 

Only a moment later, he hears the glorious sound of you sputtering like something was stuck in your throat, promptly spilling out an ungodly amount of water onto the deck as you retch loudly. 

Sitting up from the force, your hands clamp onto the deck as you cough and heave, Hoshi’s hand coming behind you to thump your back hard, pushing you to throw up any remaining seawater from your body. 

The sight of your back moving up and down, the audible sound of you taking in air; it was enough for Hoshi to simply lay on the deck and pass out. 

You rear your head and look up at him, both of you still breathing heavily. 

“You’re okay,” he assures, gulping. He takes your face in hands cupping it very gently as he speaks to you. “Go with Seungkwan, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Nodding, you let yourself be helped up by the rest of the crew, watching as you’re led to the lower decks of the ship. 

“Open your shirt, let me see the wound,” Mingyu says, and Hoshi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Looking down, he sees his shirt soaked in red, sticking to a wound on the right side of his torso. He didn’t even know where he got it. 

It looks like a shallow gash, but enough to leave a scar. He takes it better to have it tended to while he was still high on adrenaline and he couldn’t feel much of the pain. 

By the time Mingyu and Minghao are done cleaning him up and Hoshi’s standing upright with wobbly legs, he finds the two burning ships beyond his own mere floating structures of wood that were in slow flame. There’s too much debris, too many bits of everything that bob in the large expanse of water to make out any bodies. 

“There’s nobody,” Mingyu tells him. “Most of them were in lower decks when it all went down. Trapped themselves.”

“And…?” he asks in silence. 

“He stayed on the deck until it sank,” Minghao informs. “Yelling about how he…about how he should’ve finished her when he had the chance.”

“Horrible king and somehow an even worse father,” Mingyu scoffs. “Made it better to watch him die.”

“He didn’t suffer enough,” Hoshi croaks as the marks on your throat dot his vision. 

Just then, floating in the water, illuminated by the final streaks of setting light, Hoshi sees it. A darkened purple cloth right next to the hull.

“That,” he points out. “Get that out of the water.”

The late king’s purple cape laid on the deck of Tigress, darkened with water, but also with his blood.

To the Kingdom, this cape would be the last piece of their King that was gone too soon. But for every person on this ship, it would forever be their spoils of war.

Hoshi makes sure the cape will be dried and stored, ordering his crew to begin their slow journey out of the Green Islands, before he too crumples onto the deck unconscious. 

IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element. 

Something about how he seemed to beam, like this ship was charging him a different kind of energy. It was infectious, the rest of the ship decreasingly sour as they put on musical performances on the main deck while they cleaned the floors. 

As relieved as you felt, the tight ball of anxiety refused to leave the pit of your stomach as you grew closer to the Kingdom. Nothing could prepare you for the shitstorm you’d have to deal with the moment you’d step onto the soil off a pirate ship of all things—let alone as Queen. 

The first few days following the ship's exit from the Green Islands were difficult, if that was all you had to describe it. You took to your hammock for most of the day, curled up as you pretended to sleep, only waking up when one of the crew would come down to force feed you and to make sure you hadn’t died. 

You knew they were doing all this to make you feel better, and somehow it was working. More than halfway through your journey, you began to feel more like yourself, emerging from your cave to visit the deck on times other than the nights. 

Even now, as you sit on the floor of the deck with Seungkwan, who hands you an all too familiar stack of parchment, you feel nothing as you take them into your hands. As you read his handwriting scrawled in ink, you appreciate your past self for having the sense to keep them all. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” he says to you. “Had us worried for a while there.”

“Sorry.” You smile weakly. “But thank you for…everything. I don’t think I could ever express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. All of you.”

“I’d like to think we’ve gone past the status of mere business partners,” Seungkwan chuckles. “Lion befriends the bear? Whatever it is. But know we’d do it again.”

Blinking back the sting of tears and doing your very best to not let the warm feeling in your chest overwhelm you, you place the letters on the floor next to your folded legs. When you look up, Seungkwan's eyes are on your neck.

“They’re taking their time to fade, aren’t they?” you say. 

Seungkwan has a hard look in his eye, “I guess you didn’t need your letters to remind you of anything after all.”

Your mind wanders, drifting past how easily this crew could have been forgotten in the unforgiving elements. Perhaps you would have let the man that wrapped his hands around your neck finish his job.

“Was getting captured part of your grand plan?” you ask Seungkwan. 

“Hm?” It takes a moment to realise what you may be questioning him about, smiling slightly. “What makes you think we went in with a plan?”

“I thought I asked you to man the wheel?” Hoshi stands above the both of you.

“Not to batten down the hatches,” he side-eyed his captain. “Clear waters ahead, the wheel does not need manning.” 

You zone out as they squabble over nothing, not finding the heart to be entertained by their back and forth. Seungkwan either loses or forfeits, because you feel him rise from next to you, only for his captain to take his place. 

“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks. 

“Everything,” you sigh. 

“How come Seungkwan gets a thank you for your service and I don’t? Need I remind you who jumped for you and who didn’t?”

Rolling your eyes, you answer him, “Thank you, Captain Hoshi Kwon, I am forever indebted to your service.”

He chuckles in exaggeration, “Oh please, all in a day's work.”

“I mean it.”

“Hm?”

“I never did say thank you. But you did jump for me when you didn’t have to.”

“Who said I didn’t have to?”

“Our deal was done.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Our deal was to get you out when you jumped. I merely honoured that promise!”

“Merely?” you raise a brow. “Was it all merely a matter of conscience?”

His gaze locks with yours. “Don’t ask questions you know the answers for. I would’ve jumped even if you asked me to rope myself to the mast.”

“Please. I have enough blood on my hands and I haven’t even sat on my throne yet.”

“Blood is only on your hands if you tell a soul of what you’ve done,” Hoshi utters. “You’re the only living soul who knows.”

“And you are…?”

“Pirate. Our word means nothing.” Hoshi smiles. 

The thought hangs in the air as you take in the man in front of you. He’s changed an era’s worth, yet all the same. His hair is longer, going from his initial shorter crop to curling around his ears, shielding his eyes. It makes him look younger, like a boy with much to live for. 

That, and the multitude of notable scars he’s added to his collection, many of which have somehow been because of you. The wound at his torso is doing better, but far to go in its quest to heal. 

Hoshi senses something amiss even after his sermon. Breaking his gaze, he turns to look straight ahead at the raised bow of the ship instead. 

“Do you know how I got my splendid reputation for being the filthiest pirate on the seas?”

You can only stare, “I have a few guesses.”

He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”

“Tell me.”

“Unnamed sailors have the odds of a peanut facing its inevitable fate of being crushed under a straggling boot. Pirates don’t see the government as their enemy when they’re own supposed brothers are more likely to jam a cannon in their mouths.”

He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “My mistake wasn’t that I was on the losing side in my early days, but more about how I was leaving nothing behind when I was done.”

“How humble,” you hum. 

“Dead men tell no tales. When it’s worth it, it might be better to leave a straggler or two to live to tell the tale. A routine stab in the jugular can turn you into somewhat of a myth.”

“Am I a survivor?” you question. 

“You may be sovereign on land, but you’re also an unnamed pirate,” he responds, turning back to lock eyes with you. “And you’ve left nobody to tell the tale.”

No one listens to a pirate, and everyone listens to a Queen. 

“This isn’t to say there won’t be a legend that follows you.” He quirks a brow as he speaks. “Shows up and claims her father and his entire ship and crew sank at sea, only to befriend his sworn enemies in the aftermath. And then it evolves; she sent a cannon through her fathers ship, he died at the end of his own daughter's sword, she cursed him to captain a crew of the undead for eternity.”

“Have I planted the seeds for yet another ghost story?” It’s difficult to not giggle at the thought, despite how morbid. 

“You’ve given yourself substance,” he says, a little stronger than before. His eyes too, wander to your neck and the bruises that refuse to budge. “Beyond just a royal or even a pirate. You did it for your honour as a human being, and that may be braver than anything I have ever conquered.”

In your anxiety ridden, feeble mind, your thoughts had convinced your conscience that everything would be over the minute your father’s heart stopped beating. That it would bring you peace at last. 

And it did, especially when it felt like you’d gotten rid of this constant monster under the bed that had followed you far into adulthood. But from the bleeding heart of the creature emerged yet another one of its brethren, and then another and then another. 

Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless. 

Weeks of this, and in one short interaction, Hoshi seemed to have given you the key to turn this monster into a pet. 

On instinct, you feel your hand reach up, brushing against the skin of his cheek. It’s an all too familiar setting, seated on the deck of a ship too close for anybody but yours’ comfort. But without the rum and resentment, of course. And how you doubt he’d pull away this time. 

Very lightly, you brush your lips against his. It was nothing but to simply feel him again, to feel a semblance of familiarity. 

You feel him take your hand that rests on his cheek to place a kiss on your palm, nuzzling his nose into the concave of your hand. 

Everything that was to come seemed a little more possible in that very moment. 

Even more so when his fingers found the sensitive areas of your coloured throat, when his lips closed against your jaw, only to trail lower and to press into the marks his fingers continue to trail tucked into your neck. 

That night, when slipping into your hammock felt like the most unbearable prospect in your near future, it couldn’t possibly be worse than uttering your next question to the man that seems to fix it all.  

“Will you stay with me?”

With nothing but the light snores of the rest of the crew and the creaking of the ship, both you and Soonyoung laid in a hammock most definitely not meant for two. Head on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart beats under his scar, it’s bliss. 

The feeling of his warm body against yours and the scent of him settling in your lungs, you decide that this was enough. At least for now. 

IT WAS DIFFICULT TO give yourself the full list for obvious reasons, but it does seem to help when you tick off all the possible reasons why your patience has run as thin as it has. 

Sitting at the decorated seat at the convened court of old men appointed by your father, you briefly wonder if you should finish them off too amidst your flash of anger. The men continue to squabble and babble about the next course of action, slamming their wrinkled hands on the pristine table and sending their own daggers of threats to the other inhabitants of the table. 

“If you’d like to send a search party for the King’s body, be my guest,” you finally speak, having had quite enough when the throb in your temple worsens. “But remind me what troops you’ll be sending to the North if your best men will be gone for months attempting to find a body they never will.”

The dispute in the North side of the Kingdom was taking up most of the conversation anyway, and you doubt they’d put customary burial rites over their own glory of victory the North would bring. 

“Your Majesty—”

“I would happily jump on the next search ship for my father,” you lie through your teeth. “But I watched him drown in front of my own two eyes, and as the next sovereign I cannot let you waste our resources for something that will both risk our soldier’s lives and have them come back home empty handed.”

Perhaps you had come off slightly more heartless than you intended, so you quickly add, “Please, let my father rest in peace.”

That seems to end the conversation easier than you had expected, but they’re quick to jump to the next issue not long after. 

“The court would also like to bring light upon the palace guests.”

Tightening your jaw, you slump against your seat slightly. “What about them?”

They remain silent as their mouthpiece attempts to form the right words for the following question, mostly because you’ve addressed this multiple times beforehand but they continue to sit restless. 

“Allow me to help you, Lord Bridge,” you sit up straighter, intending to put this matter to rest. “My guests will remain here for as long as they do, and if you have any more arising issues towards my guests I will only take it as your collective issues towards me.” 

In the moment of silence, you continue, “The Kingdom is in a place of instability as we are all well aware. I find it most appalling that you remain fixated on trivial matters of the palace’s domestic code of conduct than you do for the wellbeing of this country!”

Silence yet again as you wait for their forcibly rehearsed chorus of apologies. 

“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”

The pain in your temples becomes near unbearable as you dismiss the table after that, screeching your chair as you push it back as loud as you possibly can to do nothing but spite the men. 

Turning the corner out of the room, you catch the open gates that lead to the paved gardens outside, the sun seeping into the marble floors indoors. Taking an instinctive step towards the gardens, you find most of the crew sprawled onto the grass as they soak in the sun. 

Chan and Seungkwan look like they’re wrestling, their laughter ringing throughout the open court while their captain snaps at them to cut it out, only to get roped under one of their headlocks all the same. 

There’s a call of your name and a giant wave from Mingyu, who spots you from beyond the flower beds. Still leaning against the gates, you smile and wave back. 

Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit. 

Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart. 

Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted. 

He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company. 

“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents. 

“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms. 

“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”  

There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed. 

He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him. 

“Stay. Please.”

True as he has always been, he does.

THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.

And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life. 

Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner. 

The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night. 

Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion. 

Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented. 

“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone. 

“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile. 

“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”

Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”

“Disappointed?” 

“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment. 

“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.

Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”

“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”

Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”

At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?” 

Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”

He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours. 

But you don’t. 

“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”

With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”

It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”

“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”

Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?

“Are you going to abandon me too?”

His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him. 

“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.

“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably. 

In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you. 

“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”

Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”

“I don’t want someone! I want you!”

He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly. 

“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”

He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.

“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”

Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him. 

“I—” he stutters. “The court—”

“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”

You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer. 

“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”

Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth. 

It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”

He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”

For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more. 

The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath. 

The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back. 

“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”

As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face. 

“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”

With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight. 

BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely. 

Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign. 

But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own. 

Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask. 

“Has the Captain approached?” 

“No, your Majesty.”

You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.” 

Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body. 

Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep. 

That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss. 

Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out. 

Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock. 

“Your guards mortify me.” 

“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”

“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”

Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. 

“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”

“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”

It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”

He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”

Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway. 

Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it. 

If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle. 

From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.

He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving. 

Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.

With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him. 

Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed. 

“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”

“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”

Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”

He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much. 

Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether. 

Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing. 

By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed. 

He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable. 

Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar  that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound. 

You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound. 

On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist. 

The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air. 

Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up. 

“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh. 

The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard. 

“Soonyoung!” 

Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced. 

Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs. 

Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach. 

Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.

“What…What’re you doing?” 

Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question. 

It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—

Ah. 

If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him. 

Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know. 

The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive. 

Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten. 

“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?” 

Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his. 

Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly. 

The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white. 

With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers. 

You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.

Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused. 

All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were. 

You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue. 

He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit. 

“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder. 

When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt. 

It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further. 

And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system. 

It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree. 

“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible. 

Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were. 

Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”

Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath. 

“I need words, my love.”

Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”

The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you. 

You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him. 

You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence. 

Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks. 

His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling. 

Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth. 

Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you. 

In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before. 

Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up. 

And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”

He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?” 

It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”

You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”

Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear. 

“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”

His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions. 

The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth. 

“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”

“You weren’t?” 

He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”

Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.” 

Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.” 

You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”

Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you. 

And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you. 

“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest. 

“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again. 

Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before. 

“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely. 

“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud. 

Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own. 

But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely. 

Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay. 

He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake. 

Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern. 

It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—

Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you. 

“Oh, Soonyoung.”

Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched. 

All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed. 

He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure. 

One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast. 

It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.

And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again. 

“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”

You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further. 

He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop. 

“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”

Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you. 

It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made. 

He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs. 

You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed. 

“Hi,” he grins. 

“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face. 

He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could. 

You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth. 

“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest. 

You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping. 

He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face. 

“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek. 

“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.

“I’d let you, but…”

“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine. 

He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”

“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark. 

Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart. 

“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”

BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens. 

It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.

The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace. 

Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this. 

The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same. 

“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”

He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”

“Soonyoung—”

“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”

Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.” 

“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name. 

“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”

You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.” 

It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes. 

Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers. 

Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers. 

He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone. 

And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly. 

Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”

Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens. 

You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow. 

You could get used to this. And you will. 

THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace. 

The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses. 

The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer. 

And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks. 

You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship. 

There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow. 

His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take. 

Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago. 

By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern. 

“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom. 

It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?” 

“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”

His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”

By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you. 

“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”

Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.” 

There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s. 

“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands. 

You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port. 

“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at. 

He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace. 

“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”

“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light. 

One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder. 

He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back. 

As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon. 

There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend. 

For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings. 

That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you. 

Always. 

[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3

[anxious-witch]

I apologize for irritable tone of this post, but a portion of this fandom is starting to irritate me, so let's analyze catwin through the lens of how age works for ghosts and how situational irony is used in a scene where Edwin and Niko talk about kissing.

Let's start with age. Right at the beginning, when Emma asks Charles and Edwin to take her case, she tries to play it off as her being just a little girl. This is what Edwin replies:

And before anyone jumps the gun and says: "He said SUPERNATURALLY speaking! He is still physically 16!"

Okay. Let's unpack that. Considering how for people who are immortal, which ghosts essentially are, and as such unchanging, that isn't quite a proper argument, is it? Because the way I see it, there are two ways someone could argue this. Either your gripe is about the Cat King finding Edwin attractive despite him physically being a 16 year old or your gripe is that Edwin is mentally 16 and as such, cannot consent.

If it's the first, I think that argument is quite lacking here, because we know the Cat King is aware Edwin is older than 16. And as someone who is an adult and often gets mistaken for a minor, I think the idea that you can just always tell someone's age by looking at them quite funny. Also, by that logic, I shouldn't be able to consent either, because people generally gauge my age to be between 16-18, when I am in my mid 20s.

If it's the second, your point doesn't work because being frozen at 16 would mean being unable to learn and develop firther than what you did by that age. Which we know is false for ghosts, especially Edwin. He changes and develops constantly throughout the s1, and we have a front row seat to that! Human brains aren't clear cut, and before you jump under the post to say your brain isn't fully develop until age 25, I will kindly tell you that human brains, in fact, never stop changing and developing. And that experiences, traumas, etc hugely impact developments of individuals.

