#dead men tell no tales au

[wr1t3w1tm3]

Descendent

PotC 5/Modern/Will out of Water AU.

Characters: Will Turner, Calypso, Original Female Character

SFW. Like, completely. Just some curses.

Authors note: I broke a couple rules I think, but I don't care, this is my AU.

Words: 4,737

As the centuries melt together, Captain William Turner of the Flying Dutchman finds himself further inland and farther downstream than he could’ve ever imagined. A multitude of maritime disasters fling him from one corner of the world to the other. The Dutchman serves through wars, accidents, and genocides. As the 18th century spills over, the load only increases. Of course, one would expect that as more men's souls were brought into the world, he would be required to guide an equal portion more from it. Except the sea and all her tributaries have never been truly tame. It seems just as men grow complacent with the waters; he is forced to compensate for their malignity. 

The strain nearly ends him. While Elizabeth had been alive, it hadn't been pleasant. But back then, he had a rock, a lighthouse to guide him and remind him what might happen if he forsook such a sacred duty. Even when she passed - to sudden for her to make arrangements to join his crew - he’d had Henry, their son. Henry married a young astronomer named Carina, the daughter of the captain who wed the Captain and the King. Henry had waited, watching dutifully and bringing his children. Then once, he supposes around his 12th land fall, he arrives to find the lodgings of his relations ransacked and in a shoddy state of disrepair, unlived in for some time. There is nothing to indicate where they went. All that he can conjecture from the men he brings aboard and what he knows of recent history is perhaps, he prays perhaps, they faced an uprising and fled. Though whether that be the fledgling America, the southern colonies or bloody England he’s sure he’ll never know. 

It almost breaks him, but the images of Jones, his cruelty and the cool steel of the sword that hangs from his hip is just enough to keep him on course. 

It is then he begins finding himself in freshwater. Sometimes up river. It happens most often on the Thames in England, the Saint Lawrence in the northern colonies, the Amazon to the south and the American Mississippi. The 19th century bleeds into the 20th, and soon he has a new death chamber with which to contend: the aeroplane. 

In that century alone he sails through wars, plane crashes, mass suicides in the East and submarines in the West. Mortal men seem to have contented themselves with finding every manner of deadly metal tube and loading themselves into it for travel. He has never seen the oceans so red with blood. Some nights, in the diming lights and the suns wavering rays, the sea seems to dye itself purple. The quantity nearly pushes him over once again, but all of a sudden, in what he thinks is the last decades of that century, the occurrences requiring his presence drop drastically, though the sheer number of souls he ferries from each local increases exponentially. Now he more often than naught finds himself sailing through a valley of broken stragglers, immigrants and refugees fleeing from the latest conflict at the hands of angry men. 

Fewer and fewer sailors pass at sea. Fewer and fewer join his crew, and he is slowly beginning to lose his battle with his duties. It becomes a matter not of if, but rather when he will. Until one particular morning, on which he awakes in the Dutchman’s captain’s quarters, and all is quiet. It is his first clue as to something amiss, but he is grateful for the calm this once. It is hardly ever calm aboard the Dutchman.

He takes to the deck, finding the wheel to determine a heading. It seems already determined for him this day, as the Dutchman has surfaced up a river. In fact, he squints to make out the dots in the distance, he’s far up a river, near what seems to be an inhabited city. 

That’s not something he sees everyday. It’s his third strike. He scans the deck, the bow, the crows nest. Theres nary a soul aboard except his own. 

“William Turna’”. He near scowls, but turns to his guest. She is not near how he remembers her last. While her clothes are similar, a mix of tropical prints, naturally woven bits and a fur of some kind: and her countenance has not changed, her form most certainly has. It is not flesh and bone that stands before him, but rather water in the form of this woman from many lifetimes ago. 

“Calypso,” he says, his voice gruff from disuse. An urge arises to bow, he ignores it. “What is the nature of this… visit?”

Her voice warbles with the waters flow. “T’ere’s been an unfo’seen development in ‘da ways of t’is wo’ld Captain Turna’.” She steps forward, and he slides back. The wheel is in his back. “Da te’ms of yous agreemen’ ‘board da Dutchman are changin’.”

Will’s stomach drops. “What has changed?” 

He wants to beg, ask what he’s done. Surely, there hasn’t been anything? He’s faithfully fulfilled his duties over all these centuries. And had he not, the sea would’ve already claimed him. 

A cool wind arises, pushing his hair across the nape of his neck. A spray is forced from Calypso’s countenance, only to disappear as soon as it’s caught his eye. “T’ings are changin’ in da wo’ld of da gods, William Turna’. You mo’tals was not built to bear no divine load.” 

Anticipation rises in his chest. Had he a heart, he’s sure it would’ve begun to race. It must be racin’, in that blasted metal box he’s since lost track of. Calypso continues, enigmatic and cool “Fa now, the Dutchman’s ta’ remain docked ‘ere. Ya crew’s off ta fiddla’s green or da locka’, judgement dependin’. You, William Turna’, will be allowed ta shore from dawn’s fi’st ligh’ to dusks final gleam. Only in the da’k must ya remain ‘board dis vessel. Every moment da light touches is yours, not jus da one day.”

He’s… he’s stunned. And thrilled! Suddenly he’s been given the opportunity of his lifetime, to visit land more often than once a decade! Of course, the first blasted thing out of his mouth is “And what of the souls I’m supposed to lead? What should become of them?”

“Anoda’ ferry man’ll serve in ya stead.” Calypso’s voice is stern. Perhaps not angry but reaching that cusp none the less. They pause a moment, and he listens. To the birdsongs in the woods against the rivers shore, a faint sound of chugging that must be some new-fangled thing he’s heard of yet never seen. The water of the river rushes along, but the water makin’ up Calypso’s countenance only rustles, barely moving. 

“But what should I do? I know no living souls…” what of my heart?

Calypso’s voice rises. She cuts him off.. “Yous not been brought ‘ere fur no reason, William Turna’! One of yur’ heirs is close, and to dem you might go! Tea conditions of yous ‘ternal life remain, you’ll not want for food nor drink nor sleep though they be available to ya’!”

The water of Calypso has grown cloudy, swirling as he’s no doubt raised her ire. Not a swell idea, lad he scolds himself. The form before him flows apart, seeming ‘bout to return to its source. “How will I know that this reprieve has ended?!”

Of course he had to ask. This time, she practically screams “Yous will know when ya know, Turna!” and with a sudden splash, she’s gone. Water slaps against it’s source below his deck, and when he turns to face his port there is a gang plank, extended to the shoreline. 

Something in him jumps, though surely not his heart. Clad in warm weather wear, Will hastens to his cabin to change into something more suitable. His boots clump against the wooden beams as he finds a shirt and a coat, as it was rather cool that morning. He sets his sword at his hip, and with care to tie the knot of his bandana tightly, he looks himself over once in the mirror - maroon does look quite nice on him, as Elizabeth had pointed out so many centuries ago - and to the gang plank he’s off. 

It’s an odd thing, really. The gang plank had mostly been for his men, to return to shore when the need arose. He’d only used it a few times, when the ropes would not suffice to board a doomed vessel or for the brief day he’d spent on some criminal island a few decades after loosing track of Henry. He’d rarely left the Dutchman since then. As such, he’d never seen anything such as he had now. He slunk down the gang plank, careful of a few raised bars, and set his boots upon dry land for the first time in at least a century. 

Even with his more recent escapades into freshwater, Will has never had the luxury of observing the rivers surroundings with much scrutiny. Here, one shore lines the river with a dense forest. The trees are tall though scraggly, their leaves aflame in orange, red, and yellow. A green few are still visible, and the grass beneath his boots remains green as well. On the opposite shore - off his port - is a flat expanse near far as the eye can see, covered in drying fields of some crop he cannot identify. And just as the horizon fades, huge hills, near mountains, jut up from nowhere, dense with much the same foliage as on the shore he walks. 

There are birds that he hears on occasion, but it seems his foot falls have scared most of the wildlife from ear shot. He thinks to himself that it’s not my fault there’s so many twigs to snap along this trail. He follows it up from the shore, up a steep hill and to a narrow, more traveled path that winds towards a clearing. 

This clearing turns out to be some sort of graveyard, over which watches a large stone cross. Will stops at the edge of the clearing, a moment of silence for those who’re interned there. It’s an odd thing to see now, after so long at sea where there are no graveyards. And if he remembers correctly, there are rarely graveyards this close to the shore. However, as he glances behind and notices the drop off, both the grave yards placement and also the fence at the edge of the little cliff make much more sense. 

A light gray path winds true past the small graveyard and towards the back of some grand building. Will follows the path, and finds his footsteps fall heavier, as the path feels not unlike the cobble roads they’d had in Port Royal all those centuries ago. Then again, they did not look much the same. And times have changed, he reminds himself. Surely most things have changed. 

When he turns the sharp corner with the path, he takes pause under the yellowing branches of a weeping willow, in awe of the great church that stands tall on the bluff. It was assuredly much taller than the Dutchman’s tallest mast, not accounting for the several much taller spires that broached from its roof. He stands in awe for some unknown amount of time, before a sound he can only describe as crunching draws his attention further down the path, to where it winds between this grand church and some run down and weathered hut, its boards grayed with age. Between the two, though much farther back, rises a large building, it’s walls inset with windows four high, made of a red material Will thinks is brick, and some of the same yellowish stone that the church must also be made of. Beyond the path is a large pool of a black material, which is occupied by a few strange looking carriages, mostly of white and red. Cars, he reminds himself. He’d seen a few of them along the ocean floor in the last century. 

There along this black mass is a small hill, which runs straight into a larger hill, on which there seems to be a trodden path. He can just make out around this hill and between what appears to be a fenced sports court is another, longer building. As he moves towards the path, he spots more buildings, most of them the same red brick and yellowed stone, connected by these same gray paths. 

As he crests the first hill, he finds it to be some sort of dike, built perhaps when there was more water in the area. Atop the second hill he finds another gated complex, with a wall of red, silver, and gray seats overlooking a green, lined field surrounded by a red path. He goes further up the hill, towards another flat, black section lined with yellow. This one seems to be connected to a few gray paths that run to several of the other building’s he’s noticed, crisscrossing a green, leaf littered campus that appears rather vacant.

He steps into the black lot, where a few more cars have been left. Something like humming drifts towards him, coming closer until around the corner of the long building appears a sandy gold car. 

Will is taken aback by how quiet it is. Even the Dutchman, in tip top shape, had creaked and groaned with the wind in her sails, and the floor often moaned when paced. This thing is much, much smaller, and as it grows closer it grows only a bit louder. It truly is a marvel what man has come up with in his absence. 

The car begins to slow, then comes to a stop just a few feet before him. The driver - who he can now positively identify as a young woman - looks… bewildered. Spectacles frame her eyes, and her hair is a deep brown, nearly black. Something clinks and the car hums again, this time moving backwards as it’s captain twists to watch over her shoulder. 

Will is dumbstruck. Her eyes… he swears they were Elizabeth’s, the very same. Perhaps… he doesn’t want to get his hopes high… but perhaps she is the descendent Calypso had spoken of. 

He steps into the grass to his port, striding through the dew towards the girl and her car. It makes a sound like a horn as she leaves it. Will picks up his pace. The girl is halfway to the building, walking along another gray path when he calls to her. 

“Miss! Wait!” 

She looks to him, her face pale, and she pauses. Will begins to slow, noticing how her feet shift, and he tries to catch her eyes but they are half closed in fear. Her fist clenches around something purple and triangular, and she sprints down the path. 

“Wait! Please!” He calls after her, and he's off in pursuit. His sword clatters against his thigh. Something on her jingles, and it grows a little louder as he gains ground. 

Unfortunately for him, this girl knows the place. She sprints straight through an enclave in the building. Then across the green, past what appears to be two courts made of sand, spanned by a net about twice as tall as himself. He dodges around the edge as she did, but she isn’t looking back. She’s hurrying forward, breathing hard. He’s breathing hard. He hasn’t had to run for anything really since… it must’ve been at least a few decades. As they run, they cut across several more gray paths, and for a second the crunch of grass gives way to loud, dull foot falls before they fly over grass once more. Only once they’ve started down another smaller hill does he realize how far she’s brought him. He’s been running for at least a couple of minutes, and looming before them is a building, with five sets of windows running up its height, separated from them by some black road made of the same material as the lot he had started after her in. 

He stomps across the hard surface, and jumps over the yellow raised edge onto another gray path. The girl has reached what appears to be a door, and holds something black with yellow spots against the wall next to it. It emits a sharp squeal and clicks, and the girl throws the door open. 

She glances at him, her face seizes when she realizes he’s followed her all this way and isn’t stopping and she sprints inside. 

“Wait!” Will is forced to slow and grab the door as it’s nearly closed. Once inside he hears someone thunder up a set of stairs across the room. He launches himself up, taking them two at a time. They’re solid wood and turn once, 180 degrees. He uses the handy railing to keep himself from slamming into the stone wall. At the top are two doors, one on his starboard which leads outside and one into a hallway at his port. He chooses the port one, forcing himself past a young blonde woman who barely reaches his shoulders. 

The girl slips behind a sort of pillar, and he sprints towards it. There, however, he is greeted with a loud slam as a solid wood door is slammed in his face, nearly impacting it. 

He gets his arms up in time to keep his face from taking any damage. The girl inside screams, and he suddenly realizes why she might’ve run. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He steps back, heaving in the musky, humid air. 

