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gyuswhore · 4 months

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Never Shall We Die (1)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

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

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

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground.

No, that’s a branch.

Or is it a plank?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. You have one more option.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait with baited breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi.

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

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

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

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

This was bad. Very bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

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

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

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

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all.

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause.

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

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

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

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

If it’s his ship that he wants…

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

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

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

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

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

“I can help you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

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

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

Is he about to cut your hands off?

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

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

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

“I’ll protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he was considering it.

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I led you astray?”

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard.”

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

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

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

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

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost?” he questions.

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

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain! One of the—oh.”

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

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just saved his life.

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

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

“Not even an inkling?”

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you shake him off last time?”

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

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

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

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

“Portwater?”

“Too far.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something you wanted from him.

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

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

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

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

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

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

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

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

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

A kid. He was a child.

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

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

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

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

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

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

But the feeling lingers, the same one that you saw as you gazed into the back of the boy that held the captain of this ship hostage. It felt wrong. Like watching the pirate captain cornered was a picture you couldn’t quite make sense of in your head.

So you pulled the trigger.

“In any case, we’re glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. “That’s a lot for a pirate to say.”

“I know.”

BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi it’s already the next day, and you’re only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry.

It’s an anxious ordeal, the crow’s nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway.

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

He was piling coiled ropes when you’d said it, pushing the heap to the side, sweating through his clothes. There was a flash of confusion on his face as he registered you.

“Why? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?” he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. He’s too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly.

You ignore the way his previously loose shirt now sticks to him, ignore the way the droplets land on your boots when he shakes his sleeve.

“We’ve discussed what we might be up against, I don’t want to be useless when the time comes.”

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

“Anyone can shoot a gun,” you say, getting the sudden urge to fidget with the front of your shirt. You try to make your voice sound as declarative as possible. “I want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.”

He doesn’t say anything as you look down, fiddling with the tassels on your shirt. Your excuse was the sun and the way it was beating down on the deck this afternoon, getting tired of squinting to simply look straight. When the silence prolongs you look up to push further, juggling with bringing up the fact that you saved his life and that, as Seungkwan very graciously told you, he owes you.

The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back.

The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water that’s somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldn’t make out.

He wrings it as you can only watch, mouth gaping like a fish. Hanging it over one of the suspended ropes to dry, he mutters as he walks to the lower decks.

“Fine,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ll get you a knife at Hasry.”

Hasry. Right.

The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. There’s not much to see but fishermen both returning and leaving for another week's worth of fish supply. Minghao manages to pay and convince the harbourmaster that they were merchants on their way back to the Kingdom, stopping for supplies. The naval make of the ship helped, and then the crew pulled lines and ropes secured from masts in ways you couldn’t quite decipher.

You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed you’d be joining them.

Hoshi deemed it safer, keeping the rest of the crew on board while he, along with you and Seungkwan, ventured into the village to get what was needed and leave before the sun fully set. If they really were being followed, the ship was going to be the first thing they seized.

Pulling the grey shawl further up your head, you attempt to look as blended as you could, Chan pressing down your shoulders to force you into a slouch.

“Stop walking like you're important,” he had said.

“I’m a princess,” you snapped back, but he wasn’t listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebody’s attention.

The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that you’d run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than you’d expected, the faint scent of baked goods in the air mixed with, onion soup, was it? In any case you were glad you were past the fish market, the yelling and the stench nearly sending you to the pavement, gagging.

When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall that’s selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop.

You can only observe from afar, instructed to not interact with anyone while he was gone. Hoshi was gone to get food supplies, but returned empty handed. Systems were in place, that the crates would be on their way to the “big naval ship” at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.

“They said there was a blacksmith up this alley” Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. “We can get your knife there.”

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused.

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

“Don’t!” Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows.

“It’s fine, they’re too far,” Hoshi says. “Let’s get this over with.”

You do find a blacksmith, an older man with a greying beard and bloodshot eyes that presents Hoshi and Chan with an array of knives and daggers. Either they were able to give an excuse, or he gave no mind to the third woman that trailed behind, the blacksmith continued to deal with the two men as they haggle over prices.

There’s another seller a ways away, and she’s laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. It’s a woman, not much older than you were, unravelling a long string of leather cord. She cuts it, strings a charm through and seals the frayed end with a candle flame that burns at her side.

The curtain she’s laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you can’t make out any of it from where you stand.

Glancing behind you, the men are still occupied with their bartering, seemingly forgetting of your presence. Taking a step back, you pretend to skim through the neighbouring stalls, glancing breezily at woven baskets, layers of folded fabric and towers of painted ceramic cups.

You stop before the laid out array of more necklaces and earrings, scanning the ground. The vendor looks up and gives you a big, crooked toothed smile, urging you to come forward, to take a look at what she has to offer.

Something does catch your eye, and you immediately crouch down to see it better. Picking up the necklace from the charm, you let the gold and red rest on your fingers as you study the make.

“That one’s new,” the woman says. “Practical too.”

The small brass letter opener that’s looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size.

“It’s quite popular among the busy merchants,” the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. “Easier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers and—and in their cabinets.”

She lets out a laugh, “Quite pretty too.”

You stare at it for a moment, “How much?”

“Ten coin.”

You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again.

“I’ll do seven!”

You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt you’d be recognized just by the sound of your voice.

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp.

“How about that pretty thing on your finger then?” she asks.

The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your father’s court a few years ago. You stare at the band, worth boatloads more than what this woman in an alley was offering you.

But you find yourself moments later, middle finger empty, and pocket lined with the long leather necklace with the miniature letter opener charm.

By the time you return to the blacksmith’s shop front, Chan is handing the man his coin as Hoshi holds an object sheathed in fabric. They turn around just soon enough to make it seem like you never left.

“Why are you standing so far away?” Chan asks. “Come closer.”

You listen, moving closer to the both of them as they get ready to make the trek back to the docks where the ship waits.

“The crates have probably been loaded too,” Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume he’s pocketed the knife somewhere. “Let’s hurry and leave before—”

“Princess?”

It was your mistake that you turned around to acknowledge the title, something you realise as soon as you register the man that spoke to you.

Henley was a stout man, dressed even now in the finest suit of a berry colour, hair white as a ghost. There was no reason for a merchant so rich he had ties with the royal family to be wandering in a harbour market, but he also had every reason to be here.

If it was the recognition in your eyes, or the fact that they were just being smart, you feel one of the pirates wrap their fingers around your upper arm and pull you to walk away from the alley.

“Princess!” Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you aren’t running yet.

Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard it’s deafening any other sound in your ears, you still don’t know which one has a hold of you, but you let them guide you into a speed walk as you exit the narrow alleys of the main market.

The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. There’s nothing in your mind other than Clarence Henley and his rich suit, his gold pocket watch, his trimmed, white hair. His face that you only ever saw within palace walls, always accompanied by your father.

There’s a good chance you’re shaking, because you can feel your body rejecting it with the pain in your palms that you can only consider to be your own nails pressing into your hand.

The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. It’s only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and you’re suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.

It’s immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. You’re led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall.

“Are you alright?”

Snapping your head up, you’re met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze.

“Oh, erm.” Your voice sounds…not like your own.

“It’s okay, breathe.” It helps, because it really did feel like you’d forgotten to breathe.

“We’re leaving in just a few, everything’s been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, don’t worry.”

Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas.

The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless.

When you’ve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean.

“Captain said they couldn’t run because it just would’ve been more suspicious,” Seungkwan informs you as you nod. “Did you…did you recognise him? The man at the market.”

The thoughts come flooding back, the colour of his suit, the jarring nature of a man of such wealth standing in a rundown port market.

“He’s a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my father’s. If he even has any friends.”

You pause as you think about the near blackout you’d had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality.

“I think…” you trail off. “I think I just felt like it was the end. I finally had an opportunity to get rid of that tyrant and seeing something that was from home, felt…it felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.”

Seungkwan doesn’t say a word as you digest your own words, accepting your own fear that had rendered you useless in the time it probably mattered most.

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer.

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

At the door stands Hoshi, a stern expression on his face as he looks directly at you on the bed. In his hands, the same fabric covered knife he acquired at the market.

You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known.

“He’s right,” Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. “Blades have a way of calming you in any case.”

You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwan’s sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshi’s own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to.

Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, “Can we start now?”

He smirks.

ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air.

“Your opponent’s baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,” he comments, continuously unhelpful. “Swing faster.”

It’s nighttime, nothing but a few oil lamps on the floor of the deck keeping you and Hoshi in the light. Your shoulder burns, your forearms are liquid, and your non-existent opponent remains forever stronger than you.

“I’m done,” you huff, thoroughly spent. Crumbling to the floor, you bring your non-dominant hand up to your aching shoulder in an attempt to massage it.

It’s been a while, the moon high up in the sky when you finally decide to quit it for the night. He lets you go without a fight, and you doubt you’d have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway.

The following day, he’s tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that you’re finally swinging at something tangible; him.

He leaves himself open, an invitation to strike wherever you want. You feign for his shoulder, but he sees you coming from a mile away, already deflecting your flattened blade that comes for his thigh.

“Don’t look where you want to strike, you’re giving yourself away.”

Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. He’s immediately cocking a brow, telling you to come at him again. You go for his middle, slashing your knife in an arc as he simply deflects.

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts.

Coming down with your knife again, he blocks you but this time with his forearm, pushing you back by the wrists. It was a battle of strength, as he forces your wrists down. He was stronger than you, and there was no way you could push away, so you dispel your own force. He stumbles from the sudden forward force, and you pull away to take a swing from above.

He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when you’re ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand.

There’s a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away.

There’s an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You don’t get to say anything because he beats you to it.

“Deep enough,” he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. “Keep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.”

Oh.

“Alright,” he says again, moving back into position.

“Are you gonna wrap that?” you ask, referring to the bloody hand.

“It’s fine, I’ve fought with worse,” he says.

You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck.

“You’re getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourself—JESUS!”

You’ve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasn’t expecting it, still talking over your glances at his palm. He had his guard down, and you took the chance. He ducks on instinct, but it could’ve been another scar for him to remember if you’d made it.

You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.

“Nice try,” he says. “Really nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.”

“I lost my footing,” you defend, but even you knew that wasn’t an excuse.

“And I just stabbed you in the back. And now I’ll have to present your corpse to your father and hope he’ll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.”

The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right.

“You’d just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,” you say. “You’re a slippery thing.”

He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. It’s a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. There’s a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands.

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

You can only roll your eyes as a scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You simply turn around, settling to the floor, going back to massaging your still aching shoulder. That last blow only made it worse.

“I don’t regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.”

You remain silent.

“Come on,” he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. He’s washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

“Because I don’t ever do things I’d regret.”

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

“Right-O,” he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.

“Funny,” you answer. “Because I dont think I’ve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.”

He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.

“You’ve looked into my eyes?”

The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face might’ve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck.

“I’ll send Jun up, practise with him.”

You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form.

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass.

But you don’t, mostly because he’d probably manage to deflect that too. So you resort to sitting cross legged on the deck, staring at your dagger while waiting for Jun to meet you upstairs.

Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things you’d already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. It’s quite pretty, you’ll have to admit. It’s plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. You’d gotten used to the handle and how it fit in your palm, Hoshi assured you that the more you used it, the more the hilt would mould into your grip.

Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck.

“Should’ve picked a plain old gun,” he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. “Job’s done and you don’t need to get within ten feet.”

“Don’t have to reload a knife, do I?” you comment, taking the first swing.

Jun may have an affinity for guns and explosives, but his handling with a knife was still nothing below an expert level. He pushes your arm off before spending you into a ballroom spin, flatting his blade at your collarbone.

That could’ve been your throat.

“No, but by now I could’ve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,” he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again.

That could’ve been your throat.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK PASSES with your days and nights muddled into a strange mixture of swinging knives and taking breaks slumped against the deck of the ship, unmoving.

It’s a particularly hot day, the giant glowing orb beating down on the deck with no mercy. Not that it stops you, because the sun remains unwavering, high in the sky, and you remain unwavering in your wide legged stances as you lunge for Chan again.

Chan’s entire being glistens in the afternoon light, the beads of sweat that he wipes off his forehead only seem to reappear every couple minutes. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, taking long breaths through his teeth amidst the difficult, humid air.

You don’t doubt you look the same, one hand in your hair suggesting you just took a bath in your own sweat. But Chan seems accustomed to the heat, and while you weren’t, you couldn’t deny your growing comfortability with it all.

It’d been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. You’re determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what you’ve been doing for the past week or so.

There’s a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing.

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

It’s all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. You’re succeeding, pushing the man further and further back.

“You’re getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,” Chan seethes through his teeth.

“I’m trying,” you grunt through the effort.

You’re set back for a couple minutes before you go back to pushing. Your lungs burn, your entire side is numb from exertion, but you give more than your body is made for, and you succeed—kind of.

Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute you’ve got eyes on Chan’s hands and his blade, and the next he’s gone. There’s a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what you’ve done.

You just pushed Chan overboard.

You scream before you can help it, dropping your knife with a loud, resonating clang. Pushing against the rails, you peer down to find a giant ripple on the surface of the ocean, whipping your head around to the stairs leading below deck to find Mingyu and Hoshi bounding upstairs.

“What? Where’s Chan, he was supposed to be with you,” Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck.

Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know.

By the time Chan’s pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, you’ve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle.

With the way the two men had merely sighed and threw the ladder over the exterior of the ship, you concluded that this must happen enough for them to be beyond the point of concern. It only adds to it when you see Mingyu nudge Chan’s unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense.

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

He’s sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position.

“It’s fine, happens.” He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well.

“Now, Chan,” Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. “What’s the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?”

Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, “Be aware of your surrounding—ARGH.”

Hoshi pushed him into the water.

You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chan’s head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean.

Just as you’re about to say something to Hoshi, he’s stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice.

“One time was a mistake, twice is a problem!”

To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. He’s also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours.

The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding you’ve done enough damage to your body, you announce that you’d be retiring for the day.

“Thank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, I’ve been hearing clanging in my sleep,” Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck.

In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat.

Grabbing a clean washcloth, you fill a bucket of freshwater from one of the barrels on deck and lug it into your quarters. The soaked washcloth does wonders for your overheated body, feeling enormously better after a change of clothes.

Your scalp, however, remains itchy and burning, so you decide to go back up to the main deck, hoping to manoeuvre a hair wash situation without needing to mop the floors of your quarters.

Refilling the bucket of freshwater, you set it down before scanning the empty deck for another spare bucket. You try not to scoff at the unwavering determination of the pirate crew to keep the deck unoccupied for such long increments, that last altercation teaching them absolutely nothing. You wonder how they’ve managed to survive for so long like this.

Shaking the thought, you use the spare bucket as a way to deposit your waste water as you pour cups of clean water over your aching scalp. The feeling does wonders for you, letting the water wash away weeks worth of grime, sweat and stress.