One argument I can sort of is perhaps Edwin and Charles having somewhat stunted emotional growth, but as we also see throughout the season, that has more to do with them stagnanting rather than them being unable to emotionally develop. And frankly, I know bunch of adults with the same issues, so.

Now for the "But Edwin said he doesn't want to kiss the Cat King!" argument. How about we look at what Edwin says before that, huh?

He says he has never been kissed and didnt understand the appeal, until recently. And you cannot tell me it wasn't the Cat King who made him realize it. Yes, he wanted to kiss Charles and I am not saying he didn't like Monty too, but if it wasn't for the Cat King getting physically close to him and playing into his desires, he wouldn't have realized that he too, feel physical attraction!

As for him saying "Absolutely not!" When Niko asks him if he wants to kiss the Cat King, I think that's laughable argument to saying "Well, see, he didn't want him!" Because first of all, characters can lie. Edwin most certain, lies about things he wants, both to himself and others, up until pressed.

Besides, if I am not mistaken, given English isn't my first language and I learned this stuff in a different language, this is also called situational irony, aka, someone say something won't/can't happen and then it happens. This is very often seen in romance plots too. A characters says they hate someone and then they end up dating them.

Think of Lizzy Benett and Darcy

And then she goes ahead and married him later, once her opinion of him changes. It's a classic romance trope!

Similarly, Edwin says he doesn't want to kiss the Cat King and what happens at the end? Oh yeah!

He kisses the Cat King. Shocker.

But yeah just like. Y'all are free to not like the ship for whatever reason, but for the love of god, stop making up stuff that's just blantantly untrue. There is an "anti catwin" tag for a reason, if you truly cannot stop yourself from commenting, but in all honestly, you could just enjoy your own ship without putting other ppl's ships down. Cat King is not perfect by any means, but this isn't a predator type of situation. I and many others have addressed the whole "coercion" bit quite a few times so I won't get into it again, but these two arguments I have seen pop up and I just had to address it. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[atlas-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI (PROLOGUE)

Character(s): Kakavasha/Aventurine, Veritas Ratio/Lapis Lazuli

Tags: Angst, long fic, role swap!au

Word Count: 933 words

Summary: A role swap!AU where Ratio takes his rejection by Nous a lot harder than he did in canon and loses himself as a result, becoming one of the Ten Stonehearts, while Aventurine is not recruited by the IPC and is instead a scholar in the Intelligentsia Guild.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by the amazing @havanillas with their role swap! AU! Check it out! Their mind is brilliant (and I am obsessed with the way they have drawn their differences). Also, I’m a nerd about crystals, not about space, so forgive me if there are any inaccuracies. I was also vaguely tipsy when I was writing the ending, so please excuse that. This will be multiple chapters, so let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list.

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

A science lesson in the metaphysical properties of crystals and gems, if you’ll allow me.

I know, I know. You did not click this fanfiction for a science lesson. It’ll be quick, I promise. It would be perfectly understandable for you to click off this, or even send a hate comment stating “I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS!!1!1!!”

Still here? Great. I’ll continue.

Everything has a vibrational frequency: from the rocks in the ground to the leaves in the trees. You have a vibration. Your best friend has a vibration. Your pet gecko has a vibration. Hell, even the device you’re reading this on and the bed your sitting in has a vibration. You get the picture, yes? These frequencies are like a marker that interact with other markers to create different influences.

Things like crystals and rock - objects that have existed for thousands of years - are bound to have stronger frequencies (let me know if I lose you. There is a point to this, I promise) that interact with you differently. Amethyst, for example, helps with sleep and meditation; Rose Quartz is great for self love; Carnelian and Tiger’s Eye can give you a confidence boost, and Aventurine is good at manifesting luck.

So, what is Lapis Lazuli good for? What magical powers does Lapis Lazuli have? What funky frequencies does it fuck around with?

Intellect.

Intellect, wisdom, and the ability to communicate, to be specific. It was used by the Egyptians a few thousand years ago as makeup and medicine, and is the stone of many gods of wisdom in various mythos’. Interesting, right? Veritas Ratio was a man of intellect. A man of prestige and great wisdom who wished to communicate his genius to those more mundane in hopes of curing ignorance. An honourable cause, if any.

See how far he has fallen.

Lapis Lazuli is no longer a man of intellect. He drinks and gambles and throws his life away all for the purpose of forgetting. Forgetting THEIR rejection. Forgetting his own ignorances.

Forgetting his own genius.

The IPC ate him up. They picked him up by the scruff of his collar and swallowed him whole. They boiled him in their stomach acid and digested him into something functional. Something utilisable. Something mouldable.

He let them.

I told you this science lesson had a point to it.

The fall of a star is always so explosive, so why did he burn out so quietly? Perhaps the rejection from a star as mighty as Nous made the rejection of himself quite infinitesimal in comparison. When a red giant explodes into a supernova, it is much more noticeable than a white dwarf imploding in on itself to create a black hole.

That doesn’t mean that a black hole doesn’t have a presence. It is a presence of darkness, yes - practically invisible if it weren’t for the event horizon that drew the eye of the nosey - but a presence nonetheless. No matter how difficult it is to see, it is still ever-present, sucking in the warmth of stars and the things it kept dear until there is nothing left. It is a shell of what it once was. Just as Lapis Lazuli is a shell of what Veritas once was. Veritas Ratio has been sucked up by the black hole, warped and spaghettified until there is practically nothing left, leaving behind only the blinding horizon disk that is Lapis Lazuli. Anyone who dares to find him - the real him - only risks being sucked up and warped themselves.

It is not wise to try and find Veritas Ratio.

Veritas Ratio: the legend of the Intelligentsia Guild. A young prodigy with three pHds under his belt at the ripe old age of sixteen, only to achieve five more before twenty-five. He is the example set for all scholar’s who wish to make names for themselves. His name is whispered in hushed voices by students for support before their exams as if he were an Aeon they worship. In the eyes of the average mundanite, he basically was.

The duality of the esteemed Doctor Ratio is a fascinating one and the topic for debate for many of his former colleagues. These debates have never been made private (for who would care? He isn’t around to hear them anymore), so even the esteemed Doctor Kakavasha has heard of his story.

The scholars of the Intelligentsia Guild have always been creatures of gossip, spreading rumours and half-truths wherever they go in order to foster attention. Kakavasha knows of these tricks and refuses to fall for them. To judge a book by its cover is as criminal to a scholar as blasphemy is to a priest. Honestly, these Guild members have such massive sticks up their backside that Kakavasha is surprised they’re not coughing up leaves. He, like many of his calibre, has looked up to the legend that is Veritas Ratio ever since he started his first degree at university. The man is only a few years his senior, but his reported work ethic and candid attitude has followed the Avgin throughout his own education and beyond. It’s safe to say that he idolises the man despite his unknowable reasons for his disappearance and recruitment into the IPC. Time changes everything. Perhaps time changed Veritas Ratio’s outlook in life and he found better prospects in an institution as massive as the IPC.

Despite this, Kakavasha wishes to find him, to hold an educated conversation with him, in hopes of receiving his perspective on his independent research project:

How to get rid of his divine luck.

—

Hope you enjoyed! Super proud of this. Reblogs appreciated!

Next Chapter

[nastyavolk-cp]

THE ANGEL OF HADES

Author's note: To begin with, yeah I rewrote the story? Why? Because I hated the initial version, I can publish later the old version if you still like it! I think I will divide it in two parts + an extra! Warnings: This series contain yandere themes, obsessive and unhealthy coping mechanins and behavior, I do not condone with attitudes like this in real life. Main 'Relationship': Yandere!Platonic!Nico di Angelo x Daughter of Hades!Original Female Character; Minor Relationships: Yandere!Platonic!Will Solace x Daughter of Hades!Original Female Character, Yandere!Platonic!Hades x Daughter!Original Female Character, Yandere!Platonic!Persephone x Daughter!Original Female Character. Re-Tagging: @the-broken-truth; @aphroditelovesu Divider by @cafekitsune 🖤 You are currently reading part one of Angel of Hades, part two coming soon...

She didn’t know for how long she was there, but she miserably knew that she had nowhere to go, wherever she would go, they would find her shortly after, in the Underworld she found herself a prisoner inside of the majestic walls of the palace, her very own golden cage, where she was kept like a treasure guarded by a dragon.

A daughter of the dead, the precious angel of Lord Hades and the Ghost King. Beatriz Alves dos Santos, The Underworld’s Princess.

“Beatriz, you are a demigod.” She wished that it was a joke, a very funny one to say the least, but she saw how serious the satyr in front of her was, she knew that deep down he wasn’t really joking at all. After all, if he is a satyr, and he is right there in front of her very own eyes, then it makes sense that demigods also exist.

Beatriz knew she wasn’t ‘normal’, she was the ‘odd’ one by the labels of society, being autistic and diagnosed with ADHD did not help her case, but her life wasn’t really that bad. She had a very affectionate and hardworking single mother, working as a badass lawyer, she also had her maternal grandparents around to help her mother to raise her and had very good friends that she made from kindergarten that even after high school they were still glued together. So in the end, she wasn’t really alone and was loved dearly by her family, even with her father out of picture.

But she knew that something else wasn’t right, her mother said that she was medium cause she could see ghosts quite frequently, as a kid that really scared her but now, being a seventeen year old teenager, it didn’t bother her like it used to before, however if she is a ‘demigod’, that would explain why she can see spirits in the first place.

“A demigod?” She asked, blinking a couple of times when her train of thoughts were interrupted by the satyr’s awkward cough, Beatriz stood in silence in the armchair processing the information before her attention was brought again.

“Yes, a child of a god or goddess, I have a gut feeling that you came from the Greek Pantheon.” The satyr, called Greg, replied thoughtfully, rubbing his hairy chin with his thin fingers. She couldn’t stop looking deeply at him, contemplating his words. This easily was her most awkward conversation that she ever had, she even took a sip of her bitter mate tea then pressed her lips, painted with her favorite bloody red lipstick, against each other.

Her mother was watching them by afar, she was quiet all the time but attentive, like a hawk observing their prey, Beatriz knew how protective her mother can be at times, she was the very definition of a ‘Momma Bear’, Greg briefly looked at Isabel, whom glared him back intensely, and stared at Beatriz once again when she didn’t respond.

“You may find out if you accept to go to Camp Half-Blood, your mother is made aware of that, but it’s up to you to make this decision, it’s in another country and you will stay there for approximately three months. Like a summer camp, but with quests and other activities.” He frankly continued, this drew her attention and she nervously sank on the armchair, holding her cup of tea rather tightly, the idea of going to another country, staying for months away from home and being involved in quests with monsters? Hell nah, this didn’t sound like a good idea.

“Could you tell me more about this Camp?” It didn’t hurt to ask, even if she wasn’t very comfortable with that idea. Greg nodded, feeling pleased for her curiosity to know more.

“Surely, Beatriz. Like I said, it’s a summer camp, but dedicated to half-divine beings, just like you, it’s meant to protect and train them to eventually one day become heroes of their own, go to divine quests in the name of the Gods and patron parent, this one is for demigods offsprings of the Greek pantheon, like━”

“Zeus? Hera? Poseidon? Hades-” She got interrupted by another cough from Greg, then she quickly apologized for interrupting him. Still he smiled at her, seeing that she was rather familiar with that pantheon.

“You got that right. I see that you are a bit familiar with this.” He said scrubbing his chin, she gave an awkward smile that came with an unexpected response.

“… Hm… I watched a few gameplays of God of War a few months ago.” She admitted, surprising the satyr, he didn’t expect that a girl, with such a feminine and delicate look, liked this type of violent game. Her mother gave a sheepy smile, finding Greg’s facial response, eyes widened in surprise, amusing when her daughter admitted enjoying God of War.

“I see, well, do you have a decision in mind? Would you like to go to Camp Half-Blood?” Finally Greg dropped the bomb, he wasn’t sure if she would say yes, Isabel was hesitant but if Beatriz expressed her desire to go she would eventually let this happen, but Beatriz didn’t seem pleased with that question.

“Uh… I am not sure. I have other plans that might not work if I go.” Beatriz replied, Greg tilted his head to the left side, goat eyes staring at her with a curious glean.

“What kind of plans do you refer to, if you don’t mind if I ask?” He asks with genuine interest, he wasn’t surprised with her hesitance, it is a normal feeling after all, however he had a gut feeling that maybe she wouldn’t accept to go, of course she isn’t forced to but it’s a very dangerous decision that might cost her life if monsters find her, which is a miracle that she is still alive after all those years.

“I wanna go to college.” Beatriz replied shortly, playing with her silver rings on her fingers, she tried to make eye contact but was overwhelmed enough to not do so, she felt she was acting rude and there was a intense struggle from her part trying to formulate interactions or understanding social cues, self-awareness sucked at those moments at well.

“I see, education is indeed very important. I believe that here in Brazil, days off in University are completely different from the US. You might talk to Chiron, the Camp’s counselor, and resolve this matter so you may go without any issue. Do you think it’s better now, you want to give it a chance? If you feel that it’s not your place you can come back here anytime.” Greg said, he genuinely wanted her to go, but if she’s firm in her choice to not to, then he was unable to do anything. Beatriz looked at her mother, who glared back with a soft smile.

For a second, she felt safe, this decision weighed a lot and it was scary but she was more than ready to make this decision for herself. She could finally look eyes with the satyr, making a brief eye contact before breaking it along with her response.

“Well… then I accept it!” She said sighing, Greg smiled satisfied, also glad that she accepted, one less demigod to be killed by monsters. Isabel went towards her child and gave a tight hug, Beatriz could even smell the scent of fresh coffee impregnated in her mother’s fancy clothes.

“Tomorrow I will come pick you up in the morning, you have enough time to pack some of your belongings. When you are ready I will take us to Camp Half-Blood. Till tomorrow.” Greg shook Isabel’s hand and shortly left the house. Mother and daughter were now alone, Isabel was worried about her daughter, she had always been like that, in constant vigilance for her child but she knew that Beatriz was old enough to make her own decisions and handle everything as a responsible young adult she is turning into.

“Baby, are you sure? He said that you can always come back home if you feel that this camp isn’t your place!” Isabel asked, she wanted to hear from Beatriz herself if she was sure, her heart was beating in discomfort, she sure will miss her baby girl during the course of three months, they were really close and had a deep bond as expected of a mother and daughter.

Beatriz felt her mother’s insecurity, she approached her and gave an awkward hug, they stood there in a few seconds, hugging each other, and as they parted ways, Beatriz found herself thinking what kind of adventures she will be inserted into at this Camp, will she be able to finally meet people just like her and perhaps make a friend or two?

She was hopeful that everything will be alright.

After that, she spent the rest of the evening packing her stuff, Beatriz tried her hardest to pack only the necessary things like practical clothing, underwear, hygienic products and multifunctional makeup, although she really doubted that she would really need the latter she wanted to be ready for anything, besides makeup never hurt.

“I hope they have a laundry space..” Bia thought when she finally finished folding everything in a gym bag, big enough for traveling, and left some free space for other things. She paused of what she could put, she doubted that she would have free time to do other ‘not-so-fun’ activities like reading, she loved reading books with her mother even if sometimes she would struggle with her attention spans, she had lots of books about witches and pagan religions and was a Wiccan herself.

After a few minutes sitting down on the bed staring blankly at the bag, she decided to just take one book, even if she wasn’t sure if she’s gonna read it, she will take it anyway. She leaves the bed towards her bookshelf, most of her books were from a single publisher, Darkside. After thinking a lot, she decided to bring a classic horror one, Dracula, and it was the most recent book she and her mother brought home.

Now she could feel satisfied, everything was ready and in order, she looked around her own bedroom, everyone says that if Halloween was a bedroom, it would be hers. With black and white walls, bat themed sheets, Halloween decorations everywhere like fake skulls, some bats in the wall, every single furniture was painted in black and of course, her Monster High collection. She could remember how much fun she and her mother had decorating this room, it has been like this ever since she was 14, for three years she never got tired of it. She will miss being in her little comfort zone, that is her bedroom.

“Is everything okay, sweetie?” Then there was a knock on the door followed by Isabel's worried voice, Beatriz stared at the entrance and nodded towards her mother, she knew that deep down her mother was the anxious one in the room.

“Yeah, I just finished packing.” She responded in a quiet tone, her mother seemed relieved but still, she was insecure about letting her daughter in a Camp and worse, being in another country. Beatriz won’t lie but she was also scared, she considered letting go and staying with her mother, however she knew that her mother wouldn’t want that even if she was in distress.

“Sweetie, are you really sure you want to go? I mean, I will support you no matter what you decide but…” Isabel bit her own lip in hesitance, she didn’t want to admit that she was dead worried, Beatriz can’t blame her though, but she wanted her mother reassured that she will manage fine in the camp.

“Mama, it’s okay, I will be alright.” Beatriz said and her mother quickly opened her arms and hugged her precious daughter. She wished that she could be stronger for her baby daughter.

If she only knew that perhaps it would be the last time she would see her mother.

At the silence of the palace, Beatriz found herself wandering the dark and empty halls, she felt like she was the only resident of this immense place, but she knew she wasn’t by herself, her heart anxiously beaten in a way she could feel the lump in her throat as she silently walked barefoot on the cold floor.