“Leave right the fuck now or I’m calling the cops!” 

He doesn’t know what the cops are, but that surely can’t be good. “No! Please! Just let me explain!”

“I’m calling them!” She practically sings her shout. 

“Please! Wait!” He slams his fist into the door, and a muffled ‘Jesus’ slips under the door. He seethes, shouting: “My name is William Turner! I believe - though somewhat distantly - we are related!” 

“Yeah right, bitch ass!” The door rattles a bit as she continues, “I’m lookin’ at’cha, and you ain’t look nothin’ like nun’a my relatives.” 

“Please, I promise I can explain! Just… come out! Look me in the eye. You’ll see it, I know.” 

“Fuck that, you’re packin’ heat man! Even I ain’t that stupid!” 

She must be related, judging solely from her abilities to curse worse than even the saltiest sailors Will had known in all his centuries. He glances at the handle, which hangs limp over a keyhole. A lock. A lock he can pick. 

From his hair, Will withdraws a thin, silver pin. The tension against his skull lessens when he does, and he inserts the pin into the lock, making quick work of it. The door swings into the room and he burst in. The girl screams. Will swings around, slams the door, then swings back to her. She’s frozen against a thin sliver of a wall separating two open doors, each of which leads into another room. 

She starts towards the farther of the two, only to stop as Will’s sword slides from its scabbard. He practically has it in her back. Her hands are half raised, level about with her shoulders, which she hunches in.

Her voice wavers. “Don’t… don’t kill me, please.” 

Will snorts, pulling the sword away from her back. “And why would I do such a thing?” 

She doesn’t even pause, “Because you’re a maniac cosplaying as a pirate and running around with a sword and telling people you’re related to them when you aren’t.” 

He stops, and for the first time since he’s lain eyes on her, Will takes a proper look at just what she’s been wearing. Trousers, gray trousers with miniscule vertical lines running the length of them. Her shoes are black and appear to be made of something between leather and cloth. They are laced with dirty white laces and set upon dirty white soles. Her top is a gray sweater, perhaps the only item of clothing he can recognize from memory. Comparing that to his own garb… and he begins to realize another reason she might have chosen to run from him when he first approached. 

“I…” he swallows, sliding his sword back into its scabbard. “I wish to apologize for my… rashness.” 

The girl doesn’t move, nor does she speak, so Will takes a step closer and continues. “However, if you would allow me merely a moment to explain our relation…” 

She groans. “Dude! We are not related!”

He flails for something, anything. “But you have her eyes!”

“Whose eyes!?!”

“Elizabeth’s.” He says softly. 

The girl turns to him, brows furrowed, and her lips pulled into a half frown. “Who the hell is Elizabeth?” 

Will shuts his eyes, the memories flooding back. He’s plenty of them from their late childhood and adolescence, even their early adulthood, but from there they grow in increments of ten, and she is rarely the same in each successive image. But her eyes… the same brown that shifted hazel in the sun and near muddy in the dark. The girl has her eyes. 

“My… my wife.” 

The girl cocks a brow, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “Dude, you can’t be any older than I am. There’s no way we’re related, even if it’s through your wife or whoever.” 

A thread of panic swims across the scar in his chest. The scar where his heart should be, that was carved out when he became the captain…

That’s it! “I… I haven’t a heart.” 

The girl looks disgusted. “And that’s relevant to this conversation how?” 

Will swallows. It’s a crazy, bull-headed plan, but it could work. “I… I have no heart.” He repeats, a smile beginning to creep across his lips. “If I had no heart, I wouldn’t be standing before you, correct?”

“Right…?” She shrugs. “I mean, you look a little young for a pacemaker, but okay.”

Will has no idea what she’s talking about, so he continues, “And what if I told you that it had been carved out when I stabbed the heart of the previous captain of my ship, which is anchored in the river just over this bluff? That bound by its curse I was immortal, and had been sailing the seas, guiding lost souls to the Locker and Fiddler’s Green since the eve of my wedding?” Her lips curl into a snarl, “And that same heart lies in another chest, which I have not been able to find in the two centuries since it’s loss.”

“I’d say you’re fuckin’ crazy, yur talkin’ crazy, an’ I’m callin’ the cops.” She straightens, backing towards the open door just behind her.

“Listen to my heart!” The girl stops, cowering. He’d allowed his desperation to overtake him, dammit, but he needed her to believe him. “And if you don’t find one within my breast, then you will know that I am telling the truth.” She cocks a brow again, and Will realizes he must concede something on the off-chance Calypso has returned his cursed heart to his chest (though thus far all evidence has pointed to the contrary). “And if you should find it’s beat, you may call these cops.” 

“Fine,” she steps into the room and shuts the door. A burst of air pushes past him, rusting his hair. Will returns the pin he’d used to pick the lock to his bandana, and the girl emerges as he brings his hands to his side. She comes bearing a box, which she sets on a sort of tabletop Will had not noticed, nestled ‘tween two walls. It is blue and surrounds a water basin over which some sort of spout sits. The girl lifts the top from the box, and setting it aside, draws out a long cord, with two prongs on one end and a single, circular something on the other. 

“What is that?” he asks. The girl sets it around her neck and steps towards him. 

“A stethoscope. To listen to your heart.” Will now cocks a brow. “What, I'm prenursing, I'm gonna need it eventually.” She takes it from her neck, sticking the two prongs into her ears, and slides the wider of the two circular sides down her shirt. She frowns, pulls it out, turns it so that the shorter side faces her, and tries again. After a moment, her face unscrunches, and she steps towards Will. “Open your shirt.” 

Will opens his coat, revealing his shirt, of which the ties are undone. His scar is partially visible, and the girl cocks her brow again. If all she’s going to do is a cock a brow at anything that even remotely piques her interest, she is going to be very hard to read. “You cool if I touch you?” 

“Yes, of course,” Will mutters, taken aback. He glances around the room, then back to her. Carefully, she sets the smaller circular head against his chest, right along his scar, near the bottom of his sternum. 

Her eyes go wide, and her mouth pops open a bit. She pulls the thing back and flips it once again. “Come on,” she sets it against his chest, but her eyes grow only wider. “No. That’s impossible.” 

Will smirks, setting his hands on his hips. “There is no heartbeat, is there?” 

“Mother fucker...” She taps the part of the thing she’d held against his chest, and instantly her face curls in pain. She pulls the prongs from her ear and sets it back on the counter. “You… you have to have a heartbeat; you’d be dead otherwise.” 

“But I don’t, do I?” Will lets it sink in, and the girl’s eyebrows furrow. “Q.E.D, what I’ve just told you must be true.” 

“Thats scientifically impossible.” She mutters. 

Will groans through a smile. “You sound like Carina.” 

“Who’s Carina?” 

Will takes a breath. The simplest way to describe Carina? What would that be? “She is… my son’s wife. Another very distant relative of yours.” 

“This makes even less sense,” she leans against the other wall, though she’s careful to keep her legs from touching what appears to be a white waste basket below her. “I must’ve crashed on the highway or some shit.” 

“If you would allow me to explain, I believe I could begin to clear things up.” Will offers a hand to shake. “Do we have an accord?”

The girl starts to offer her hand, but stops, eyeing his hip. “Leave the sword here, and we talk in a public place. Then we have a deal.” 

“Agreed.” Will shakes her hand, and as soon as it’s free begins removing his weapons belt. “Now, where should we continue this conversation, miss…” 

“Mary Jones. There’s a coffee shop on campus that’s open today, and I’ve got dining dollars to burn.” 

“Then I’ll follow you, Ms. Jones.” 

“First, give me the sword,” she opens her hands rather expectantly. Will surrenders the scabbard, the girl grabs her stethoscope box, and enters the room she’d retrieved it from. “I can’t have a knife with a blade longer than three inches in here, so this is definitely gonna get me fined, and I’m too broke to afford it.” She sets the stethoscope box on a desk then climbs to the top of two bunk beds as she continues “Second, if my roommates find this, I’m fucked.”

She slides it beneath a mass of blankets and coats fit for the Queen of England, then crawling across the bed, drops to the window ledge on the outer wall, and jumps from that to the ground with a loud thump. 

The bunk bed jimmies just a bit. Mary squeezes past Will, calling over her shoulder “Come on, you were the one who wanted to talk,” she stops in the doorway, hand resting on the knob “and loose the bandanna.”

“Well, I rather like it.”

“Loose it, or no talkie”.

Will concedes, untying the cloth which holds back his hair. It tumbles to his shoulders, and he slips the folded cloth and his silver hair pin into the breast pocket of his coat. “Better?”

“Yeees,” Mary opens the door. “After you.”

“No, after you.”

A slight smile piques her lips “Gallant. Don't see that much anymore.”

She still insists he exit before her, though she thanks him for the hospitality as they walk.

[pavooko]

More potc stuff from today’s university lectures

Also absolutely LOVED @cupcakeshakesnake take on that Maria Silenciosa is a tegu (sorry if I missed her patterns a bit) and the harbor au overall,,,, yes,,,, I’m loving this type of food🙏 so some fanart??? fan-sketch stuff?????

Ig

[alkalineleak]

I love womeb

[master-jarrus]

I made a mistake-!

I listen to Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack while thinking about ninjago

I know I won't write it though

Someone take it from me

Kai and Skylor and Will and Elizabeth in the first movie

I mean he's literally a black smith

And her dad literally runs an island

Garmadon is Jack but he is looking for his son and wife who disappeared

Of course they disappeared after Wu thought in his defense against Garmadon's fits he killed his brother

But he didn't know his brother had intentionally gotten himself cursed so he was undead

Idk much past that for Curse of the Black Pearl

For Dead Man's Chest and At World's End

Roles change a bit

Jay would be Will and Nya would be Elizabeth and Calypso

Nadakhan would be Davey Jones

Delara became one with the sea as a sacrifice to give Nadakhan control of Wojira and her death binds Nadakhan to the sea and wojira

Delara is the sea though and was always with him

But in her binding wojira she cause Nyad to be reborn as Nya

If you seen the movies you can guess where this is going

I actually haven't gotten to watch On Stranger Tides and forward but I know the gist

Lloyd would be Jack Sparrow

Harumi would be Angelica (or whatever Black Beard's daughter's name was in the franchise)

As for Black Beard I think I would do Garmadon possessed by the Overlord but I know I won't actually write this

I know they find the fountain of youth but like in order for one to live forever someone else mist die and I am sure Lloyd would canonically pick Harumi to live forever over his dad especially after Crystalized even if it was the possessed version of his dad

Dead Men Tell No Tales I don't have enough info for so I really can't say what I think would happen and how it would work

It would probably involve Garmadon or Morro though

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES prologue

he watched the sun set over the horizon of the sea through his monocular, straddling the bowsprit of the huge ship he currently boarded. the sea breeze stroked his scalp under his locks, nearly knocking off his hat and taking it away with it though his hand is quick to take back what’s his, as any pirate does.

since before he’s turned 18, his father has been promising to finally take him on a voyage to the americas, and now that he has finally come of age, the boy has not been able to calm his nerves since then. even as he’s on the boat.

before, he’d stay at home and help look out for his mother and two younger siblings. the young man remembers when he was his youngest brother’s age, receiving his first and only tricorn hat that he has, since then, looked after religiously. he remembers also how it tilted down his head, the size unsatisfactory but promising fit for when his head was big enough, allowing him to wear it now.

usually, his father would be gone for months and stay home for just as long until his fortunes and tales began to decline. he was an active voyager and a successful trader to provide for his family, transferring goods to and from england, the carribean and america and back to england.

the boy recalls only two days ago how his sister grew jealous yet still wished him good luck, how his brother balled for him how he did his father when he would leave–knowing he’d be gone for a good while, and how his mother–now quite a bit shorter than her oldest son–held his face and told him not to get into trouble.

the saltiness of the sea was an expected welcome from the atlantic ocean, engulfing him in a hug as if to say we’ve been expecting you. and how he had been expecting her aswell.

the shadow of the ship’s sails no longer cast into the ocean, instead molding into the darkness once the sun set. with a sigh, the young man flattened his monocular until each section was in one small barrel and pocketed it, now swinging his legs and closing his eyes to finally enjoy how cold the atlantic could get during the night.

his father had warned him of how many of his men had delayed the journey back to england due to recovering from hypothermia and when asked if he had become a victim to the sea, he responded with a ‘don’t be silly, boy, i’m tougher than that!’ which ended in a soft and teasing punch to the shoulder.

“michael!” a slightly concerned voice rang out, following his son to the far side of the bowsprit. opening his eyes, the boy turned around, “yes?” he called back, struggling to find his father’s figure through all the netting and rope of the rigging.

“if you’re going to sit on there, atleast don’t sit so far!” the man chastised with fatherly intention, “and you need to come down anyway, port royal is in sight!”

michael was quick to slide down the bow, shouting back an excited okay! while holding onto his hat. climbing back onto the deck, michael was met with his father and his first mate, henry. his father, william, placed a tight hand on his son’s shoulder, lips disappearing as they thinned with a sigh, “listen, m’boy,” he began, “i haven’t told you everything i do when i’m away.”

michael’s brows furrowed, “whadd’ya mean?”

william adjusted his sleeve cuffs, “i, we, don’t actually trade. well, we do but its more than that..” putting his index and middle finger to his lips in thought, he ordered promptly, “walk with me.”

the two began slow strides towards the steps into the lower deck, “you’ve heard tales of pirates, haven’t you?” michael nodded, “you’ve told me some.”