You’re almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones you’d packed for yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you rub them into your scalp. You don't expect the clench that seizes your chest, but you falter when it happens anyway.

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it.

It smells like the palace, like the incense your ladies in waiting always burned, the stench of citrus having made its way into your bones from the years of exposure to the scent. It’s too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes.

The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt hitting your nose. You’re more aggressive when you dunk your cup into the bucket this time, too aggressive as you feel the half full bucket tip over and spill water all over the deck as you cause yet another accident.

Cursing loudly, you try to blink away the suds from your eyes, soap still in your hair as you try to figure out how to get another bucket of water without ruining your fresh change of clothes, mentally kicking yourself at not thinking this through.

“You realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?”

Wet hair still in your hands, you attempt to peer up at the voice, only to find Hoshi standing above you, arms crossed over his chest with a funny expression on his face. Huffing, you grumble out in response, “Can you just get me a fresh bucket?”

“Hm, I don’t know, can I?” He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun.

Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding you’d figure it out yourself if this dumb pirate was choosing to be of no help. But before you could latch your fingers on the handle, the bucket’s snatched away.

At first you think he’s being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. “You—”

Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. “Try not to paint the deck with it this time, I’ve already mopped twice.”

The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you can’t say it to him. So you make a scene of splashing into the bucket with vigour, sending spills over the rim and taking mild satisfaction in hearing him sigh at the sight of more mopping.

He’s already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time you’re done as you remerge with clean hair, wringing your own mop of hair to deposit the excess water. Straightening out your back, you take hold of the spare cloth you brought along with you, patting your hair with it.

The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshi’s grumbling form as he mops up all the water you’ve spilled.

“You know, I should really be making you—” He halts as he makes eye contact with you, your hands still occupied with patting your hair dry, flicking the wet strands. You have a rebuttal already prepared, waiting for him to finish his jab.

“Make me what? you grind.

You can’t make out the look on his face, somewhere between constipated and on the edge of a yelp, he keeps staring at you. You note a slight trickle of water making its way down your neck and chest, bleeding into your shirt as yet another water stain.

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise.

And with that uneventful climax, you trudge back down to your quarters, a strange brewing in your chest.

[AN]: congrats you made it to the end of part 1!!!!! reblog ur thots and opinions or send me an ask, id love to hear the turmoil in ur minds lol

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hexxynn · 4 months

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you're my forever | best friend! anakin x fem!reader

word count : 10.2k

warnings : MDNI 18+, anakin and reader are 18, angst, angst, so much angst, self deprecation, reader has a mom named lucille, insecure! reader, modern!, jock! anakin, swearing, anakin worshiping the ground you walk on, reader is described as having a tummy!, praise, even more praise, anakin talks you through it, arguing, readers parents are divorced, pet names, virgin! reader, oral (f receiving), piv, no condom mentioned (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, aftercare (i think that's all?)

summary : you develop feelings for your long time best friend, anakin. you fall into a pit of bedrot trying to cope and push him away, only for him to push back. what you didn't know is that he felt the same way.

a/n : my first fic ever pls be kind lol, this is my first time writing smut too, so any tips would be appreciated! im lit new to tumblr so please don't be afraid to request anything. also im literally a slut for angsty sex and praise can you tell? also this isn't proofread soz

You didn't know when your feelings had turned from platonic, to overwhelmingly romantic.

Honestly? It was scary.

You had known Anakin for a while, him being your neighbor for most of your life. That was, until you moved, but only to downsize after your parents split. The quaint neighborhood, the only thing you had ever known, being torn away from you. Luckily— your parents didn't want to move far, so you stayed put in the same town, just in different neighborhoods.

You were two when you guys met, both of your toddler selves adorned with the aroma of innocence and childhood. Your moms had both bonded, over the struggle of motherhood, while you two seemed to find each other in the purity of your early years. He came up to you, with a simple ask to push him on the swing; an offer you couldn't refuse. Retorting with an, "as long as you push me after," which couldn't help but earn an eager grin from Anakin.

As you two pushed each other, giggles and laughs emerging from the silence of the neighborhood, your mothers had noticed the bond and smiled; knowing their friendship, and the one forming by the swing sets, would go on past this little encounter. They exchanged numbers, beams from ear to ear, knowing they found comfort in each other, and a pal for their children.

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As time went along, they set up playdates, leaving you two to watch shows, and do little things only young kids would do, whilst they sat on the back porch of your house with a wine glass in hand. You and Anakin would watch silly things, and you would play with his toy cars; in exchange, he'd play dolls with you (no matter how girly it was, or how frustrated he got in his three year old brain).

The neighborhood gossip would flow from their lips. Inside, the sounds of juvenility and jolly would make themselves present in some of your earliest memories. Your moms has been content with the current exchange. The simple call to come over, no matter whose house, with the almost immediate response from the other, and you and Anakin were dragged into their friendship, building one of your own. It worked out nicely.

As you grew up, playdates turned into school, and he was your best friend in elementary. Bus stop hand holding was the cause of teases from the boys (not the girls, who thought it was 'cool' you were able to get a kindergarten boyfriend), eliciting a shrug of nonchalance from Anakin. He would defend you, and go back to the swing sets with you, returning back to your place of blossoming friendship. He didn't care much for what the six year olds had to say, knowing you already for over half of his life. The bond your mothers had created was stuck, and would be for a while.

Once you got to middle school, there was a shift, though. He found his guy friends, understanding the game that adolescents liked to play with jokes and gossip. While he still walked you to the bus stop, he didn't see you as much in school. Especially with the deferring interests you two had grown. You had become a bookworm, immersed in studies as soon as you entered the next phase of your life, while he became athletic and would stay after school to play soccer with the other boys in the field behind school. Nevertheless, he'd come home and his mom would tell him they're going to your house. With no protest— he'd go. He would never turn down seeing you. Without prying eyes and weird looks, he could be himself and return to the faithful friend he'd had for so long. The simplicity and routine created never felt off, even as the times changed. He would always run back to you.

Until High School started. Things changed yet again, messing with the routine you two had created. He didn't walk you, or drive you to school, but would bring you food, smile at you in the halls, and nod his head in the structured environment of school. It was more than middle school. You two still saw each other as much as possible, but hangouts got a lot different. He got into football, and the schedule was rigorous. Yet, you'd still go to his games, cheer him on, and wait until he got home to personally congratulate him. He never even let flings, or girlfriends throughout the years, change his behavior towards you. It had never been explicitly romantic, but you two were closer than most. He'd hold your hand to drag you to his room, and vice versa. He'd let you drape his legs across him on the couch, or let him spin you around in a hug after his games.

He saw you more than middle school, his maturity hitting him slightly. He valued you, and you valued him, and that was one of the first things he'd ever known. This platonic relationship he held with you, was one of the things he cherished most. He wouldn't let anything get between you two, no matter what was to come in the future. He'd never let you go.

You on the other hand, immersed in studies and prepping for college, had turned a lot of hangouts into study dates. Which was okay with him, as long as you two got to see each other. He'd lounge in your room while you sat at your desk with a textbook and computer. He'd bring you food when your mom called that dinner was ready, knowing your academics had pulled you away from reality. His nurturing nature stayed the same.

You two had both gotten into different colleges, across the state. He got a football scholarship, and you got an academic scholarship at a prestigious college on the west side. You knew what was to come as the summer after senior year approached.

What you didn't know was to come, was your feelings towards him.

You didn't know when your hand holding started making your tummy flutter, or when his hands tracing patterns on your calves had you feeling flustered. Sure, he changed a lot in High School. He got muscular, grew his hair out, had more charm and appeal. He had girls swooning. But you? You never expected to be one of those girls.

Coming to terms with your feelings was definitely a task.

At first, it was jealousy. Jealousy towards the girls who were able to openly fawn over him, with Anakin relishing in the attention they bestowed on him. He loved living in this spotlight, and the rush he got when girls would whisper and giggle sentiments about him. He adored all of the looks and the eye fucks he would get in the halls. It was an ego boost.

You wished so terribly you could be one of those girls. The ones he'd kiss after his games, the ones who went out with him on Friday nights. You just weren't that girl.

Sophomore year came with heated jealousy, and Junior year came with longing. Senior year, you slowly came to terms with it. It wasn't until after graduation, when you relished in all the attention he would give you on summer days, that you fully realized what you were feeling. You had never had a boyfriend throughout all your years, academics taking priority over any man.

The beginning of summer was torture.

He was mindful of his last couple of months with you, giving you his full, undivided attention.

And you fucking loved it.

At the same time though, you hated it. The torment of the sudden affection you received, along with an endless stream of texts and calls when you two couldn't be together. It made your feelings all the more real, and you couldn't do it any longer.

You were then slowly trying to distance yourself, for your own sanity, to protect your feelings and soften the blow of college. You were frustrated, angry, and hurt all at the same time. It wasn't his fault, but your brain blamed him for all of it. You were starting to resent him, and hole up in your room, only coming out for meals and water. It had been this way for about a week now, in the middle of June, and the contrast from this to the way you were two weeks before was startling. Especially to Anakin.

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Your mom, Lucille, was standing on her back porch per usual, pacing around her best friend, also known as Anakin's mom. Though she was across town, it wasn't far. A mere ten minute drive at most.

"I just don't know what's gotten into her, you know? One minute she's going out almost every day with Ani, the next she's- she's- god!"

Lucille was very annoyed, to say the least. The state she had found you in was worrying her, and her financial situation with college didn't assist in her anxiety.

"Did something happen between her and Ani?" Lucille pondered, quirking a brow up inquisitively at her friend, sighing. "Not that I know of. In fact, he's been asking about her," Shmi sighed heavily. "She might just be stressed about university, you know?"

"I know... but she normally comes to me about these things, Shmi! And now she's this void," Lucille sat down, wine sloshing in the glass.

Shmi rubbed her back, smiling softly. "Just be patient, Lucy, maybe try to have a heart to heart with her? Sit down with her," Shmi pondered.

"Yeah... yeah, sure. I'll do that," Lucille returned the soft expression Shmi reflected onto her, letting out a huff. "Can you come by tomorrow morning? I'll keep you updated," she asked, while Shmi rubbed her back.

"Of course. I'll head home, love you," Shmi replied, standing up and walking into the cool air of the house, watching the moonlight cast the house in a low glow. The hardwood floors leading to the front door were bleached from the sun, it's constant rays hitting the floor from the many windows in the home.

"Love you, too," Lucille wrapped her friend in a hug, wishing her off. "What to do," she looked at her feet, shutting and locking the door, heading upstairs to talk to you.

She heard soft music coming from your room, probably from the speaker Anakin had gifted you Junior year. She recognized the soft hum of your voice, and Lucille was then unsure if she wanted to disturb your peace. But, she knew it was for the better.

A soft knock resonated in the empty hallway, and she heard your hums stop, followed by your music. Your footsteps could be heard trekking to the door, that once opened, revealed darkness in your face.

Your bags were heavy, face devoid of any feeling as you tilted your head to the side, "Hey, what's up?" You muttered, avoiding eye contact with your mother.

"Can I come in?" Your mom requested, analyzing every feature you once held. It was sad, depressing, and a mess all in one. You straightened your spine, opening your door wider and flicking on the light. With no words, you sat on your bed, the white comforter all messy and tangled in an array of clothes; unfolded laundry you were too tired to do.

Your mother sat next to you, placing a hand on your back. "Is everything okay?"

"Mhm, why do you ask?" You force a smile, nodding your head. Your appearance spoke much differently though, along with the state of your bedroom. Your hair in a messy updo, and your clothes scattered around the carpet. Spandex and an oversized tee adorned your figure, hiding the body you once loved to dress up with random articles of clothing, a uniqueness reflected in your personality onto your style.

This wasn't you.

"You've been in your room for a few days now, what happened to your summer plans? The job you were looking for?" Lucille removed her hand, placing her cheek in her hand.

You again avoided eye contact, looking to your window. "I'm just tired, Mama," you replied in a hushed tone, chewing on your already scabbed lip.

"I know, hon, I know. But we're all worried. Me, Shmi, Anakin-"

At the mention of his name, you dropped your head again. Deep down, you knew it wasn't fair to anyone. But you couldn't help it. You'd rather put up your walls before letting yourself get hurt with a stupid crush. "It's okay, I promise," you again put up a facade.

"Is it me? Did I do something?" Your mother started to tear up, placing a hand on her chest. The last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt you. She had never seen this from you before, though.

You finally made eye contact, shaking your head rigorously. "No, of course not. I just need to sleep," you scrunched your nose, trying not to let the tears fall yourself.

"Okay... but if you need anything I'm here, alright?" Lucille stood up then, making her way out the door, shutting off the light on her way out.

In the absence of another person, you felt yourself rotting in self deprecation all over again. The mention of Anakin just hurt you all the more. You hated doing this, you really did, but crying for hours on end seemed to help, even in the slightest.

So, you sat back in your mess of sheets and blankets, music starting up again, as you scrolled through photos of you and Anakin over the years. Even looking at photos of him with girlfriends, his smile brighter than ever. Kisses on cheeks, arms around them in photos. A reminder of something you could never be to him. A hole was making its way into your heart, one that only he could fill, and you were devoid of any reciprocation to your feelings.

But, back at the Skywalker's residence, Shmi had come home, setting her keys on the rack, and plopping down on the couch with a soft thud. Even she was confused and frustrated, thinking of you as one of her own.

At the sound of the door opening, and footsteps, Anakin came tumbling down the stairs, excited to see his mom after a long day of work, knowing she went to your house immediately after her shift.

She perked up at the noise, laying back and turning on the TV. "Hello, Ani," she yelled to the hallway, as he came walking towards the living room.

"Hey, Mom! How was your day?" He asked, setting himself next to Shmi, leaning back in the cushions. His hair was damp from a shower, clad in a black tee and plaid pants.

"It was good, stopped by Lucille's after work," she muttered, with him letting out a chuckle in response. "Assumed so, it's around ten— you're normally not out this late unless it's Lucille's," he nodded. "Did you see Y/N?" He then asked, turning his head to face Shmi.

"No... I didn't. Have you heard from her at all?" Shmi frowned, watching him shake his head and loll it back on the couch, a sigh escaping his lips. "No, I haven't. I'm worried, you know? Did I do something?" He asked, looking for some sort of answer. Your absence was sudden, and no matter how many times he'd call or text, you wouldn't respond. Your location stayed the same as well, the icon staying on your house, so he knew you weren't busy. He didn't want to intrude though, and push boundaries, but he truly had no idea what was going on with you. And it hurt him.

"I don't think so, she's avoiding Lucy as well," Shmi looked at her son quickly while she channel surfed, finding something to hopefully fall asleep to on the plush tan cushions.