She wanted to find a way out, she truly wanted to, however she knew that her father would notice her absence but she had an excuse in her mind, ‘Oh, silly me, I am just exploring my new home, Father!’ she made a funny face imagining herself saying that bullcrap.

Beatriz wondered what would have happened if she refused to go? Maybe she would be safer? That’s something she questioned herself about, oh perhaps if she didn’t meet him she would be perfectly fine.

“Please be careful.” Isabel pleaded with a smile as she saw her daughter leaving with Greg, who was holding two shining pearls in his right hand. Beatriz turned around and gave one more hug to her mother, who gave her a last kiss on her daughter’s freckled cheeks.

“I will Mama, I love you.” She said and they let go, Beatriz turned around to go towards the satyr that was staring at them the whole time with a tiny smile.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, hesitantly she nodded and in her hand there was the tiny pearl that was once in his hand. Greg asks her to close her eyes, hold his hand and follow his instructions, she does as he told, closing her eyes and waiting for his next step.

“Allow me to guide us to Camp Half-Blood, please relax your body, Beatriz.” Greg requested and she did exactly what he asked her to do, relaxing her tense body and her bones. “In the count of three, we will throw these pearls right here to take us to our destination. Are you ready?”

Well, she nodded and held it rather tightly, it was the size of a cherry. Without wasting any time, they made the countdown and the pearls hit the ground at the moment they reached zero.

Beatriz felt like she was on a roller coaster, she didn’t dare to open her eyes even if she was really curious, she held Greg’s hand tightly afraid to let go and get lost somehow. After a few moments that felt like minutes, she suddenly felt they were in a different location, she could feel her body warm and could hear sounds of birds chiming and leaves falling down the floor.

“Beatriz, you can open your eyes now.” The satyr said in a gentle tone, her hazel eyes opened up, blinking for a few seconds to adjust to the brightness of the ambience, it was a bright sunny day and they were right in front of the entrance of the Camp Half-Blood.

“Wow…” She let out a surprised gasp, looking around like a kid in the middle of an amusement park, she finally let go of the satyr’s hand and walked a bit, stepping in the fresh green grass, hearing the sound of it was satisfactory.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Beatriz. Chiron will be here by any moment.” Greg walked towards her with a smile, he was glad that she accepted going to Camp, hoping that she would enjoy her time there.

“Looks like we have another camper, hello Beatriz, welcome.” The sound of horse steps drew her attention, right in front of her eyes there was Chiron, the wise centaur, the counselor of the Camp. He greeted her in a friendly and warm way, the girl just nodded with a tiny awkward smile.

“Thank you…” She replied back, playing with her silver rings, the centaur gestured to her to follow him. As they took a walk, he began to explain to her how the Camp worked, every function, every activities, the quests, everything that she should know as a first time camper and demigod, she observed everything with precaution, her chest a bit heavier with the new responsibilities.

“We come to an end, Beatriz. Do you have any questions?” With this phrase, she was taken back to reality and struggling to make visual contact, she nodded in response. Chiron let out a hum in response, paying attention to whatever question she reserved to ask.

“Actually… I really want to attend college in my home country, but during June and August I will have classes, the only month I can stay here is July. Is it possible that I can only attend Camp for a single month?” This took Chiron by surprise, he thought for a few seconds, it can be dangerous for her to only attend the camp for a month, having little time to prepare herself to fight monsters or go to quests, however he felt how her education meant for her and he couldn’t forbid a demigod to accomplish their studies and academic needs.

“It won’t be easy for you since you will have little time to practice your abilities, but perhaps we can figure this out together, it will depend heavily on your dedication and performance during the activities.” He replied in a comforting tone, his response wasn’t a yes or a no, but it was enough for her, the possibility made her content and she promised herself that she will work extra hard to accomplish it and have time for her future college studies.

However, their tour over the camp wasn’t precisely over, she needed to settle herself in a cabin and obviously she ended up in the most crowded one, the Hermes Cabin. She was briefly introduced to her cabin mates, Beatriz felt terrible and ashamed that she was surrounded with younger kids, who were between ten to fourteen years old. She left her things in the cabin and since she was left alone by Chiron, who needed to attend some divine business.

Walking around the Cabin Area, she felt a bit lost, not knowing where she should go next, they made a complete tour over the Camp area so she knew that she won’t lose herself easily, but she was awkward and timid to approach someone and get acquaintances, until she was spotted by a small crowd, that came towards her.

“Sup, you are a newbie, right?” The muscular girl asked, crossing her arms with a tiny smirk.

“Uh… yeah.” Beatriz replied, still timid. The three guys that were with the muscular girl stared at each other with a big smile.

“Fresh Meat. I’m Chris, son of Hermes, this is my girlfriend, Clarisse, daughter of Ares and these two Connor and Travis, also sons of Hermes.” The Hispanic guy said, introducing himself as Chris, then the muscular girl and a pair of dudes that looked like twins.

“I’m Beatriz…” She introduced herself awkwardly, the two guys smiled and they stepped closer, they looked almost precisely the same to her.

“It’s been a while that we don’t get pretty girls here, right Connor?” Travis purred jokingly, with his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to him, her face flushed in embarrassment.

“Perhaps you must be a daughter of Aphrodite then.” Connor replied to his brother, getting on Beatriz’s side and giving a peck on her right cheek. She yelped covering her cheeks as the two laughed with her ‘cute’ reaction. Clarisse buffed, making a negative head shake and Chris looked at the two identical brothers with a slight disapproving look.

“Alright you two, that’s enough, leave the poor girl alone.” Chris asked, the two boys made a sad noise and let her go, they stepped away from her but they still made ‘flirting’ faces like blowing kisses and winking at her as they walked away with no explanations. Clarisse gave a short laugh at the situation.

“You are here only for a day and you already have admirers, if you end up being the daughter of Aphrodite I won’t be surprised. Anyway, you got something to do now?” Clarisse asked, walking towards her, with her boyfriend close behind. Beatriz shook her head, she was basically free of any activities for now. “Good, Chris is going to deliver something to the Infirmary that I don’t remember what and I don’t care to know, wanna go with us?”

“Uh… sure.” Beatriz said and in a blink of an eye the couple started to walk, hurriedly she matched their speed and started to walk right behind them. They took only a few minutes to get to the Infirmary grounds, they entered and she was already familiar with the place, but didn’t know anyone there.

“Solace, get your ass over here, we got your stuff.” Clarice called someone, the Brazilian girl stood in silence as someone walked towards them, it was a blond dude, with piercing blue eyes and tanned skin, it seemed like he was glowing like the sun for some reason.

“Thanks, Chris and Clarisse.” The ‘Solace’ guy replied as Chris handed him something that Beatriz couldn’t tell what it was, but suddenly the pair of blue eyes caught the glimpse of her, far away from them, she was resting against the wall. “Oh, hey there! You are new here, right?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m Beatriz…” She replied, he smiled in response and walked towards her, with a sunny smile on his face. When he stood right in front of her, his smile fell a bit when he looked closely at her, this change made Beatriz anxious. “Hey, have we met before? You look a bit familiar to me.”

His question took her by surprise, she got confused, she pretty sure never met him before, he was a complete stranger to her. Beatriz shook her head, after all she didn’t understand why he was asking her this.

“I don’t think so… what’s your name?” She asked and this must shake the Solace guy for a second, since he was distracted looking at her, something in her made him think she was really familiar but he wasn’t sure why.

“My name is Will Solace, I am the son of Apollo.” Will replied awkwardly scratching his golden blond hair, they stood like that in silence for a few seconds. “So… are you liking the Camp?”

“It’s… good.” She said awkwardly, but they were interrupted by someone coughing. They looked back at Clarisse and Chris, who understood the awkwardness and decided to cut it right away.

“So, new girl, we will have Capture the Flag tonight, you are on my team. You better be good at running.” Clarisse smirked, crossing her arms. She really wanted to see how the new girl would perform, knowing that this little game of Camp wasn’t a tame pacific one for a newbie like her. Beatriz only nodded, she was already in a team but she grew anxious since she wasn’t good enough at sports, she was lower than a decent teammate.

But perhaps, that was her chance to make new… ‘friends’? She wasn’t completely sure about this, she had a weird gut feeling but she had to brush it off, having acquaintances would be enough for her.

‘Traitor.’ Beatriz thought in a bitter rage, that son of Apollo was going to pay dearly for cooperating with her kidnapping. He was just as sick like the people that are keeping her in the Underworld, far away from her mother and her real home. She fought against the tears that were forming in her eyes, she wondered why the person she considered a friend collaborated with the people that are hurting her? Did he hate her?

Obviously in the end, it didn’t matter, but the betrayal still hurt her, being a bruise that still hurt, it felt like a stab in her back. She wondered if someone even suspected anything, what lies her kidnappers were telling to the people from Camp? Did someone even miss her?

Now this time the tears couldn’t be held back anymore, her pale cheeks were now wet with the fresh tears coming out of her eyes, she stared at the void with her lips trembling and trying to contain the sobs.

“Bia?” That voice. Beatriz froze up, her watery hazel eyes looking up to see that person, the reason why she was stuck in the Underworld in the first place.

Nico was tired, he just finished some tasks his father asked him to complete in the Underworld, as he got used to it the tasks became easier every time and with that he got quick on finishing them. Today wasn’t different, but for the fact that he used a lot of shadow traveling he was rightfully tired and wanted to lay down, bonus if Will was cuddling with him.

He wasn’t a big fan of people touching him, but his boyfriend was one of the few people that the son of Hades permitted touching. Nico closed his eyes as he felt the shadows circle him while traveling to the Infirmary, where he knew his boyfriend would be. After a matter of seconds, he recognized the ambience that now he was inserted into, it was Infirmary.

But a short scream made him open his eyes in shock, he looked around, getting used to the brightness as he quickly scanned over the room, when his dark eyes froze up when he stared at a specific someone.

Bianca…? But it couldn’t be. His big sister was dead for years, that girl that was staring at him with minor horror wasn’t his sister, but she looked like her. Had the same features, with pale skin with a freckled face, long dark hair and eyes, they were slightly different but the aura, the sensation, was nearly the same!

“Oh, it’s just Nico. Beatriz, this is Nico di Angelo, he’s my boyfriend and he’s son of━”

“Hades. Son of Hades.” Nico cut Will, finishing his introduction. He looked like he saw a freaking ghost, not ironically, the only thing is that ‘Beatriz’ looked older than him, probably having the same biological age if Bianca was alive.

“Uh… hello. I’m Beatriz Alves dos Santos.” The girl said, introducing herself in an awkward manner, Nico’s intense stare was making her uncomfortable but she kept quiet after that.

“Okay, now you guys know each other. Come on, newbie, we have to test your abilities before Capture the Flag. Later Solace and di Angelo.” Clarisse said as she and Chris decided to leave the Infirmary, sensing the weird ambience and they dragged Beatriz along with them, not giving space for her to either protest.

Will and Nico were the only ones in the room, they stared at each as Nico looked like he saw something worse than a monster.

“Neeks, are you alright?” The blond demigod asked with a bit of worry for his boyfriend, Nico’s eyes turned to stare at him.

“Who the fuck is she? Is that a fucking joke?” This question made Will speechless, for one second he didn’t get what he meant, but then he started to connect the dots and then he realized what Nico meant.

Beatriz looked like Bianca, almost like a Doppelganger if there weren't minor differences that could tell them apart. But still, so similar to the point of even Nico thinking that it was his deceased sister.

“How crazy, she… she is your sister’s lookalike.” The son of Apollo hesitated saying this, fearing that it might trigger his boyfriend, but instead Nico kept frozen, staring right at the spot that Beatriz was standing a few minutes ago.

Nico decided to not talk about it, he was on the edge of having a breakdown but he contained himself, his curiosity wanted to make him follow Beatriz and know anything he could about her. He doesn’t know if he was actually going mad or that it was a fever dream, but he will discover what was her deal.

He spent the entire evening watching her, obviously using the shadows to mask his presence from her and everyone else, he observed her like a hawk watching its prey, maybe it could be a monster in disguise, but during all this time, she didn’t presented herself like a threat to anyone, she maintained small, like she was unable to hurt a single fly.

On one hand, he pitied her to be overwhelmed by lot of information about her new life being a demigod, although it remained a mystery who’s her godly parent, even so, he couldn’t let his guard down, he needs to discover who she truly was and why she was testing his sanity by looking like his deceased sister.

When the time of Capture the Flag began, he didn’t participate in it, but watched Beatriz running towards the forest, she was instructed by Clarisse to search for the flag while the others fought to distract the opposing team. She didn’t really want to search by herself but she had no room to argue, it was either this or be scolded.

She didn’t know that, while walking inside the dark forest, she wasn’t entirely by herself, because the son of Hades quietly followed her, watching every step she made. Beatriz was tired and scared but kept walking nonetheless. Nico had no idea for how long he was following her, he got a bit bored doing so however, they both heard some cheering from afar, Beatriz stared at the direction of the cheers, she was lost and confused, not knowing who won.

As she decided to go back, suddenly she heard a loud noise close to her, her heart pounded painfully in panic, Nico got ready to fight and in a blink of an eye, came from the shadows a huge hellhound. Beatriz fell on the floor, whimpering in fear as the creature approached her, stalking her with a hungry stare.

Nico decided to intervene, he couldn’t risk something happening to Beatriz, before he could question his thought he left the shadows he used as a hiding spot and advanced towards the wild hellhound, he had his Stygian Iron sword in his hand. He made a loud noise to distract the hellhound and give the opportunity for Beatriz to escape, however before Nico could make a blow, the creature nudged the attack and quickly threw the son of Hades away with strength, making the latter release his sword that fell on the floor.

Irritated, the hellhound advanced towards Nico, ready to attack. The son of Hades recovered from the blow he received and using the shadows he teleported a bit away, he had no time to get his sword back, and unfortunately for Nico, the hellhound was quicker than usual, he started to invoke the skeleton soldiers to buy him some time to retrieve his sword, but it got harder and harder as the hellhound advanced towards him every time, but never catching him thanks to the shadow travel.

Seeing this, Beatriz had an idea, considering that the hellhound was busy enough trying to catch Nico, she decided to make the favor to catch his sword, she got up and clumsy ran towards the Stygian Iron weapon, as she touched it, she immediately felt an overwhelming sensation, she glowed with a sinister purple aura, coming from the pure black sword.

Nico was getting drained out and the hellhound was ridiculously fast, he was trying to find a way to get his sword back and end this, however as he decided to use his last resort, the hellhound let out a shriek of pain, shocked the son of Hades looked to the beast’s side and his dark eyes bulged at the vision.

Beatriz used the sword to stab the side of the Hellhound, she was glowing just like his sword with purple mist mixed with her dark aura in one. She was using his sword, a fucking Stygian Iron, she was no random demigod. When she withdrew the blade from the beast’s flesh, Nico could see that while she got dirty with its blood, the Hellhound’s soul got sucked out of its body and went directly towards her body, not to his sword.

She captured its soul and she was carrying the stygian iron sword. Beatriz was like in a trance, her eyes dark like shadows, but at the second she blinked it returned to the usual hazel shade. The first thing she saw was the corpse of the beast she just slayed and then Nico, that was staring at her in pure shock, she regained awareness when she noticed she as holding his sword, then in a second she felt a light over her head, it glowed purple and she couldn’t see what it was but Nico could.

It was bident, one of his father’s symbols and it made him open his lips in disbelief, it couldn’t be, it should be a joke but it was the truth.

Beatriz is the daughter of Hades.

Just like him, which made them half-siblings but nonetheless siblings.

Before Nico could speak, Beatriz blacked out, her limp body falling in the grass and she released the sword, thankfully not getting close to her skin. Nico ran towards her, he retrieved his bloodied sword and with the strength he got he held her body, picking her up in bridal style in his arms and walking away, he was still tired but had energy left to walk towards the Camp.

When he arrived there, he was met with curious and fearful glances from the campers, Chiron approached them with a worried glance.

“Nico, what happened-"

“She’s a daughter of Hades… like me.” Nico briefly explained, there wasn’t much to say, it was actually surprising how quickly their father claimed her, did he notice how similar she was to Bianca?

It was a question worthy of asking him later. And it was after this day Beatriz’s life became Hell.

“What are you doing awake?” Nico asked with a serious expression, Beatriz contained herself from rolling her eyes. It was funny that he took his ‘duty’ as her caretaker seriously, like she needed one to begin with.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She replied nonchalantly, it was partially true, she couldn’t properly rest, she desperately wanted to search for a way that she can leave the Underworld.

“Hm…” She heard him grunt, he is suspicious of nature, so he really doubted her intentions. It wasn’t the first time she tried to run away or even rebel against them, take for example her hair, she cut it short as an act of defiance, it hurt him that she acted like a stubborn child towards him, their father and Persephone, who took a liking to her. “Let me take you back to your room.” He said and held her hand, she knew that she had no room to argue.

After a few minutes, they were back at her room, Nico opened the door and guided her inside. Beatriz got back on her bed with Nico at her side, he watched every single movement and when she accommodated herself, he decided to ask.

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” This question wasn’t surprising, they used to nap together, with Nico snuggling against her body and since he was taller, he would cuddle her in her sleep like she was a big sized teddy bear. Beatriz wanted to deny the request, but she thought a little better, if she started to act like she was accepting her new life, perhaps she could have higher chances to flee!