“ah, yes,” the older man continued, “i haven’t told you that my crew as well as myself are involved, though, have i?”

“no, sir,” the boy swallowed, his dad is a pirate? william smiled, “trade doesn’t always give you the fortune you want, so sometimes we have to take what we can.”

michael studied a canon, unsure of how to feel about the news while his father continued, “obviously, your mother and siblings cannot know about this, but i trust you, michael.”

“thank you.”

“still, i will take you around the americas, i don’t plan on stopping, however there’s just more to it than you thought. you may find yourself on your own more of’n than not.”

michael was.. stunned? the stories he had heard of pirates were intimidating yet he remained intrigued with them. his father, a real pirate! this was incredible.

“i won’t tell mum.. or lizzy or evan,” michael assured, fiddling with his fingers, “just.. will i be involved?”

william let out a hoarse laugh, evidence of his smoking habits, “gods no, child, anything could happen to you!”

the boy’s lip straightened, “well.. what about you?”

“i have years of experience, boy.”

with a sigh, michael watched as william walked off, ordering his men to prepare the ship for anchoring. on the flip side, he had freedom in an unknown country.. how exciting.

the ship soon docked, rocking to a slow stop next to the port. michael was quick to slide the ramp off the ship to make a path onto the docks. merry shouts make their way from the row of buildings just opposite the port and michael can just feel the excitement beginning to flow from the crew.

he was first to make his way off the ship, though the others were not far behind, eventually moving quicker than he did and making their way into a building which michael quickly caught onto that it was a pub. he entered it, just a few seconds behind the others and he immediately felt left out. michael remained a wallflower, examining how easily his father and his crew melted into the crowd, dancing and singing and drinking in the dimly lit tavern.

his foot tapped to the beat, not entirely feeling it enough to join in with the drunken men and women. at one point one of his dad’s crew members, jeremy, came over, flushed in the face and smiling uncontrollably, his hand sticking out as he held a pipe, “here, have some!”

michael swallowed loudly, “i.. i don’t know.. what if my father sees?” his hands shivered, the pipe enticing him just slightly. he wasn’t a smoker, no he had never touched tobacco in his life, but when did a chance like this ever come to him? he’s free to do as he pleases. as long as his dad isn’t around.

“c’mon, its incredibly beneficial for ya, lad!” the young man offered for a second and final time.

michael looked around for his father, incase he saw what he was about to do. he didn’t want to ruin his trip so early into it.

“going once!” jeremy counted, holding up his other hand and presenting his index finger. the boy made a stressful err sound, making another quick scan around the packed room.

“going twice!” michael swapped his empty hand for the offering, putting the pipe up to his mouth. he inhaled for two seconds, sputtering out light grey smoke as he gasped for air. god, the taste sucked. but he went for another drag, and another until he was used to inhaling and used to the smoke entering his system.

eventually, he passed it back silently, unable to thank jeremy as he quickly delved into the group of unprofessional dancers.

michael hummed, spotting his father’s crew mates every now again, sometimes his father himself. but he grew bored.

quietly, he slipped out of the tavern, the cool night air refreshing on his face. he followed the sands around the coast of port royal, climbing carefully along the rocks. they were slippery from the tide coming in and out so often and splashing the elements.

the moon was in her waning gibbous stage, only a small crescent shape left until it was full.

the tide was calm. it delivered seaweed to and from the depths, grasping unfortunately at michael’s boots as he walked along the natural pier of the rocks, further out into the ocean.

he looked back briefly, now realising how far he had come out, now unable to see the sand under the waters. michael also realised how the rocks appeared to have sunk deeper with time, creating step stools and how he was stood on the lowest one.

ironically, a particularly strong wave swiped at his feet, causing michael to slip and fall. with water rushing in his ears, he barely made out the sound of his head knocking against the stone as he cursed. or as much as one could underwater, slow to realise the water would find gateway through his mouth to his lungs.

thrashing around seemed to make michael more inclined to pass out, but that’s all he could think to do at that moment. he hoped that he would somehow find his way back above the waves.

blinking, his consciousness in and out, michael made out the silhouette of somebody through the ever thinning air bubbles he was supplying. relief washed over him as the tide had, someone had seen him fall and came to save him from his watery grave.

michael blinked again and he was laying haphazardly across the same rock he fell off. shooting up, he coughed up heavily salted water until his throat was sore and his lungs felt light. the sound of sloshing in the water got his attention as he made out the head of a woman backing away to avoid his regurgitated water.

she seemed to notice that he noticed her considering how she quickly sunk back under the water, like she was never there. not even the light of the moon could illuminate her shadow in the murky waters.

“w.. wait!” michael called out to the mysterious woman, reaching his hand out to where she once was. he was met with silence except for the whistle of the waves, the ocean’s sympthony.

with a defeated sigh, michael let his arm fall back down. his palm lightly slapped the edge of the rock, his fingers flexing as he gripped the element as much as he could on a wet surface. turning to the row of taverns and hostels, michael wondered if anyone had noticed that he had disappeared and decided it was probably time to head back before anyone did.

he allowed himself to look back at the ocean once more, only to be met with a pair of hands rising from the deep. they rested outside michaels, flexing as a head emerged after them. water fell off the head like a waterfall, revealing feminine features like a liquified curtain.

gods, she was beautiful. michael’s mouth formed a soft ‘o’ as he admired the woman that came to him. his words were lost, too taken aback from aphrodite’s child herself.

the woman seemed shy, an innocent yet small smile on her face as she gazed up at michael with big, however sultry eyes. michael finally regained his composure with a scoff of disbelief, returning her smile with a grin, revealing his pearly teeth and dimples.

“you saved me..?” the two kept strong eye contact as michael uttered out his question. she nodded, “i did.”

“thank you.” the two seemed to admire each other for a few seconds until the woman spoke up.

“what’s your name?”

“michael. what’s yours?”

the two were very soft spoken, unlike who they were surrounded by. rowdy pirates made noise, that was bound the get clocked soon enough, that was able to be heard so far out of the coast.

with a giggle, the woman shrugged, “i might tell you, how come you’re so far out?”

“i wouldn’t say i’m.. that far out,” michael brushed off, “just needed to clear my head.”

“oh yeah? clear your head from what?” the woman asked, breathily as she began to drag her right index finger up and down michael’s left ring finger.

“not used to the drunk crowd, i guess,” the young man replied, beginning to grow nervous as he slowly examined more than her face. she played with her hair, pushing it out of the way and revealing her neck in the process, “is that so? they do get pretty crazy in there, don’t they?”

michael couldn’t focus on her words.

she had gills.

what the hell. what. the hell.

michael straightened himself, the moon peering out from behind his neck and shining on her eyes. in the dark, they were any normal colour but once the moonlight hit her irises, they shined a milky purple and further confirmed her difference. a gasp escaped him.

“you’re not like me, are you?” his eyes shifted into a squint, now focusing on the odd sharpness of the girl’s fingernail, grazing up and down his hand. her eyes widened before a pout settled on her well-sculpted face.

she shook her head, “no, i’m not.. do you want me to show you what i am?” her smile returned, both her hands running up and down michael’s arms. with a shaky exhale, he nodded.

using michael as leverage, she pulled herself up until their noses were barely brushing together, “come in to the water with me, michael..” her voice was a soft and tempting whisper and her hands were beckoning him to follow her.

so he did.

she slowly sank back in the water how she had earlier as michael’s lips chased hers. her head tilted back, keeping her lips above the water, “come on, mikey, you can trust me..”

michael leant forward, allowing one hand to leave the security of the rock and cradle her cheek. however, before their lips could meet, a chuckle erupted from michael’s chest and he pat her same cheek almost soothingly, “do you think i’m stupid?”

quickly, he withdrew from her form, his usual cocky smile on his face along with an equally as cocky nose scrunch, “i know what you are.”

the girl snarled, finally revealing her full set of teeth. at first, they could be passed off as a usual set of teeth with unusually sharp canines.. until you looked at where her molars were supposed to be and they were sharper than her canines. she watched as michael shuffled backwards on the rock, her hands pushing her away from the object and the boy, “what am i, michael?”

he gulped, watching as she swam backwards. her front was revealed to him, her breasts and stomach on display. admittedly, he would’ve been particularly focused on her chest if it wasn’t for the stretch of skin into scales where her legs should’ve been, “a.. a siren..”

she giggled, clapping as she told him, “well done! aren’t you a smart, smart boy..”

michael examined her tail. it was an imperial purple colour, nearly red. the fins were translucent and thin and so, very long. they reminded him of a betta fish. she finally allowed herself to rest her tail on the rocks as she neared michael again. he stood up on strong legs.

again, she pouted, resting her head on her arms and tilting it, “scared?”

michael shook his head, “just a precaution.”

the moon still reflected off her eyes, milky purple irises still gazing up at his with mock affection. how she’d trained them to.

“what brings you to port royal, anyway?” the creature sighed, “i’ve never seen you before. i think i’ve seen everyone.. even taken a few like you with me.”

she snickered at michael’s grimace. the boy cleared his throat, “my dad let me come along, a birthday present.”

“birthday present?” the creature’s brows furrowed. michael nodded, “yeah.”

“what’s a birthday?” she asked the boy, now a puckered frown on her face. michael chuckled, covering it up with a cough, “er, well.. the day you were born? it’s an annual celebration. you get gifts too.”

“ohhh,” her sweet smile appeared back on her face, “how old are you, michael?”

pulling at his collar, michael admitted that he had just turned 18. her hands clapped together, “i’m one hundred and eighteen!”

“you’ve lived for quite a while now..” the boy marvelled, “i don’t think humans live to see seventy too often.”

she shrugged, “my kind have to feed to live. so if we go a certain time without eating, we die. age isn’t relevant to us.”

michael could admit this was interesting. learning about a supposed myth’s biology. he knew he could tell elizabeth and evan about this when he got back.

suddenly, a drunken chorus of voices called out his name. the crew had noticed he had gone. in his ears, he could make out a small gasp followed by splashing. michael faultered, “i.. i have to go, my father’s worried.”

before he could begin his short walk back to the coast line, the girl called out for him. michael took one last look at her. only her head was seen in the water, the rocks blocking the moon from her eyes which caused them to return to their usually humane colour.

“will you come back tomorrow?” she asked, hopefulness evident in her tone. michael allowed a smile to slip onto his lips, “if you tell me your name.”

her smile was wide, revealing her sharp teeth, “y/n.”

“till we meet again,

y/n.”

[3twindragons]

Pirate Clint Barton x Ghost Captain James Buchanan Barnes. This was inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

[elfzai]

captain sparrow and captain exul

aka

middle-aged drunk vs depressed ghoul

since it's been 20 years since pirates of the caribbean curse of the black pearl came out (happy anniversary!!) i'm gonna post some potc art here. still disappointed that we'll probably never get potc 6. but i still hold hope

[enviedear]

Okay but Billy with an innocent reader>>>>>>>> LIKE HES SO PROTECTIVE OML

billy + innocent!reader

stop i love this. this should be an au hell i may just write more for it

tw— for use of a gun, toothrotting fluff

request

"go ahead, honey. pull the trigger." billy's voice is sweet against your ear.

your face morphs into a coy apprehension, "and you're sure this won't send me flying on my rear?"

he chuckles, straightening your arms a bit, "m'right here, i won't let that happen."

your eyes focus in on the three rusty cans in the distance, set atop a dry rotting log. you know there's no way you're going to hit them all. you'd be lucky to hit one.

but billy is adamant in both that you need to learn how to shoot, and that you’ll be a ‘natural’. his driving objective, however, being that since he can't be with you from sun up to sun down, he'll have to settle with teaching you how to fend for yourself.

it's not unlike him to behave this way. in the months you've known the gunslinger, you've come to find that his urge to protect you is enormous.

his protection isn't reserved just against the infamous wild men of the west, but rather, anything and anyone. if it could possibly do you harm, physically or mentally, he's there to guard and defend.

like a knight out of the princess tales your mother used to tell you.

you let out a harsh breath before your finger begins to press into the trigger. too soft at first, the metal remains in its' spot, you muster up all your courage and pull the trigger. your eyes are screwed shut as the bullet whistles away, and you quickly turn into billy.

his arms ensnare you, wrapping you tight, "what're you hidin' for? you hit it dead center, sweetheart!"

you lift your head, staring unabashedly into his blue eyes, "did i really?"

he hums, using his dominant hand to steer your gaze away from him and toward the target. sure enough, the can on the left side has a small hole right in its middle.

billy chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back, "told you, my girl's a natural."

you can't help but grin, the tension releasing from your shoulders, "or i've got a good teacher." you tease.

he gives you a squeeze before letting go, gesturing toward the cans, "c'mon, let's see if you can do it again."

emboldened by your first success, you square your shoulders and take aim. this time, you focus a bit more, remembering the sensation of the recoil and trying to replicate it. the shot rings out, and you open your eyes to find another can hit.

billy lightly claps you on the back, "see? just like that, sweetheart."

as you reload, you can't help but appreciate the way the afternoon sun plays on his weathered hat, casting thin rays upon his lips, "m’not as hopeless as i thought."

he grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "do i e’ver lie to you?”

you ignore his sly remark, focusing back in on your targets. with newfound confidence, you continue to practice, the rhythmic sound of gunshots filling the air. as the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

the sounds of gunfire continue, each shot feeling more controlled and confident than the last. with every successful hit, billy's pride in your progress shines through his loving stare. he stands by your side, offering guidance and encouragement, a quiet guardian in the backdrop of your learning.

as the sun dips even lower, casting a dim hue over the landscape, you catch a glimpse of billy watching you with a softness in his eyes. he often got this way, completely lost in you. especially when you're doing things his way— not in the way you'd normally feel inclined. you're rather tame and harmless in comparison to billy, the entire west, really.

growing up away from the fast-growing townships and travelers, when you met billy he completely flipped your world upside down. you gave him all your firsts, shooting his pistol only adds to the expansive list of firsts you've given him.

you go to take aim again, eyes closing as you shoot, still too frightened to keep them open— your bullet flies past your targets, missing entirely. you've grown used to the sound of a hit and when you open your eyes to find the miss, you groan.

billy's safeguarding nature becomes even more apparent as you meet his winsome eyes, his gaze lingers on you, subtle worry etched on his features.

he knows you're inexperienced, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world he's accustomed to. he knows it isn't, but if this were a shootout, that big of a miss would have cost you your life.

the mere thought of you in that situation is something he's not willing to entertain.