Anakin sighed, standing up. "Tell Lucille I'll be over tomorrow, okay? I'll see if I can figure it out, might be too personal to tell her mom about," Anakin assured Shmi, standing up to make his way up the stairs.

"Okay," Shmi replied simply, feeling sleep overtake her soon enough.

Anakin, though, made his way up the stairs, racing to his phone. He pulled up your contact again, pressing the call button, and listening to the same ringing tone that he's heard for the past week bounce off of the walls of his room.

He sighed when it hit your voicemail, the sound of your once cheery self beginning to speak. He hadn't heard your voice in so long, it ached and left him confused. "Tomorrow," he told himself.

He'd see you tomorrow, no matter what it took.

Tomorrow didn't come soon enough, though, leaving Anakin tossing and turning in his sleep. He was so, so tired, so worried, and so anxious about what would happen. He had no idea if he had done something wrong, his brain relentlessly bullying him with 'what if's'. He kept waking up in cold sweats, eyebrows furrowed with concern for you. He cherished you like a lifeline, and he felt like he was slipping away as you did from him. When morning came, he had bags under his eyes, and his hair was tousled with the constant running of his hands through his hair throughout the night. He didn't know what if it went wrong today, or if you gave no response and shut yourself off.

He didn't even eat, too sick to his stomach to do so, waving a small, "bye," to his mother before slipping into his car, and Shmi had sent a text to Lucille as he left.

Shmi

He's on the way.

Lucy

Alright, she's awake. Ty for sending him over 😘

Shmi

Anytime. Want to come over while they talk, give them a little space?

Lucy

On my way.

And with that, Lucille had left her own home, knocking on your door and letting you know where she was going. You had hummed in response, getting into the shower, preparing to repeat the cycle of bed-rot you had created in the recent days.

The water soothed you, hot streams battering on your back as you sunk into the tiled floor. The speaker still let out hushed instrumentals and lyrics of your playlist, allowing you to wallow in your feelings. Not even washing your hair, or your body, you simply laid there. Tears were scarce at this point, not able to flow down your cheeks, as you looked at yourself in your naked state.

You doubted Anakin could ever, ever, love something like this in the way you loved him.

It was honestly sickening, in your opinion, how you destroyed yourself over him. Promises to him left unkept, and your friendship flowed down the drain, following the stream of the water. The sad, angry music you hummed along to only allowed for your wallowing to fester into an ugly knot in your stomach.

Some Phoebe Bridgers lyric had you leaning on the wall, closing your eyes. Too many years wasted. Too many tears shed over Anakin.

As the song was reaching its peak, you were oblivious to the sleek, black jeep that pulled into your driveway. Your room perched in the back of the house, anyway, so it was hard to hear over the shower and the music, along with your own humming. You were unaware of the unlocking of your front door, which Anakin had a key to, and the sound of his footsteps bustling up the stairs of your home. Which would have been bad, had it been an intruder, but it was just your good ol' Anakin.

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard the music in the shower, and the sound of your voice, the murmurs of lyrics you sang along to. He also heard the familiar pattering of your bathroom, having also showered here one too many times after games. Your bathroom was attached to your room, and he didn't want to disrupt, so he simply opened your door and sat on your bed.

When he walked in though, he was shocked. Your entire safe space was in disarray, a mirror of your emotions. If there was one thing about you, though, it was that you were a tad bit messy, but never this bad. He frowned at the thought, and decided to lay back on your messy bed, pulling out his phone to check the time. You should be out soon right?

But as fifteen minutes passed, he was getting impatient. He strolled up to your door, knocking softly.

"Mom, I thought you were at Shmi's?" Your voice was raspy, and quieter than normal, a pang resonating in his heart.

"It's me," he softly said, hand on the door.

You were struck with shock, sitting up immediately, feeling guilty and overwhelmed suddenly.

"I'm busy, come back later?" You pleaded, hoping to avoid him. But if anything, Anakin was persistent, and when he says he's doing to do something, he'll do it. Your brain had hoped silently that he'd take it, making his way out, so you wouldn't have to face him.

He shook his head, "No. We need to talk, now. Are you almost done?" he inquired, leaning his side on the door now, dragging his fingertips over the ridges of the wooden door. You didn't respond, and he didn't hear any movement, so he continued to press. "I swear to God, Y/N, I'll come in there if I have to."

Fear struck your veins, and you stayed silent, hoping he'd go away. "We can talk later, I'm busy," you simply replied, shaking your head at his perseverance. You always adored that about him, but now was a bad time for him to do so. Now, you wanted him gone. He was no longer your sanctuary, but a cause of fear and pain to you. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't stop.

And you were right.

You heard the handle jiggle a little bit, before a groan was let out behind the door. "There is no need to lock the door in your own home," he sighed, turning back to your room. A bobby pin should work, right?

"It's to prevent people from coming in, y'know, like you're trying to do," you rolled your eyes and scoffed, borders and walls making their way back up. You heard his footsteps walking away from the door, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. One obstacle down, right?

But then, you heard the jiggling of the doorknob again, and the click of the lock, and a sense of alarm surged through your veins. "I'm coming in," he announced sternly, before you heard the creak of your bathroom door opening. He had successfully found your bobby pins littered around your vanity, from various updo's you'd style your hair with during school. For a second, he was glad for the mess, which allowed him to find it so easily.

"I'm naked!" You screeched, though the shower curtain covered anything he could possibly see.

He chuckled, scoffing, "I've seen you before," he sarcastically uttered, hands finding purchase on the counter behind him, facing the curtain. The only barrier between you and him in the current moment.

"Yeah, when we were four, asshole," you shot back defensively, groaning at his antics. You still continued to attempt to avoid him, dragging out your shower for as long as possible.

Anakin grabbed the towel off of the seat, reaching into the curtain to shut the water off. "Get out," he demanded, "or I will personally come in there and wrap you in the towel myself," his aggression didn't go unnoticed, knowing now that something was definitely wrong between you and him.

"Fuck, fine," you sneered, standing up and reaching out for your towel, which he handed to you through the curtain. You stood up, wrapping yourself, and peeking through the curtain. Shit, he still looked as beautiful as ever. Even more than the photos you would look at while letting sobs escape your lips. He wore a white ribbed tank top, paired with gray sweatpants, hung low on his hips. He looked like a mess himself, curly hair frayed at his neck, sticking to the skin from the steam.

He raised a brow, looking away in respect for you. "Go get changed, I'll wait here," he muttered, allowing you to be at least respectable before he confronted you. As a result, you zoomed past him, quickly grabbing a pair of drawstring shorts and a hoodie, knowing you wouldn't have to waste time on a bra if you were in something baggier. After slipping into your clothes in your closet, you opened up the bathroom door again, and he followed you forward to the center of your room.

He eyed you up and down, finally taking in your features and your state. Though your hair was dripping wet, he didn't miss the puffy circles around your eyes and the split lip you often had when you worried about something too much. His face softened, ever so slightly, as you sat on the bed in front of him, while he continued to stand in front of your figure.

He broke the silence as soon as you sat, "Y/N..." Anakin muttered, folding his hands across his chest in front of you. You gulped, picking at the strings hanging loose from your shorts, "what's so important that you had to interrupt my shower for?"

"You act like you were doing something important. You've been ignoring everyone for days now," he began, eyeing you up and down as you fidgeted and avoided his eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I was, I was showering. Hygiene is important, Anakin," you retorted, turning your head to the window on your left.

"You know what I mean," he opened up his stance, running a hand through his hair. You hardly ever called him Anakin anymore, just Ani. The fact that you used his first name sent shivers down his spine.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, acting oblivious, hoping he'd leave and let you go back to your previous state. Though, as mentioned, when Anakin was determined to do something, he'd do it.

He took a step closer to you, peering down, "You've been avoiding me for days now. Everyone, for days now," he pouted slightly. "You promised you'd tell me everything, so what's going on? You know I don't judge," he assured you, getting down to face you, sitting cross legged on the carpet of your room.

"It's nothing, I promise," You said the same thing you've told your mother consistently. "It's nothing," you repeated.

"It's not nothing, if it's got you like this," he tried to smile warmly, show you he was there, to bring comfort, to bring peace to your mind. "Yeah, well, it's not something I'd like to share with you."

Now that stung, a pain radiating in his very bones, your words leaving him stunned momentarily. You shared almost everything with him. Everything that ever stressed you, he'd hug you and distract you until you were a laughing and smiling disaster. You had never been so closed off, so defensive.

Unknowingly, unintentionally, he shot back, "I've given you every piece of me to show you how open I am, and you can't do the same back? What happened to you?"

Venom laced his voice, making you finally face him. It made the blow all the more easier, while it also gave you a heartache you couldn't possibly fathom. "Life happened, Anakin. We're no longer silly teenagers living our lives, we're adults. We're growing apart," you let your arms fall to your sides, helpless to the heat and tension growing between you two.

"We're about to go off to college, and I've been spending every waking moment with you. We didn't just drift, something changed. I'm trying my hardest to be here, you know? Support you, give you a hand, and you won't even open up," he shifted uncomfortably, sensing an argument arising, which has never before occurred between the two of you.

"It's nothing you can help, Anakin. It's out of your control, so leave it be, and get out," you persisted.

"Get out? Get out?" He shot straight up, standing up in front of you, inching closer to your balled up figure facing him. "You don't kick me out of a place that is basically my second home," he raised his voice, causing you to stand up to face him at the same time.

Before you could speak though, he continued his banter, "So you admit something is wrong," he pointed to your chest, jabbing your collarbone while he spoke the words, voice booming out in the silence of your bedroom. Your stance was less defensive now, as he slowly broke down the barrier, and he continued, yet again.

"I told you, it's nothing you can help with," you replied with a hushed, raspy voice, not wanting to bicker.

"Just tell me what it is, then? Is it school? Because while I may not be as smart as you, I have damn well studied for hours on end with you. I have given up movie nights, going out with you, for all of that shit. You're perfectly fine. You're set. You've got a scholarship, and you'll be fine!"

He continued to step closer to you, closing the space ever so slowly, as you shrunk under his words. "If it's your daddy, fine! But I watched the divorce, the split happen. I watched as you were torn between your parents, and held your hand through that!"

"So tell me, Y/N, what is different this time around?"

Your throat was dry, not wanting to respond, everything seeming so stupid now. How were you supposed to admit, right to his face, it was him? Anakin, the one who held you, the one who made you laugh, the one making you cry yourself to sleep.

"Is it boy troubles? Because I haven't seen any man swoop down and carry you in his arms, and I would have heard about it from your mom. You haven't told her shit, either. So it's got to be pressing you, huh? Just let it out!"

He continued his verbal attacks on you, his frustrations from everything being let out on you. You wanted to shrink back, run away, but there was nowhere to go. Your gut was churning, bubbling, as a sob almost escaped your throat. "You wouldn't get it!"

"Yeah, I don't fucking get it because you won't tell anyone what's wrong," he immediately responded, again taking another step closer. You swatted the hand that was on your chest away, pushing him back from the close proximity. He stumbled, catching his balance, before turning to the side and letting out a low chuckle. "I see."

He saw the polaroids of you and him, laying on your nightstand, shaking his head, "It's me, huh? What the hell did I do? Just tell me," he almost begged, yelling at the top of his lungs at this point. You glanced back and let tears finally escape your eyes, sniffling from the flow. He noticed, slightly softening, as you began to yell back, finally breaking the dam.

"It is you, idiot! Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile at girls like they're everything to you, bring them home at night to cuddle and hold them. It's the way you style your hair, and the way you saunter with your huge fucking ego!"

Oh, now he was confused. You despised his guts because of the way he was? Always has been?

"And you know- you know, I wish I was one of those girls! But you've never even looked at me that way, Anakin! That's the issue! That you've been so oblivious to the way I've wanted you, turning around and fucking other girls while I wait at home for your text that you're safe! It's all of it, Anakin," you let out a choked sob in the midst of your sentence, looking him directly in the eyes, "You go around and play football and don't even give me a sideways glance in the stands! It's so, so wrong to feel this way about you, someone I'm just supposed to care about. But no, I fucking love you, Anakin, and it hurts, it hurts so much. You sit and flirt with the cheerleaders in the cafeteria, giving them kisses on their temples and wrapping your arm around them, in public! But I will never, ever, be one of those girls to you. I will always be the best friend. I will never get to feel you longing for me, and never get to feel you loving me the same! That's what's wrong!"

You finished, letting out a huff, and realizing what you had done. Anakin stayed silent, processing your words, mouth open in shock. You were so terrified, yet so relieved that you had let everything out all at once. You knew now that you had crossed a line, broken a border down in your relationship with him. It had turned from sweet, innocent bliss, to rage and despair, mixed with love and fury. You knew you could never come back from this, back from the words that flew out of your mouth. You were desperate for him, and you would worship the ground he walked on if it meant you could receive one backwards glance held with the passion he held for the other women. But you knew you'd never get that, and you'd spend all of your life searching for a person to fill the hole he created in your heart, but never quite filling it up fully. It would be like a bandaid, covering it up temporarily, but the wound would still exist. It would still rot underneath your skin.

"You mean it?" Anakin simply said, words quiet, as he took a step towards you again, looking into what felt like your soul.

"Every goddamn word."

As soon as the curse left your lips, he grabbed you so swiftly, so tenderly, colliding his body with yours as his breath fanned across your lips, waiting for you to say no. You froze instinctively, still coming to terms with the fact that his hand was laid on the small of your back, the other placed on the back of your head, inching you closer. Before you knew it, the feeling of his lips encompassed yours, with unspoken feelings reverberating through the action. You immediately kissed back, gripping his shirt with the arms in front of you, pulling him instinctively closer. He pushed your frame impossibly close to his, wrapping his arm tighter around you, clutching onto the hoodie you wore.

His hand had gripped your sopping wet hair, earning a small noise elicited from your mouth into his, leaving his kiss softening in satisfaction. It was filled with need, hunger, and years of built up frustration. He handled you so softly, as if you would break, tears still streaming down your cheeks. A sob wracked your chest again, causing him to pull away.

"How in the world could you think I could never love you?" He questioned, bringing you into a hug. You continued to clutch his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. He gingerly set you down to sit in front of him, while he kneeled between your legs. His hands were placed on your knees, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess bestowed upon him.

"I'm not them. I'm not the cheerleaders, or the dancers, or the athletes you date. Look at me, Ani," you grabbed onto his hands, squeezing. His expression showed guilt, love, and anger. Anger at himself, for ever making you feel like this. For ever making you feel like you were the second option, and that he could never adore you. Because for years, he has.

"Oh, honey, you are so much more than them," he brought a hand up to cup your cheek. "I have loved you for so long, I can't believe you ever felt this way," he mumbled, kissing your knees after he uttered the sentiment. "You are everything to me."

He wiped the tears off of your cheeks with his hand, raising himself on his knees slightly. "I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way, because you are my first and forever love."

