#i literally thought of this at a quarter to 3 last night

[little-cereal-draws]

The Director: all women are meant to get married. A woman’s greatest fear is to not have a husband

Dr Blitzmeyer: really? Bc my greatest fear is a secret snake hiding in the toilet and biting my vagina

The Director:

Dr Blitzmeyer:

The Director:

Dr Blitzmeyer: idk sounds like you’re the weird one to me

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (1)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

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

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

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground. 

No, that’s a branch. 

Or is it a plank? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. You have one more option. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait with baited breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi. 

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

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

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

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

This was bad. Very bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

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

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

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

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all. 

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause. 

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

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

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

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

If it’s his ship that he wants…

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

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

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

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

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

“I can help you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

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

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

Is he about to cut your hands off?

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

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

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

“I’ll protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I led you astray?”

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard.”

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

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

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

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

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost?” he questions.

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

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain! One of the—oh.” 

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

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s gone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just saved his life.

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

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

“Not even an inkling?”

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you shake him off last time?”

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

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

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

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

“Portwater?” 

“Too far.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something you wanted from him. 

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

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

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

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

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

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

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

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

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

A kid. He was a child. 

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you pulled the trigger. 

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

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

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

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

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

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hasry. Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused. 

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten coin.”

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

“I’ll do seven!” 

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

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts. 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

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

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

You remain silent. 

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

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

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

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

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

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

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

“You’ve looked into my eyes?” 

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

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

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

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

You just pushed Chan overboard. 

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

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

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

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

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

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

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

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

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

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

Hoshi pushed him into the water. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me what? you grind. 

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

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise. 

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

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

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |1|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Break in

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Hey babe, what’s up?” you asked.

Tara smiled, even while at work you still managed to answer her calls. She could hear you moving around, the clanging of glasses and the sound of patrons on the other end of the phone. “I miss you,” Tara said. She hadn’t seen you all day and she was home alone and bored.

You chuckled. Tara couldn’t make out the words, you sounded far away but she could tell you were talking to a customer. “Sorry,” you said, coming back to the phone. “We saw each other yesterday.” Tara didn’t say anything, pouting as she grabbed a pot to make dinner. “But,” you sighed, but Tara knew you were smiling. “I missed you too.”

“You didn’t spend the night last night,” Tara pouted, even though you couldn’t see her she wanted to make you feel guilty. “I’m home all alone.”

“You’re always home alone.”  Tara’s pout turned into a frown, she glared at you through the phone. “Besides I have an apartment, we could literally be alone together whenever you want.”

“Your apartment is tiny.”

Tara couldn’t help but smile, imagining the eye roll you’d surely give her. “Is that your way of saying when we get out of this hellhole, you’re not going to live with me?” Tara rolled her eyes; you always made everything so dramatic. “It’s fine. You’ll be going to college, living on campus, and I’ll be living in a shoebox all alone wherever you decide to go.”

“I’d love to live in a shoebox with you,” Tara giggled. “Sounds cozy.”

“Yeah?” you teased. “I thought my apartment was too small.”

“It is.” Your apartment truly was tiny. There was a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It was tiny but it was all you. Tara knew it was the best you could do and still save money and since you were on your own it was actually incredible how well you were doing. She still loved giving you shit about your tiny apartment though. “But I like the idea of being in close quarters with you.”

It seemed you had taken the phone away from your ear again. Tara heard you mumbling and someone else, they had a deeper voice, she assumed it was your boss. “I have to go,” you sighed. “I’ve been informed this has counted as my break.”

Tara rolled her eyes; your boss could be an ass at times. “Tell them you’re dealing with an emergency. Your girlfriend is needy and wants your attention.”

You chuckled again. Tara bit her lip, she didn’t need to see you, just hearing your laugh was everything. “I’m not really sure he cares about that.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I’ll come over after I get off.”

“I’ll wait up.”

“It’ll be late.”

“I’ll wait up,” Tara said again. She always tried to wait up for you. You worked at a bar and usually didn’t get off till well after midnight, almost early morning the next day at times. There were days you’d get off and come over and you’d be in bed for maybe an hour at most before Tara was getting up for school, those days you were always still in bed by the time she got home.

“Off the phone!” an angry voice came. They were clearly a good distance away, but Tara could hear them clear as day.

“Two seconds!” you screamed back. “I really have to go,” your voice went back to being soft, like it always was when you spoke to Tara. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Tara smiled as she hung up. You’d been dating for almost two years and had said ‘I love you’ a long time ago but it never failed to make Tara blush.