"you're doing mighty fine, sweetheart," he reassures, a tenderness in his voice that speaks volumes, "but remember, there's more to this than cans and targets. gotta keep those pretty eyes of yours open, alright?"

you nod, appreciating his concern and the earnest care he extends. it dawns on you that learning to shoot isn't just a practical skill— it's a testament to the depth of billy's affection. he's arming you with more than just a handgun— he's giving you a piece of his own resilience and determination.

as the sun sets, casting long shadows across the landscape, you take a moment to stand side by side with billy, appreciating the warmth of his presence. the sky paints hues of orange and pink, a picturesque backdrop to the bond that's been forged between you.

"thanks, billy," you say, sincerity lacing your words. "for teaching me, for being patient."

he smiles, a softness in his expression that contrasts with the rugged exterior, "my pleasure, sweetheart. always want you to be able to take care of yourself."

with the last rays of sunlight fading, you holster the gun, feeling a newfound sense of empowerment. billy wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back towards the homestead. as you walk together, the echoes of gunshots in the ears serve as a reminder that you're not just learning to shoot— you're learning to navigate billy's world, and with his protection, you're sure you'll do just fine.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War

Summary: A warlord!Rhys x Tamlin's sister!Reader AU where Hybern won the War centuries ago, ravishing Prythian and leaving the splintered Courts as nothing more than pockets of travelling war bands. Based loosely on the vibes from War by Laura Thalassa.

Content Warnings: (Each chapter will be tagged accordingly for violence, drinking, and Eventual smut) Canon typical violence, Rhys leans heavily into morally gray, kidnapping.

Author's Note: Trying something new with a first person POV, let me know what you think :)

----------------------------------

“Don’t come back unless you’ve brought food.”

It’s been days since that order, the rumble of my stomach the only indicator of passing time. The changing forests, the dying grasslands, the marshes, it’s all been a disappointing blur. All my traps are empty and untouched, some frozen in place as winter approaches. My father used to tell me stories of the Courts, how they were ruled by High Lords with the power to keep perpetual seasons. That was before the War, before Hybern and his General Amarantha ruined everything with the Cauldron, all for some human slaves. Father had liked to talk about the “good ole days” every night around the fire; he could spin pretty tales for hours, but that’s all they are these days. Stories. And stories don’t keep your stomach full.

I trail the deer through a stinking muck of a bog, mud and slimy water seeping in through the holes in my boots. The sludge is bone chilling, my hands shaking around my bow; teeth chattering so loud I have to clamp my mouth shut to avoid making too much noise. I need this kill and I need it fast. 

The deer stops to eat a bit of moss and I take a few more careful steps forward to get a better vantage point, cautious of where the ground sinks deeper beneath the murky water. Slipping and twisting an ankle in this mud would be dangerous, but it’s not an injury that makes my steps cautious. There are plenty of kelpie around these parts, I feel their beady little eyes watching me under the cover of a quickly approaching fog. All I need is one misstep and those spindly, webbed hands will drag me under for a quick meal.

Better a kelpie than the Highway Men I’d managed to dodge getting this far out of my brother’s territory, I suppose, but I’d rather avoid both of them if possible.

Once I’m sure of my footing, I notch an arrow to my bow. This is not the ideal place to kill it, but the rumbling of my stomach might just be too damn loud to give me another chance if I wait for it to pass out of the bog. How many days has it been since my last meal? Four? Five?

I pull the arrow back, the weathered feathers brushing my hollow cheek. 

The deer’s head jerks up, ears turning to listen to something beyond the fog and I hold my breath. The ground beneath my boots begins to rumble and the deer bolts before I can take the shot, disappearing into the gloom. A loss to mourn later, because that rumbling can only mean one thing: Horses, and a lot of them, moving right in my direction. 

I slide my bow over my shoulder and run back the way I’d come, mud sucking at my every step, slowing my progress as I try to get back to the treeline at the edge of the bog. The wet land is covered in dead and living trees alike, some as old as time, still reaching towards the sun like the ruined hands of a corpse, some fighting its inevitable demise. It’s too cold these days for the living to still have leaves, so even if I wanted to stop and climb one, I’d have no place to hide. I might as well stand there and wave my arms and alert every horseman to my location.

Still, the branches are helpful for leverage, and I grab onto the low ones and haul myself along, hoping to find shelter higher up the basin’s edge, where the water has not claimed as much. There’s plenty of underbrush there to shield me. 

The first horse appears through the fog, dark as a shadow, it’s echoing whinny chilling in the previous silence. A hooded rider sits atop the giant animal, a giant sword sheathed between his massive shoulders. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss to no one as I crouch the best I can in the open air. 

There are many warbands in Prythian these days. Some are Hybern’s men. Some Amarantha’s. The rest are what remains of the Courts. Those of us with enough magic to prove useful have been known to swear fealty and garner protection from them, but that means you get the privilege of fighting and dying for those entitled pricks who think they are owed the land their ancestors once ruled. From this far, I can’t tell who’s colors they bear, but without the, usually oppressive presence, of my brother’s own men I’m not likely to have a safe encounter. Better to wait it out and let them pass.

The first rider doesn’t see me through the fog, a small blessing that I take full advantage of by inching forward. The treeline is so close. If I am lucky, if the Mother is still out there listening and looking out for me, I can hunker down and wait.

A second rider appears through the fog, faster than the first, racing along the bog’s edge until it makes it over the ledge of the basin and disappears. The cry of their horses sound like ghosts howling in the wind. A third and fourth rider follow. I can hear even more of them, the rumble of their caravan making the ground shake, but no more appear as the fog thickens. 

A shiver runs down my spine, but still, I press forward. I’ve dodged plenty of males like this in the past, I can do the same now. I just need to be smart. And lucky.

Neither of which I am, apparently. As soon as my boots touch more solid ground, another horse appears, this time, from within the safety of the treeline I’d been so desperate to get to. The rider atop this one is as large as the first, face completely obscured by a black hood with three stars perfectly poised over his forehead, the bottom two falling where his eyes should be. 

I freeze, mind reeling back to a time years ago, when those stars had come bursting through camp, only bloodshed and destruction behind them. My hands shake at my sides as I slide backwards into the muck, slipping, barely maintaining my balance as the midnight black horse rears, hooves pawing at the air. I’d heard that terrifying whiny before too, right before my father’s head rolled out of his tent. 

My stomach rolls, bile rising in the back of my throat. This can’t be happening to me! They promised to stay away.

The rider gets his horse under control, large, gloved hands yanking hard on the reins, deep voice barking orders in the language I know belongs to the mountain men in Illyria, but had never been permitted to learn myself.

My heart hammers in my chest as I get back on my feet, head whipping back and forth trying to find a way out.  

“What’s your business here?” The rider demands, voice deep, gruff, muffled by a scarf over the lower half of his face.

“My own,” I snarl, reaching for the hunting knife at my hip. This is no one’s claimed territory, save for maybe the kelpie I hear skimming the surface at my back, I have every right to hunt here as anyone. “Now let me pass and I’ll be on my way.”

The rider swings out of the saddle and the ground shakes as his boots touch the ground. A dark mist leaks from his shoulders, shadows swirling around the sword hilt peeking out from between his shoulders and… I’d been mistaken about his size, it wasn’t just his shoulders, it was a pair of wings. Wings that had been tucked tight while he was  riding but now stretch out behind him, the leathery membrane pitted and scarred from years of battle. If I’d had doubts about who this was before, I don't now. Though I’d only seen him in glimpses that night, Tamlin had talked enough about the rival warlord over the years for me to be able to put two and two together.

A lump forms in my throat. Rhysand is even taller up close, the top of my head barely coming up to his chin. “I have nothing of value.” I’m not wearing our colors, I’m not sure if they would have helped or hindered me here, but my best bet is to just play dumb.

From the incline of his head it looks like he’s eyeing my knife, but I can’t be certain. There is some kind of enchantment over his hood, obscuring his face from view. “What’s your name?” 

“No business of yours,” I retort, tightening my grip on the knife. 

“So hostile,” he purrs. “I mean no harm.”

“Says the male with the sword.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.”

“I’m flattered,” I drawl. “How kind of you to deem me worth a modicum of decency as you block my exit.”

He takes a step forward and I take a step back, right to the edge of the water, where that damn creature hisses out a chuckle, knife poised and ready between us. He’s not wearing armor, a well placed blow could still kill him, I want him to think twice before moving any closer. Though, I suppose I must not look that imposing, considering our size difference and the sheer amount of muscle underneath that dark cloak. 

He sizes me up silently for a moment, hooded head intently fixed on the hand gripping the knife. Then, with speed enhanced even for High Fae, he’s reaching forward and grabbing my wrist as I stumble back and slam right into a tree.

It’s instinct: The punch I throw with my free hand, hitting him square in the throat, even as my heel comes down on the top of his foot. He grunts like it hurts, but doesn’t move, doesn’t let up on the grip he keeps on my wrist.

“Where’d you get this scar?” He drags a finger over the top of my hand, where I’ve got a scar shaped like an eight point star. 

“Get off me!” I shout as I try to wrench my hand free of his grip.

If his men hear, they don’t come running. There is no one here to save me--not that there has been anyone to save me in a long time anyway.

He’s wearing gloves, but with the hand not maintaining a vice on my wrist, he pushes the leather back enough to reveal a matching scar on the back of his own hand. 

All thought eddies from my mind. 

This can’t be real.

He takes the knife from my hand as if it was being held by a toddler, but much to my surprise, he slides it right back into its sheath at my hip. The move lets him lean in, large body hovering over mine. I still can’t see a glimpse of his face beneath the hood. 

“You’re my mate,” he says, voice a reverent whisper.

Mate. My heart hammers in my chest at the word, as if something beneath my skin is coming to life at the realization. The power that lies distant and untouched with me stirs, a large beast poking its head out of the den after a long hibernation. Having a mate is most women's dream--was my own, once upon a time, before the world went to hell--but not like this, not him. My world had gone to hell because of him. 

The Mother truly hates my guts.

“I’m not your anything,” I snarl as I get a hand on his broad chest and push. He’s nothing but solid muscle beneath my palm. When pushing gets me nowhere, I make a fist and hit him a good couple times. “Now let go of me, you brute!”

He chuckles, low and rich, as if this is all very amusing. “No. It’s not safe out here. You’re coming with me.”

I’d rather be eaten by the kelpie. “The hell I am!” But before I can find a way to fight him, as useless as my attempts have been thus far, he wraps a strong arm around my waist and all but tosses me into the saddle.

I reach for my hunting knife again, but a gloved hand hovers over my own, even as his other arm snakes around me to grab the reins. “Easy, mate,” he purrs in my ear. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Despite myself, that voice, so close to my ear, his body warm and solid behind me, a shiver runs down my spine. “You’re fucking kidnapping me, you bastard!” I snarl, because there’s no way I’m just going along with this. “And I’m not your mate! I don’t even believe in mates.”

“You will,” he assures as he kicks his horse into moving back into the fog.

________________

Let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist for future updates :)

[taevbears]

To Be Loved - 05

Tale as old as time

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 7.7k ⤑ warnings: our favorite asshole, kangdae, is in this chapter SO: violence, threats against reader and the tannies, verbal/emotional abuse, detailed descriptions of fighting and gore, some angst, minor character deaths ⤑ note: and with this, to be love is concluded! thank you everyone for reading and for all the love this story has received. i hope this last chapter meets your expectations. and lol, did you guys guess correctly on what kind of hybrid namjoon is?

Chapters 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 (End)

It was a clear and starry night.

The giddiness between you and the hybrids as the evening’s plans come together. A look of awe on your face when you see yourself in the mirror, dressed in a yellow ball gown, and think to yourself how you’ve never been more beautiful. Sparkling lights from the crystal chandeliers glow and romantic music softly plays in the background as Namjoon dances with you, and the way he looks at you tonight with such endeared warmth, you could only describe it as love.

Everything was perfect. A calm before the storm.

Ruined in the matter of seconds.