"You mean it?" You mocked him, your normal attitude coming back to life. He grinned like a cheshire cat, watching you beam back in the midst of tears.

"Every goddamn word," he mocked back, grabbing your hands and placing kisses on them, "you could never compare to any other girl. You are worth so much more to me, I promise. You are my sun and my moon, my stars, I revolve around you. I love you, so much," he praised you, placing one of your hands on his cheek.

You began to cry again, tears of happiness this time, knowing it was okay.

"No, no, don't cry baby, please," he kneeled up, know facing you directly. "You're too pretty to cry."

You shook your head in disbelief, looking down at your lap.

He kisses your forehead, softly, bringing you close to him. "I'm so sorry," he profusely apologized. He left kisses down the side of your face, peppering you, before meeting your lips again, where you wrapped your arms around his neck as he hunched over. He never once disconnected your kiss as he hooked his hands under your thighs, pushing you back on the bed and under him. The kiss grew more needy, more desperate, as his hands rubbed your outer thighs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. As you did so, you pulled him down closer to you, your two bodies moving in sync with love, care, and adoration.

You tugged on his hair, making him grunt softly into your mouth, making you giggle slightly. "What was that, hm?" You mumbled into the kiss. You honestly were lost with what you were doing, your first kiss taking place on the playground at recess, and had never gone as far as to continue kissing someone.

"God— you, Y/N," he pulled away, looking at you from above, the locks of hair falling from his head, caressing his jaw. He scanned your face for any hesitance, any doubts, and in finding none, he leaned back down, caressing your arms in the process.

"Wait, Ani," you stopped him before his lips could meet yours, bringing one hand to trace along his jaw. "I've never done anything like this before," you mumbled, partially out of embarrassment and nervousness. He had then begun to pull away fully, out of respect for you, before you trapped his hips in with your calves, pulling him back down.

"We don't have to do anything, I promise, I don't expect anything from you, nothing— I swear," he promised, grinning at you from above. "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he told you, realization hitting him that you most likely had never done anything beyond kissing, and he didn't want to pressure you into anything you wouldn't want.

"No, that's not what I mean. Ani, I want to," you told him, the heat growing between your bodies, his sweatpants and your shorts being a soft barrier between what could occur.

"You want to?" He questioned, anticipation almost hurting him in his core. You were willing to give him one of the most treasured, most vulnerable parts of yourself, to him, and he couldn't quite fathom that.

"Yes. Anakin, I've always wanted to do this with you, since I knew I fell in love," you leaned up to kiss his cheek, then you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering, "let me be yours."

With that, he bent down to kiss you again, gentle hands and tender touches. "I'll be careful, and tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?"

You nodded, bringing him back down to you, yet again, as the kiss grew heated. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, allowing you to open your mouth, letting his own wrap around yours and explore your mouth. The feeling itself was sensational, and you wished you had confessed sooner. Your hips bucked up to meet his, knowing only clothing separated you two. You reached down to tug on his shirt, enticing him.

He sat up, ripping his shirt off quickly, and you took the time to admire him. While you had seen it many times throughout the years, you couldn't get enough, knowing this was the man who loved you, who adored you, who pledged himself to you. Your hand traced along his abdomen, and up his chest, with slow circles and movements.

He looked down to you and your hoodie for permission, to which you grew embarrassed and shy. He stopped, again, tracing his hand along your hip, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not wearing a bra, Ani," you muttered with embarrassment, and he looked at you inquisitively at the fact. "Honey, do you know—"

You interrupted him, mid laugh, "Yes, I know, I'm just nervous. My body, and uh—"

You were cut off, almost immediately, with a tut from him. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I promise," he told you, looking at you as if you'd break with a single touch or glance.

You nodded, beginning to lift your shirt up yourself, before he stopped you, kissing you and setting your wrists down. "Let me show you how much I love you," he told you, so sincerely, that you felt your body heat up and tense.

His fingers found the bottom of the garment, beginning to lift it over your head, as you lifted your arms up for him to slip it off of you.

He could have practically cum at the sight.

He was met with your soft skin, only for him to see, and his sweatpants tightened ever so slightly. Your breasts splayed out, tummy revealed, and it was all for him. Would forever only be for Anakin.

He kissed you again as you held him, trailing pecks down your cheek, and to your neck, where he suckled the skin and nibbled. You whimpered quietly, never having even thinking you could let out anything from kisses.

"You're so, so beautiful. Sculpted by the gods themselves, I swear. If I could worship a statue of you at a temple, I could," he whispered into your collarbone, moving his pecks downward. You became inherently flustered at his words, a garbled mess, until his breath was fanning in between your sternum. His palms found your ribs, inching upward to your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipple. The contact jolted you, overly sensitive and becoming needy for him to make love to you.

"So divine, I swear," he spoke over your nipple, before his mouth latched onto it, suckling like it would be the last thing he ever tasted. Yet, at the same time, it was so pure. Merciful whimpers left your garbled throat, hands tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

He switched over to the other breast, the other one being caressed with his saliva coating it, hardening at the contact. He let his teeth drag along the peak, almost teasingly, before kissing the bud and moving downwards.

He moved down to your tummy, kissing all over. His tongue licked a stripe from your sternum to your navel, then kissing the skin above your shorts. "No matter how insecure you are, your tummy is perfect," he mumbled into the skin, teeth gently grazing the skin as he sweet talked into your skin, lust filling his eyes as he made eye contact with you from above him.

"Anakin, I need you," you muttered, not able to hold the eye contact as he sat between your legs, where you needed him most. He smirked, nodding as he did so, "I know, baby, just wanna take my sweet time with you," he spoke, so close to your core, where your desire lingered for him. He could practically taste it as well, bending down lower, his teeth biting on the waistband of the fabric, slowly pulling it down. His other hand met the other hip, assisting in his teasingly slow antics. He shimmied the shorts off, looking back to where you laid underneath him. He adored you, to say the least, and the way you're looking at him as him twitching in his pants. Desire and need are painted all over your expression, as he finally looked down to your panties.

He noticed the damp spot on the gray cotton, his mind going crazy. He did this to you. God, he loved it.

He kissed the wet spot, earning a small noise that strangled it's way out your mouth. Those damn noises to him, would be the death of Anakin himself. He then looked up, "Is this okay?" He questioned, wanting to make sure you were alright more than anything.

"Yes, please, Ani," you begged, watching him then tauntingly pull the fabric down your hips. Before looking, he begins to kiss the inside of your thighs, tongue dragging along the plush of the skin. The freckles and moles and scars, everything, he was taking in as he tasted you. It was perfect to him. You are perfect. He wanted to make sure you knew that as well, his attention switching to the other leg, repeating the same tantalizing licks and nips and kisses, sucking gently as he got closer to your center, leaving light hickeys and eliciting noises from you.

He then made eye contact with where you needed him most, a small sigh of his breath leaving a tingling sensation for you. "All of this, for me? You're too good to me," he spoke, before taking his first lick, a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. "Y'taste so heavenly, honey, please," he begged for nothing, knowing he already had you as putty in his hands. You fell limp as he pressed a damp kiss to your clit, using one hand to pull back your folds for him. You were glistening with desire, leaking onto your sheets. He was disappointed he couldn't take the chance to lick it up off of the sheets, your hole twitching and practically clenching at this point.

He began his attacks on you, slow and steady, trying not to overwhelm you. Moans began to fill the room, letting him know he was doing a good job, only using his tongue at this point. "S'good," you spoke out, and he hummed in response, smiling in his head. All he wants is to make you feel good. This is an apology, devotion, and need all in one.

The vibrations sent shivers up your spine, fingers clutching the sheets beside you. His other hand was keeping your legs apart, the incessant twitching making him rut into the end of the bed. This wasn't about him though, this was about you.

His tongue prodded your entrance, scooping up whatever was leaking out, and he swallowed it graciously. "You're doing so well, my love," he praised. You hummed in response, not being able to form coherent words, even though he was the one with his mouth occupied. The hand spreading your folds twisted, allowing for his thumb to start slow, gentle circles around your clit.

"Is this good? Do you feel good, darling?" He asked, looking up to you as you nodded feverishly, in a haze of love and lust all at once. Your brain was clouded with the pleasure of Anakin between your legs, lapping you up like you were his final meal on death row. His thumb circling your nub, and his tongue swirling around your walls, gummy and slick with his saliva and your desire. He loved every second of it, your squirming and your hips rolling on his mouth, suffocating him in the best way possible.

His thumb began to speed up, and your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer and gripping on for dear life. And he hasn't even inserted fingers yet.

The heat between your legs grew stronger, as minutes passed of torturous circles and slow licks and prods, before you begged for him more. "Fingers, something, Ani," you managed to make out some words, jello and oozing into his palms and mouth. He chuckled at your eagerness, now using his hand he was using to hold your legs apart to wrap your legs behind his back, heels digging into the muscular blades of his shoulders. A single digit slowly entered you, curling inside, arching your back off of the sheets. His tongue moved up to your clit, suctioning the bud, and gently nibbling as his finger began a new pace. It was steady, almost leisurely, as he inserted a second finger, scissoring at your entrance. You were so, so tight, and it was heavenly to him. "Ani, faster, please," you commanded, and he damn well listened like an obedient dog, picking up the pace and curling inside of you each time, his thick fingers searching for the spot that would make you see stars. One your own fingers could hardly reach.

As he sped up and became more passionate with it, your legs trembled from overwhelming excitement and anticipation. You felt the knot beginning to form, one you had only reached on your own, while always thinking of this. Your moans became more strangled and raspy, his mouth never leaving his assault on your clit, and his fingers squelching from your wetness between your legs. The smell, the taste, everything was undeniably delicious to him. This was his Y/N, the one he pined after for so long, the girl of his dreams.

Your pussy began to ache, an overwhelming sense of your release approaching. With whatever you could make out, you uttered in a strangled mess, "C-cum, Ani, 'M gonna."

He began to get more aggressive with his suckles, and his eyes looked up to your expression as your breasts shook with every breath you took, head lolled back from the craving you had- no, the need you had for him. He felt your walls clench around him as your release was coming, his eyes never leaving you. "Good girl, I wanna see that pretty face look at me while you cum," he quickly reattached his mouth to you, the words themselves making your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. Your eyes never left his, though they rolled into the back of your head momentarily. He felt the flutter, and the clenching of your legs around his head as you finished, his mouth licking up the last of you as he finally pulled away. "You did so well, baby. We can stop here if you want," he assured you, licking his fingers clean as he leaned up to cup your face and kiss your neck.

"I want to feel you inside of me," your lips were flush and swollen from the kissing and biting you had done, and your checks were splotched with redness as he nodded. "Fuck, you're so perfect," he guaranteed your utmost comfortability and contentment. "If you're sure."

He began to pull down his boxers and sweats in a swift motion with one hand, the other propping him up so he could kiss your cheeks sweetly and with care. "You're doing amazing."

You grinned and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips eagerly. Sweat beaded your foreheads, but the mess created never stopped either of you from continuing. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, before dragging his lips down to the corner of your mouth. He pulled away momentarily, hands reaching down to stretch you with his fingers. You glanced down to below his navel, and holy shit, was he big.

"It'll fit?" You questioned, your naïveté getting the best of you in the moment.

He chuckled, grinning and looking down at you waiting for him. He took a mental picture, analyzing every possible detail of your bare skin, and the way you looked right now. He was infatuated with you before, but this sight under him, left precum leaking from his tip. His fantasies could have never compared to this sight of him between your legs. "Yes, it will. It'll hurt at first, okay? And tell me to slow down or stop at any point, promise?"

You nodded your head eagerly, "I promise," so grateful for the way he was praising and taking care of your needs over his.

He kissed you again, dragging his tip along your folds. The red and swollen cock in front of you had you nearly drooling, but you decided to save that for another point in time.

"Are you ready?" He asked tenderly, kissing along your neck, tapping your clit with the head of his cock. "Yes, please," you chanted over and over again, like a prayer on your lips.

He let out a quiet hum, slowly pressing his tip into your folds. It slowly slipped past your entrance, earning a hiss from between your teeth.

"Are you okay?" Anakin immediately asked, though not pulling out, so he could look you in the eye, his gaze wavering slightly.

"Mhm, just hurts," you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, and Anakin knows you've never been someone with a high pain tolerance. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you," he comforted you, pressing a small kiss to your lips, waiting for you to nod to continue. It didn't matter that even your entrance was gripping him like a fucking vice, he wanted you to feel as safe and pleasured as possible.

You made eye contact with him, nodding slowly, as he pushed in a little more, your hands finding his biceps, caged around your head, nails digging into his skin and leaving welts. It hurts, but you expected it. And there was nobody else in all the universe you would rather give your virginity to, just Anakin himself.

"You're doing such a great job, taking me so well," he smiled, hoping his voice would bring you a sense of oasis in the middle of his cock piercing through your insides. "Think you can take a little more?"

You nodded, as one hand reached down to press on your thigh, as he felt your pussy clench him so tightly, knowing you were his. Made for him. "Relax, it'll help it hurt less baby, I promise," he told you, rubbing sweet circles on your leg.

He felt your body loosen up, and he was able to bottom out into you, and his tip kissed your walls, a whimper of pain and pleasure entering his mouth from the kiss he gave you. "Good girl," he whispered into your mouth, making sure he was to never break eye contact in this moment. It was so pure, so sinful, and such a precious moment. He was lingering inside of you, movements stilled, no matter how badly he wanted to pound into you until you were crying into the sheets. You bucked your hips up, enticing him to move, and he got the memo.

It wasn't full throttled thrusts, but slow and lazy pumps in and out of you, waiting for the pain to subside. He felt so amazing inside of you, with your warmth and wetness connecting you both. The closest he could ever get to you, and he never thought he would be here. He was savoring every clench, every thrust, and every moment like it would be his last. Because it was you, and he loved you so dearly, he wanted this to be perfect for you.

Your back arched, your pussy twitched around him, all the while he was still slowly going in and out. It was celestial, the way you moaned and let out slurred words of his name, eyes half lidded and already looking fucked out, a devious and wanton expression he'd commit to memory. "Ani," you made out, grabbing the hand on your leg and placing it on your core. He understood, starting to rub spirals under the red and swollen hood of your clit, picking up his pace. Then, the pain has completely subsided, turning into seraphic pleasure, his eyebrows creating a wrinkle as they furrowed. His own pants and grunts left his lips, chest heaving from the bliss he was subdued in. He was immersed in you completely, mentally and physically. You looked so angelic, even godly, as your bodies connected in the most unholy way possible.

He had waited too long for this.

Your warm and inviting, virgin pussy, saved all for him. And now you were underneath him, his cock filling every inch of you, and each time he bottomed out his tip would meet your cervix, but not hard enough to hurt you. He treasured you, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

"Faster, Ani, I'm okay," you rested your hand on his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes, as he tried so hard to contain himself so you could feel loved for every second of it. He got off on you feeling so cherished under him, and you had never felt more adoration than in the present.