“….ok.” She said with a nod, she could actually see his eyes shining a bit with acceptance, ever since she got in the Underworld she had been denying him those moments of cuddling, he respected it, thinking she was just struggling to adapt herself in her new home, but he missed it and craved for her love and her affection, why can’t she accept that her little brother just wanted what was the best for her?

Nico tried to hide the smile he made, since it was a queen sized bed, it accommodated them very easily, he laid down on her side, respecting her personal space but was close enough.

“Buona notte, Bia.” He murmured and Beatriz just gave a nod and tried to sleep, she knew he was only waiting for her to sleep, she didn’t really want to but eventually, she felt her eyes getting heavier and she just gave up, finally getting a deep sleep.

Her brother would be there to comfort her if she end up having a nightmare, he just want her to accept him, consider him as his real little brother, deep down he knew she wasn’t Bianca, he knows that his big sister is long gone, but having Beatriz around, he learned to love her for who she is, looking like his deceased sister just perhaps added a bonus to his obsession if not the main center of it.

She is safer in the Underworld and he will prove it to her.

To be continue…

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Kiss-eki: Dear to Me

*Kicks open door*

SURPRISE BITCHES! I am several days late and hundreds of dollars short, but I did finally *finally* decide to watch Kiseki: Dear to Me in an attempt to add one more show to the Completed Watchlist for 2023. This was a show I was planning on watching a bit earlier, probably closer to the time it was actually airing, because I'd heard it was ridiculous and thought it would be a good show to have on in the background during work. But @ginnymoonbeam had my best interests at heart and told me that I Absolutely Could Not Do That because There Was Body Language Dammit!

If I have not made it clear, THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME, GINNY!

Kiseki was absolutely wild and completely insane if you try to describe a single aspect of the plot whatsoever, but I would have given it a ten off sheer entertainment value if it wasn't for those back to back fake outs with Chen Yi being shot and Fan Ze Riyu being stabbed. But, I digress. I have only seen three things from Taiwan at this point, but those three shows have provided quite a lot of evidence to the claim that Taiwan is nearly unparalleled in their ability to portray domesticity and physical chemistry. I have also heard that Taiwan has a tendency to create content on more taboo subjects, and Kiseki was my first forray in to that side of Taiwan considering Ai Di and Chen Yi are brothers and Bai Zong Yi is a minor when he starts his relationship with Fan Ze Riu. I think both of these subjects were very smartly handled in their set up and their structure. I normally hate the like, adoptive siblings falling in love thing, cause like...that's your sibling, but they don't give us a lot if any flashback to these boys growing up together, and they don't share last names, or really call their adoptive father Dad, so there are quite a number of abstractions in that dynamic that means this is the first time I didn't have a squick about it. And having Fan Ze Riu trying so desperately not to succumb to his feelings for Bai Zong Yi and to put that distance between them, to have Bai Zong Yi be living alone and also be 17 so he's pretty close to legal age, and then to have Bai Zong Yi be the pursuer in their relationship both serve extremely well in making that relationship feel responsibly handled.

I have not been in the tags, so forgive me if this has already been done, but I have not stopped thinking about the first kiss between Ai Di and Chen Yi or the first kiss between Bai Zong Yi and Fan Ze Riu since I saw them and I simply *must* do a scene/body language breakdown about both of them. God, it's good to be back!

[side note: I was going to split this up with funny titles like Cat Boy and Mr. Sulky, but I realized that actually could apply to both couples...]

Ai Di and Chen Yi

Okay FIRST OF ALL, I just want to say that I love Ai Di, I love how ruthless and blood thirsty he is and how incredibly dangerous and scary he could be...if he wasn't so easy to pick up and carry around like a football, or like...a feral, hissing kitten. I am going to focus mostly on the first kiss that Chen Yi initiates with Ai Di because holy shit was there so much complex emotion and reaction packed in to that pretty small moment, but before I do that I am contractually obligated to acknowledge how fucking brilliant it is to show how much/how well Ai Di and Chen Yi know each other, by having Ai Di torture Chen Yi for information by threatening to feed Chen Yi incredibly spicy baby corn AND TO HAVE THAT TACTIC WORK. And to show how much Chen Yi tolerates by having him easily get out of the restraints and tie Ai Di up when he gets bored. Fucking incredible character choice to show how absolutely batshit Ai Di is, fucking incredible relationship choice to show how well Ai Di knows Chen Yi, and fucking incredible choice to use for a call back later. Also, fuck this show for that birthday cake scene! Brutal.

Okay. That said:

You know Ai Di has not for one second stopped loving Chen Yi, and now he is being met with some actual interest from Chen Yi. Chen Yi is full reciprocating what Ai Di has wanted for so long and if this were a typical BL with more simplestic characterization, we would have gotten the moment where Ai Di just melts in to it, fully lets himself have it. Accepts that Chen Yi has woken up, gotten with the program, and is ready to be in a relationship with him. And to be honest, that is what I was expecting. Ai Di has been such a loud and obvious simp for Chen Yi that I thought for a moment he would be the kind of person to let himself have it. To not question it too hard, especially because he is young and impulsive. So imagine my surprise when I got this reaction from him instead:

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Ai Di likes to challenge, likes to push buttons, likes to press. And he starts this scene doing just that. He is on his way to tucking Chen Yi in to bed (folding the edge of the bed spread over him because Chen Yi is drunk off his ass and too heavy for Ai Di to manhandle under the covers. But the second that Chen Yi starts simping over his Boss again, Ai Di stops performing any level of care for Chen Yi, and you can see this little change in his face where he gets annoyed and actually undoes his little moment of care and pulls the bedspread back off of Chen Yi and then he postures and he’s trying to act tough, and he’s needling intentionally, and all of these things where he is trying to be antagonistic to Chen Yi because that is the only way that Ai Di really knows how to express his emotions and he’s butt hurt about Chen Yi once against obsessing over someone Ai Di knows he can’t have when he is right there. 

Now, Ai Di gets manhandled a lot by Chen Yi and while he isn’t able to break out of it, he does very often struggle/fight back to get out of Chen Yi’s grip when he’s been baby carried away from a scene like a sack of potatoes. Which is why I do think Ai Di is giving in to his own feelings a bit here because he…doesn’t do that. He lets Chen Yi pull him closer, he lets Chen Yi push him up against the wall. And he’s still needling but it’s all bark, no bite. When he starts calling Chen Yi impotent his face softens looking up at him. 

And then Chen Yi goes in for the kiss and Ai Di’s eyes go wide, you can see an entire internal monologue running through his head. I am fairly confident there are some what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck’s going through his head when Chen Yi first kisses him. 

gif by @khaotungsfirst

There is a moment, just a moment so quick where Ai Di kisses back, where his heart gets the better of his judgment and he lets himself *have it* for *just* a second, and then his brain snaps back almost immediately and he bites Chen Yi and pushes him away. 

And honestly, I do not understand how actors work, because Ai Di’s face twitches. How the fuck does Louis do that?! He’s out of breath, and his mouth is agape, and he looks horrified, and heartbroken, and confused, but maybe a little hopeful. Like he won’t let himself believe that Chen Yi would actually do this. Like he is thinking Chen Yi is doing this out of pity, or just to shut him up, or mess with him. Because Ai Di messes with Chen Yi all the time.  This is what Ai Di wants. He wants Chen Yi, but now that he is face to face with the possibility he does not have the ability to believe in it. 

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

And in a very rare occurrence he listens to Chen Yi when Chen Yi tells him to get out of his room. The gears are definitely turning, but he simply cannot believe it, and it is so fascinating to me thinking about all these little microexpressive moments we get from Ai Di later on in the show that he really does not believe that Chen Yi kissing him in Episode 6 was Chen Yi actually admitting feelings, because every time that Ai Di tries something like torturing Chen Yi with spicy baby corn, or flirting to try to get Chen Yi to be uncomfortable or to back off, he reacts with genuine confusion when Chen Yi flirts back. 

Case in point: 

gif by @25shadesoffebruary

gif by @shijiujun

Bai Zong Yi and Fan Ze Riu First Kiss

It’s really interesting for me to compare this kiss to the Ai Di and Chen Yi kiss because they feel like completely mirrored (read: reversed) reactions. Where Ai Di leans in to his kiss for a moment for a moment and then forces himself to push away, preventing further intimacy, Fan Ze Rui forces himself to push away for a moment and then leans in to it, allowing the intimacy to proceed.

gif by @alejunsu

The set up is incredible, and in my opinion, foreshadows the fake amnesia plot in that Ze Rui is absolutely laser focused on his task (treating Zong Yi’s wounds) and intentionally ignoring everything else because he knows that it is irresponsible for him to initiate a relationship with a seventeen year old. Zong Yi is the first to lean in and go for a kiss, and he lingers at a distance that is respectful but with obvious intent for as long as it takes Ze Rui to look up and notice. There is a split second where Ze Rui’s eyes flit down to Zong Yi’s lips, and then he puts himself right back on task. Zong Yi is not to be dissuaded and goes in for the kiss again. Ze Rui notices, and grabs at Zong Yi’s shoulder to stop him, furrowing his brow in what I would consider confusion and focus, but once again his eyes betray him and he looks back at Zong Yi’s lips. This time without looking away, so Zong Yi continues, leaning in slowly and Ze Rui is drawn in at this point, he is frozen there, he isn’t trying to disengage from the inevitable anymore, unable to rebel against his own desire. 

gif by @alejunsu

Their lips meet, and to me it looks like Ze Rui is shocked, like his brain has short circuited and he doesn’t know where to go from here. It’s like his body is just reacting and reacting before his brain can catch up with the responsibility. He kisses back before his brain has really processed what is happening, and then he knows he shouldn’t be doing this so he tries to push away in the most half-hearteded attempt to be responsible, and a second later he’s abandoned the effort and started engaging more enthusiastically in the kiss. 

I do not fucking know how Hsu Kai does it because I swear to god Fan Riyu was cycling through about a hundred different emotions in this one moment and they were all acting against his physical reaction to the kiss. The way his arm goes out to Bai Zong Yi's shoulder to try to keep physical distance between the two of them, while he is having a full out internal war with himself? Holy fucking shit. It’s really like his brain is going “is this actually happening? Shit yes it is I have to- fuck it” 

gif by @maxescheibechlinichacheli

And at the start of his active participation in the kiss he is still not letting himself have it. I think he is still stuck on the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, and as a result he pushes Zong Yi back so he can see his face, study it. All it takes is for Bai Zong Yi to go back in yet again to continue their kiss, and then it’s all over for Fan Ze Rui. He’s all in. His hand goes to Zong Yi’s face, to his neck, and before we know it he is pulling himself in to Zong Yi’s lap from the floor so  smoothly. 

Reunion Sex 

I initially was only going to focus on the Ep 6 Ai Di x Chen Yi and the Episode 7 Zong Yi x Ze Rui moments in this post, but I am so in love with the structure of the reunion sex scene that I absolutely had to talk about it. 

Again, I do not understand how actors work because Hsu Kai just knocks it out of the motherfucking park. I love that when Fan Ze Rui rouses from sleep and starts muttering under his breath and engagin with Zong Yi, you don’t need any visual confirmation from the story whatsoever to understand that Ze Rui definitely has actual dreams of reuniting with Bai Zong Yi. And you don’t need that additional confirmation because of how Hsu Kai sells the talking in his sleep moment here when he’s riding on the pills and alcohol. 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

He blinks through heavy lids and reaches out toward Zong Yi instantly, his smile is absent and dreamy, and unrestrained in a way that genuinely impresses me because I feel like it is hard to pull off acting the kind of drowsy you are when you’re still trapped in the limbo between wake and sleep when you’re not actually experiencing it. Ze Rui’s touches are unrestrained, his eyes are barely opened under their own weight, and he’s loose and droopy still when Bai Zong Yi lifts him in to the hug. Ze Rui’s bones look heavy and his muscles look loose, and he’s not really able to maintain his own structure as a result. Settling back flat pretty quickly have Zong Yi has released him from his embrace. 

And then the light changes and the setting gets dreamier despite the fact that Ze Riu is actually starting to wake up, being reminded this is real, Zong Yi is real with grounded touches that we see in close up. And I am so sad we don’t get to see Ze Rui’s face at the exact moment of the scene when it clicks for him that this is real, because it happens during the close up of the hands (which I am also fine with :D). But when we pull back out into the wider shot, Ze Rui is already sobbing against Bai Zong Yi’s cheek. And Ze Rui tries his damndest to be his normal jokey, smiley self once he knows what is happening is real, because that’s who Zong Yi loves, and that’s who Zong Yi deserves after all the pain he’s suffered for Ze Rui but instead he just…breaks. Y’all I lost it at the way all the strength just falls away from Ze Rui’s voice when he says “kiddo”. How small he sounds when he says he’s sorry. The meekness in his voice during his own apology speaks volumes for how important it is, how much weight it carries. Because Ze Rui knows what happened to Zong Yi over the past four years. He knows all of it. He knows that Zong Yi went to prison to protect him, he knows that Zong Yi got attacked there, he knows that Zong Yi has memory problems now because of it. 

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

He has all of this guilt that is driving the way he interacts with Bai Zong Yi in their interlude here. By the way: “It’s been 1,573 days. Did it hurt?” is joining my list of Incredibly Devastating Lines. And it’s not just because of the line itself, it’s not just because of the way Bai Zong Yi shakes his head no. It’s especially devastating to me because right before Ze Rui asks the question, he slides his hand up to the back of Bai Zong Yi’s head and massages it a little bit with his thumb, like he’s trying to rub at an ache in hopes of getting rid of the pain. It is in no way the focus of the scene, and the action is mostly cut off and regailed to the edge of the screen, but jesus fucking christ it did wonders for me in terms of selling the scene. 

Anyway, Ginny was right, the body language was incredible, and I’m glad I didn’t watch this live or else I’d have gotten zero sleep writing essays every day of the week about some of these scenes

[heart4reigns]

DRAGGED, roman reigns.

warnings: curse words, kayfabe, bitch (y/n) alert!!

tags: austin theory trying to flirt, kissing, paul heyman being annoying, just pure agony between these two losers, pet names

summary: it's not an act, she's just a bitch

TURNING heel was definitely a career-defining moment for you. it was easier for you to be portrayed as the 'bad guy' in this industry. it made people think that you are, in fact, a bitch in real life–which was true. that helped people stray away from you. you were untouchable. no one dared to cross your path. people backstage remembered the 'austin theory' incident.

he thought you were only unapproachable on stage, but you were still the same after the camera stopped rolling. the male-wrestler decided it was a good idea to ask for your phone number and flirted a bit with you, in front of the crew, of course. things took a turn when you didn't say anything and just walked away. to say the least after that day, you were the talk of the town and no one bothered you.

after showing your face on tv, you went backstage in a hurrying matter–wanting to go home as fast as you could. you thanked god that the hallway to the parking lot was empty–so you thought–as you spotted a certain man in a suit. it was none other than paul heyman. of course he was there, he was everywhere.

you hated the entire bloodline (with an exception of solo and the twins) which leaves only paul and roman. they were insufferable. "hey, new girl." he greeted you. "what do you want?" your tone was cold. "you did great out there, you have so much potential." you only nodded in response. "is that all?" his eyes widened in surprise.

paul confirmed it himself that the rumors were true, you were hard to crack. "i'm interested in your future, you know, the draft is happening in a few days. you heard about it?" "yeah, and?" you knew he was a higher up in the board, but you couldn't careless. you were tired and you wanted to go home. "'if that's all, i'll be going home." without waiting for his answer, you went outside.

after hearing your footsteps fade away, paul immediately pulled out his phone and made the call. "hello, yes, you'd love her."

the next following days were somehow boring; you couldn't careless about the draft happening, you knew you were always going to be with the blue brand.

to say the least, the backstage was crowded with people. you passed crews doing their own job, like usual. wardrobe passed the iconic blue shirt that they were bringing back since the 2000s. "now we have to wear this thing again?" you raised an eyebrow at the staff. "y- yes. the boss asked us to bring it back." you sighed in agony. "okay." was all that came out of your mouth.

you sat at the very back, not wanting to gain attention from anyone. but like a diamond in a sea of blood, you stood out. one by one, the stars entered the room, you spotted your coworkers, only nodding at them when they greeted you. and there he was.

the undisputed wwe universal champion, roman reigns. you've never interacted with him or even spared a glance at him. he had this aura that you hated. he was just as dominant as you were. people were intimidated by his position and the power he had. he just had to sit right next to you.

he was alone. what a rare sight. the twins were two rows in front of you. so it was quite strange for the tribal chief himself to not sit in front, gaining everyone's attention. but then again, you couldn't careless. you could feel his eyes on you. "what do you want?" you asked, each word laced with ice. he didn't respond. "then stop staring at me, we're rolling in 5."

the draft started and everyone got into character. not you though, you were still the same. you saw triple h, speaking to the microphone. "this first pick, goes to smackdown, and they select... all four drafted as one. paul heyman, solo sikoa, the undisputed wwe universal champion, roman reigns. and the lone wolf, (y/n) (l/n). the bloodline!" the camera panned to the two of you as you heard people in the room gasping. "what the f–"

and things went downhill after that.

the cameras stopped rolling and you didn't know what to do. your entire career path was a mess. no one said anything to you about being drafted with the bloodline. the last thing you remembered before you were dragged into a meeting room was that smug look plastered on roman's face. as soon as the door closed, leaving 6 people–including you, alone, hell broke loose. "what the fuck is this about?" you raised your voice.