The shot that was fired was aimed at the ground, near Seokjin’s paws. A warning to you and the hybrids that they’re armed and not afraid to use their weapons. The wolf hybrid shifts into his human form, but his ears are pinned back against his head and his tail is between his legs as he backs away, startled but luckily unharmed. You stand between them and the group of vile men before you, including the man you’re supposed to marry.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Kangdae takes one look at you and bursts into mocking laughter. “What the hell are you wearing, babe? That’s not sexy at all!”

You feel your cheeks burn with humiliation. “What do you want, Kangdae? How did you even find me?”

“You were a pain in the ass to track down,” he mutters, shaking his head. “The whole town was worried about you, babe. My folks got everyone searching. Someone found your car in these woods, thought you were good as dead. And yet, here you are, gallivanting with these … abominations.”

“Shut up! Don’t talk to us like that!” Seokjin snaps. Two of Kangdae’s lackeys point their guns at him, ready to fire.

“Easy, pup. I’m having a conversation with my stupid woman.” He doesn’t divert his gaze away as he stares you down. A growl rumbles from Seokjin’s throat, but you step in front of him, shielding him and the other hybrids.

“Tell them to put the guns down,” you order tersely, trying not to look as frightened as you feel when you see the ends of the barrels being pointed at the hybrids. “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, Kangdae. Just leave us alone.”

“Babe, I’m just here to talk. That’s all.” He raises his hands up and cracks a smile as if he has no intentions of hurting you. It feels condescending. “Just hear me out, and we’ll pretend we never saw them.”

“Whatever you have to say to her, you can say in front of us,” Namjoon speaks up as he stands by your side. The hand he presses against the small of your back gives you the tiniest bit of comfort, even if you feel it trembling with rage.

“I don’t think so, beast,” he quips, finally turning his gaze away from you to look at Namjoon. If he recognizes him, it doesn’t show on Kangdae’s face. He does, however, look intrigued with how close Namjoon stands to you. How protective he is over you. When Kangdae looks at you again, his smile is gone. “You and I talk. Alone. And no one gets hurt.”

Guns cock and more are aimed at the hybrids. Kangdae begins to count down.

“Okay! Okay!” you give in before the next number leaves his lips. You give Namjoon an apologetic look. It feels like this is all your fault. If you hadn’t stayed this long, if you had left when you were supposed to, maybe they’d never find this place.

The smug smirk dances on Kangdae’s lips again as he meets Namjoon’s gaze. It’s like that dark and stormy night all those years ago, when the two of them stood against each other on the stage. The arrogance that Kangdae had that day hasn’t diminished at all. In fact, it’s gotten even worse as he grabs your arm and yanks you closer to him, childishly possessive like you’re a pretty doll that Namjoon can’t have.

The hybrid’s rage is silent, but he clenches his jaw and scowls as he watches Kangdae pull you away, out of ear-shot for even the hybrids to eavesdrop. You look over your shoulder at him, helpless, scared. Not because of him, but of the human that has you in his grasp. The indigo in Namjoon’s eyes darkens and looks sharper, the black pupils thinner like slits. The air around his mouth as he exhales becomes visible like smoke.

You’ve never seen Namjoon look so angry.

When you and Kangdae are far enough, he eyes you again and gives you a sleazy smirk. “You know, for an old dress, it makes your tits look nice.”

“What do you want, Kangdae?” you repeat, exasperated, stepping away from him before he could think of touching you.

“To take you home, of course. My folks planned a nice ceremony for us, you know?” He moves closer to you, until your back hits the trunk of a tree. Then, he cages you in with his arms. Objectively, Kangdae is good-looking, especially up close like this, but his beauty is only skin-deep. All you see before you is a monster. “Then, you pulled your little stunt. So, what the fuck happened? Did you want to rebel? Did you think you’d get away? You’re usually so quiet and obedient.”

“Stop.” You pull Kangdae’s arms as he squeezes your cheeks together. 

“Stop,” he repeats in a whine, mocking you again. “It was never supposed to be serious between us. You were the prettiest girl in school. We looked so good together, but all you do is read and stay home. You can’t even talk to people without getting nervous. So, I thought maybe you’re just the girl I can bring home to my parents. Someone that makes me look good during social events and family parties. So that people can get off my fucking back about the actual fun girls I date. But it turns out, my folks really like you. Especially after you started working at our company. Not only are you beautiful. They said you’re smart and hardworking, too. They thought you’d be a good match for me, and even threatened to cut me off if I didn’t propose to you. They’ll write me off my inheritance if I don’t marry you. But you’re just a prudish, annoying bitch that got cold feet and ran away.”

The truth spills out. Every word confirms what you’ve already known about you and Kangdae. Hearing him tell you all of this to your face, however, makes you spite him even more. “I hate you. You never loved me.”

“No one would,” he sneers, pinning you harder against the tree and watching your feeble attempts to push him off. “Don’t you know what people say about you? How you’re a weird, little freak? The whole town is only nice to you because you’re dating me. Or have you forgotten? Is that why you’re hanging out with hybrids of all fucking things?”

“They’re not things, they’re—”

“Monsters,” he finishes for you. “I know, babe.”

“They’re not that either.”

Kangdae loudly laughs as if that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Let’s not speak nonsense, okay? Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The hybrid. The bunny,” he clarifies, and your eyes widen slightly when you realize he’s talking about Jungkook. “Tell me where you’re hiding him, and I’ll forgive you.”

Dread weighs heavily on your heart as you glance at the others he came with. You don’t recognize any of them, but they look more menacing than a pack of wolves. They’re not just here for you, but they’re after Jungkook as well. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t fuck with me, babe. I know you ran away with him.” His grip around you tightens. “Is he with those other hybrids? That guy from the fighting ring has been threatening me since you took off together. That bunny was his prized fighter. Didn’t you think he’d want him back?”

“Fuck you.” You’d never give him up. Jungkook is your friend.

He looks over his shoulder where his men continue to point their guns at the manor’s residents. The hybrids are looking at you. Even from this distance, you can feel their worried gazes. “That’s okay, though. I see a leopard, a bear, and a wolf among the other hybrids you’re hiding. I could make a lot of money selling them off.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Kangdae.”

“Here’s the deal, princess,” Kangdae begins, his voice low and angry as he digs into his pocket for something. “People have been hounding me for six months straight. Either you be a good girl and marry me, and I’ll leave your hybrids alone. Once I get my inheritance, I’ll take you straight to the guy from the ring. You’ll explain why his prized fighter is still missing, and you better pray that it’s only money that he wants from you.”

Your stomach feels sick at the implication.

“Or, if you’re still going to be stubborn, I’ll send my men to raid the manor and capture every single hybrid you’re hiding in there. I’ll make you watch as my men and I use them for target practice.” There’s a wicked smile on his face as he unveils something you’d never thought you’d see again. The engagement ring you left behind. “The choice is yours, babe.”

A tense silence fills the air as Kangdae pulls you aside to talk. Namjoon doesn’t keep his eyes off you. His jaw is locked and his gaze is steady as you look back at him.

He’s never smelled fear on you before. Not like this. Not with him or his pack. At least, not since you first stepped into the manor. Even then, it was never to this degree.

You’re terrified of Kangdae.

And all Namjoon can do is stay where he is – between his pack and the guns pointed at them – and helplessly watch you become more distressed.

The conversation feels longer than it is. A soft, worried whine from Seokjin, a small hiss from Yoongi. Even Taehyung stops himself from anxiously pacing as he guards the door, keeping the other hybrids inside the manor out of sight.

As for Namjoon, he feels his self-control slipping.

Anger rises when Kangdae puts his hands on you. How he pins you against the tree. How he roughly grabs your face. You struggle against his hold, but Kangdae is bigger and stronger than you are. His body now blocks you from his view, but when Kangdae turns to look at where his men are holding them hostage, he meets Namjoon’s eyes. 

And he smirks.

“Careful, Namjoon,” Yoongi whispers, grounding him.

For a split second, the beast inside him almost takes form. It shows on his cracking skin and his glowing eyes, like a broken mask unveiling his true self. He covers his face with his hand, but his eyes are still glued on you.

If you’re to see him now – if you’re to see what he really looks like – you’ll hate him. 

When you and Kangdae return, he has his arm around you. There’s a look of haughty triumph on his face as he makes a show to kiss the top of your head. 

“Fifteen minutes,” he gives you before releasing you from his hold. It’s not much time at all, but you head straight to Namjoon.

“What’s going on?” he asks you, touching your arm. You still smell so distressed, it’s bitter and almost tannic from your usual warm, sweet scent.

“I’m going with them, Namjoon,” you tell him, your voice so quiet, it’s almost a whisper. Tears glisten in your eyes, and honestly, it makes Namjoon want to cry too.

“Wh-What are you saying? You can’t go with them,” Namjoon begins as waves of emotions hit him at once: anger, confusion, disbelief, hurt, sadness, yearning. “No. I won’t let them take you.”

“Please don’t make this harder for me. I made my choice.”

A glimmer catches his attention, and his eyes are drawn to the band around your finger. His heart breaks when he realizes it’s an engagement ring.

He… he feels like a fool. Of course, you couldn’t be his. Of course, you’d choose to be with someone else. Why would you ever love a beast like him?

“Thirteen minutes,” Kangdae loudly counts down from behind you, relishing the look on Namjoon's face.

And like that, you step away from him. Cold air escapes with your warmth, and he barely registers the thanks you give him for taking care of you all this time. Your voice feels like it’s underwater. His packmates are shocked and unhappy, their own feelings adding to the bitterness Namjoon could practically taste in the air.

He feels numb when you step in front of him again several minutes later, dressed in something more comfortable and with your duffle bag slung around your shoulder. It only occurs to him that he’s been crying when he glances up at you, his vision blurred by his tears.

There’s an apologetic look on your face. Words at the tip of your tongue that you can’t say to him. Truths that can’t be told. “Take care of Jungkook for me, okay?”

“You’re just letting her go?” Jimin berates, standing in the middle of Namjoon’s room in the west wing. It’s the only area in the mansion that hasn’t been fixed yet. A gaping hole on the side of the wall exposes the room to the dark clouds that cover the night sky whenever Namjoon is in a sour mood. “Why didn’t you try to stop her?”

“She’s already promised to someone else.” Namjoon’s voice is low and calm, almost matter-of-fact. But the scales on his face are cracking again. He’s able to control himself better at night, when the beast inside him is quiet and asleep, but after everything that’s happened, his emotions are all over the place.

For six months, Namjoon has been very careful to hide the monster he is. Afraid he’d scare you off if you know the truth. Afraid to show you any part of himself that doesn’t appear human. He’s been patient, yearning, glad to have you around but terrified for the inevitable day this would come.

The day you decide to leave.

Once Kangdae and his men got what they came for, they retreated. As if they never saw them, as promised.

It’s been hours since then. Namjoon, and the others return to the manor where Hoseok and Jimin anxiously question what had happened and where you’ve gone. 

“You know damn well as much as I do that she doesn’t love that man,” Jimin hisses, his black feathers ruffled with agitation. “You’re so happy with her, Namjoon. You’ve been lonely for so long, and you told me it was a miracle that you found each other again. Every night, you’ve been courting her. Every night, you two were getting closer. And now, you’re just letting her leave without a fight? What if she doesn’t come back?”

“It’s okay, Jimin. She made her decision.” Namjoon’s voice is still calm, still quiet, as if trying to be complacent. But his voice breaks as he admits, “I’ll miss her too.”

The swan hybrid falls silent. Fresh tears sting his eyes, terrified that you’ve abandoned them. After they’ve all gotten used to you being around. After they began to consider you and Jungkook a part of their pack.

Jimin knows it’s not Namjoon’s fault that you left. He knows it isn’t yours either. That if those men hadn’t found the manor, you’d still be with them. 

But as much as it pains him to question if you’ll ever come back to him, nothing could compare to how hurt Namjoon must be.

After all, you’re his mate. Namjoon wanted to finally tell you that tonight.

To love and to be loved in return.

If Namjoon could wish for anything, it would be that.

A single petal falls from a smeraldo flower Namjoon keeps in a vase. A beautiful flower that means an untold truth.

Jimin watches as it delicately lands on the table. It almost feels like watching sand in an hourglass. Every second that slips by seems emptier and emptier, and it makes him anxiously wonder if you’ll ever know how much Namjoon truly loves you.

Footsteps hurry toward the west wing, and Hoseok appears, out of breath. There’s urgency in his eyes as he looks at Namjoon and Jimin. “Those men! They’re back!”

“I thought they left,” Namjoon practically snarls. What more could they take from him?

Taehyung is with Hoseok. There’s a frown on his face as he says, “I don’t think they left at all. They just brought reinforcements.”

Namjoon’s eyes are ablaze. He’s barely in control of himself and it makes Jimin and the others eye each other nervously. He shoves past them, the scales on his skin becoming more apparent and glistening with the moonlight. “Find the others and stay inside!”

He storms out before he could hear their responses. The clear and starry sky now shrouded with dark clouds as a sudden storm picks up. Lightning flashes and Namjoon is gone, a menacing roar drowned by the rumble of thunder.

The three look at each other, unable to hide their worry. It’s been a long time since they’ve seen Namjoon like this, consumed by his anger and self-hatred. Where chaos and destruction mark his path, and the storms outside are strong enough to sweep everything away.

Seokjin and Yoongi join them, wearing similar expressions of concern. Jimin looks at his pack before him and realizes there’s one missing. “Where’s Jungkook?”

A bump in the road stirs you from sleep. In the back of the car like an arrested suspect, you must have dozed off. You’ve been crying the whole time. Tears stain your cheeks and the puffiness in your eyes and face are evident of that.