He listened though, picking him his pace, hips snapping so scrumptiously against you. You could hardly moan anymore, and you broke the eye contact, head rolling back and hitting your pillows from the amount of satisfaction you gained. He took the opportunity to look down at where your bodies met, watching his length slide in and out of you, coated in the sticky sweetness of your serene need for him. His eyes glanced over your body, watching as your tits bounced with every jolt of his body, and he almost creamed at the very sight. He was going to wait though, until you came, to ever think of cumming.

"S'well, baby, you feel so good wrapped around me. You're so beautiful, God. I could do this for hours," he praised you, feeling your pussy clench around him at the simple, yet overwhelming words. The way the plush of your thighs jiggled with every little movement, and the way your tummy followed with. He was encompassed in serenity for every second of it.

"M'gonna cum," you mustered out, warning him of your second release, building quicker than the prior one. "Go ahead, my love, whenever you feel like it," he said between pants and grunts, thumb still circling around your clit as he felt you get all the more tighter.

He sped up his pace, shifting his body to the right, the angle directly hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your hands began to dig into his shoulders, the knot tightening. He could tell, watching as your thighs clenched and you let out the most wanton cry of his name, cumming around his cock.

The feeling and satisfaction of you finishing left him close to his own release, pulling your head down to look at him. "'S it okay if- fuck- I cum?"

"Cum in me, Ani, fill me up," you assured him, still whimpering from overstimulation and groaning at the feeling of him fucking your cum back into you.

His breaths were shakier, turning into soft whimpers and groans as you felt his thrusts grow messy, and soon still, feeling a gush of warmth inside of you, filling you to the brim. He stayed there for a moment, sighing as his cock softened, not wanting to pull out and disconnect from you in the most intimate way possible. He knew he had to though, as he pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty and lost.

You let out a breath of air, leaning up to kiss him. He happily obliged, rubbing sweet patterns along your hips, tracing the dips and curves with his index finger, soothing you after your release.

He leaned up quickly, making you feel cold, empty, and lost. Was he already leaving?

But no, he came back with a warm washcloth, leaning between your legs again. He came face to face with your cum and his load leaking out of you, beginning to drag wet and sloppy kisses on your knees as he ever so gently wiped up what was leaking out of you, and the mess and sweat off of your thighs. The residue piled along the fabric, which he then wiped his soft cock with, running back to your bathroom to throw it in the hamper. He crawled back into bed with you as you turned over on your side, the room smelling of sex and love.

"I'm so proud of you, you did so well," he told you, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you close to him, so you could lay your head on his chest. His palm rubbed along the small of your back, tracing up your spine.

"Thank you, I don't think I could have asked for someone better to do it with," you smiled, an after sex glow making you all the more beautiful to him.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?" You asked, and a dumbfounded expression was plastered on Anakin's face, causing you to worry momentarily.

"I would assume so, but only if you'll have me," he spoke into your hair, bare and naked bodies intertwined under the cold sheets. "Of course I'll have you," you comforted him, hands tracing the curve of his biceps. "You're my forever, Anakin."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

#anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader #modern!anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #best friend!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker angst #star wars #hayden christensen smut

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pasdasin · 1 month

Text

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: omg sorry for such a long break 😭 a lot has happened over this past weekend. I literary moved home from my college apartment and everything! Also I couldn't walk??? but im okay now lol. I made this chapter longer but it might be a lil shitty, also i know yall dont care for the fight so next chapter will be smut focused!

ch 5

warnings: cussing, violence, mentions of seizures, saliva, foam in mouth, drinking blood, murder, inappropriate use of a dead body erm, u know what mdni this is kinda fucked up

previous -- next

~~~~~

Everything felt wrong. Holding Alex’s hand was wrong. Your dress was wrong. The restaurant was wrong. London wasn’t like anything you remembered. It made sense, given that you weren’t in the city for at least century, but everything was wrong.

Maybe the mission was going too well? No that couldn’t be it.

You shifted in your seat, tugging at the part of your dress that laid over your thighs. Alex was rambling over something that he watched recently, trying to keep appearances. You nodded everything once in a while, sipping some wine.

Thump…. Thump…… thump

Your eyes zeroed in on his neck. Oh. That’s what it was. The sound of Alex’s blood pumping through his body, no the sound of all the blood in the restaurant. Ever since you tasted it, you craved more. Whatever Alex was saying was lost on your ears.

You scanned the faces of everyone in the restaurant, feeling your mouth salivate. Each person had a unique rhythm. Alex was spaced, he was always calm, cool headed. Logan was faster, like he was stuck in a state of fear.

Your eyes landed on a man in the middle of the restaurant, standing to excuse himself from the dinner. No beat.

“Bingo”

“What you got sugar?” Alex asked, taking a bite of his dinner roll.

“Morgue to your right, heading to the kitchen”

“Morgue? Who is that?”

“Alex stay here okay? I’ll be right back” You stood, brushing off your dress and started your pursuit. Following his path, you entered the kitchen, ignoring the cooks trying to escort you out. You walked down a back staircase, careful to stay out of sight.

You were pressed to a wall, listening for the trail of footsteps, when a hand wrapped around your neck and pushed you into the wall.

“I knew it was you, darling” You peered up into his eyes. “You’re rusty, I thought you’d never show up in our city again.”

“Fuck you” You spat in his face. He blinked at you in shock, then used his other hand to wipe his face.

“Never play nice, do you?” He muttered, tightening his grip on your neck, tearing skin slightly. Your nails extended into claws, tearing into his hand. He hissed in pain, dropping you, allowing for you to jump on him and pin him to the floor, kneeing him in the groin as you moved.

Quickly, you pressed your hands down on his neck, your fangs flaring. You pushed your claws deeper into his neck causing blood to seep out of him, starting to feel his neck tear.

You were so close. Feeling his vocal cords start to snap under the force of your hands.

The only known way to kill a vampire, decapitation. His hands frantically clawed at your back, trying to distract you. You were close, hearing bones snap, when a beam of energy started hurling towards the two of you. Startling you, you loosened your grip on his neck, causing Morgue to push himself up and bring you to his chest.

Morgue in an instant pressed his finger to your forehead, pushing your skull.

“You’ve been a bad girl. Don’t you remember what you did?” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you seized on the ground. You heard Alex call out your name and then your whole world went black.

----

Logan wished he payed attention to you when you were showing him ‘find my’ on his own. Kurt dropped him off at the location Charles provided him, promising to flash back once he was done.

Logan was just trying to follow your scent, but it had changed. Something had tainted it, he had realized halfway through his walk that the smell was himself, more specifically, his blood. He felt hopeless as he aimlessly wandered around the city.

Rolling his eyes when people stopped him for whatever reason this time. Night fell and he was still walking. He saw the flash before he smelt you.

Running over, he saw Alex hurl another energy blast at the strange guy in the trench coat. The trench coat guy was bleeding badly, but he was still standing. Logan felt his claws unsheathed themselves, before he ran over to assist Alex with the fight.

Stabbing the dude in the back, he ran his claws up and down his body, hoping to cause some more damage. He growled as he threw him towards Alex who shot him with another blast.

Logan turned his head to your body, unconscious and foaming at the mouth. It finally struck him, who this man was.

Morgue, your ex boyfriend. A man who manipulated you into saving his life with his dying wish. A man who forced you to kill three young mutants in a burning orphanage, forcing you to drain them dry as they cried for help.

“Alex! His head!” Logan shouted to him as he started to try to bring you back from the memory wave.

“C’mon sweet thing. Come back to me” He muttered softly, placing his hands on your forehead and chest. He listened to the sound of his own blood mix around in your body, the irregular pace worrying him.

Morgue had only one trick that transferred over from his human life. His mutation of making people relive their worst nightmares. It was clear to Logan that you were trapped in this state, and if he didn’t act fast, you’d be dead.

Another energy blast was hurled, causing a fire to catch on some back alley trashcan. The sounds of fighting filled the air, but Logan persisted on trying to focus on you.

Logan didn’t remember a lot of the bullshit you told him about Morgue. He didn’t care for the guy back then and he definitely didn’t care for him now.

“It works in fairytales, so maybe it’ll work now” Logan muttered to himself. He wiped your mouth of any saliva that was building up and pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t your first kiss and when you finally was snapped back to reality, Logan was reassured it wouldn’t be your last.

You pressed your hand to the side of his face and slowly pulled away. Looking up at Logan, you weakly smiled.

“I knew you would save the day”

“When have I not?” He smiled softly down at you. Helping you to your feet, you turned to face the fight, noticing Alex was on his last stand. You turned to face Logan and smiled, your fangs baring.

“Just like the last time we were here” You joked, starting to sprint down toward Morgue. Jumping up you wrapped your legs around his waist and bit down into his neck. He yelled back in surprise, allowing Logan to get to Alex and move him out of the way.

You managed to repin him to the ground, pounding both of your fists into his chest. He wheezed out and you smiled wildly, losing yourself in his pain. You pushed his neck down again and twisted.

Finally, you leaned down into his neck, the blood oozing out of his neck. Licking the blood, you giggled in his ear.

“Remember when we first met and you asked me what I was?” You leaned upwards, your eyes now staring into his.

Fear flooded his vision. You had created him, the blood oozing from his neck was a result of his murderers.

“I’m a vampire. I’ll see you in hell” You twisted his neck and off came his head. You threw it up and Logan quickly stabbed it with his claws, ensuring the end.

You looked down at the headless body and blinked back tears. A puddle of blood surrounded the two of you. Your hands covered in it. Your clothes were stained in it. You had no more restraint.

You leaned down, licking the blood seeping out of him. Your eyes rolled back into your head, feeling satisfied with the amount you were consuming. You were so, so hungry.

You felt two hand wrap around your torso and pull you up from the body. You thrashed around, kicking whoever dared to separate you from the meal at your disposal.

“You need to calm down. Alex is hurt. You can eat later” Logan’s grip tightened around your waist and you cried out. Turning your head, you looked at the body of Alex Summers and gasped.

Alex was on the verge of death, and only you could save him.

~~~~~

Tag list: @captain039 @twinky-wink @fuckmachine42069 @honeybeedrabble @reidsworld @clairealeehelsing @bontensbabygirl @policedeer

an: the fight was so rushed but idc lol. planning on writing a cowboypool smut and a cowboy clark kent smut soon too, lmk if yall r interested lol

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader smut #xmen #vampire!reader

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read-write-thrive · 1 month

Text

edwina / edith in her lingerie as inspired by @hannaloony and @arisprite ‘s fanart !!! this one’s on the simpler side but I’m planning to do a companion piece with charlotte (and might do more with the backgrounds to really sell the whole “getting ready in their respective eras” thing, not sure yet) and hopefully doing something a little more suggestive with the both of them, again inspired by @hannaloony ‘s piece but using my own interpretations of fem!payneland w/ butch!edwina and fem!charlotte bc i love them

(side note: I know everyone is using Edith and not Edwina but I think Edwina suits my interpretation better for some reason ?? something about ppl hearing “Edwina and Charlie” and getting jumpscared when Edwina is the butch is funny to me,,, still undecided if she uses any nicknames but I’m open to suggestions lol)

previous artwork I’ve done of these characters can be found here: part one (original duo piece) ; part two (alt outfit for Edwina, Edwina sketches)

notes on the costuming choices for anyone interested:

- i specifically designed these undergarments to work under either of the outfits I’ve given her so far!!

- I decided on combinations as her base layer as they were seen as younger/more casual/athletic, all of which im aiming for with this design. technically these are probably too plain for the era, especially if she was attending a girl's college/finishing school where sewing and adorning and the like would have been taught, but I wanted to keep the masculine energy so I figured some ruffly hems and blue ribbon was a good enough middle ground

- the color palette is inspired by several reproductions I’ve seen online as well as keeping with Edwin’s blue color motif/existing palette

- researching the corset took AGES so here’s a rundown: I wanted it to keep with the casual/sportswear look so I went with a sports corset, meaning it wouldn’t have any hard boning (it was just the hella reinforced material without the actual bones/metal), would have elastic at the sides, and would most likely be an overbust corset despite that not being the trend during the Edwardian era (for the most part/to my knowledge). the examples I was inspired by of sports corsets technically didn’t have visible garters, but literally every other corset I saw did and I can't imagine why sports corsets would have to have the more impractical thigh garters ??? surely you also want to keep your stockings up when running around ??? so I gave them to her anyway

- im keeping the socks/stockings the same as my other illustrations but honestly i struggled to find similar historical examples :/ surely someone at some point wore some heavy duty knit stockings, but maybe my idea of knit is just different from how knit garments, especially socks, were in the era ? regardless im keeping them like this, especially since Charlotte has pantyhose on and I feel like silk/cotton stockings would look too similar

- i went back and forth on a corset cover, but ultimately went without one bc 1. it gave me a more interesting way to pose her lol and 2. i couldn't tell if corset covers (and similar garments that went over top what we have here) would have been worn with athletic attire ? like I have her in bloomers in both of her outfits thus far so I figured no petticoat or slip, but early brassieres/corset covers/bust improvers/etc are just a big ??? from me

- a note on her hair: so if you look at all three of my illustrations of her you’ll see that her hair is totally consistent and while I can try to say that’s intentional it’s really just bc I keep going back and forth on little details about it. for example, in the first illustration her ears are completely exposed vs in the second they’re mostly covered—the exposed ears read as more butch to me but also would’ve been pretty inappropriate and I wasn’t sure if that’s an area would Edwina would rock the boat too much, hence me going back on it in the second illustration. also, I’ve gone back and forth several times before on it her hair is actually cut short or if it’s worn in a faux/“nervous” bob (which I just learned that name for lmao). on one hand, having it actually cut short is 100% more butch and leans into the practical/athletic vibes. on the other hand, it would be a drastic move for a repressed, bullied, 16 year old at an all-girls school to pull, plus it would put her ahead of the trend by several years. in the end, I think of it this way: the Edwin that we meet reads as effeminate to a modern audience, but 80% of that is through mannerisms, not direct costuming, and even what we do get from costuming is skewed bc we are a modern audience perceiving an Edwardian subject. so I figured sticking Edwina with traits she could wear as either masc or fem but chooses to wear bin a more masculine style would shorthand that sort of how-you-wear-it approach to gnc (plus I’ve been there done that when closeted so it felt extra fitting)

- that whole rant aside: I went with the faux bob but, in the name of her being in the process of getting ready, wanted to show it in a half-done state that we would never see Edwina in otherwise ! the idea with the undone side is that she’s taken out the rags she wore her curls in overnight (I don’t see her using heat but if she did it would be before this) but only tucked half up before putting her corset on. is that the actual order of how you would/should do this? fuck if I know. I also am not 100% certain if the curl pattern/hair density is accurate between one side of her head and the other, but without an exact reference this is the best you’re getting