"listen, (y/n)." paul was the first one to speak up. "no, you listen to me you little shit. i was doing fine alone, now i am dragged into this bullshit family drama without me knowing? what the fuck happened to diplomacy?" you furrowed your eyebrows. solo, jey, and jimmy were speechless. people would kill to be in the bloodline. "you just had to drag me into this mess that i don't want. i would prefer to be drafted to raw for fuck's sake."

"leave." a word came out of roman's mouth, instructing the other 5 to leave the room and they did. this was the very first time you were left alone with the tribal chief himself. the room was quiet, tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife. "if you think i am scared of you, you're wrong." you barked at him. "calm down, babygirl." the black-haired man chuckled. "do not fucking call me babygirl, i have a name."

you didn't know what was going on in the minds of the creative board, but you didn't like it. "if you stop being a hot-headed babygirl, we can talk terms." he said. "then fucking explain it! i was doing so good alone, roman. i don't even know you." you continued. "it was my idea to include you in the bloodline." he paused for a second to stare at you.

"paul saw your potential and i watched your match against bayley. this entire lone wolf act, you fit right in." "well, it's not an act. i work alone." you glared at him, trying to fight back. "fuck you, i don't want to see you." he leaned in closer and grabbed your chin. "babygirl," roman paused for a second, not breaking eye-contact. "i'm not going anywhere." oh it was so on for the two of you.

the first match was in 2 weeks. it was already stressful enough for you to train with the bloodline. you arrived at their usual gym, still pissed off by the fact that you weren't going to train alone. "hey, (y/n)!" jimmy greeted you with a smile. you nodded in response and went straight to the ring.

roman was standing there with a clipboard in his hands, scribbling something down. "you're late." he said, not looking at you. "blame my uber." paul entered the ring with the twins and solo. "so i just got word from creatives that they're going to push the two of you," paul paused for a second to point at you and roman. "into a tag team."

just when you thought things couldn't get worse than before, it did. "you gotta be shitting me." you cursed out. the smug look came back once again. "they're putting you up in a match with sami and kevin." the four wrestlers chuckled. "this is so funny." jey chuckled. "oh they're going to love it." paul added.

the training started and surprisingly, the chemistry between roman and you were unmatchable. you never doubted him and his strength and the same goes to him. "punch him as the last move." you suggested, scribbling down some additional notes. "and you'll flip owens over the ropes." he knew exactly what you were thinking about. "right." then again, you were kind of surprised how well the two of you were in-sync.

training ended, leaving only you and roman in the gym. the others left as they didn't have anything to do. you hated the fact that the two of you were a match. "you did great, babygirl." he said, taking off his gloves. "call me 'babygirl' one more time and i'll knock you out without any hesitation." you stared at him. roman chuckled darkly. that was kinda hot, you thought. "i'm leaving."

"no, you're going to eat with me." "and what if i say no?" you raised an eyebrow. "i'm going to kiss you on live television." this man was getting on your nerves. "if you do that, i'm actually going to fucking kill you." and there you were, in his car, eating your feelings away. you hated this. you hated the fact that you were under his control.

you didn't want him to actually kiss you on live television, it could damage your cold image. "are you always this hard to deal with, sweetheart?" he asked you, taking a bite of him fries. "are you always this fucking annoying to women?" "only to you, baby." you groaned in frustration. "why do you work alone?" questions kept coming from him. "because i don't like people."

"but you'll like me soon." like hell i would, you thought. sure he was handsome, everyone wanted to be with him, but his ego was triple the size of his achievements. “you know, you were once a men’s locker room topic.” you furrowed your eyebrows. “what does that supposed to mean?” you took a sip of your drink. “the guys had a bet on who could have your number first. i didn’t participate because it was pretty dumb.” roman chuckled at the memory.

“i’m not something to bet on.” you defended yourself. “i know, that’s why i told them to call it off. but some of them, not naming any names, didn’t listen.” you had flashbacks of the austin theory incident. “god, people are so fucking dumb sometimes.” it was the first time that he heard you laugh. “sorry, i just hate it when people think that they can easily break me by flirting with me and all. it doesn’t work like that for me.”

“so what works for you?” he asked. “nothing works for me, i’m here to get paid. not flirt with people and be a trophy that men can just carry around.” your answer made his eyes softer than before. “don’t fucking cry on me now, big boy. i don’t need empathy.” you barked. still, the toughest one out there, he thought. “anyways, paul asked about what do you wanna do to gain attention for our match?” he stirred the conversation to work stuff.

“i don’t know, don’t need anything, people will either boo at me or they’ll praise the ground i walk on. what do you wanna do?” you returned the question. “let me kiss you.” that sentence made you choke on air. “be fucking for real, roman.” you stared at him. “i’m serious, babygirl. imagine the views, the engagements, the talk. you said you wanted a great match? i’ll give you a great match.” you were not going to kiss this hot man for the sake of views. “not going to fucking happen.” “trust me, i’m a good kisser. and i know you’re attracted to me.”

the booking decision went viral on social media. it was shocking news to everyone. you grew okay to working with the bloodline, you were able to tolerate all their antics including roman’s flirty nature. d-day came and you were ecstatic for it.

the locker room was filled with excitement. "LET'S GO, LET'S GOOOOO!" the twins were pumping with adrenaline. "WE'RE GOING TO EAT SHIT UP TODAY!" jey said. "jesus, calm down would you?" you rolled your eyes at him. "NO I CANNOT CALM DOWN, THIS IS D-DAY!" he was bumping his chest with sami. the locker room's excitement quickly died down as one of the staffs called in for you and roman.

the choreography worked out well for the 4 of you. countless practices and you were ready to go. "let's go." roman said, dragging you out to the hallway. "i can walk on my own, big dog." he smirked. "not in my world." roman was practically holding your hand. "it's good for the act." he assured you. what act? you just want to get it with me, you thought.

"for the first time ever, the undisputed wwe universal champion and the lone wolf in a tag team match against sami zayn and kevin owens, this is history!" the announcer yelled. walking down to the ring was painful for you as roman kept holding your hand. you kept a straight face along the way, hoping that he would drop your hand soon, but he didn't.

the match started and it was going well, until kevin accidentally tripped and landed on you. you clenched your teeth in pain. this is why you didn't like working with people. you pulled through and there was only one move left. roman's eyes was filled with concern but you gave him a quick nod and flipped kevin over the ropes. "and your here are your winners for the tag team match, the undisputed wwe universal champion, roman reigns and the lone wolf, (y/n) (l/n)!" he looked at you with a huge smirk plastered on his face.

oh shit, you thought. he was going to do it. "you are not going to kiss me!" you shook your head in panic.

there you were, standing still, while he kissed your lips. the entire crowd went wild. you know what? fuck it, for the views, you thought. you responded to the kiss and left him in shock. "what? cat got your tongue?" you lifted his hand up, acknowledging your victories. "i'm going to give you hell for this." you mouthed at him. "look at them, the lovebirds! that should be their tag team name!”

the locker room atmosphere was unbeatable. everyone was praising you for your moves. "(y/n), that was amazing!" kevin greeted you with a smile. "i'm sorry i kinda botched the last move, i wasn't very careful." he apologized. "yeah, we're good. although it hurts like a bitch but that's life." kevin still felt bad. "dude, chill. now go away and get some rest." you assured him that you were going to be okay.

roman came back to the locker room, after being the last one to exit the ring. that was a long ass outro, you thought. "babygirl, you did so good." a shiver ran down your spine. "of course i did." you took off your gloves. "you're a good wrestler and an even better kisser." your cheeks flushed. "why the fuck did you do that?" "because i wanted to."

"you could've just asked." you were challenging him. "so, can i get a kiss now?" he raised an eyebrow. "no." you barked at him. "i always get what i want." the cocky tone made you agitate. "you know what? fuck it." you stood up from your seat and leaned closer to him. it caught him off-guard as you placed your lips on his. the locker room cheered as they saw you provoking the tribal chief himself. "you got what you wanted, now i want something in return. i want you to take me on a proper date so you can get a proper kiss."

[vivalabunbun]

Simple Wishes

Summary: He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you. Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided. But would you still allow him to hold your hand?

Word Count: 3k 

Tags: alhaitham x gn reader, deshret x gn reader, jinni!reader, past lifes, reincarnation au, angst, character death, modern au, some spoliers of genshin lore 3.2 onwards, sfw, tragedy, fluff, daughter nahida

Authors Note: This is based on the theory that alhaitham is in some way connected to king deshret, either as a reincarnation or a descendant. The reader is a jinni that understands and feels human emotions, a mirror for gods to reflect upon and cultivate more wisdom from a human prospective. Enjoy!

Upon a golden throne, imposing and all-knowing sat King Deshret. King of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. The proud and all-mighty king of the red sands. On his left, stood a Jinni, quiet and patiently waiting upon the great king and its mistress, the goddess of flowers to return from her visit to a grand friend.

The Jinn followed their mother goddess everywhere, in a trance of maddening loyalty and love. Yet here you were, far from the side of your goddess, but loyally attending to the curiosity of the great king. 

Followers of the Scarlet King might be appalled by the notion that their great king, the embodiment of wisdom, would hold questions he needed another’s answers to. However, these followers never considered the simple truth. 

King Deshret did not understand humans. After all, how can gods and humans truly understand each other on the same level when biologically the two were on two completely different plains? 

“My dear friend, how can we have dominion over creatures whom we cannot understand? Do you find that wise?” 

He remembers those words the goddess of flowers had raised him upon a peaceful afternoon. Deshret knew she was right, humans were weak compared to gods, but because they were weak they became complex. It was that unknown difference between god and humans that bred the potential for disharmony.

He supposed that was the reason your creation caused quite the commotion among the three friends and Jinn.

For upon your birth from the nilotpala lotuses at the feet of your mistress, you wept. Your fresh eyes overflowing with tears from the moment they opened, stunning the Jinn and the goddess of flowers. You, who was born with the body of an adult, wept like a human newborn who cried from the violent impact of emotions that welcomed them into the world.

Upon this revelation, your mistress knelt down to cup your face in her hands, eyes wide with astonishment and jaw slacked. 

“You… you can feel human emotions…” Her warm fingers brushed the tears off your soft cheeks. 

From that moment onwards you served a crucial role to the three lords of the alliance kingdoms, you were their mirror to the human heart. When the gods found themselves stumped upon a human concept, you were there to explain. Hate, love, grief, you told them everything the human heart held, reflecting your felt wisdom upon them.

However, of the three gods, it was King Deshret who had the least understanding of the human heart. Perhaps that was why the goddess of flowers had stationed you to the left of the king. To answer his inquiries about those weak complex creatures. 

Gazing upon the hologram manifested in front of him, Deshret watched the day-to-day bustle of the humans in his kingdom. While the king did not understand humans, he understood that they were his responsibility to look after, protect, and care for.

He watched as a laborer, skin tanned from moving heavy bricks in the unforgiving sun, rushed towards the figure of a woman with calloused hands, from weaving cloth all day, which held a basket of fruits and bread. The exhaustion disappeared from the man’s face as he greeted the woman, her face turning tender in return as she gestured to the basket.

A smile broke through the hardened face of the large man upon seeing the basket, he reached for her hand and she intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked together as one.

A crease appeared between the brows of the king, as he gestured with a flick of his wrist for you to approach closer. 

“Tell me Jinni, what troubles are plaguing my kingdom so much that a man is moved to joy over the simple sight of bread and fruit? Have the harvest this year been lacking? Have there been less gold for the common people?” He inquired. 

You turned your eyes away from the hologram and towards your lord. 

“No, they were simply happy to see each other, my lord.” 

The lazy glance Deshret cast your way told you that he still did not understand, so you continued.

“The man was overjoyed to see that the woman he loves had remembered which fruits and breads he favored, and she was happy that she made him happy.”

“That was all? That simple?” His teal eyes questioning. 

“Yes, it is the small actions that mean the most.” You offered him a reassuring smile. 

Your answer only sought to confuse him further, this was why Deshret believed he could never understand humans. How could mere mortals experience more joy from being gifted a piece of bread, than he had from having miles of silk, baskets of gold, and fertile lands placed at the feet of his grand throne? 

As the king walked along the paved paths in his palace gardens, four guards by his side in each cardinal direction, and you behind and to the left of him. His grand strides brought about an air of power and confidence as the linen flowed about his figure.

The marching of the guards and their golden armor contrasted by the jingle of bells that hung from your ankles filled the void of silence. Then along the path almost hidden by the tall flowers, sat a young boy, who had not reached the age to develop words, babbling to himself as he waved a stick in his chubby hands. Suddenly the child halted all movement, seemingly staring at nothing in particular, it was as if he had turned to stone.

Deshret paused his movement, and in sync the king’s entourage halted in their positions. He wanted to see just what would happen next with this child. It was faint at first, a shaky breath then a low whimpered followed until at last the child opened his mouth and let out a great wail. The child’s plump cheeks were wet as they began to get flushed with a hue of red, the cries his small body released straining against his lungs.

A leaf that had detached from a branch had yet to hit the ground when the figure of a place servant dashed from behind a corner. The servant dove to her knees as she brought the child into her arms, cooing and bouncing him against her chest, paying no heed to the dirt staining her white linen dress. The child had dropped his stick as he grasped tiny handfuls of his mother's dress, muffling his cries as he pressed his face into her. The servant continued to bounce him as his breathing grew calmer, it was then that the servant noticed the presence of the great king.

In a panic the servant raised to her feet, the child still tightly clutched in her arms, as she bowed deeply begging the king to forgive her for her insolence. 

“Shall I throw her into the dungeons for trespassing in the private gardens?” A guard asked. 

“There is no need,” Deshret waved her away. 

Thanking the king profusely for his mercy, the servant rushed to get out of his sight, cradling her child protectively. With a flick of his wrist, he called you to his side once more. 

“Why did the child wail so sadly?” His eyes still lingering at the corner the servant disappeared behind. 

“His small body was overwhelmed by emotions, my lord.”

“Have I frightened the child?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “He cried because he was overwhelmed by loneliness and the feeling of the unknown. The child cannot form words yet, thus he cannot match words to his emotions. So he cried for his mother, for he knows she will soothe the prickling feeling of frustration.” 

Deshret paused as he thought for a moment. The guards standing still at their positions around their king. 

“Was that how you felt back then?” He was referring to the moment you took your first breath. 

“Yes, my lord.” Your eyes twinkled with a smile, joy felt from your lord’s surmise. 

Dawning a cloak that hid his grand stature and identity, King Deshret strolled among the streets of his kingdom. Every once in a while he believed that it was crucial for a ruler to walk in the footsteps of his people, to examine the condition of his kingdom from beyond his golden throne. He had even requested that you remove the bells from your ankles to not draw attention as you trailed behind him.

He walked through the crowded marketplace of hollering merchants and haggling customers trying to get the best prices, you making care to not stray too far from his left. As the edge of the market came the concentration of the crowd diminished, and he felt a bit more relaxed.

He gazed curiously back into the denser crowd, observing the ever-changing expressions on the people’s faces. Suddenly, a large figure pushed the sea of people, hollering like an animal in pain. 

“Help! A doctor! Someone get me a doctor! My daughter! Please! My daughter!” 

In the scarred arms of the warrior lay the limp body of a young girl, not a day past the age of seven. As the crowd cleared out of his way, one hundred pairs of eyes focused their attention on the shouting warrior. His scarred face looked through the crowd for someone to save his child, being met with one hundred pitiful looks. 

“Anyone? Please! Call a doctor! Please save my daughter!” 

A thin man raised his hand as he maneuvered his body through the gaps in the crowd, stopping in front of the towering man. The thin man reached his hand towards the neck of the limp girl, eyes meeting the father’s as if asking for silent permission. The scarred man gave a quick nod, eyes filled with desperate hope. The doctor held two thin fingers against the cold neck of the girl, searching diligently for a pulse, for a singular proof of life. Instead, he was met with stiff, cold flesh. Removing his hand, he pressed his lips into a thin line before looking back at the scarred man’s face. 

“I am sorry, your daughter is already started her journey into Duat (the realm of the dead).”

“No… no, no, no, no, please! Please tell me it’s not too late! She can be saved no?” The desperate father harshly clasped a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, shaking the thin man. 

The doctor could only silently shake his head. The man’s eyes wide with despair then narrowed with rage, then as his facial expression relaxed a hollow void began to fill his eyes. Sinking to the sandy path arms clutching around the husk that once was a bundle of joy, the warrior who had faced countless battles, as shown by the marks all along his body, wept pitifully. Around him slowly, the crowd began to move once again, tearing their eyes away from the scene as if to give the father a semblance of privacy.

King Deshret flicked his wrist, calling you to his side. He felt no movement, confused he turned towards you, only to see your sobbing eyes still pinned on the scene in front of you. A pained expression tugged down at the corners of your lips that usually held a small smile. 

“Why do you weep, Jinni?”

“I weep for the father whose daughter, death had snatched too soon from his arms.” Your voice low like a hush. 

“Why do you weep for him?”

“Because he is in pain, a child torn away from their parent opens a wound in the heart.”