It’s just you and Kangdae in the white van. One, you’re certain, specifically designed for capturing hybrids.

The backdoors aren’t unlockable from the inside, and there are strong chains hooked against the sides and bottoms to keep the hybrid in place. A cage mesh separates you from the front seats of the car, keeping you contained like an animal.

The other men he was with must have taken separate vehicles, but you all seem to be going to the same place. Back to that small, provincial town.

Where everyone knows you as the odd, quiet, but beautiful girl who is incredibly lucky to be with someone as handsome and wealthy as Kangdae. Where you’re about to sign your life away to a loveless marriage with a terrible man. Where you could only hope that this is the right choice, and that nothing will harm the hybrids.

Emotional exhaustion still has its hold on your body. You hear Kangdae’s voice, but you could barely make out what he’s saying. He’s speaking so quietly, he must think you’re still asleep. Your eyes start to adjust to the darkness in the back of the van. There isn’t much to look at anyway. It’s empty except for your opened duffle bag and…

You nearly scream at the pair of big, doe-shaped eyes staring at you in the shadows. Before you could make a sound, he quickly covers your mouth with the palm of his hand and places a finger to his pouty lips, gesturing you to keep quiet.

“Jungkook? What the hell are you doing here?” you question, bewildered, when he finally lets you go. He must’ve snuck into your bag while you were in a rush to pack your things.

The bunny hybrid smiles so widely, his nose crinkles a little. “I couldn’t let you face the bad humans alone, can I?”

Conflicted between relief and upset upon seeing him, you’re touched that he’s here. Even if he’s supposed to be in the manor with everyone else. Before you could question it, he motions you to keep quiet again. One of his long ears is pressed against the divider as he crouches in Kangdae’s blindspot.

“It’s even better than that,” Kangdae continues, keeping his voice low as he talks to someone on the phone. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice that you aren’t alone in the back. His attention is focused on the road ahead. “There’s a house full of them.”

Your eyes widen when you realize Kangdae is talking about the hybrids.

You can’t make out the response on the other line, but you recognize the tone Kangdae is using. It’s the voice he uses whenever he makes a sales pitch. He describes the other hybrids one by one: how bigger Seokjin is compared to other wolf hybrids, the rarity of Yoongi’s leopard skin, the pros of Taehyung’s strength as a bear hybrid for intense work labor. Your stomach knots as he talks about how much profit he could make if he were to capture and sell them.

The more you listen, the sicker you feel. Whatever Kangdae is planning, it sounds like it will happen as soon as tonight, and you and Jungkook need to come up with something quickly if you want to warn the others in time.

“Kangdae,” you call out to him, back in the same position you woke up in as Jungkook shifts into a bunny and blends in the shadows. “I need to use the restroom.”

“Shit. I gotta go,” Kangdae mutters in annoyance before he hangs up the phone. “Hold it in, babe. We’ll be in the closest town soon.”

“I can’t,” you whine, wiggling around and squeezing your thighs together. “Kangdae, please. Can you pull over?”

He glares at you from the rearview mirror and curses, suddenly swerving. Tires screech in an abrupt halt that slams you forward against the cage. Luckily, you and Jungkook aren’t hurt as Kangdae rips the car door open and slams it shut. In his bunny form, you watch Jungkook dart toward the other end of the van. You catch your breath as the door opens and Kangdae grabs you. “You better make it fast or I’ll—”

Before he could finish, Jungkook shifts and jumps out at him. The sharp snap of his knuckles hitting Kangdae square in the face is the most satisfying sound you’ve ever heard. He instantly lets you go and yelps in pain, but Jungkook quickly pins him to the ground, throwing his legs around Kangdae’s torso, and uses his brute strength to keep him in a chokehold. “His keys!”

You snap out of it and yank the van’s keys from Kangdae’s jeans.

“Bitch!” he wheezes, choking a bit more as Jungkook’s hold on him tightens. His face looks like a mess. You’re pretty sure Jungkook broke his nose and blood drips freely onto the hybrid’s arm. 

You shut the back doors and jump to the driver’s seat. “Jungkook, come on!”

It’s only then that he lets Kangdae go. The bunny hybrid kicks him in the ribs for good measure, snapping that the kick was for calling you a bitch, and then quickly climbs onto the passenger seat beside you. 

Tires screech again as you turn the van around and floor it back to the road that you came from. You glance at the rearview mirror to see Kangdae still on the ground, but struggling to get back on his feet. You don’t see any of the other men around, but you’re sure it won’t be long until they’re on your trail.

You glance at Jungkook, who is rubbing his knuckles and taking deep breaths to let the adrenaline die down. His eyes are fixed on the road as he tells you, “I don’t think we lost too much time, but he told them where the manor is. We should hurry.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to remember the path you took all those months ago that led you to the manor. “You were amazing back there, you know?”

“I told you I’m strong,” Jungkook teases with a flex of his muscles. His smile falls as he admits, “I’m just glad that I was able to use it for something other than fighting other hybrids, you know?”

“You’ll never have to,” you promise as the van speeds along, reminiscent of how your adventure started. Back when you were so lost and scared, and not sure where to go. But now, you have direction. Now, you have a place to go to. “Let’s go home, Jungkook.”

What once was a clear and starry night becomes dark and stormy. Black clouds hang over the manor by the time you reach it, and rain pours as heavily as it did the night you first arrived. An old and forgotten manor, once peaceful and unassuming, now holds the aftermath of a perilous battle.

You and Jungkook step out of the van with caution. Blood is spilled on the ground. Grass is singed with ash and dying embers. Weapons have been dropped and shells of bullets discarded. Something tore through here, and you can only assume that the carcasses and severed limbs are the men that foolishly stayed behind.

Your stomach twists with worry and grief. Had Kangdae ordered his men to attack the hybrids as soon as you left? Are any of them hurt?

“We have to get inside,” you remind Jungkook. More men are coming, based on what you overheard Kangdae say. You need to warn them before it’s too late.

“Don’t give up!” a voice in the roughly distance exclaims. You and Jungkook immediately hide around the van, noticing a group of armed men by the front doors. “Break the doors open! I want those hybrids captured alive!”

Your heart sinks when you realize you might be too late.

Jungkook nudges you, grabbing your attention. He nods toward the side of the manor – that there still might be another entryway you can sneak into without alerting the men outside. Both of you jog toward the east side of the manor and see a window that you could climb into. Jungkook gives you a boost before he easily jumps in after you.

At the entryway, you see the hybrids have barricaded the doors. Taehyung in his bear form is leaning against the furniture, but you’re not sure how long he can keep holding them back. The others are on their guard, getting ready to attack. Everyone is there but one person.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

The hybrids snap their attention toward you when they hear your voice. Hoseok’s eyes widen in shock. “You came back?”

“I came home,” you correct as they return your smile. Taehyung grunts as he struggles to keep the barricade up. You grab the heaviest thing you could use as a weapon and signal for him and the others to hide.

The front doors slowly creak up with a loud, echoing groan. The intruders slowly enter, pushing aside the furniture piled up by the door. It feels haunted with how old and antique the style of the manor is, and although it seems empty, they can feel pairs of eyes watching them from the shadows.

Jimin drops something from above, startling the men, distracting them as the rest of you sneak in and attack. The fight is instant. In your hands is a heavy candelabra, and you swing it at the back of a man’s head. It disorients him, causing him to drop his gun, and you kick it out of reach. You then swing the candelabra into another man in front of you, nearly knocking him back into another person, and causing both of them to stumble on the ground.

The others around you are fairing just as well.

Taehyung’s ferocious roar is enough to scare some of them off. From above, Jimin snatches weapons out of their hands and tosses them where they can’t reach. Hoseok uses his antlers to ram into multiple people, and Yoongi’s agility makes it difficult for anyone to catch him. Seokjin’s bite is powerful as he chases them out of the manor, and Jungkook, who is trained in hand-to-hand combat, uses his skills to knock them down before they could hurt anyone from the pack.

The battle spills outside. Most of the intruders have given up and fled, vowing to never return when they realize the price of the hybrids aren’t worth their lives. They slip on the wet mud mixed with blood and scream in horror when they finally see the carnage and are reminded of what their fates could be. The hybrids around you are breathing hard from exertion, worn from battle but otherwise unhurt.

It’s almost over. Only a few stragglers are left, but the victory is yours. The manor is safe for another day, but you haven’t seen Namjoon yet.

“He’s in the west wing,” Yoongi tells you as you eye the forbidden area. He grabs the collar of a random man and starts to drag him away. “We got things covered here. You should go to him.”

Adrenaline still pumps in your veins, but you nod your head, enter the manor, and climb up the stairs to see him. At first glance, the westside of the manor seems identical to the eastside. However, the further you go, the darker and desolate it becomes.

Time always seems at a standstill within the manor. The furniture is old, the floorboards creak, the wallpaper is outdated, but it isn’t until you enter the west wing when you truly see the effects of time and abandonment. White sheets cover the furniture, cracks and holes on the walls, old paintings are weathered and an armor suit with a sword is rusted.

At the end of the long hallway is a large doorway that’s cracked open. Rain spills from the exposed area, further damaging the soaked floorboards. The cold wind makes you shiver as you slowly cross the threshold. It looks like you’re in the master bedroom. A large bed, antique furniture, a vase with a smeraldo flower, but more notably, by the tall windows, is Namjoon.

His clothes are torn, as if he’s been clutching them so tightly, they’ve ripped. You see that he’s breathing heavily, gasping for air, curling into himself as if he’s in pain. Your heart suddenly yearns for him – wanting to comfort him, wanting to kiss his burdens away – as you take a step forward and carefully call out his name. “Namjoon?”

When he looks at you, he’s almost unrecognizable. Half-shifted to whatever hybrid he is. The smoothness of his sun-kissed skin has turned into scales that glimmer slightly in the moonlight. His fingernails have grown to long claws, painting his entire hand black and shaping it like a talon. Horns grow out of his head, bending back. Blood covers his mouth and clothes, and you can’t tell if it’s his blood or not. The whites of his eyes are gone, but they still look at you with the same surprise, gentleness, and worry that the Namjoon you know would always have.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, his voice rough with a low growl. He tries to hide from you, curling up into a tight ball, clearly ashamed of his appearance. It looks like he’s trying to fully shift back into a human, but isn’t able to. “Don’t look at me. I won’t– I can’t hold it back!”

But you don’t care. You take another step forward. “Namjoon, I–”

Out of nowhere, someone grabs you by your hair and yanks you back. A yelp of pain escapes your lips as one of the intruders, who followed you through the west wing, hisses down your neck. “Bitch. Did you think you’d get away from me?”

“Kangdae!” you cry out, trying to pry his fingers off you, but he just pulls you harder, forcing you down on your knees.

Tears prick your eyes as he starts to drag you by your hair, and you scream for him to stop. To let you go. You don’t want anything to do with this man. You don’t want a future with him. You never wanted one to begin with.

He only manages to pull you out of the master bedroom when a deep rumble for the shadows comes from within. The ground shakes and bits of debris fall from the ceiling. Kangdae’s grip tightens around you, this time, out of fear.

In the shadows, a pair of angry, glowing indigo eyes glare at him. Lightning flashes, giving a glimpse of a monster in its depths.

Then, since the night you first arrived at the mansion, you hear it. The same sound that spooked Jungkook all those months ago. The sound of an ungodly roar.

Namjoon never wanted you to see him like this.

A pitifully lonely, ugly, beastly creature like him doesn’t deserve to even be looked at by someone as beautiful and precious as you. He’s seen the terror in the eyes of everyone who’s witnessed this form, even from his own pack mates. He can’t bear the thought of scaring you, but Namjoon is selfish. Because he can’t bear the thought of losing you either.

Perhaps it's fate that drew him to participate in that underground battle all those years ago. His hatred and anger for himself and for the world could be catalyzed in forms of words and poetry as a writer, as a rapper. He wanted to at least try.

Namjoon noticed you right away among the crowd. You were breathtaking then, and even more so now. Namjoon doesn’t know much about love. He doesn’t have much for himself, let alone for others. But something akin to it – something warm, something right – he felt it that night. He knew you were someone special to him before he even knew your name.

The second time, after thinking about you nonstop, it’s like you manifested for him. Again, he saw you in the crowd, looking up at him with intrigue. Then, to his horror, his disguise falls off and the only sign of him being a hybrid is unveiled to the room. He remembers the shock, the disgust, the fear. He can smell it on their skins, but among all that is your sweet one. 

You aren’t afraid when you approach him and hand back his sunglasses. There’s a gentle kindness in your voice when you speak to him. As you look him in the eyes, you don’t flinch from fear or nerves. You treat him like he’s human.

The interaction is too brief, but he’s never forgotten it.

Perhaps it’s fate that drew you to the manor half a year ago. He never thought he’d see you again. He’s mourned that idea more times than he’d like to admit: you were the girl who got away, a girl who he’d be too afraid to show his true self to anyway, a girl he could love but would never love him back in return. 

As the poor weather matches his uneasy heart, he still asks you every night to spend time with him, expecting that you’d refuse and turn him down. But you never did. Even if he shows you boring things like his plants or his books, you still look at them with fascination because those boring things mean a lot to him.