- speaking of things being out of order, I do know that if you’re deciding to don a corset anytime soon, it’s best to put your shoes on beforehand! especially if they’re lace-up boots like our girl here wears, as bending over in a corset to tie them is not fun. thankfully, she’s in a sports corset so it wouldn’t be too bad, plus she has to step into her bloomers so I figured keep her in her socks was the right choice

- there’s a halfhearted attempt at a background here with some dark wood panelling and red/orange/brown tones thats honestly just me wanting some contrast/interest while also keeping it simple. we'll see if i do anything more complicated than that anytime soon lmao, these pieces take long enough as is !!

hopefully tumblr doesn’t fuck up the cut (again) so not everyone has to read all of this, but tysm to those of you who do!! I put a lot of thought and research into these pieces and love sharing what info I find so feel free to talk to me about any and all of it !!!! and hope you enjoyed ofc

#fem!payneland #fem!edwin Payne #butch!edwin payne #dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda fanart #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detective netflix #dead boy detective fanart #my art #lesbian #butch lesbian #edwin paine #edwin payne #edwin x charles #edwin dead boy detectives #edith payne #edwina payne

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themoonchildwhofell · 4 months

Text

tongue-tied

pairing: Farleigh Start x reader

content/warnings: fluff!!, meet cute, explicit language, inoccent!reader?, idk lol

summary: it's your first day attending uni and after a few seconds of sitting down on your first class, you already have a date planned with this beautiful curly haired boy named Farleigh.

note: i suck at writing that's why these are headcannons. LMAO. the last time i wrote was in college!

its the first day of college. you got accepted at your dream university and its a full ride which was a plus.

also the first time you've been abroad, living alone and finally being independent.

it was a fall day when classes started.

you opted to wear a cute light brown cardigan and a flowy floral dress underneath. some stockings to battle the wind. but it was still pretty chilly. and your usual glasses.

you let your hair loose today. i mean you're not going on a date. you're just going to classes.

you look at the screenshot of your classes on your phone figuring out what building to go to.

when you feel a pair of eyes looking at you.

you quickly look around. trying to look like you're just lost and not at all curious.

you finally see a tall curly haired guy looking at you while smoking.

you quickly turn away from him. (he's fucking tall!!)

you don't pay him any mind. maybe you have something on your face? yeah. you have something on your face. no no you don't.

you quickly rush towards the building where your first class is and find a seat at the middle.

people start to fill the room. you were placing your bag on the bottom of the desk.

you feel the chair next to you move. but you pay no mind since you're too busy fixing your bag and getting a pen and paper. (idrk why since its your first day. it's mostly introductions.)

"hi." you hear a deep voice speak to you.

you yelp at the sudden greeting. it was the guy eyeing you at the open grounds a while ago.

"h-hi. hehe" you greet at him back. he giggles at you. your heart stops a bit. he's really cute.

"i'm farleigh. you're new here? what's your name?"

"[y/n]. yeah. it's my first day." you respond to him. smiling proudly. i mean this is oxford ffs. you should be proud.

he looks at you amused. he smiles back at you. he finds you absolutely adorable he could eat you up. but you didn't know that.

"you're cute. do you wanna hang out after?" he says.

"i-i'm wha-?" you stutter. that definitely caught you off guard. you adjust your glasses and clear your throat.

he raises his eye brows. he's looking at you anticipating an answer. "well?" he says. very impatient. but still very cute.

"okay i guess?" you squeak out an answer.

"great. im taking you out for lunch. i think that cafe outside the university is a good place to go on a date."

"a date?????" you look puzzled. shocked. and that was your first time experiencing how spontaneous Farleigh was. surprisingly, spontaneity was a recurring theme in your relationship. not that you mind.

#archie madekwe #farleigh start #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #Spotify

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sorencd · 1 year

Note

hey hannah! hope you're well <3 could you write about having a study session with charlie dalton? im studying rn and i cant stop thinking about him lol

LOVING IS EASY

pairing: charlie dalton x reader

word count: 0.7k

a/n: hii anon! here u go :) GOOD LUCK WITH UR STUDYING BBY MWAMWAS

masterlist

charlie knows where the extent of his intelligence is. he wasn't as much of a genius as meeks but he wasn't dumb either. he only felt the need to study when it was really necessary. mostly, he'd rather spend his time with you, the other poets, or playing the saxophone.

when he met you though, he's come to love studying more and more. he loves lying on your carpet on the ground beside you with a bunch of textbooks sprawled out in front of you. he adored the little snacks your mom would bring in the middle of your studying with a grin on her face, saying you'll accomplish more with a full stomach. he always liked staying at your place more than his. besides, your dad's starting to like him.

sometimes, when you’re helping him find the answer to a seemingly impossible maths problem that’s stumping the both of you, he'd opt to stare at you instead of focusing on the task at hand. he’d watch you chew on your pen, angrily ramble about how it all makes no sense, scribble formulas that he’s sure aren’t the right ones, and listen to how pretty your voice sounds. he’d ease his cheeks into his arms that were crossed on the floor and nod his head to everything you’d say, occasionally flipping the pages to put on the guise of knowing what you’re talking about. he knows by the end of the day, he’ll distract you and avoid you two from achieving anything.

while you were busy marking your latin notes to their respective places, and to give charlie an easier time reading it all when he needs to, you heard a soft thump! to your right. charlie, whom you thought was also doing the same thing you were, at least was doing the same thing, had now decided to slump further onto the carpet. ‘that’s gotta hurt.’ you wondered, slightly wincing before poking his cheek. his brain was getting fried from all this studying.

“i don’t understand how this could possibly be used in the future. when will i ever say ‘quid est tempestas hodie?’” he whined. you do have to agree, when will you use latin? you shrugged and just guessed it would come in handy one day.

“don’t be like that! latin is fun! imagine how many swear words you could say and no one outside of welton would understand you.”

“then what’s the point? most of the people i want to say ‘stercore manducare’ to is from hellton.”

“it can’t be that bad!”

“enroll and find out then, it’ll make me very happy if you do that.” he batted his eyelashes and puckered his lips, his face contorted into a silly expression, making smooching sounds to your dismay.

you giggled and pushed him away in a joking matter, “stop, you’re making me lose focus!”

charlie feigned hurt as he let out a huff, turning to lie on his back and raised a hand to his forehead. “the world is treating me bad, misery! my darling has finally cracked and can now ignore the un-ignorable me!” it was like he was reciting a poem. it always made you laugh whenever he did that. his sudden outbursts of poetical literacy always successfully being able to lift up your spirits.

“i’m getting sick of the floor, let’s study in bed instead! it’ll help us think better.” he cheekily proclaims, trying his best to persuade you. it didn’t take much convincing for him to get you to do anything. how could you ever pass up any opportunity with charlie? so inevitably, you would give in and you’d end up in bed, supposedly studying with a textbook in between your blanket covered legs. you could already see yourself waking up only to realise that you fell asleep. with charlie spooning you and your notes haphazardly scattered onto the floor.

you continued jotting down useful information both you and charlie could use when examination arrives, and he continued admiring you trying to write down on an uneven surface. it didn’t take long for charlie to realise that in every version he imagined himself as, he saw you in each one. he loved being nuwanda with you. because with you, loving is easy.

#dead poets society x reader #dead poets society #charlie dalton #charlie dalton x reader

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rel312 · 1 year

Text

I HAD NO IDEA SEASON 2 CAME OUT ALREADY SO NOW IM GOING TO SCREAM ABOUT IT

Episode 1:

CROWLEY WANTED TO TAKE AZIRAPHALE BACK TO THE PLACE THEY FIRST MET

CROWLEY PROTECTED AZIRAPHALE FIRST IM SCREAMING

(My brother actually came into my room to tell me to shut up)

Of course Aziraphale would just forgive 8 months rent

Lmao Gabriel’s just walking down the street ass naked

Gabriel just hugged Aziraphale I can’t

“James. Long for Jim, short for Gabriel”

Crowley knows Aziraphale so well, but poor guy he only calls him for 3 reasons

Poor Crowley is trying so hard not to freak out about the “naked man friend”

The conversation between Crowley and Jim I can’t

Maggie and Nina are trapped together!!

Michael and Uriel are fighting let’s gooo

Crowley just casually let the girls out lmao

THERES AN I WAS WRONG DANCE OH MY GOD

THEYRE PERFORMING A MIRACLE TOGETHER

Aaaaaand of course it goes immediately wrong

Episode 2:

Gabriel’s wig is atrocious

IS AZIRAPHALE GOING TO BE THE SUPREME ARCHANGEL NOW

A jukebox that turns every song into Everyday like the Bentley with Queen, hmmm….

Crowley looks like a doting partner bringing his husband a drink

“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes, vavoom, sorted” sir… are you telling me that’s what did it for you???

Crowley’s so confounded that Jane Austen wrote books

THE VOICE OF GOD???

HE TURNED ALL THE GOATS INTO BIRDS

Crowley scaring the kids cause they were brats but not actually killing them aww

The little girl asking to be a blue lizard with her siblings she’s so cute

CROWLEY TAUGHT AZIRAPHALE TO EAT

I cannot believe Aziraphale was the first to talk about sides I love them

Crowley and Aziraphale working together for the first time to save the kids

Aziraphale looks so shaken to have lied poor baby

Crowley babe he’s begging for you to drive him

“Our car” you can’t take it that far lol

Poor Aziraphale really thought he was gonna fall he was about to cry

Crowley was so soft in that last scene

Episode 3:

Jim’s stuff is all labeled

Aziraphale looks like a proud father to Muriel

Crowley’s moving the plants to use the car

They both look like parents I love them

Crowley brought Aziraphale to a cemetery because he thought it would amuse him, that is date behavior

Crowley is about to kill Aziraphale for changing his car

NESSIE?!?!

“Operation: Lovebirds” Crowley is such a dork

Aziraphale just is not getting anything lol

Crowley… shrunk himself??? And then grew himself????

Crowley tempted her to be good I love him

I love the very closed sign

Demons can’t enter somewhere uninvited???

He’s so angry Aziraphale might be hurt

Episode 4:

BEEBOP

“His type”????

“I remember hearing that you and Crowley were an item” HOLY SHIT

HE CALLED CROWLEY HIS GOOD FRIEND AFTER THE CHURCH!!!

“This office has gone 13 5 0 days without anyone saying ‘THE ROAD TO HELL IS PAVED’”

Glad to see Aziraphale in his magic era

Crowley’s impression is hilarious

“Someone you can really trust” and his first thought is Crowley 🥹

Aziraphale has a gun and Crowley has never shot one

Crowley was shaking he was so scared and Aziraphale was so proud of his trick

Furfur not knowing how to pronounce Aziraphale lmao

Sleight of hand!

Look at them finding a middle ground in shades of grey!

Lmao Crowley would murder him if he knew Aziraphale didn’t put the brakes

Episode 5:

They’re talking about Doctor Who

Aziraphale’s giving books and Crowley’s playing with crystal balls, I love them

Aziraphale being bad at French is so funny to me

Nina grilling Crowley on his relationship with Aziraphale is everything

Crowley was confronted with his feelings and immediately went out to get a drink with Aziraphale

Crowley’s so mad go off king

The matchbox!

Aww look at Crowley denying he’s nice

The romantic music while Crowley looks at Aziraphale with the chandelier

Oh. My. GOD. Jim’s suit!

Lol that’s not what I was expecting when they said masks will be provided

AZIRAPHALE WANTS TO DANCE WITH CROWLEY

THEYRE DANCING!!!!!!

“Surrender the angle”

Gabriel’s coat!!

“T. O. S. T. E.”

“You’re a good lad” “not actually, either”

“Rescuing me makes him so happy” you can’t just say things like that and expect me to be normal about it

Episode 6:

Crowley’s just bouncing around in heaven

“I’m done with being scared” *flips them the bird*

Oh sweetie, you meant well but no

“Crowley’s emotional support angel” yes, yes that’s exactly what he is

Crowley’s little supportive punch to Muriel was so cute

AZIRAPHALES HALO?!?!

THE FLY

Gabriel x Beelzebub confirmed??

The fact that Gabriel and Beelzebub were able to sort this out in a few years while it’s taken Crowley and Aziraphale 6000 is insane

And the fact that Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s arm when he realized that

Crowley’s so impressed with Aziraphale bringing everyone to order

Aziraphale’s face at Crowley talking about Alpha Centauri

Aziraphale looking at Crowley with so much love in his eyes is giving me life

THE METATRON?!?!

Aziraphale looking to Crowley for permission I can’t

Crowley knowing Aziraphale will come back and saying they need “a little us time” at the Ritz

Crowley getting antsy that Aziraphale’s not back yet

Nina taking inspiration from Crowley and calling Maggie angel my beloved

Crowley looks devastated that Aziraphale interrupted him

Aziraphale looks so incredibly happy at getting Crowley to be an angel again but there’s no way Crowley wants that

Crowley’s getting so emotional

“Just be an us” stooooopppppp

“I need you” I can’t take this!

Nightingales

THEY KISSED!!!!!!!!!

Aziraphale touched his lips after I’m dying

Aziraphale stop being so stupid and get him back

The- the second coming??

YOU CANNOT END IT HERE

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

Please tell me there will be a season 3 I can’t handle this

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dramaticweathergirl · 6 months

Text

This is a draft for the gen z! Yuu fic that I was thinking of writing back then. Here's the draft of it instead of letting it rot im my laptop lol. Enjoy...?

----

Yuu swear that whatever the fuck is happening to them right now, is a punishment from god because...What the actual fuck?

"influencer pranks these days are getting out of hand" They mutter to themself, mentally done at whatever bullshit is happening right now.

Yuu's in a box. Not just any box though, it's a coffin, they're trapped in a god-damned coffin. Today was supposed to be a normal Tuesday, Yuu wakes up, eat breakfast and go to school. But instead, what happen was their sleep-deprived ass got snatched up in the middle of the streets by an emo carriage.

Yuu was kidnapped by an emo carriage and is now trapped in a coffin.

Gee, they wonder if that even is a considerable reason for them to miss the Calculus exam that was supposed to take place today. Ah, fuck it, Jason's grandma "died" literally like five times last school year and still graduated. Who's to say Yuu won't?

"Hello?? Uh, I know this shitty type of content is what getting y'all cash nowadays but what the fuck? please let me out, I promise I won't sue y'all or create a call-out post on Twitte-I mean X! X!"

"..."

"hello?"

"..."

"Fuck it, I'll just kick the door down"

---

Dire Crowley, the esteemed headmaster of Night Raven College, is in a wild and confusing predicament right now. Somehow, a month before even the new school year officially began, A student somehow arrived in of the coffins.

In all of his years being the headmaster, such thing had never happened. Great sevens, this situation had never once even crossed his mind as a potential problem! Did the Ebony carriage have a problem? Perhaps even the mirror itself? But both of that would be impossible!