“The man is a strong warrior, he can sire another child. There is no need to weep for a child that could not survive.” 

“My lord, a child can never be replaced, she will never go back to her father’s arms. A broken pot can be remade, moldy bread can be thrown out, but a dead flower can never bloom again.” Your eyes never left the figure of the mourning father, tears continuing to darken the stones on the path. 

Deshret opened his mouth ready to inquire more but then shut it just as quickly. He sensed that inquiring more would only cause the tears to flow heavier. 

He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you. 

Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided. 

“My lord, I beg of you to stop. This path you walk will only bring about more pain. My mistress, the goddess of flowers, has left this world. To ignore the truth while in search of knowledge forbidden will cause ruin.” You gripped onto the linen that pooled at his feet as you pleaded on your knees with the mourning king. 

“... Leave this palace, foolish Jinni.” Those were the last words he ever spoke to you. 

Yes, that was the word, foolish. That word does not describe you, no, it described him. A foolish king that did not understand his own heart. Foolish king that gambled everything and lost. His kingdom and riches shallowed by the raging sand storms, his people poisoned with madness (forbidden knowledge) by his own hands, and the once proud and all-mighty king no longer even had a physical body.

It was quiet in the temple where King Deshret hovered, he already knew what must be done to save his people, to save his people from himself as the forbidden knowledge pulsed like poison through his conscious. 

“We meet once more, my lord.” You stepped in front of him. 

He thought he would never see you again after he casted you out of the palace, your appearance stayed faithfully to how he remembered. But you were a bit more haggard, hands more collapsed, skin duller. You must have been exhausting your powers to try to mitigate the madness that plagued the humans you loved so much. Despite the fact you barely had the power to maintain your physical form, your eyes still twinkled as you called out to him. 

“I shall aid you, my lord. I will be the vessel for your sacrifice.” 

 This means you were prepared to die alongside him, he knew it, and you knew it too. Mutually understanding that a great sacrifice was required for a chance of survival for the people of the red sand. Outstretching your hands to the star-like manifestation of Deshret, you signaled that you were ready. He slowly descended into your cupped palms, as a pure light began to engulf the room and your figures.

He no longer had arms to hold you, even though he deeply wished to. As he felt his essence and yours slowly began to break apart into dust like sand, a fleeting thought passed through his mind, brought up by a scene he had witnessed many years ago with you. 

In a different time, 

a different place,

 a different world…

Could he hold your hand while you walk together as one?

... 

“....er”

“.....tham?”

“Alhaitham!” 

His teal eyes snapped open, meeting yours as you stood in the doorway of his home office. Concern was written clearly on your expression, he must have dozed off while he was translating the text that was half finished on his desk. 

“What’s wrong dear?” You moved closer, pressing your palm against his forehead feeling for signs of a fever. 

Nahida was held snuggly in your other arm as her green eyes observed her father’s face, aranara doll dangling loosely in her grip. 

“Is papa sick?” Nahida questioned, beginning to stir in your arms. 

Words just would not form from his throat as he continued to stare into your eyes, his usually stoic face was replaced with a dumbstruck expression. Which only concerned you further, he observed as your brow began to furrow more, palms shifting trying to get a better gauge of his temperature. 

“Haitham, are you unwell? If so you should rest, me and Nahida can do the grocery shopping by ourselves.”

No, he did not want you to leave his side, at that moment he never again want to be apart from you. He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, removing it from his forehead as he stood up. 

“There is no need for such concern, I was just distracted, beloved.” He took Nahida from your arm and into his, shifting her into a secure hold. 

“Papa is healthy, now let us get the groceries before the market closes.” 

He heard you sigh, muttering something about how you worried that your husband was over-working himself. A silly concern, as if there was one thing he treasured close to the level of you and his daughter, it would be a healthy work-life balance. 

During the whole trip to the grocery store, Alhaitham was still a bit lost in thought. Movements a bit more relaxed and absent-minded than usual, Nahida still being carried in his arm as you pushed the cart. He found his eyes trailing towards the shiny wedding ring on your finger, with an emerald gem that matched the one present on his finger as well.

You had stopped in front of the display of fruits, concentrating on which fruit was the ripest and how to get the most value out of your money. Alhaitham found his hand itching to reach for yours, he did not try to suppress that desire. Allowing his hand to intertwine his long fingers with yours, wedding rings clinking together.

A look of surprise appeared on your face as you turned toward your ashen-haired lover. He was never really one for public displays of affection, so he could not fault you for your confusion, but he felt a smile tug at his lips as you accepted his actions with no further questioning. Returning your attention back to the piles of fruit waiting for your judgment.

Alhaitham felt at peace standing hand in hand with you under the fluorescent lights, as the sounds of other shoppers blended with the soft pop music from the store speakers.

A simple wish had been fulfilled. 

“Oh! This orange looks quite nice doesn’t it?”

“It is starting to mold on the underside.”

“Eh?-” 

fin~

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

[scribiel]

The Sound of Love

Jujutsu Kaisen! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader tags: Satoru Gojo x fem! reader, angst, major character death, grief, a bit suggestive

Few months ago my friend asked me, “What do you think love sounds like?”. So I shook my head and replied, “Like love songs?” 

But to think about it, Satoru, I think love sounds like: 

First, it sounds like someone’s opening a melon soda can in the middle of movie night. Where I can hear you walking and opening the fridge; the clink sound from the can; and how satisfied you sound from the carbonated drink. It’s quite weird, for it’s late at night yet your eyes shine so bright; so little of light, yet so bright. That I think the stars would be jealous because I get so lost and captivated in your eyes more than I do in those stars.

Second, it sounds like the splattered water you always make whenever we are in the bathtub together. Your giggles and mine clash one another along with the water, making it sounds like a very childish activity. But whatever it is, it makes me at ease. A friend; a child; two grown adults who share responsibilities; whatever we are or we are like, as long as I am with you, I enjoy it most.

Third, it sounds like your whines. Your morning whines to be precise. You always protest that I got up a bit too early. You always say you don’t mind about the breakfast that’ll come a little too late. Yet not long after you —from behind— put your arms around me and rest your chin upon my shoulder, your stomach makes a sound. 

Fourth, sometimes, it sounds like your snore, which you usually don’t snore, but whenever the day is too much for you; you do. Sometimes it wakes me up in the middle of the night. It’s not like I mind about it, because I can stare at the face that God took time in the making. Every curve is so divine. 

Fifth, and most importantly, it sounds like a rhythm. Every now and then, we love doing it, like right now: I put my head upon your left chest, allowing me to feel the warmth from your body. I can hear the beeping sound from the air conditioner remote; you are lowering the room temperature. 

“Do you really have to?”

You reply, “Yes. Because”—there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes— “with the low room temperature, we can cuddle without feeling hot way too early, that’ll lead into a short time of hugging each other. And I hate it.”

I can see the silver band around your ring finger, which brings a smile across my face and an ease of feelings all over my senses. So, I put my arm around your body. I can feel your arms around mine, pulling me closer. 

As I melt into your embrace, I ask you, “Do you wanna know what the sound of love sounds like?” 

Carelessly, you answer, “Like whenever we make love and our moanings are combined together?”

I laugh. “No,” —I put my palm on your chest, next to your beating heart— “it sounds like your heartbeat.”

Then the silence fills the room. You don’t give an immediate response. It must’ve been quite shocking for you to process. I think you are lost in your emotion, or my words have just given you an ick. But then you say, “Oh … Oh my God.” 

I can feel your hold getting tighter as you say, “I don’t know what to say, but thank you.”

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you,” you repeat that. “I love you.”

But then I open my eyes. I feel the blanket wrapping around my body; pillows that I staked with each other  earlier so I can sleep better; and I feel no heartbeat to hear, no arms to hold, and one beating heart but it’s blue and broken. I grab your ring—that now I put on as a pendant on my necklace— and put it in between my lips. The cold sensation helps me to grasp every memory, that I hope I won't forget, of you. 

I remember we talked about a situation, more like my nightmare. We talked about what would happen if one of us died first. But I didn't know how the talk became revolving around you, your passing. 

I insisted while standing, “I’ll follow you to the afterlife.”

You shook your head. “Don’t you dare. Move on. Live your life.”

I crossed my arms and said, “Even if that happened. I don’t think I would ever love someone else anymore.”

You, sitting on the sofa, pulled me by my waist closer. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

I wasn’t brave enough to look into your eyes. “Yes…?”

You put your arms around my waist  then hugged me. I could feel the sadness from how firm you were holding me. "I … don't say that you’d never move on ... I understand that you will still love me, long after my passing. But that also means you'll miss the chances to find people who can love you just as much as I love you, people who will make you happy in ways I'm not sure I was able to make you happy too.”

Right now, I am ashamed of myself, because I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t allow myself to move on. Please forgive me, Satoru. I think I can continue my life, fill it with activities to kill some time until I see you again, but I don’t think I can love again. Because even if I do that, I’ll only lie to myself and put myself in misery, and second best is all I will ever know for the rest of my life. What If I kiss others, but my lips can only taste and remember the taste of your lips. What if he pulls me in, but I curse myself because it’s not your embrace that I’ll be in. What if it’s not you? How selfish of me, but I want you and only you, because it’s you, whom my heart calls for every night. 

Satoru, sleep has become my favorite activity these past few weeks, because I can meet you in my dream. So come and visit me often, for I’ll be waiting. 

I wish I could drift to dream and be with you again for a moment, but the sun has risen and my alarm will ring in a few minutes. Don’t worry, your ring will always be hanging from the chain around my neck. Don’t worry, I am doing fine, or that’s what I think. 

But please, seriously, don’t worry. I may not be able to hear the sound of love any time soon, but I hope I can remember it for the rest of my time walking on earth.

[gloriousburden]

A few types of MCU Loki fans I’ve encountered/noticed being in the fandom for over three years now:

DISCLAIMER: DON’T TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY PLEASEEEE IT’S LIGHTHEARTED!! Some of these things apply to me as well, and some don’t lol. Doesn’t necessarily apply to everyone it’s all just for giggles.

The Lokius shipper Series Fan:

- Usually younger Gen Z. Can be anywhere from 14 to 23 years old. They’re younger teenagers most of the time.

- Heavily on TikTok but also on Pinterest/Twitter.

- Got into the MCU/Loki more recently. Either from the Series, or from Ragnarok.

- For some reason, wholeheartedly believes that one Tumblr post from like ten years ago that states Loki is 16/17 in human years. Even though that’s not canon at all and it does not work like that.

- Favorite depiction of Loki tends to be the Variant/Ragnarok. Sometimes Avengers.

- Almost ALWAYS a fan of Good Omens or OFMD.

- Obviously… Ships Lokius.

- Very anti Sylvie/Sylki, but LOVES Mobius.

- EXTREMELY anti Thorki, even though not a lot of people ship them anymore.

- Spreads a lot of misinformation. Such as taking the fact that Marvel confirmed that the Scepter influenced Loki, and mistaking that with them 100% confirming the theory of Loki being brainwashed by Thanos.

- Thinks Loki’s eyes are green???

- Newer to fandom in general.

- Doesn’t talk a whole lot about the series outside of the ships/fanon discourse.

- Making Loki tree/Yggdrasil jokes CONSTANTLY.

- Either thinks that Loki before the series was completely evil, or an angel. No in between.

- “For you, for all of us 🥺” / “Your savior is here!”

- Often forgets/doesn’t remember the fact that Loki/OG Loki are two different characters, and groups them together.

- Either a Swiftie who likes to constantly joke about when Taylor and Tom dated for 3 months like 8 years ago and also associates a lot of her Songs/Lyrics with Loki, or is someone who has a bit more of an Alternative taste in Music/Fashion.

- Doesn’t really talk about Thor that much, or really wants him and Loki to reunite.

- They’ve probably seen other movies including Tom like Crimson Peak, Skull Island, and High Rise. The more popular ones.

- Owns a lot of TVA related merch.

- “He’s not Odin’s son, or Laufey’s son… He’s Frigga’s son 🥺” or insists on calling Loki by “Laufeyson.”

- In Fanon, sort of treats Loki as a very normal, modern human, and not a god from an entirely different realm.

- Has either dropped the Series/their love of Loki a few months after the Series ended for the “next best thing”, or is currently still raving about all of it.

- Quite immature about other’s opinions/perspectives on Loki/or even people who ship the opposite ship from their own. This is mainly because they’re younger or because they really like their Fanon idea of Loki/Which ship should be Canon.

- Has some questionable headcanons/opinions of their own on Loki.

- Loves Frigga.

- Hates Odin.

The OG Loki fan who’s been a fan of him since 2011/2012, but is a bit more casual about his characterization:

- Usually a Millennial/in their late twenties or mid thirties. May even be in their fourties.

- Has been here for a good while, and saw just about every movie featuring him as well as other MCU movies in the theater when they first came out. Was probably a younger adult/older teenager when Avengers came out.

- Fanfic writer!!

- Favorite depiction of Loki tends to be Ragnarok, TDW, or Avengers.

- Mainly reside on Tumblr/AO3 but also on Twitter from time to time.

- “The Sun will shine on us again.” / “Love is a Dagger.”

- Some depict Loki in their Fanfics in a Smutty/BookTok YA Fantasy Novel style. Some in other ways. They also have a lot of fun with their Fics! So many AUs.

- They are carrying the Loki x Reader tag, I won’t lie. 🫡

- Doesn’t necessarily love the Series, but also doesn’t necessarily hate it. Does prefer the OG Loki they know and love over the Series and had a few disappointments with the Series, though.

- MAJOR Hiddlestoner. Some may like Tom more than they like Loki. Have watched his entire filmography and then some.

- A lot of them have really cool Loki related tattoos.

- Collects a lot of merch. Both from the Series, as well as more OG Loki merch. Also owns about fourty Tom magazines.

- Probably has met Tom/owns an autograph or something signed by him.

- Usually ships Loki with Sigyn, Jane, Tony, or an OC they’ve had since 2013. Honestly, I don’t personally see them that often anymore, but may ship Thorki. Does not really ship Lokius/Sylki whatsoever, or uses Sylvie as a bit of a self insert in Fics.

- Sometimes also a huge fan of Bucky/The Winter Soldier or Sebastian Stan. Associates Bucky and Loki a lot especially in Fics.

- Some are also fans of Star Wars who love Kylo Ren.

- Actually they like a lot of other morally grey characters.

- Probably has a pet named after Loki.

- Feels deeply for Loki, and relates to him in certain ways. Really likes humanizing him in their fics. Loves the more vulnerable side of him.

- Loves Frigga.

- Hates Odin.

The Loki purist/“He’s literally me” Fan:

- Anywhere from 16 - 28 years old. May be a bit older than that. Usually Mid/Older Gen Z, or younger Millennial.

- Has either grown up loving Loki, or became a fan a bit more recently.

- Favorite depiction of Loki tends to be TDW, but obviously can be any of the three OG depictions of him.

- LIVES on Tumblr. A bit of an extinct species elsewhere, but some may also be on Twitter.

- #1 Loki defenders. Very protective of/sensitive about how he is depicted not only in Canon, but also in Fanon. Usually deemed as harsh by series fans/non series haters whenever they criticize the Series or Ragnarok, but in reality, deeply relates to Loki and takes it very personally when he is depicted inaccurately. They see themselves in him, and are so, so, SO tired of seeing him mischaracterized. But also can be genuinely harsh at times. I’ve been guilty of that.

- Either heavily believes the “Thanos Brainwashed Loki” theory, or completely rejects it.

- “I never wanted the Throne. I only ever wanted to be your Equal.” / “Trust my Rage.”

- Very creative. Creates Art of Loki, Fanfics, Edits, Cosplays him, etc…

- Sometimes weirdly resembles him in ways??? LOL. Taking “He’s literally me” literally

- Has a more Alternative taste in Music, Fashion, Aesthetics, etc..

- They either see Loki as their bff, their life partner, or as an enigma to observe. Or all of the above.

- Pretty into Norse Myth, and likes incorporating aspects of it creatively, or when talking about Loki.

- Has a good amount of Fandom experience, and does not tend to argue with other Loki purists/OG Loki fans over petty things. Because at the end of the day… it’s just Tumblr. And we usually all have a common middle ground. Or, is constantly arguing with others.

- They don’t really ship Loki with anyone, but if they do… it’s usually Sigyn or Thor. Or someone really random.

- Either really enjoys depicting Loki in a more Feminine/Neutral form, and wishes his fluidity was depicted in the MCU, or doesn’t talk about it all that much.

- Single handedly keeping the memory of Loki (prior to Ragnarok) alive. 🫡

- Loves the comics, or hasn’t touched a single one.

- Disliked Taika Waititi before it was cool.

- Lost complete trust in the MCU after the handling of Loki’s characterization in Ragnarok, and had no hope in the Series when it was first announced. Or… really hoped it would be our last hope.

- Either deems Thor as the origin of all evil, or actually likes him.

- Wishes it was still 2013 everyday of their lives.

- Either respects/likes Tom to a certain extent, or really does not like him.

- Has a few really cool merch items, or has a lot of everything and anything they can find that doesn’t include Ragnarok/The series. Usually, they DIY their merch.

- Needs to emulate him at any given moment and in any way possible.

- Likes Frigga, but acknowledges that she has messed up in ways. Or really does not like her, period.

- Hates Odin.