Like waves of the ocean meeting the shore, you ebb away his loneliness and sorrows. The raging storm inside him subsides, and he feels content with just your presence. It makes him happy, seeing you bond with his packmates. It makes him happy, hearing your laughter and listening to you talk about your day. It makes him happy when you decide to stay.

Namjoon is already upset that the intruders have taken you from him, invaded his home, and threatened his pack. The anger and self-hatred rolls back like a tsunami, crashing into him so viciously that he feels the beast taking over, consuming him. Namjoon is so scared of losing that control he’s maintained while you were here, but now, it’s like he can’t think. He can’t breathe.

Someone is hurting his mate.

It’s all he thinks about as the manor rumbles around him and he fully shifts before your eyes. In the piercing darkness, he glares at the man who has his hand on you. He watches as he falls down and scrambles back, eyes shaking but never looking away as Namjoon steps closer into the light, revealing his monstrous form.

Namjoon isn’t just one hybrid. He’s several of them at once: nose of a pig, iridescent blue scales of a reptile, tail and long whiskers of a carp, long body of a serpent, talons of a falcon, beard of a goat. An ancient creature that only exists in stories and legends.

Namjoon is a dragon.

Kangdae screams as the dragon roars at him. He scrambles backwards on the ground, unable to tear his eyes away from the monster in the shadows. Namjoon lunges after him but isn’t able to fit through the doorway. With a snarl, he exits from the exposed hole in the corner of the room.

You hear Namjoon on the rooftop, trying to find Kangdae. The two of you are startled when a window breaks in, glass shattering on the floor, followed by his frustrated grunts when he still can’t reach him.

You’re still in shock, but Kangdae is quick to recover. His nose is broken from earlier and dried blood stains his shirt and skin. But in the backpocket of his jeans is a gun.

 “Kangdae, stop. Don’t hurt him.”

“He’s a monster, babe,” he reminds you coldly. “One that will make me so rich and famous when I capture it. Imagine, a dragon hybrid under my command.”

“As if he’d listen to you!” Jungkook must’ve hit him harder than you thought. He’s insane to go after Namjoon like this.

“No,” he agrees, voice low like a growl as he eyes you. “But he’ll listen to you.”

With his gun drawn, he grabs you and drags you back into the master bedroom, near the exposed opening. Cold rain continues to pour down, drenching both of you. Vines and smeraldo flowers cover a lattice panel against the wall, and Kangdae barks at you to climb it. You’re trembling from both the fear and the cold as you glance down, hand shaking as you grasp the thin, wet wood. 

One slip, and it’s over.

Kangdae nearly shoves you off the ledge, demanding you to climb. Slowly, carefully, you get to the roof of the manor with Kangdae right behind you. Below, you hear the other hybrids call out to you. It’s hard to see from the storm, but Kangdae waves his gun around and fires it at random. You scream at the sound, clutching the wood so tightly as you shut your eyes. Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like he hit anyone, but you practically scramble the rest of the way when he snaps at you to move.

Thunder rumbles and lightning flashes as you finally reach the top. And it’s only then that you’re able to get a good glimpse of Namjoon’s hybrid form.

He looks nothing like any creature you’ve seen before. His scales are white-blue, shining the same way the smeraldo flowers do with the heavy rain. His body is incredibly long like a serpent, with long talons on his feet and claws. He looks intimidating, but as you look into his eyes, you can see that it’s so clearly Namjoon.

You could never forget how beautiful his eyes are.

“Nam—” you begin to call out, but Kangdae covers your mouth with one hand. The other holds a gun at the dragon.

“What’s the matter, beast? Are you in love with her?” he taunts, cackling sinisterly at the angry fire in the hybrid’s eyes. “Do you honestly think she’d want you, when she has someone like me?”

But Kangdae couldn’t be more wrong.

You struggle in his hold again, elbowing him off you, yanking his hand away from your mouth. “Don’t believe him, Namjoon! I’ll never love him!”

“Shut up, babe! Or I’ll make you regret it!”

“It’s you, Namjoon! You’re the one I love!”

You see the dragon’s eyes widen at your confession.

“I said shut the fuck up!” Kangdae shouts, trying to grab you again, but you manage to slip out of his hold, nearly falling forward as you scramble away from him. Namjoon stands over you protectively once you’re close enough, roaring so loudly it makes the whole manor tremble.

Kangdae nearly loses his balance too, almost slipping off the edge. He aims his gun at Namjoon and fires, but the bullets do little to harm him. Namjoon lunges to bite him, but Kangdae shoots again at his face. This time, it makes him flinch and recoil in pain.

You scream when you see Namjoon is hurt, just as the other hybrids catch up to you guys. Kangdae comes toward you again, his hand reaching to grab you once more. But you’ve had enough.

He threatens to make your life miserable, like he always does. Because he’s always been the man that never gets rejected. That always gets his way. 

And you’re so sick and tired of it.

Every single day with him has been a living hell.

“Fuck you!” you curse, shoving him as hard as you can. He stumbles toward the ledge. It’s raining so hard, you can barely see. The roof is slippery. Even you start to lose your balance until Jungkook comes up and holds you steady. As Kangdae starts to fall back, you barely notice that he’s pointing his gun right at you.

But Namjoon does. His roar shakes the entire manor, causing Kangdae to fall off the ledge before he could fire his gun.

It feels like everything is slowed-down. You’re thankful Jungkook turns your head away, cradling you to his chest so you don’t have to see. That he covers your ears as the heavy rain drowns out Kangdae’s final scream. You’re thankful the rain hides your tears as you try to process what just happened.

You feel shocked. You feel sad how it came to this. Relieved that it’s over. Scared, even.

But not as scared as Namjoon.

The dragon hybrid tries to hide away from you again, curling up in himself like a tight ball some meters away. If you hadn’t thought he was a monster before, surely you do now. That seems to be what he and the other hybrids are thinking because, after a while, you hear Taehyung quietly plead, “Please don’t be afraid of him.”

“He looks like one now, but he’s not a monster,” Hoseok adds as you finally look at where Namjoon is. 

“I know,” you reply softly. Of course they’re not. None of them are. Joy lights up on their faces as you move out of Jungkook’s hold, careful not to trip as you head toward the cowering beast. Up close, Namjoon looks ethereal. Carefully, you place your hand on his iridescent scales, rubbing it gently, petting him like you would Jungkook. You feel him tense beneath your fingertips before he turns his head to look at you – cautious, confused, maybe a bit hopeful. You smile at him, looking him in the eyes. “You’re so pretty, Namjoon.”

The rain begins to stop. Cold scales are replaced with warm skin as he shifts back to his human form. His large hand cups the side of your face as he looks into your eyes. You watch waves of emotion soar through him at once as he asks, “Did you mean what you said? Do you love me?”

“I do–” He barely lets you answer before he kisses you.

Deep in the woods, in an area that humans haven’t come across in many years, lies an old, abandoned manor. Harboring inside are neither men nor animals, but outcasts who have been shunned for their appearances. Grotesque mutations and behaviors deemed unfavorable to a society that treats them so cruelly.

Until, one day, you come along.

Beautiful as you are kind, but in some ways, you’re a bit of an outcast yourself. You never felt like you belonged in that small, provincial town. Burdened by expectations of keeping appearances to what others saw fit.

Perhaps that’s why you could never be afraid of them. You relate to the hybrids more than you had any other human.

“Ah,” Yoongi complains, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just replaced these floor tiles a month ago.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon apologizes sheepishly. “I’ll help you fix the mess.”

“Don’t bother,” he tells him, though he eyes Jimin and the others for an unspoken plea for help. One that Jimin pretends to not see as he helps you sweep up the debris. The leopard gives you a pointed glance and says, “Keep him distracted before he breaks anything else, okay?”

“Sure, Yoongi.” You look over at Namjoon, grinning to yourself at how flustered he looks at the request. And how easily you agreed to it.

Last night took a toll on everyone. You’re not sure what the hybrids did with Kangdae’s body, and honestly, you don’t want to ask. Whether they buried him in a shallow grave or left him to the wolves, it doesn’t matter to you anymore.

The westside looks more deteriorated than before Namjoon’s transformation, and all of you ended up staying in the east wing with what little sleep you could manage. The other hybrids piled together in Jungkook’s room while Namjoon stayed in yours.

And it’s between soft kisses and scenting that he tells you the one truth that was left untold. That you’re his mate.

To be loved and to be loved in return. It’s a new and unfamiliar feeling to you. It’s the same for Namjoon as well. That warm and precious feeling that novels you’ve read often retell, you’re willing to know it all with him.

Your hand slips into Namjoon’s, drawing his attention. There’s a fondness in his eyes when you don’t shy away from him, despite knowing what he is. His eyes linger at your hands for a moment, his gaze already telling you that he loves you before he even speaks the words. And you meet his beautiful eyes with a teasing glint in yours.

“Namjoon, would you like to spend the evening with me?”

Because the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is to love and to be loved in return.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Previous | Masterlist 

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Because I think I might get around writing for most of the men at some point for the future au I wanted to see or already arrange how many kids they would have

Jin would have two kids in complete accident, he was very happy by his father's discontent at his heir's lack of kids but things happened, the person who celebrated them the most was the grampa. Maybe two boys or a boy and a baby girl.

Thoma screams girl dad, doesn't he? Just imagine him braiding her hair for evening tea and being a menace to any boys she brings home with Alan if they break her heart, he is still a delinquent at heart.

For Luca I'm split between wanting him to have two boys to mirror him and his brother or a spoiled girl he plays knight for, sigh, such a hard decision...

Kaito, how did he reproduce?

Alan, two kids, one of each, no hesitation, he has a ‘little princess’ who he is nervous of hurting accidentally when he holds her but is as much of a wild beast as his brother. They like going hiking and getting chased by their dad when they get too close to a lake or too far away from the path.

In Leo’s scenario i see him with a daughter that managed to soften out his meanness (while she is around so she doesn't pick up on much of his sass, kids don't make miracles) and left him with another on the way that I also feel would be another girl. He is just a bit annoyed he doesn't have to redo the nursery for content but whatever.

Sho I KNOW that in his fic I said ‘nephew’ but imagine a baby girl that was playing with her family before she was even born and had you two scattering to find a girl's name at the hospital. It's just the beginning of her mischievous streak. Sho thinks it's his karma from being a thug as a teen.

I don't know why but I can see Romeo having three kids? Maybe because Gucci had like five kids or it's to a certain degree to assure himself the MC wants to stay with him and wouldn't leave out of the blue 💔 attachment issues bb.

Ritsu originally only wanted one child, he was an only child and was happy getting all the attention, but not everything went as he planned so he got twin boys.

Taiga, why would you do this to yourself??

Haru already has a son, peekaboo, but when he grows up he accidentally has a boy who he starts giving some minor tasks around, separating some leaves for the animals, brushing peekaboo’s hair, plucking weeds, etc etc. Don't look at him like that! He need all the help he can get.

Towa has girls! They like fairy tales with happy endings and always bother their dad to tell them your love story. When they become toddlers they go through a vegan phase to mimick him and will cry if they have meat or egg on their plate.

Ren was 99% sure he was going to die a virgin. He ends up with a girl he plays games with everyday after work. Borderline ipad kid.

Can grandpa Ed even have kids? Lol if he has I think I could see him with just one vampy baby that sits next to him and drinks tears off a sippy cup while his dad watches iceberg videos. Another ipad kid.

Rui (if somehow you broke his curse) is someone who I don't think would have kids, or at least not planned jajs but maybe one girl that he ends up overprotecting from playboy men like him in his youth.

Lyca I want to say they have a litter just for the joke of him being a werewolf but he doesn't seem to have any siblings so the joke doesn't get far :(

I see Subaru with only one child if any. He loves the little thing but feels he is intruding on their privacy, whenever he touches his preteen/teen kid he feels sorry enough to apologize.

I see Haku as someone who would be pretty chill with his life after Darkwick and go along with it as it happened. If you two had a child, great; if you didn't, great too. Very go with the flow parenting too.

Zenji he is dead wth jajajaj

Yuri NEEDS a little child that is always so impressed with their papa and he gets to brag about being the best or something. Please just don't let him be a strict teacher so your kid will follow his steps, he thinks it's for the best of their future but you can coerce him into just giving a very lengthy lecture about anomalous medicine without tests.

Jiro HAS to have a boy that is so similar to his uncle 🥹 always cooing since he is able to vocalize and chasing his dad around to get uppies while he tends to the backyard filled with herbs.

[lipglossanon]

♔ 𝔖𝔦𝔵 ♔

• A Dozen Roses • Fairy Tale AU •

Warnings: MDNI, dead dove, incest, possessiveness, abuse of power, mentions of suicide, depictions of bodily harm, off screen death

The King sends out a courier to every neighboring kingdom before you rise from your bed the next day. Your chambermaids are all a flutter, whispering amongst themselves in hopes you won’t hear anything. 

It doesn’t take long for your ladies-in-waiting to gather you from your rooms to walk with you down to the great hall. One of them discretely tells you that your Father is summoning all the lower court today for an announcement. Nerves make your hands jittery, but you keep your composure and walk sedately with your ladies. The tryst between you and the King left no physical marks and yet your entire body bears the moment deep in its bones. 

The lower court members are seated and gossiping when you enter the room. Many of the lords give you dark looks with their wives and daughters looking upon you with undisguised pity. Their judging eyes are nothing new, but the room is filled with an unspoken tension. Skirts rustling, your group of ladies block you from view as best they can, ushering you to your chair. 