"goodness gracious, where is that child" he muttered to himself, a hint of worry lacing his voice.

Dire Crowley was just finishing his stack of paperwork when a distressed and confused ghost school keeper barged into his office informing him that one of the coffins received a student. The headmaster rushed to the scene right away only to find a busted coffin and a missing "student".

This all leads to him, along with squad of ghosts, scurrying along the school grounds to find the wayward child.

"Headmaster! I found them!" Bobby, one of the ghost staff that manages the cafeteria, shouted with glee and relief "they're at the top floor of west wing's tower!"

He hurriedly rushed (again) to the scene and found the teen in a complete daze, their eyes focused on the ocean's horizon. Crowley cleared his throat and the supposed student immediately snapped their attention on him.

"The island view is breathtaking, correct?" Crowley began, trying to ease them "it's one of the boasting qualities of N-"

"..island...stein.." they mumbled something but Crowley only manages to make out a few words.

"par–"

"DON'T FUCKING TELL ME I'M TRAFFICKED TO AN EIPSTEIN ISLAND-TYPE OF SHIT"

#twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst yuu au #miscellaneous stuff #twisted wonderland x mc #gen z! yuu #twst au #twisted wonderland headcanons

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justmeinadaze · 10 months

Text

Take It Out On Me Part 24 (Steddie X Plus size You)

A/N: Im doing anything I can to keep these beautiful beings in our lives because I love them so much lol

Enjoy!

Warnings: Daddy Steve/Sir Eddie/ Sub Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, dirty talk, spanking, choking, handcuffs, slightly rough (the same that comes with these three), dp, slight degrading (whore, etc), FLUFF, *glances at image with knowing grin*, ANGST, the boys talk about how they'll never hurt her like their parents did them, readers weight is mentioned (she talks about her past relationships and how her weight played there sexually with how men viewed her as a big girl).

Word Count: 6084

“Steve. Eddie. Y/N and I need your help with something. Can you both come over by the theater downtown please and thank you!”

Masie can’t help but laugh when the BMW’s tires skid to a stop.

“What’s going on, Maze? Everything okay?”

“Yes, Steve. Everything’s fine. Breathe and calm down a bit. I made that call because Y/N said you two could always tell when she’s up to something.”, she giggles as both boys huff, thankful that you’re alright. “Onward.”

Taking their hands, she yanks them across the street to a shop where a lot of fancy clothes were hanging in the window.

“Gentlemen.”, Wayne smiles as he stands. “I’m supposed to help find ya’ll something to wear here.”

“D-Did someone die?”

“No, Edward. My God. Now pick a tux, please.”

“Ugh do I have to?”, he whines.

“No, but trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“Is he threatening me?”, Eddie whispers as he leans towards Steve.

“It sounded a bit like it, yeah.”

“Oh my God! Hurry! We are on a timetable here!”, Maze shouts as she claps her hands.

While Masie helped Steve get into his outfit, Wayne focused on Eddie as he adjusted his wardrobe.

“Y/N told me she was the girl you defended when she got pushed to the ground in middle school. It’s always been amusing to me the way you describe her…like she’s a fair maiden or princess.”

“She is. Honestly, she’s kind of what I pictured when I have a princess in my campaign.”

“But a badass princess who can wield a sword and stuff.”, Steve cuts in making him smile.

“She’s a good girl. I like her a lot and you to Steven.”

“Thank you, sir.” Wayne and Masie switch places as she goes to fix Eddie’s wild hair.

“I want you to know that for what’s about to happen, Y/N did try and invite your parents but your dad hung up on her and your mom politely declined.” Steve growled at the thought of them disrespecting you. “Oh, I assure you, son, that didn’t bother her at all.”, he chuckles. “More than anything she wanted you to have family to be there for you—”

“When we’re sacrificed?”

“Shut up, Eddie.”, Wayne scolds causing him and Masie to laugh. “I told her that, well, Edward feels like you’re a brother to him which means you’re my son to so…”, he trails off as he pats him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Wayne. For everything.”

“Alright Miss Collins, we’re ready when you are.”, Mr. C announces as he appears from a back area. “Mr. Harrington…Mr. Munson…”

“Mr. C! Did you plan this? Are WE finally getting married?”

“No, Mr. Munson. I’m already married, thank God.”, he sighs in faux annoyance.

“I’m ready. All right, close your eyes, boys, and NO PEAKING!”, Masie warns, prompting them to immediately do as she commands.

Shuffling slowly forward, they feel themselves being lead somewhere before they are stopped and spun into a certain position.

“Don’t move.”

“This where we make our last stand, Steven. Oh, and we’ll have witnesses.”, he retorts when he hears people giggle around them.

“Oh, wow. You guys look so good.”, you breathily exhale as you take them in.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

“I thought about what you guys said about wishing we could get married. For a while I thought it was just something you thought I wanted but then I realized you both wanted and deserved a wedding to. Now, I can’t give you wedding either but I can give you a reception…”

“Ok, boys, open your eyes.”, Masie murmurs from beside them.

As they slowly do what she commands, the sound of someone off to the side taking pictures reverberates through their ears. Your friend had brought them into a small dance hall where other people surrounded you three watching the event before them. The entire Hellfire gang was in their suits beaming with pride while the other 3 members of Corroded Coffin stood patiently on stage. Eddie’s mom, husband, and her children were standing next to Wayne as he grinned happily at their reactions.

Robin and her girlfriend were beside your cousins with your uncle and aunt who flew down from New York just to take part in your surprise. Your mother wiped away a tear as your father pulled her closer to his side while Masie’s parents took pictures of their own. Mr. C and some of the kids from your class came down as well including a boy with a professional camera that you had hired to take photos of the event.

When their eyes landed on you, you took their breath away. Maze, of course, did your make up in an elegant manner that made your eyes pop while leaving your hair down but curling parts just so that they framed your face beautifully. One side was pulled back with a silver flower clip that exposed earrings underneath and the sheer veil clipped to the back of your head.

The wedding dress itself was sleeveless with a flower pattern that blended in drawing attention to all of your gorgeous curves as the bodice hugged your body. The bottom had lace that puffed out ever so slightly blending with your veil as it touched the floor.

Steve was the first to break, his palms clasping together over his mouth as he starts to cry.

“Oh no.”, you giggle as you reach forward to wipe at his eyes. The room chuckles with you as he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips.

“You look so beautiful. Oh my god. I always pictured…imagined…but my brain didn’t do you justice, honey.”

Eddie squished his fingers in his eyes as his shoulder lightly shook. Grabbing his wrist, you lightly pull his hand away from his face and press your forehead against his.

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t…I don’t deserve a gorgeous angel like you.”, he whispers.

“Yes you do, baby. After everything you both have been through, you both deserve so much more. I love you.”

“I love you to. You look absolutely breath taking.” As he wipes his eyes, he addresses Wayne. “Now you know why I describe her like a princess.”

The guests laugh again with a few awes mixed in.

############

As the evening progressed, everything ran like a regular reception. Wayne catered the room with food he made himself that everyone enjoyed. You threw the bouquet, giggling in excitement when Robin caught it with her girlfriend blushing beside her. Your parents paid for the cake but instead of doing the whole smush the cake in your face thing, Eddie dipped his finger in the frosting and placed it on the end of your nose that Steve promptly leaned forward to kiss off.

You grinned as Eddie danced with his half-sisters while Steve did the same with Robin. When the metalhead’s mother asked to cut in your own mom disconnected from your father to ask the other boy if he would dance with her as well.

“I’m sorry your parents aren’t here.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not. I know…we didn’t react well the first time we heard about you three but after seeing how you are together and everything you’ve done for her… I wish they could see what we see. It would have killed me to miss this.”

Steve glances towards where you were swaying with your father, smiling widely at something he was telling you.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have wanted them here anyway even if they did approve. My father has always been a stubborn asshole and he would have ruined this for her. I’m just glad you guys and Lynn are here for them.”

“Mr. Harrington, you don’t have to put on that protective suit of armor for me. You don’t have to be the big strong man 24/7. It’s ok to put that shield down.”

When your eyes meet his, he smiles and you deliver him a tiny wink.

“I’ve only ever done that with her.”

***

You giggle as Steve swings the front door to your house open and lifts you into his arms as he carries you through the threshold. Eddie runs in front of you two with a handheld camera Masie gave you guys as a present, recording you as the other boy places you on your feet and playfully spins you around.

“You really do look amazing in that dress, babe.”

“Why thank you, Eddie.”

He chuckles as he passes the device to Steve and picks you back up to carry through the threshold of the bedroom before tossing you onto the bed. You laugh as he falls in beside you and undoes his collar as Steve follows and does the same.

“Did you guys have fun?”

“More than.”, the man responds, holding the camera above your heads so he can get all three of you in the shot. “Maze had everyone say a little something on this thing. Maybe we should say something to. We didn’t get to say vows or anything.”

“Like?”, you press playfully as you smile up at him.

“Like I love you and you’ve completely changed my life.”, Eddie answers. “That I would do anything for you and I promise you’ll never have to worry about the same things my mother did.”

Your instinct was to stop and console him; to tell him you’ll never have any of those worries anyway but something also told you he wasn’t just telling you this but himself.

“I would never hurt you in anyway or our future kids. I won’t abandon you or end up in jail. I’m always going to be here for you and our family. You’re always safe with me, princess.” His palm grabs your cheek as he guides your lips to his. “For as long as we both shall live or some shit.”

You and Steve laugh at his curse as he passes the camera to Eddie so his own hand can come down to caress your face.

“Your mom and I talked a bit while we were dancing. She said it was ok for me to let my guard down and that I didn’t always have to be the protector guy. Truth is she doesn’t know how high my wall actually was when we first met you. My parents made me believe I had to. My dad’s been scolding me since birth.”, he chuckles nervously as you turn your cheek further into his palm and kiss the skin. “Honey, you’re safe with me to. I’m never going to make you or our kids feel like they don’t measure up to some imaginary standard. I’m NEVER going to cheat on you or make you feel like you need to follow me around 24/7 to make sure I remain loyal.”

“I love you to, baby, and if our daughter or son comes home one day and says they are in love with two people we definitely won’t kick them out.” Eddie laughs as Steve grins and leans forward to kiss your smiling lips. “For as long as we both shall live or some shit.”

“Those first few months of our relationship, I was always so confused about you two. I thought Steve was a spoiled daddy’s boy and Eddie was just the town bad boy. People told me about your dad growing up, Ed, but it always seemed so out there. I never thought too much about it though because I didn’t know you. When I started getting to know you both, I got even more confused.”

“You were nothing like them and you still aren’t. I’ve never been afraid of you hurting me like your parents. More than anything, I was always afraid of being hurt again like with my ex. When you both showed me you were nothing like Christian, I became scared of hurting you.”

“That I’m A Burden damage?”, Eddie asked.

“Yeah.”, you giggle before sighing. “But I promise I never will. Eddie, you’ll never have to worry about me disappearing or casting you aside. Steve, you’ll never have to worry about me treating you like you aren’t enough. You both always go above and beyond for me. I love you both so much. For as long as we both shall live or some shit.”

Laughing, the metalhead turns off the camera and places it on the bed side table before nuzzling into your neck.

“I have one more surprise if you guys are up to it.”

“Oh, honey, you’ve done so much for us already.”

“I know, Daddy, but this is kind of a thing is for me to.” You grin when he moves out of your way before pausing and pointing to the back of your dress. “Would you mind unzipping this part here, please?”

After doing what you ask, Steve holds your hand as you step out of it and lays it on the bed.

“Would you mind putting this away for me while I get ready? And don’t get out of your suits! I think you both look really sexy like this.”

“Can we at least take off the jackets?”

“Yes, Sir, you can.”

Both men casually talk while they wait for you to come back out. Unlike in New York, the ensemble you were about to display for them wasn’t as complex. You wanted it to be simple and easy. As you stepped back out of the bathroom, Eddie’s eyes caught you first as his jaw fell open.

The white nightie you were wearing was sheer as it did very little to hide your beautiful curves underneath. The spaghetti straps held on to your shoulders as the bottom just barely reached the middle of your thighs. Your breasts were blocked by the white satin but nothing was covering your core except for the see through garment. White stockings with cute little bows on the corner accented your legs as you displayed them side to side.

“I was kind of hoping I could get mean Eddie and Steve but I didn’t think you’d be able to call me a whore in something like this. But…”, you coo as you place your hands behind your back. “With that roleplay we did, maybe, if you saw me as an innocent virgin… you could still be a little bit condescending.”

After exchanging a look, their eyes fall on you again and slowly glaze over with a dark energy you had come to love when you three played together.

“What makes you think we wouldn’t be able to call you names while wearing something like that?”, Steve asked with a slight edge. “You think just because you look beautiful in this thing here you’d be at some kind of advantage?”

“No, Daddy.”, you answer with a playful pout as you continue to guide them mentally where you need them. “I would never think to undermine big, strong boys like you that way. I just thought… this made me seem fragile…and you’d be too afraid to break me.”

“You say that like you don’t like being broken.”, Eddie sighs in annoyance as he rolls his eyes. “Baby, no matter what wrapping your in, you’re still a whore but—”

“You’re our whore.”, Steve finishes. “Always have been.”

“I have not always been a whore. YOU corrupted me. I was a good quiet little girl till you two came along.”

The rest of their demeanors caught up with their eyes as their smiles faded and they sat up straighter causing your breath to hitch at the sight. This is what you wanted, unable to contain a small smirk as they fully dropped into this particular dominate headspace. Now they just needed to help you fully step into yours.

“Is that so? I specifically remember a few instances with empty classrooms, locker rooms, and storage areas that would disagree.”

“All memories that involve you two.”

“That you said yes to. That first night you didn’t say no or tell us to fuck off. Why is that?”, Eddie asked but even you knew it was rhetorical as he rose to his feet. “Because you, sweetheart, are a needy little girl who knew we could take care of you.”

“Did I?”

You both stared defiantly into each other’s eyes as his chest rose and fell heavily.

“So I see we’re doing this the hard way then?”

As you turned to glance towards Steve, you took note of his nonchalant demeanor as he remained on the bed leaning back on his palms. His eyebrows rose and fell quickly as if to challenge you to do what you were thinking. The way their eyes were burning into you so confidently pushed you into that innocent headspace that made you feel like the Y/N they first met; the scared, timid, introverted girl. You remembered the feeling of Steve staring at you and smirking when you got startled by the teacher. You remembered Eddie’s gaze boring into you as he stood in front of you, lingering over the desk when he asked why you were there and not even looking away when the other boy answered for you.

You allowed that familiar feeling to wash over you and even though you had known these men for five years you suddenly felt afraid of how they were making you feel. They allowed you all the time you needed to get where you needed be mentally and when your gaze shifted back towards the metalhead, he knew you were there.