The… Male MCU casual/dudebro who strictly lives on TikTok/Instagram/Twitter and did not really like Loki that much until the Series finale came out and thinks Loki is a Sigma Male who dropped everything in order for his friends and his… “Girl” to live:

- ????? Wtf

- Okay I added this one more as a joke because obviously they’re not Loki fans, but…

- Anywhere from ages 15, to 24. No older than that.

- Definitely disregarded Loki’s character before the Series. Also due to him having a fanbase where Women/Girls are the majority. Now Loki is the best MCU character and has the best arc out of everyone else. 🤦🏻‍♀️

- Wholeheartedly believes that Loki was a narcissist/was overreacting about everything he’s been through, or believes that Loki is an angel now because he had a “Redemption Arc”.

- Has never picked up a single Loki comic.

- Jokes a lot about Loki “loving” himself (Sylki kiss).

- Calls the Series “Peak Fiction” just because the rest of the bullshit the MCU has been putting out was absolute garbage, and also because they haven’t really watched anything else.

- If you as an actual Loki fan correct them on any of their bullshit, they act like they know more than you because they loved the series. How could anyone hate it?

- Makes self insert memes/tries to project onto Loki in the absolute worst ways possible.

- Worships the ground that Michael Waldron walks on. Though, they all hated Multiverse of Magic..

- “Let time pass…” / “I know what kind of god I have to be. For you, for all of us.” (Once again.)

- Similarly to our Lokius shipper Series Fans… they do not realize that Loki/the Variant are literally two different people.

- Loves Mobius JUST because he is portrayed by Owen Wilson.

- Also very annoying about Loki being confirmed bisexual in the Series.

- Really wants not only Thor and Loki to reunite, but also Hela.

- Hated the earlier Thor movies, loved Ragnarok, hated Love and Thunder.

- Probably thinks the treatment of Thor in Infinity War was funny af.

- Who’s Frigga?

- Loves Odin probably. (Hehe)

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Penny00Dreadful! @penny00dreadful has 29 fics in the Stranger Things fandom with 25 of them being in the Steddie Tag!

@hbyrde36 recommends the following works by @penny00dreadful:

Crossroads

Cat and Mouse

I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife

And They Were Roommates!

The Parting Glass

Sam, on top of being an absolutely amazing writer (AND artist!), is one of the brightest lights in this fandom (in my humble opinion). She is incredibly kind and encouraging, always ready to uplift other authors in the Steddie and ST fanfic worlds. I have had the incredible pleasure of being her beta reader for quite some time now, and am consistently blown away by her talent. There isn't a single one of her works that I wouldn't recommend, they are all fantastic reads. -- @hbyrde36

Below the cut, @penny00dreadful answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Opposites attract has always been a major draw for me, especially in my fandoms. Every pairing I’ve ever gotten into in every fandom I’ve been in have all been opposites attract and I’m not going to lie to you, I did not make that realization until this question. 😅 I had a very “Huh… that tracks” moment about it. 🤣 So the opposites attract factor is definitely big for me and while I suppose you could say that’s true for many, many pairings in fandom, there’s something about the complete opposite of both Steve and Eddie that is just enrapturing. From their aesthetic, to their personalities, to their upbringing, it creates such incredibly interesting parallels and options for building stories around them. On top of that, the two of them are so compelling as characters. Their various hang ups and traumas, their loves and hates, the time period and the genre of work they originated in all coalesce into something so captivating. I adore the two of them so much, they’re so fascinating. I think everyone can find a little bit of themselves in either one of them, but especially with the addition of Eddie into the series we got a character who was ‘other’, in the same way so many of us feel and are seen, he speaks to us on such a personal level. So, yeah. I love them.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Oh boy. There are so many. Enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff. But if I had to pick one that has been my longest standing love, it would have to be a slow burn. Like, when it hits, it hits. And it hits hard.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I looooove writing some tasty hurt/comfort. There’s just something so addictive about someone needing to be taken care of after something bad or traumatic happens or they’ve just had a really shitty day. It’s so cathartic. And also, I cannot like, I love getting comments screaming at me that I’ve made people hurt or cry or feel things because I know I’m going to make it better, I’m gonna give them that comfort. And it’s such an incredible compliment from people when they tell me that my writing has made them feel feelings. Like it is the highest praise possible that I could induce that in someone. It feels amazing.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Oh my god, that is such a difficult question to answer. I have read so many that have left a permanent mark on my heart or completely rewired my brain. I had to go look through my bookmarks to narrow it down because my god, there are so many talented people in this fandom and even then I was attempted to just give a list of all my top ones because, god they make me feel so many things, people are so fucking talented, I love them. But I would say if I had to choose one, there’s one that lives rent free in my brain. I think of it all the time, it is so god damn special to me and if I’m being honest with myself, it’s the first one that came to mind, It would have to be wouldn’t it be nice (if we could wake up) by kissesforcas  kissesforcas I have talked about this fic on my blog before but it just hits me in the right way every time I read it, it’s absolutely magical. I can’t recommend it enough, please go read it. It changed me completely.  There’s so many beautiful moments in it, the two boys are so protective of each other in it, but they also adore their found family and will defend them at any cost, the two of them feel real, their communication feels genuine and honest and realistic while also being true to their characters, I just adore it.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

YES. FANTASY. It is wild to me that I have not done a fully fledged fantasy AU at all yet. Like I adore fantasy, what gives? Why have I not done it yet? Omg ALSO, historical. Like a lot of my special interests are historical based, WHY have I not done that yet?? AND, AND horror maybe? Like a psychological or zombie or paranormal/supernatural or slasher. So many things I haven’t explored that I want to do, and I can’t wait!

What is your writing process like?

Okay, so first things first, I get an idea.  Kind of obvious, I know, but yeah, the idea stage. Usually it’ll be something that hit out of nowhere, I’ll write down one line in the ideas doc and then pretend I won’t be thinking of it for the rest of the day. Then when I admit to myself I want to expand on it, I’ll take all of the brain worms attached to that idea and put them in their own doc. It’ll all be VERY disjointed at this stage, just a stream of consciousness of different situations/conversations/plot bunnies that popped into my head. Once I feel like I have enough of a concept through that, I begin to put them in order, maybe add a few more. Then I outline. I’m an outline kinda gal.  Over a page or two I’ll give a bare bones outline of what the fic will be, almost like it’s a short story? But still very rough.  Then I’ll start writing, usually in chronological order, I find that makes it easier to plant seeds and foreshadow and create consistency with the voice of the fic. Sometimes I will jump ahead if I’m really excited about a particular part of the fic, I’ll get it out before I lose steam on it. HOWEVER, I find that I almost ALWAYS diverge from the outline. If, as I’m writing, things start going in a different direction, I go with the flow, I don’t fight it. Fighting it, I feel is detrimental to my writing, trying to force myself into a box and hey, going with the flow has been working out pretty well for me so far. 🤣

Do you have any writing quirks?

Quirks? I dunno about that. I think I’m a pretty standard writer, but I do end up writing across three devices a lot of the time depending on where’s more comfortable. PC, tablet and phone. I’ll always stick to writing whatever my brain is focusing on at that time, but if I know I need to get a fic out and I’m not really feeling the inspo anymore, I’ll give myself an extra boost by watching movies with similar themes, listening to music related to it, or even just searching the trope on Pinterest can help me generate excitement about it again.Also do yourself a favor and get yourself a Bluetooth keyboard. It’s a game changer for writing on your phone.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’ve done both and I much prefer posting on a set schedule. I always try to get the fic at least 50% finished before I start posting to give myself a nice cushion. Yeah, the immediate endorphin hit of posting once I’m done is great, but I much prefer the option to have a fic mostly or completely done before I post, so I can go back in and tweak things to make a theme hit harder or stick in a tad more foreshadowing or even just to edit.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I love all of my works, honestly. I write for me. I write the things I want to read. I think it would be difficult to narrow down a fic that I am the most proud of. Like I’m actually having a really difficult time picking one and saying “This one. This is the one I am most proud of.” Because I am proud of all of them and it’s for each of their own reasons. Like, some are very, very personal to me, some are stories that made me feel completely unhinged and obsessed(affectionately) and some are stories that touched people in very real ways, or made them feel safe and seen and that is so incredibly special to me. It’s a bit of a cop out to say that I can’t pick one, I can’t choose between my children, but I really can’t, they’re all so special, at least to me, in their own ways.

How did you get the idea for Crossroads?

So I have never seen the movie The Old Guard, but I have heard of it and while I know that reincarnation is not an aspect of that movie, I was struck with the idea of someone going through life over, and over, and over again, just to be close to the one they love the most. Like that kind of time bending devotion. And I had a brain worm of various historical ways of dying and I couldn’t figure out a way to write all of them into one fic before the idea of reincarnation hit. The very first image I had in my head of Eddie dying was being burned at the stake, so I had to work my way up to that time period and beyond. I knew I didn’t want it to be something that had only happened a few times over a couple of hundred years.  I knew I wanted it to be an ancient, centuries spanning kind of devoted love which is what led me to Ancient Greece, and in leading me there, I had to figure out why this was happening. Why Steve was traversing time just to be next to his boy again. Hecate appeared out of the mist and invaded my brain and it all kind of spilled out onto the page after that. 

When writing Cat and Mouse, what was something you didn’t expect?

I gotta be honest, the whole fic was unexpected. 😅 It was one of those stories when I originally thought of it, it was only gonna be a short little thing, maybe one or two chapters. By the end of it we were at 16 chapters and over 70K. Apparently I have no idea how to write anything short. But I think what also took me by surprise was how feral the two of them were for each other even though they didn't actually get together until later. I knew I wanted to have them being snappy and flirtatious for the whole thing and it evolved into the two of them being so dedicated to each other after only meeting a few times. I also didn’t expect the wild reaction I got to the fic, people loved it and were chomping for more and I was floored by it, it made me so incandescently happy!

What inspired Cat and Mouse?

So, the short answer is I saw this post from steddielations and it burrowed so deep into my brain, I had to get it out! Long answer is it was a mix of that post, and then a bit of Mr & Mrs. Smith mixed in along with John Wick. I just loved the idea of two deadly people being so soft for each other they’d be willing to burn the world for each other, do anything at any cost to keep the other safe.

What was your favorite part to write from And They Were Roommates!?

Oh my god, the banter. The banter was loaded with bitching and queerspeak and jabs, it was so much fun. I hadn’t really seen a story where the steddie boys had been bitchy queers before, like leaning into it and I just had to, I had to. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up and I could have gone on for ages just the two of them biting back and forth.

How do/did you feel writing I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife?

Conflicted, honestly. I was worried the POV I was writing from would be a little too out there, you know? There were a few times throughout writing where I thought I’d have to go back and change it out to be more of a standard fic but at the end of the day it felt so right to have the story told the way it was and it also felt very in line with Take Me To Church as well. It’s also the most poetic piece of writing I have done to date and while it’s not something I can see myself revisiting too often, it was a fantastic exercise in moving out of my comfort zone. It got me, right in the heart.

What was the most difficult part of writing The Parting Glass?

Oh boy. The whole fic was an exercise in catharsis. It was a way of processing my own grief after losing a family member and getting it all out into words was very, very helpful. I think the hardest part was just putting down into words how Eddie was feeling right in the aftermath, you know? Like grief is such a personal thing, everyone experiences it differently, so I wanted to try to figure out how Eddie would respond to it, especially considering it was the death of someone so important to him. So to have him looking around the trailer and it being empty but still with bits of Wayne dotted around like he was about to walk back through the door was probably the realest and most difficult part for me.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Oh god there’s so many! I could pick so many! But the first thing that came to mind is the small interaction between Eddie and Robin in Return of The King, when Steve is demonstrating his newly acquired vampire strength for the kids and Eddie has to hold onto Robin to keep himself from melting into a puddle: “Down boy.” She muttered. “Me next.” He practically whimpered right back. “Oh god, Robbie, I wanna be that stump. Tell him to do me next.” “You’re pathetic.” “What about it?” [...] Robin leaned in close to his ear but continued to stare at Steve. “If you two don’t calm the fuck down I’m going to get the hose.” Wet Steve. “Please get the hose.” I love Robin and Eddie together whenever I can get them snarking at each other, it’s just so entertaining. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh yeah! A good few things. I’m coming back from my writing break and I’m going to be working on the final two fics for my anniversary event, Through The Valley and Devotion.  I also have a Summer Exchange Fic in the works along with starting on my Steddie Big Bang piece that I am also signed up for as an artist, I’m so excited to start them!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think I would just like to add that this blog, this concept is such a wonderful idea, you’re doing great work here to bring people and fics to new eyes and it has been an honor and a privilege to be put forward the way I have, I’m so so so thankful. 🖤

Thank you to our author, @penny00dreadful, and our nominator, @hbyrde36! See more of Penny00Dreadful's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Glad you opened requests! i kind of longed for a second part of the “all hail the king of the world” request in which male reader goes on a date with the ror characters, still being insufferable yet hot. Just him constantly getting on their nerves with his unashamed flirting yet managing to charm them successfully 👍 same characters than the original request btw

-It had been several weeks since the end of Ragnarok, humanity earning their salvation as well as earning the respect of the gods, as humans refused to give up.

-You were the one to suggest the idea of a massive party with all warriors and Valkyries, to celebrate this new milestone in Valhalla, which was agreed upon, just to have an excuse to party!

-(Love) watched you speaking to Brunnhilde from across the floor, talking respectfully to her, while flirting every now and then, but she knew that you had eyes for someone else, so she knew you were harmless.

-You and (Love) had recently became an item, and a hot one at that, everyone was talking about the two of you! They wanted to know about your relationship and what things were like behind closed doors, but neither of you were saying anything, but you liked teasing, flustering those who would ask, “You can get a front row seat, if you allow us to share you~” which would always make them run away, flustered while you were laughing warmly.

-(Love) knew you weren’t serious, you weren’t the sharing type of person, once you had (Love) all to yourself, he was going to stay that way.

-When she left you, you had turned, looking around the room before your face lit up, seeing (Love) there, and you immediately came over, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting my dear~”

-(Love) couldn’t believe that he was with you now as he gave you a small grin.

-He couldn’t help but smile, resting his head against your chest as your fingers, after you removed your claw-like finger-caps, scratched at his scalp as you both lounged together in your massive pillow pit full of soft pillows, perfectly for cuddling in. You both had left the party hours ago, drunk and wanting to nap and cuddle. It didn’t really come as a surprise to others when you both finally announced you were dating, as they thought that you had been dating for a while now, thanks to your shameless flirting with one another. The two of you were quite the handful together, something Brunnhilde had to deal with a lot, as she needed to keep you both in line, usually with giving you both lumps on your heads after you would tag-team her with flirting. Brunnhilde never admitted it, but she thought it was funny, even more so when you would do it to others.

            -Qin Shi Huang and Buddha

-He didn’t know how he got into this situation; he had no idea how you even convinced him to accept a date with you. Your persuasiveness was very intimidating, but you had been nothing but polite with him, minding his personal space, not touching if he didn’t want it, and overall, you were just a gentleman, except with your flirting. He had no idea how you could flirt so easily and so much with him all while keeping a straight face and acting so suave!! As much as your flirting and perverted attitude irritated him, he hated to admit that it was growing on him, you were growing on him, and he was beginning to look forward to your antics and seeing you each day. He wouldn’t tell you that though, he grew to enjoy this cat-and-mouse game.

            -Jack, Hades, and Nikola

-He tried to deny that the two of you were dating, which you thought was rather cute, seeing him so shy, “Oh don’t be so cold baby~” which would make him push your face away with his whole hand, trying to hide his flushed face. You couldn’t help but tease- he was just too fun not too!! He thought you were irritating, pushy, and shameless with how you flirted with him so openly, especially out in public!! When he would threaten you, holding your shirt, telling you to knock it off, you couldn’t help but grin, “Of course daddy~ I’ll be a good boy- hey where you going?!” he had to walk away from you- you were just too much!! Why was he attracted to an idiot like you?!

-Poseidon

[bucknastysbabe]

Hello! I saw your work when you wrote about three men from the house of the dragon (Jace, Aegon and Aemond) at once and I fucking loved it! I don't know if you can write something like this again? Maybe, somewhere during some kind of ball, some lord sticks to the reader in the corridor (very cruelly sticks, perhaps so that pieces of her paty remain (remember Sansa from the first season)) some lord, and she tries to fight back, but too much shocked and these men come to the rescue, God I hope you understand me thanks for your creativity!

My prince in shining silks?

Rating: Teen

Tags: Aegon II x Reader, Aemond x Reader, Jace x Reader, AFAB!Costayne reader, chivalry, sweetness really, fluffy, Aemond is emotionally constipated, Jace is a baby, Aegon and Sunfyre are BFFS, I get a little character studyish, TW: attempted rape, nondescript castration, Aegon’s past misdeeds

A/N: OF COURSE I LOVE STUFF LIKE THIS ENJOY XOXOXXO

Some say that the North remembers. But you’d like to say that the Hightower’s never, ever forgot a slight. They were too proud, too old of a family. Elevated to the highest position as they became the puppeteer for the Dragon. It was a grand tourney and feast in the Reach for young Prince Daeron’s 13th name day, a man grown now.

You were of House Costayne. Bannermen of the Hightowers, but had not so hidden preferences for Rhaenyra as rightful ruler for the future of the kingdom. Also the fact that your ancestor Elinor Costayne was a black bride of Maegor. Who was supposed to stay true to his Hightower bride. Therefore there wasn’t the best of blood between your families.