Seated in your usual spot near the head of the table, you try to parse what the gentry are muttering to themselves but without luck. It’s all for naught as the room falls silent once the King enters with a couple of his knights. His cold eyes scan the table, landing on you for half a beat too long before shifting away to finish his perusal. 

Feeling satisfied with what he finds, your Father makes his way to the head of the table. You squirm in your seat, body feeling hot under your gown at the remembrance of his touches from the night before. Heartbeat thundering loudly in your ears, you try your best to school your expression into a mildly pleasant facade. Once he reaches his chair, the knights flank either side, all three now facing the people gathered. 

“Today is a day for celebration,” the King announces, voice clearly ringing out into the hall. “I have decided upon who shall have my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Your eyes drop to the clenched fists in your lap. It’s not like you didn’t know this day would come, but the betrayal of the King choosing someone after what you have given him is breath stealing. 

“She shall wed me and rule at my side as the new Queen.”

Gasps are the only thing to break the stony silence, everyone’s eyes now falling on you while you gaze wide eyed up at the man who has become your betrothed. 

“My liege,” a lord at the end of the table nervously stands. “It against the law is it not? To wed with one of your own line?”

A few other men stand from their seats, chiming in with agreement, pointing out their fellow clergymen who nod along with their claims. 

“Tis not right,” a wizened man steps completely away from the table. “You’ll smite us all with your blasphemous ways. We tolerated your witch wife, absolved of that sin when she took her own life.”

Your head jerks in his direction, “My mother?”

“Aye, lass,” a sneer crosses his weather worn face. “She communed with a devil and earned her fate on those cliffs. She—“

“Enough,” the King cuts off the old man’s tirade. He snaps his fingers and one of the knights leaves his side to roughly grab onto the ranting lord’s arm. 

“I know what you are,” spittle flies from his lips. “Coveting her damns us all. The spawn of that heathen—“

The King nods and the knight grasps the jaw of the elderly lord. Squeezing tightly, he wrenches the old man’s mouth open, and pulls a small dagger from his side. With one quick slice, the lord’s tongue falls to the floor with a wet splat, blood bubbling from his mouth like water in a fountain. 

It feels like time slows to a crawl. The old man cups his mouth, trying to stop the flow of blood and yet it drips like rubies from his wrists. A few ladies scream, including his wife, while the other lords who stood in solidarity slowly take their seats. The knight marches the elderly lord out of the hall, his garbled cries growing fainter until they are heard no more. 

“I will take your concerns into consideration,” the King levels his cool gaze at every person of the lower court. “But it is my divine right to choose what I will. Any insubordination will be met with a swift rebuke.”

He claps his hands and servants flood the hall with platters of food. 

“Now, let us rejoice. Enjoy this bounty provided by your King.”

He sits down, the knight standing at his side shifting to stand guard at his back. You’re unable to look at him any longer, questions running rampant in your thoughts. The old man spoke of your mother in a way you’d never heard before. Glancing down the long table, you catch sight of the man’s wife. Her glassy eyes staring vacantly at the far wall as maids quickly clean the mess left behind by her husband. 

Avoiding your Father’s gaze, you force yourself to take bites off of the plate prepared for you. The jangling of armor pierces the quiet as the other knight returns, blood coating his chainmail. Your stomach roils at the knowledge of why. 

Faking illness comes easily enough; you truly are not feeling yourself— it’s easily believed by your ladies-in-waiting so the King dismisses you to your chambers. Surprisingly, he does nothing more than kiss your knuckles as he bids you farewell. 

Stepping out of the hall, you wave down a serving boy to summon the newly widowed lady to your rooms. She arrives looking frightened and reluctant. It takes all of your willpower to adhere to decorum and not demand answers outright like a brute. 

The tale she weaves is bitter and sad; of a new bride found in the forest; whispers of her witch blood and the blood thirsty king silencing those who oppose. She speaks in urgent stilted sentences, telling you of the sadness that draped the new Queen like a leaden cloak. That she had another love before the King coaxed her away. The sudden news of a child growing inside her, a gift of their joining. 

The old woman clasps your hands in hers, a tight grip that makes your knuckles hurt. 

“Your mother tried to leave and your father couldn’t be seen as weak. He followed her to the sea. She would not return, even for the babe she bore. The King would have taken her by force if she did not jump. Some say she melted into the sea foam and still haunts those cliffs.”

A lady-in-waiting rushes in with scared eyes, warning of the King’s departure from the Hall. 

You thank the woman and gift her a brooch for her trouble. She straightens up and gives you a solemn nod before leaving your chambers. The maids bustle around you, ushering you into a chair and stoking the fire. You avoid their presence, the thinly concealed pity coating their tongues. 

Once they leave, you find your mother’s journal and begin to reread the passages in a new light. Your mother knew she could not keep a journal secret from your father. All of her possessions were buried or burned in honor of her passing. Angry tears fill your eyes as you read over the description of her ancestors—your ancestors.  

From her writings, you now knew what it meant for her to give herself back to the sea. That old woman was right even if she did not know it; your mother melted into the foam like her mother before her and her mother before her. A note of longing and resentment that the forest witch could not do as such; that wood magic had its own rules that did not cede to the waves of her home. 

As the sun begins to set, a blistering determination blooms in your chest like a briar rose. You ready a small satchel of the items you think you’ll need: the little jewelry you own, your mother’s journal, the apples left near your table. Hiding it while you’re alone, you wait, and once the chambermaids ready you for bed and depart, you slip into the simplest dress you own and make your bid for freedom. 

You don’t have much of a plan, but you know that you cannot stay, not with these questions burning your mind. The forest witch is closest; hoping she yet still lives. 

It’s easier than you thought, making your way from your rooms to the edge of the garden in the dark. The guards patrol at intervals easily skirted around and the darkened forest beckons you into its shadowy arms. 

Taking a deep breath, you charge forward, hope a small flutter of wings. 

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES chapter 2

the two men stumbled into their room, their laughter continuing from earlier’s events.

william had decided to wake michael up and challenge him to a duel aboard his ship. at first, michael complained about it being too early but in the end it turned out to be fun.

he learned about posture and technique. he also learned that his father was getting old and used it to his advantage.

then, they ate in one of the taverns deeper in the town for lunch and laughed about old memories which they continued to now.

“ah, you’re getting too old son,” william sighed, patting michael’s shoulder to which he laughed and pushed him away, “shut up, old man. i still have places to see and things to do!”

the two chuckled before henry knocked on the door to let william know that something had been faulty with their planning. henry apologised and left profusely, but william still had to leave.

he apologised to michael, ruffling his hair momentarily before leaving the room. with a sigh, michael slumped onto his bed. he looked over at his satchel and thought about writing to you. if he put it in a bottle and let it drift, would you recieve it? it was worth a try.

michael swiftly searched through the satchel, pulling out last night’s stationary and writing a quick note on a ripped piece of paper: hopefully you get this, but i’m here. a bit early i know.

he then pulled out a glass bottle from his satchel that he had collected previously like his father suggested he do, saying he could wish upon the sea. michael tucked it away, screwing on the cork. before he left his room, michael shoved it in his bag and let the strap go over his head.

it was the same route as always, the stairway, the bar, the door, and down the coastline. michael squatted down and watched as his discarded message in a bottle drifted with the tide. he remained there for not a very long time, barely a minute before the bottle abruptly disappeared into the water and in its place your head appeared.

“i think early is an understatement,” you smiled as you swam closer to michael’s rock. he shrugged, “i wasn’t busy.”

“how do you know i wasn’t?” you teased and michael frowned, “were you?”

nonetheless, you shook your head, “i was biding my time.”

“what do you call biding your time? swimming upside down?” michael taunted with a snort and u splashed him.

“no, i was exploring,” you trailed off, looking in the distance, “if you follow the sand, theres a cave. it has a different opening for you and me.”

michael watched as you disappeared underwater, but your tail gave you away. he walked back on the rocks, following the trail of sand. michael didn’t fail to keep an eye on you, your tail occasionally flicking up to direct his eyes. you were showing it to him after all.

eventually, he came across an opening and slipped through it being met with sand into waves. michael watched as you perched ontop of a rock, freely able to display yourself as nobody was at risk of seeing you.

“its a nice spot, don’cha think?” you put your arm up and tilted your body like you were posing. michael nodded, it’s really nice. too nice, “this where you sleep?”

you shook your head, “no, i prefer it outside. caves aren’t my ideal sleep spot.”

with a dramatic sigh, you flopped backwards into the natural pool. water exploded around you, hitting the surface like rain. your head appeared closer this time and michael couldn’t help but get nervous with how you stalked up to him, “you arent gonna eat me, right?”

with a chuckle, exposing your teeth, you shrugged, “as long as you’re on the sand you’re safe.”

“that’s not exactly reassuring..” michael sweatdropped, crossing his legs and drawing shapes in the sand.

“it wasn’t meant to be,” you hummed, swishing your tail towards michael and flicking water at him. he looked at you in irritation, “stop.”

you giggled and did it again, this time michael sat up straight, “stop that!” it continue with michael sputtering at you to stop until he was cold. he shivered, digging at the sand in a cusp and throwing it at you. it was an easy dodge, you sunk below you and watched as the grains sunk lower than you could.

while you were underneath the water, michael spotted a pearly object glinting in the sun that was exposed in the opening in the top of the cave. he picked at it until the heavy sands budged and saved way through the gaps of the object to reveal an peculiar looking comb. it was decorated in pearls and shells. promptly, michael pocketed it in his satchel just as you rose. he looked at you before u spit wster out at him like a fountain. with a yell, michael shuffled back before he could get sprayed again.

“gods, you are persistent..” he muttered, side eyeing you in annoyance while you giggled, “i can’t go back soaking wet again.”

“just sunbathe,” you advised, “the sun’s directly on you.”

michael was already laying back, resting his arm over his eyes. a small vibration went through the waters, affecting you gravely.

“i have to cut our visit short, mikey,” you pouted, “i’m sorry, there’s just something wrong.”

michael shrugged, sitting up on his elbows and squinting at you, “alright then, cya.”

you dipped down below, swimming off to where michael could not see you.

where were you off to in such a hurry? gods, you were an interesting myth.

[stars-for-circe]

MASTERLIST:

Non au-specific: ❀

Clear au’s such as pirates, wild west etc: ✧

The Last Of Us

Abby Anderson

Headcanons/drabbles:

• Student teacher!Abby headcannons, part two (nsfw) ✧

• Gymrat!Abby drabble (nsfw) ✧

• The improper use of a screwdriver (nsfw) ✧

• Million dollar baby (semi-nsfw) ✧

• Summertide (nsfw) ✧

Oneshots:

• Dove (nsfw) ❀

• Dead men tell no tales ✧

• Yes ma’am (nsfw) ✧

Wips:

Ellie Williams

Headcanons/drabbles:

• Ellie’s camera roll ❀

• Piercer!Ellie mini drabble (nsfw) ✧

• Positions (nsfw) ❀

• Hot to go ✧

• Save a horse ✧

Oneshots:

• Bones and all - part 1 ✧

• Sex, drugs, and rock & roll (nsfw) ✧

• Car sex (nsfw) ❀

• Baby fever (nsfw) ❀

• Tongue tied (nsfw) ,✧

• Firsts ✧

Wips:

Bars through (nsfw) - astralnymphh collab ✧

[survivalistghost]

What to watch next?

kdrama edition

hey! just got done with a mainstream drama and looking for some drama with the same feels? got it!

comment the drama below if it’s not in this list

1. weightlifting fairy kim bok joo

lighthearted, funny, strong fl with simp male

watch next : strong woman do bong soon

where : bilibili.com

2. business proposal

office romance, strong second couple chemistry, savage fl and a bit airheaded ml

watch next : what’s wrong with secretary kim?, descendants of the sun, love to hate you (the misandry is a bit high for the first eps, bear with it if you can), romance is a bonus book, king the land

where : netflix, bilibili.com

3. vincenzo

ACTION!!! good looking men in suits, strong fl with senti dad arc, men with questionable morals

watch next : my name (contains triggering themes, watch at own discretion), the k2

where : netflix, bilibili

4. guardian : the lonely and great god

fantasy, meant-to-be pairings, AMAZING second lead romances

watch next : touch your heart (sort of like a grim reaper sunny au), the king - eternal monarch, tale of the nine tailed, doom at your service, my demon

where : netflix, bilibili

5. reply 1988

feel good, group of friends, slice of life, AMAZING platonic chemistry

watch next : hospital playlist

where : netflix, bilibili

6. true beauty

bromance, love triangle with happy ending

watch next : the heirs, boys over flowers (if you can handle lee min ho’s horrendous perm), f4 thailand (if youre interested in thai dramas)

where : netflix, bilibili

7. all of us are dead

zombie, romance, political/military questionable

watch next : happiness

8. crash course in romance

(requested by @starryalpacasstuff )

famous ml, headstrong and self reliant fl, both place value in their work and respect each other (at the end)

watch next : love to hate you, or if you want a mockumentary-style romance, lovestruck in the city is my go to!

9. bad and crazy

(requested by @hyeon-yi )

crackhead duo, bromance~, MENtal issues, crime crime, stabby stabby

watch next : the worst of evil, dp, the devil judge, beyond evil

10. hometown cha cha cha

feel good vibes, seaside town, sappy romance, CUTEST couple

watch next : welcome to samdalri

tell me other kdramas youve seen in the comments and ill add recommendations!