“Boo.”, he chuckled and as soon as the word left his mouth you ran.

One benefit of having a home now was more room for the chase. That was honestly half the fun and it drove you crazy in a good way. Steve caught you first, cutting through the kitchen and blocking your exit as your practically barreled into his chest.

“Whoa, baby girl! Where are you goin’?”, he mocks as he grabs your bicep and starts pushing you backwards.

“Let me go!”, you shout as you shove your arms against him to no avail.

His large palm roughly pinches your cheeks as he yanks you closer to him.

“Stop. Fighting. We both know you want this so just take it like the good girl you claim to be.”

Something cold digs into your lower back and he quickly releases you long enough to grip your curvy waist and lift you onto the kitchen counter behind you. Steve’s lips crash to yours as he reaches between your bodies to unbuckle his pants, freeing his cock from his slacks.

Spitting into his hand, you watch with wide lust blown eyes as he stokes himself a few times before guiding himself into your heat. He doesn’t inch his way in nor give you any time to adjust as he bottoms out and in this moment you welcome it. Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, you inhale everything that is Steve as he pounds roughly into you.

“J-Jesus, yes, Daddy. Please.”

Leaning back, his dark eyes lock with yours as he circles both hands around your neck and lightly squeezes.

“Yeah? We told you that you wanted this. Fuck. Why do you fight it?”

“I’m sorry. I just want to be a good girl.”

Releasing his grip, Steve loops both his arms under your knees, pulling you closer to him as you balance on your palms behind you. At this angle, he slams into that soft spot deep inside you that has your eyes rolling as you whimper.

“You want to be Daddy’s good girl? Then fucking cum on my dick, honey.”

Trembling, you fall flat against the countertop as your back arches and your pussy quivers around him as you do what he commands. Chasing his own high, his hips aggressively hit your own till you hear him grunt and open your eyes to watch his face as he spills his release inside of you.

As you both try and catch your breath, you turn your head towards the couch in the living room to see Eddie nonchalantly twirling your handcuffs on his pointer finger as his other hand palms the massive bulge in his slacks. The sight alone turns you on causing you to clench around the boy inside of you making him groan.

“Better refuel, Stevie. We aren’t even close to done.”, the metalhead smirks as you look at him in confusion. “Oh yeah, princess. We’re going to fill all your holes tonight.”

After pulling out, Steve picked you up and placed your feet on the floor, promptly catching you as your knees buckled.

“Oof. It’s ok, baby girl. Daddy’s got you.”, he coos as he guides you to the sofa and lowers you onto your knees in front of Eddie.

“Give me your hands, sweetheart.” You do as he requests and he kisses the back of each one as he locks the leather around your wrists behind you. “Oh, Harrington. Little girl seems to be behaving now. Your dick must be magic.”

You pout as they both chuckle before ringed fingers firmly grip your chin to lift your face.

“No pouting, little one.”, Eddie scolds as he loosens his hold and caresses your cheek. “Fuck me, you look perfect like this. On your knees looking up at me with those beautiful needy eyes.”

Sighing at his touch and praises, you turn your face into his hand and kiss his thumb as it runs along your lips. A low pleasure filled growl leaves his throat as he tugs you to your feet and yanks you towards the other side of the couch while unbuckling his belt. Flopping down onto the cushions, the metalhead pushes down his pants enough to free his cock and motions for you to sit on his face.

You hesitated too long; their eyes clouding over with anger again as Steve stomped around to where you were standing and spanked your behind making you yelp.

“Why did I spank you just now?”

“Because you have to repeat yourself.”, you whisper. “But Daddy with my hands cuffed I can’t support myself—Oop!”, you hiccup when he spanks you again.

“I don’t care, Y/N. Do you trust your Master?”, he scolds, his face pressed to the side of yours.

“With my life.”, you murmur.

“Then WHY are you hesitating when he’s telling you to do something?!”

“I’m sorry.”, you whimper.

Steve’s hands cup your cheeks as he turns you fully to face him.

“Honey, that gorgeous woman we saw today in that stunning wedding dress deserves to be eaten out properly and cum as hard as she can. Eddie knows what he’s doing.”

“Unless it really makes you uncomfortable.”, Eddie whispers as he reaches out to rub your side.

“No, Sir. I’m not uncomfortable.”

Completely unbuttoning his shirt, he lays back flat and opens his arms.

“Then climb aboard, princess.”

Keeping a strong hold on your bicep, Steve guides you till you were straddling the long-haired boy’s face. Leaning over his cock, you spit over his tip and watched it fall down his length as he moaned in pleasure. Eddie’s palm came down hard on your ass as his mouth wrapped around your clit.

Mewling, you tilted down and fully encased him between your lips as your tongue swirled around him.

“Atta girl. Fuck, you taste so fucking good after you cum. Stevie, can you help me keep your cum inside her?”

“I’m gonna be leaning over you a bit. Is that ok?”

“Uh oh, Harrington. Are you turning into little miss here? I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t.”, Eddie chuckled as Steve smiled and rolled his eyes.

Sliding two of his fingers into your pussy had your moan vibrating heavily around the metalhead’s cock making him groan as his tongue flatted and flicked against your swollen bundle of nerves.

Energetic hands roamed your body as Eddie alternated from clinging to your hips to sliding them under your nightie to roughly kneed your tits and play with your nipples. Steve clung to your shoulder, allowing you some leverage so you wouldn’t fall completely forward as he pumped his fingers deep inside of you.

“Shit. Lower, sweetheart. Get me nice and wet.” You do as he asks, lowing your head till you feel his cock hit the back of your throat. “That’s it. You like that don’t you, dirty girl.”

A palm suddenly gripped your hair holding you in place as Eddie thrust his hips roughly, his eyes rolling at the sound of your gags.

“Don’t…Don’t let her up yet, Steve. FUCK!”

Squeezing your own eyes shut, you remained still as you allowed him to use your mouth. Tears stung the corner of your eyes as you felt and heard him grunt loudly between your legs before his spend shot out in ropes, hitting the back of your throat. While both men picked up their pace, you swallowed every drop he gave, whimpering as you fell against his thigh till you shuddered and came as well.

As Steve tried to help you off his friend, you both misjudged your balance and the two of you tumbled to the hard wood floor.

“Oh shit. Baby, are you alright?”, he asked moving your hair out of your face and smiling when he noticed you giggling.

“Yeah, Daddy, I’m ok.”

Eddie slowly slithered to the floor, throwing off his shirt and fully pushing down his slacks.

“This part I think should be the other side of us you like. The nice and slow part.”, he grinned as he tenderly kissed your lips. “Do you need a blanket or anything for you back?”

“No, Sir, the cold floor actually feels good against my skin.”

“Come here, pretty girl.”, a now naked Steve murmured as he took hold of you and placed you on top of him. You couldn’t help but smile as he smirked up at you, his glimmering eyes raking along your body. “So beautiful, baby girl.”

Balancing on your knees a bit, you lifted yourself up just enough for him to guide his cock into your entrance. He tried his best to control his features but you could tell it was contorting in a mixture of both pleasure and pain.

“Daddy? A-Are you ok?”

“Yeah…yes…I mean, fuck… I’m, uh, still a bit…a bit sensitive.”, he stuttered through pants turning you on even more.

“Pfft. You had more time to recoup than me, Harrington, but trust me. The high is so much better when you’re sensitive. Right, baby?”

As you nod to his question, his palm tilts you forward till your head falls in the nook between Steve’s shoulder and neck. After spitting between your cheeks, he gradually pushes his length into your ass.

“God fucking damn it.”

Both men take hold of your wrists, Eddie on your wrists themselves and Steve on your forearms just below, and slowly but firmly begin thrusting into you. You swore you could feel every vein and throb as they dragged against your walls.

Their moans were strangled as they tried to control themselves from just pounding into and ending the immensely pleasurable feeling they were experiencing. Because of this they had become uncharacteristically quiet so you took over comforting them in that regard.

“Fuck, Daddy, baby. You feel so good. I can feel you both so deep inside of me.” His head turned slightly into your voice and in return you gently kissed his jawline to the shell of his ear. “I’m yours, Steve. Forever. I love you so much.”

Tugging your hair to lift your head, his lips kiss your own and you melt into them both as Eddie bends down to rest his chin near your shoulder. His rings bite ever so slightly into your neck, bringing your head back even further so you were level with the side of his face.

“I’m yours to, Eddie. I love you, baby. Please—mmm—please make me cum again.”

After a quick but sloppy kiss, the metalhead pushes back up onto his knees and slams into you faster as they cling to your body. With nothing to hold onto, you allow yourself to let your body go, trusting that they have a good hold on you as you slip into the euphoria and cum hard around them both.

Eddie’s palms roughly grip your hips till he grunts and spills inside of you, smacking your ass for good measure as he empties into you. Steve soon follows, wrapping his around you as he thrusts his seed into your cunt for the second time that night.

“Fuck me.”, he heavily exhales, pausing when he notices you wince.

“Slow. Slowly please.”, you beg.

“We got you, sweetheart.”, Eddie whispers, rubbing your back as he carefully pulls out of you and comes to your side to your release your binds.

Once your hands are free, you try to balance them in front of you but you’re still so shaky that you almost tumble forward.

“Whoa, honey. Like Eddie said, we got you. You took care of us today, let us take care of you tonight.”

“For as long as we both shall live.”, the other boy teases making you smile as he guides you off his friend and to your feet. Lifting you bridal style again, he carries you to the bathroom and sets you on the edge as he begins getting the bath together.

“I’ll never understand how you two can pick me up so easily.”

The metalhead’s eyes flick towards you with genuine confusion before focusing on his task once again.

“I mean, I just take you in my arms and lift. Nothing complicated to it.” Placing his palms against the porcelain, Eddie turns to face you, his nose almost level with yours. “Is there a particular reason you feel like it should be harder?”

“Baby, I know you two have never cared about my size but that doesn’t change the fact that I AM a big girl.”, you playfully whisper as you bring your lips to his.

“Have any of your exes ever tried?”, Steve asks from his place by the sink. “To pick you up I mean.”

“No…no actually.”

Kneeling in front of you on his heels, the man takes your hands in his.

“Then, honey, how do you know you’re too heavy to pick up?”

You had genuinely never thought about it before. It was almost like a mutual understanding between you and the men you had dated in the past that you were a big girl so certain things like trying to pick you up was a no go.

“I think I’m noticing a pattern here, Harrington.”

“Oh yeah? What is it, Munson?”

Taking hold of your arms, they guided you into the water before taking their own usual places behind and in front of you.

“I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark here and you correct me if I’m wrong, babe, but you never sat on Christian’s face, yeah? Had you ever before us?”

You shook your head to his question.

“Mhmm. And with your exes, how often were you on top?” A small knowing smirk painted his lips as he watched you slowly come to the realization. “Y/N, sweetheart, how many times did you ask for things like that?”

“I…I didn’t know how. I mean…I’m…” You gesture towards your curves. “Of course I’d be too heavy…right?”

“Why of course? You’re not too heavy for us.”, Steve responded. “Honestly, baby, you’re not heavy at all.”

Eddie eyes had continued watching your face as you absorbed what they were saying.

“No wonder your feelings for us scared you that first time around. Dating douchebags like Christian made you believe certain things about yourself and your body. To suddenly meet two who were the exact opposite in every way. Hell, I’d be nervous to.”

“WERE you nervous? You said you never dated anyone like me before.”

“Uh huh. Probably because I never actually dated anyone before.” Eddie’s grin grew as you made a face at him like you didn’t believe him. “Why do you think I’ve never mentioned anyone? I’ve had, I don’t know, partners but no one ever really wanted to go out with me. I’m too mean remember?”

“Yeah you are.”, you tease as you lean forward to kiss him.

“Stevie here is the slut.”

“Yeah, yeah calm down, Munson.”, Steve smiled as you turned to look at him. “I may be the opposite but my outcome was the same. I’ve never been in a relationship. Like your mom said, Steve Harrington…out on the town every night with a new girl on his arm. I think the closest I got was some girl I was with for about a month.”, he sighs before shifting his gaze to you. “This is going to sound stalkery but I was always more curious about you.”

“A little creepy.”

“Noooo… Don’t listen to him, Daddy. I want to hear more.”

“I’ll make you deal. I’ll tell you more if you let us dry you off and get you in bed.”

After kissing his cheek, you nodded your head and allowed them to finish their aftercare routine with you. Grinning like a kid waiting to be tucked in, you sat on the edge of the bed as you watched them organize the discarded clothes and place them aside to be dealt with tomorrow.

“This was gorgeous on you, princess.”, Eddie smiles as he delicately places your wedding dress on a chair in the room.

“Thank you. Masie came with me and we got to do a whole little bridal thing with my mom. I have pictures but we need to get them developed.”

“I can’t wait to see them.” Steve beamed as he threw a shirt over his head and jumped into bed behind you to start brushing your hair. “I’m glad your kids and Mr. C came. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Oh!”, the metalhead exclaimed as he bounced onto the mattress in front of you. “What did Mr. C say when you told him about all this? Was he jealous? I know that man is obsessed with me.”

“No, you goof.”, you giggle. “He thought it was a good idea. He, um, he paid for the venue. I insisted he didn’t have to but he insisted he wanted to calling it a gift.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“I was going to tell you this tomorrow but my parents and Wayne also got us something, referring to it as a gift.” You point at your bag and Eddie hastily gets up to get it before sitting cross legged in front of you. You hand him an envelope, gesturing for him to open it as Steve finishes his task and wraps his arms around you as he waits.

“Holy shit, Harrington.”

“What is it?”

“Three fucking plane tickets to Italy.”

Completely bewildered, he snatched the contents out of his hand to look for himself.

“They said it was for our honeymoon.”, you softly smile.

“They didn’t have to do that.”, the man whispered.

“I said the same thing but Wayne told me to hush.”

They both laughed as Steve set the tickets on the bedside table and pulled you towards the pillows. Eddie followed and you immediately rolled into him, pressing your back into his bare chest.

“You were always so timid in high school.”, Steve stated as he turned off the light and shuffled down into the sheets. “So any time I saw you laugh or smile, I wanted to know more. In class, you were one of the first to raise your hand and when you were with your friends on the basketball team you were so animated.”

A pleasant sigh left your lips as he reached out to caress your cheek.

“I was curious about what made you tick and I wanted to know everything about you. I wanted to be the one that made you laugh or feel safe. I wanted to be the one to give you everything you ever wanted. After we left that first night, I told Eddie how I felt. When he told me he felt the same way, I knew… I knew you belonged to both of us.”

Intertwining your fingers with his, you brought his lips to yours for a kiss before turning your head to do the same with Eddie.

“Thank you for today, baby.”, Steve murmured.

“And for every day before, sweetheart”, the metalhead added.

You can’t help but smile as your eyelids begin to get heavy.

“Till death do us part.”

#################

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