But your family was here. Quite spread thin if you could say. All filtered far away from the center of the jamboree. One of the dragons roared from far off. It sounded like Prince Daeron’s she-dragon Tessarion. Daeron was a kind soul and handsome. Too young for you by some years. You’d overheard Lord Hobart reprimand the lad after chatting to you, “You know what color her family’s flag flies.”

That was that. He didn’t speak to you much anymore, but would smile. You were a lady in waiting for Samantha Tarly, soon to be Hightower. It made things much worse for you and your position at the feast. Down with lesser nobility and the knights. Suddenly you felt very alone and afraid, picking at your meat nauseously.

A breath reeking of wine entered your ear, “Why’ve they got pretty little Costayne down here? You bed the princeling, incur the wrath of Lord Otto?” You turned to face the man, shock etched into your features, stuttering, “N-no my lord it must’ve b-been a mistake!” It was the huge second son of Lord Bulwer, Uther. He looked bullish like the sigil they bore.

He crowded into your space, grinning, huge hand gripping your shoulder. Bulwer grunted, “No one’s going to see when their pretty lady is gone, not down here. Maybe Prince Daeron will come to the rescue.” You remained quiet, eyes searching for a familiar face but found none. Tears leaked from your eyes as Uther led you farther away from the din of safety.

Aegon

Aegon hated these events. He lounged back and sloppily poured more mead down his throat. Alicent slapped his arm as to say, have some decorum you halfwit! The prince scoffed and got up, he needed to take a piss anyways. He sauntered through the woods, relieved himself, and decided to stagger over to his baby Sunfyre.

The golden beast huffed at Aegon, nuzzling his palm. The blonde softly chatted in Valyrian. He loved Sunfyre, so much, probably the only friend that unconditionally loved him. Both of their heads turned at the sound of a woman’s plea for help, cut off by the sound of a smack. Sunfyre growled lowly, turning to look at his owner as if to say, “Are we going to do something about that? What if it’s Hel?”

Aegon really couldn’t be bothered but he heard another shriek and Sunfyre had already dipped for Aegon to mount his beast. The elder prince eyed the dark forest, his golden dragon snorting and twitching it’s head to-and-fro. Aegon demanded, “Keligon,” he pat golden scales, “Ilagon.” Sunfyre let him hop off and come forward to the scene.

Some Reach lord, thick as a aurochs and hairy like one too had a girl shoved into the dirt, down in a rut, hands tearing at her garb. Aegon could see the tears in her eyes under the moonlight. Guilt constricted his chest. Is this what he thought was fun? The Targaryen needed to set himself right, help the girl.

“In the name of the Seven Kingdoms, your Prince commands you to cease at once!,” Aegon called down from his higher position. His dragon hung back, snorting and waiting. She cried, “Please! Prince Aegon! My virtue! I need Lady Tarly!” The lord snarled, “Your family stuck her at the end of the table for a reason, just having a little fun, get back to your silken chair.”

Just having a bit’ of fun.

Aegon was furious now, self-hatred fueling his desire to make this man burn. He barked, “I’ll ask one more time, get off the Lady and go back to your shitty house and their shitty wooden chairs.”

The aurochs scoffed and ripped the girls bodice with a grin. He really was stupid, drunk, or possibly both. She tried to cover her exposed teats, sobbing for Lady Tarly, her father, she was of Costayne. Costayne was a reputable house. This would be bad to ignore a bannermen’s virgin girl. Even if they were a bit astray. Maybe this could get them back.

Aegon looked over his shoulder to meet gleaming reptilian eyes. He pointed at the man and hissed, “Sunfyre, Dohaeris!” He mounted the dragon again, who let our a fierce screech. The ugly lordling hopped back and cried out in shock. The lady of Costayne covered herself and scurried backwards, getting even more dirty. The Prince directed his purple eyes to the man, “If I hear of you assaulting ladies of nobility again, all I have to do is say one word and you’ll be a nice roast.”

He dismounted again, thanking his dearest friend. The girl sat crumpled, heaving sobs, eyes swollen. Aegon offered her his cloak with a frown, asking, “Who was that?” Her wide eyes met his, beautiful in their sadness. Aegon liked sad things more than all of the revelry. She mumbled, “Uther Bulwer. I was supposed to be seated with Lady Tarly or my family. Thank you my Prince. I cannot repay you enough.”

Aegon hummed, “That’s horrid, I apologize on behalf of the dumb fuck who did that. C’mon, show me to your tent and I’ll get Tarly.” He gathered her up in his arms, her legs shaking too bad to take a step. Aegon looked at her crumpled face and asked gently, “Would you mind getting on my mount, he’s a good boy. Listens well.”

Her eyes grew wide at Sunfyre, but the dragon dipped its head and let out a soft purr as to show it’s good behavior. Aegon couldn’t help but smile at his mount. She stammered, “O-okay.”

She remained silent as Sunfyre ungainly took them to the Costayne and Tarly tents. He helped her down and carried the girl inside, who had calmed significantly. She even pat Sunfyre and whimpered, “T-thank you.” She received a pleased chuff in response.

When they entered the Costayne tent Aegon was assaulted by members of the family and a frantic Samantha Tarly. She cried and gathered the girl up, demanding, “Where was she? Where was my girl?” Lord Costayne came to Aegon and looked down, offering a hand to shake. Aegon explained, “I was uh- relieving myself and heard her. Uther Bulwark was attempting to take her virtue. His violets flicked over to the young lady being coddled by others, looking heavenly in his emerald cloak.

Costayne frowned deeply and hummed, “Raper. He should be sent to the wall. I would also request why the girl was seated at the end.”

Aegon dutifully nodded and replied, “I will return to my family and resolve the matter. May I speak to the girl?”

Narrowed eyes. Aegon still had a shite reputation.

“You may.”

Lady Sam looked up and allowed for Aegon to kneel at her side. He thumbed the ermine cloak and said, “Green is a nice color on you. Please be safe and mayhaps write a raven or send a message through Daeron. Good night to you.” She tearily smiled, “Thank you my prince, you are too kind.” The Costayne kissed his cheek with soft lips and that was it. He felt her eyes follow his retreating form.

Aegon decided he would marry the girl on his aggressive stomp back to the family tent. After he got Bulwer sent to freeze his cock off and chide his mother for being callous over the poor, beautiful, sad thing’s last name.

Jacaerys

Ser Harwin used to joke that Jace had his head constantly on a swivel. Which was a good trait, his father said. Jace knew the truth, who didn’t. Regardless, he was eyeing the feast. His Velaryon cousins were squabbling, the Targaryens looked pessimistic per usual. He took his time glaring down Daemon, who paid him no mind, whispering to mother. Daeron and Luke chatted amicably.

Baratheon, Lannister, Arryn, no Stark, Tyrell, even Martell had made their appearances. The rest of the Hightowers and their bannermen were at a table. Jace studied all the sigils of the Houses of the Kingdoms. He saw their green. Then the other colors of Tarly, Costayne, and Ball. Lord Costayne apparently had a very comely daughter, Lady Sam Tarly’s little lady in waiting. He didn’t spot her. Daeron had spoke of her beauty earlier but said he wasn’t allowed to interact per the old cunt Hobart.

He eyed to the outer tables of hedge knights, lesser houses, and high bastards. He saw the black and white of the Three Towers in a handsome dress. She was being shook and grabbed at by what seemed a Bulwer man. The man was twice his size but Jace would not stand for a raper or deviant like his cousin. He got up from his table, mother raising a questioning brow.

Jace silently stalked round to where the Bulwer was leading the muffled Costayne off. He darted behind them, using the cover of the night. Leaping forward he held a knife to the man’s thick neck, right on the pumping jugular. Jacaerys rumbled, “You’ll be castrated and sent to the wall for defiling a lady of her standing you fool.”

The man stiffened and Jace could smell piss as he nicked the skin of his neck with sharp Valyrian steel. He stammered, “She asked for it s-sir. Swear on it.” Jacaerys coolly replied, “Remove that paw of yours and let’s hear Lady Costayne then.” She turned to peer over Bulwer’s wide shoulder, weeping, “Please help Prince Jacaerys, I wish to be with my family!”

Bulwer let go of her and dashed off into the woods with a curse. She bowed and thanked him profusely, tears staining perfect cheeks. Jace frowned, “I apologize if the fool got piss on your beautiful dress m’lady. How in the Seven Hells did you end up at the edge of the feast?”

She bit her lip to stay quiet, eventually whispering, “My family supports your mother. The Queen did not like that. And no, somehow the piss missed my dress, thank you.”

Jacaerys gruffed, “Good choice on your family, even in the nest of Greens. Let me escort you back to their table, yes?” She grabbed his hands and kissed them gently, demurring, “Yes my prince, thank you.” Jace kept his hand at the small of her back as he led her to the Tarly-Costayne table. They received her joyfully, cheering the prince on. Lord Costayne gave a solemn nod and smile. The girl turned with flushed cheeks, “A dance later perhaps?”

Jacaerys smiled, “I’ll be waiting.”

Rhaenyra questioned him, “What were you doing over there? Right in the Tower. Or one of them.” Jace puffed his chest out, “I saved Lady Costayne’s virtue from some brutish Bulwer second son.” Daemon patted his back and commended, “Good man. That will be a boon for their support. Lady Tarly thinks her as a daughter.”

When Jace spun the beauty around later, he dreamt of her in a gorgeous Targaryen maiden’s cloak. They shared a kiss in the crowd later, her asking him to visit on Vermax some time. Jace eagerly acquiesced, promising to find the time. Something no one was sure how much was left.

Aemond

Aemond growled to himself, “Fuck tourneys, fuck parties, fuck feasts, and especially fuck my brother.” He swung at a tourney dummy outside of the revelry. They wouldn’t come looking, maybe send Criston if something was really needed. There was no time for shite like this, the man needed to train for the war.

He wanted blood. Especially Strong blood.

The Targaryen’s second son sharply swung down at the dummy, grunting with effort. He thought of drunkard Aegon probably taking some serving wench’s cunt and swung again. Why did the gods resort him to this status? The spare. They must have a purpose for him somewhere.

He heard shuffling and a grunt from his left. A girl’s muffled squeal. Aemond’s hearing was better on his blind side. See Criston had assisted him into honing that into an advantage. He stopped his swinging and paused.

“Stop! My virtue! They will know!,” came a small voice.

Clothes were ripped. A gruff voice slurred, “Like they care, Green’s just waiting for a reason to make you a silent sister. Shut up whore!” Another muffled yelp echoed into the quiet tourney grounds.

Aemond crouched and moved forward, eye searching for the raper. He was taking a lady of repute, he could hear that much from her accent. He arrived outside the stables, a horse whinnying in distress. Horses were smart like that, like his Vhagar, could pick up on people. The blonde snuck around the stables, quietly peering through slats until he saw the pair.

A…pretty young lady. Being defiled by some brute. Aemond swung open the door and yelled, “Stop now you raping cunt!” The man turned around with a growl, standing to his full height. He was obviously drunk. The man reached for his sword, clearly unable to tell he was about to swing on a Targaryen as Aemond had his cloak up.

The man wore the bull sigil of Bulwer. He had a great sword. Perfect, Aemond could outmaneuver the lummox. The girl held her arms over her exposed chest, mouth agape, deep eyes wide. The man swung down in a clumsy arc, the prince deflecting it and jumping to the side to strike at the man’s ankle, cutting him down. Bulwer howled and cursed, struggling to get up. Aemond yanked down his cloak and tossed it to the girl.

The bull’s face was etched with fear upon realization of who he just attacked. Aemond laughed bitterly, amused at the surprise. He crouched over the man and sheathed his sword, pulling out a sharp knife. The blonde politely called out, “Close your eyes my lady, I have to do something before this fool is sent to the wall.”

Bulwer trembled, struck with fear. Aemond grinned as he unlaced the man’s breeches, “Won’t have to freeze your cock and balls off at the wall if you don’t have any more.”

Cries and squalling of pain filled the tourney grounds, widely unheard by the feast. Now cradling his once privates, the Bulwer whimpered and moaned in pain. Aemond wiped his hands on the deviant’s clean doublet and stood back up.

The girl had gotten up by now, still closing her eyes. Aemond cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “It’s over now my lady. He won’t be able to hurt a lady again.” She opened her teary eyes and wrapped Aemond into a tight hug. The prince was shocked, wrapping his lean limbs around her waist, the jewels pressing into his sleeves. He murmured, “You’re safe, yes, what’s your house my lady?”

“C-Costayne.”

Black supporters. Aemond’s lips pressed together. He wanted the lady to be a fervent supporter of his family. The second son needed a wife too. Maybe this ordeal would change things around. She sighed, “I thought you were this scary, mean, vicious dog they kept at the keep.”

Aemond laughed, genuinely, he liked her melodic tone. He replied, “I can be, but I also practice chivalry.” She hummed, “Yes, I’ve seen that.” Aemond wanted to stay in her arms, smell her scent even if marred by the musk of horse.

He asked anyways, “Would you like an escort back?”

She shook her head, divine face looking up to his. Costayne meekly asked, “Would it be inappropriate if we stayed like this for awhile, my prince?” Aemond found himself pressing his lips to hers gently, sharing a sweet peck. He murmured, “Probably so, but let’s find a place better than around him.” They both chuckled, held hands, and found a spot by the babbling brook.

They’d find them later. Holding hands and chatting. That would be the last time she stayed in the Reach for many a year.

[they-reap-what-we-sow]

20 questions for writers

thank you for the tag @fanfictiongreenirises I finally managed to finish a tag game!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

168- with 44 podfics and the rest are regular fics!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

346,848. unfathomable number who is she where did she come from

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Batman (Batfam) my love my life, but 9-1-1 is a close second with one-offs for a lot of my other passing interests.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Floppy Bird - crack fic that was meant to be an angst fic that I never understood why people liked so much asfhjs

cocoa on a cold night - a classic timby holiday fic that I wrote in the middle of summer, talk about environmental storytelling

secrets un(revealed) - the only purposeful long fic I've ever written, and also the most trope mashing I've ever done with reverse robins, magical realism au, and delicious delicious miscommunications (in my head the only fic that deserves to be in the top five :wheeze: )

Eggshells - vent fic alert !! very embarrassing that people like this I try not to think about it ":)

taking the blade (for you and yours) - a round robin fic written with the server and CHOCK full of Damian suffering.

5. Do you respond to comments?

NO PICTURES. NO COMMENT. I DONT KNOW HOW TO READ.

no jk jk I really really try to but once I start getting behind it's just a whole spiral. these days I have a better chance of replying to a comment on an old fic than a brand new one because I dont want leave them half replied

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

any of my death fics probably? I think with DC a death is a little more inconsequential than other fandoms just because of how often it's unpermanent, so as a concrete answer, I'll say for you (i would cross the line). nothing quite like parental grief.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

happy ending wink-wonk or XD

probably Who The Hell Is Red Hood? - I've done things there with growth and healing that DC HQ would shudder to imagine

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not regularly, thank everything, but the one controversial three-some I posted needed comment regulation lmao

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes and uh, the kinky kind? idk take a look for yourselves I guess

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes, and they're ALWAYS unserious- Buck from 9-1-1 dating Emma from Friends (yes Ross and Rachel's kid) anyone?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Uh, not by a person? as far as I know? but I have found my fic on those like, document websites??? which is weird lmao just read them on your phones guys not everything needs to be uploaded

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

weee yes! round robin my beloved, and also every fic @canonicallyshort and I have written in our threads. those count. to me. emotionally.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I WILL GO DOWN WITH MY MULTISHIP (which really means I'm never going down at all) but really I dont think I will ever get over Merthur... or Buddie... or- you see what I mean?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

oh god I have so many wip that I am holding out hope for but my biggest WIP is an unpublished hellhole affectionately entitled "Death Pit" by everyone who is working on it- most notably because it features a literal Death Pit, every horror, angst, whump, and trauma trope you can think of, and a cast of characters and a plot thread so long we have 20+ page outline documents that aren't even fully updated... I shudder to think what will become of it one day, I imagine sentience isn't very far off

16. What are your writing strengths?

why is this an interview question. I dont know my strengths really?? um. I have good ideas, that one I'll say. execution is a different story (likely one that will never get told. like the rest of my good ideas)

I also think I do fairly well with scene descriptors. I really like to set a scene because I'm seeing a movie in my head and you all should too!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm down to clown globally! I dont like to use google translate though, so if im writing in another language it's only because SOMEONE on the server is a native speaker and can vouch for my text.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh god one direction. head in hands. it was an 'adopted by 1d' fic that I made my mom beta, and turned it in to my 6th grade English teacher as my creative writing assignment. then I made a poem about it. then I wrote a song about it. thankfully it never got published and is trapped in the cursed purple file folder it was 'hidden' in since 7th grade. my first published fic was almost 7 years later with a Gomens fic!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

AHh um. favorite child scene here, but top contenders include: lithium + 5 for its graphic design and medical accuracy, fiery veins on speechless days for its emotional whump that makes me hurt every time I reread it, [PODFIC] wither on the shore which is not a fic I wrote but one of my favorite podfics of @silk-scarlet-ribbons 's works.

tagging (if you wish to participate!) @canonicallyshort @silverandsunflowers @selkienight60 @crows-murder