Tara smiled to herself, swaying back and forth in the kitchen. You and her always casually talked about the future together. It wasn’t anything crazy, it wasn’t talks about marriage and getting a house together. It was simple, it was talking about moving in together once Tara graduated. It might seem rushed to most people, moving in together right after high school, especially since you were a few years older, but Tara was eighteen and she knew what she wanted.

Some of the people who thought she was crazy were her best friends, they didn’t have a problem saying it either. Tara didn’t listen to them though, you and her had a plan. Tara would graduate and once she heard back from the schools she applied to, she’d choose, hopefully she’d get into her number one choice, then the two of you would find a little place by campus and you’d work, she’d go to school, and she’d get to come home to you and wake up next to you every day.

Since she couldn’t talk to you, she decided to text Amber. She was bored and though she only needed to entertain herself for a few hours she didn’t want to do it alone. She would just have to make sure Amber didn’t spend the night. You and Amber didn’t get along to put it lightly. You basically hated each other but tolerated each other’s presence, to an extent, for Tara’s sake. Tara honestly wasn’t sure why you didn’t like each other. It was more Amber than you, you kind of just reciprocated her hatred. Amber was never fond of you though. Tara has tried to ask a few times what the deal was, and Amber only ever said she just didn’t think you were good enough.

Tara: Wanna come over? We can binge watch movies

Amber: Where’s the girlfriend?

Tara rolled her eyes. Amber always started off hostile when it came to you. Ever since Tara introduced you, even before the two of you started dating. Amber has always had attitude. Tara tried to avoid talking about you but in times like this it was hard when Amber was the one bringing you up for no reason.

Tara: Work

Amber: Glad to know I’m the second choice

Tara: Stop

Tara: Do you want to hangout or not?

Tara: I’ll make the popcorn

Amber: You can do better than that

The phone on the counter started to ring. Tara looked up from her phone, scrunching her eyebrows at the ringing. No one ever called the landline, if someone wanted to talk to her or her mom, they had their cell. Hell, Tara wasn’t even sure she knew the home phone number. She shook her head and went back to texting Amber.

Tara: You get first pick of the movie?

Amber: I got some homework to finish up

Tara rolled her eyes, of course Amber was going to be difficult. The landline continued to ring. Tara was doing her best to ignore it, whoever was calling seemed persistent though.

Tara: Open liquor cabinet

Amber: Sold!

Tara: Fucking landline won’t stop ringing

“Hello?” Tara answered the landline with an eyeroll, not being able to stand the ringing any longer and hoping to get rid of whoever was on the other end quickly.

“Hello, is Christina there?” A man asked.

Tara rolled her eyes again, of course it was someone asking for her mom. “No, she’s not available. May I take a message?”

“Oh, uhh, yeah, sorry,” he stumbled over his words. Tara didn’t pay him much mind as she got the footrest and made her way over to get the key to the liquor cabinet. “I’m a friend of hers from group. Shit,” he whispered, clearly not meaning to say that.

“From her shit?” Tara smiled to herself, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

“Just tell her I’m from group, I’m Charlie, she’s got my number.”

“Oh, she goes to group?” Tara asked, not believing for a second her mom was going to any sort of group.

“I shouldn’t have-look can you just tell her Charlie called?”

“And I’ll do exactly that Charlie, once you tell me what kind of group we’re talking about. Is it AA? NA?”

“Well, you sound exactly like she described you.”

“She talks about me in group?” Tara couldn’t believe that either, that definitely didn’t sound like her mom.

“Look, I don’t think I can really talk about that.”

Tara sighed, pulling out her phone again. She needed to tell Amber about this. Amber knew exactly what her mom was like and there was no way she wouldn’t enjoy this.

Tara: Dude I think it’s my mom’s new BF

Amber: Seriously???

“What did she say about me?” there was an edge of hostility in her tone, she wanted to hear all about what her mother possibly said about her in this group.

“Well, she loves you very much.”

“Oh, what does she love about me?” Tara asked, her sarcasm coming back.

“She loves that you’re creative, you love art and TV and movies.”

“Okay, lots of people love movies,” she shook her head, dismissing him.

“But she said you love scary movies and that you guys have that in common. She’s proud at making a fan out of you.”

“She is?” Tara slowed her movements, she used to watch scary movies with her mom all the time, but she’d never heard her mom say she was proud of her for anything before.

“Yeah, she told me the other day she wonders, what’s your favorite scary movie?” Tara ignored the way the man’s voice changed, still focusing on the fact that her mom was apparently proud of her.

“Uhh, The Babadook, it’s an amazing meditation on motherhood and grief.”

“Isn’t that a little fancy pants?” the man asked with a chuckle.

“Well, it’s elevated horror.”

“What does that mean, elevated horror?”

“You know, it’s like scary but with complex emotional and thematic underpinning, it’s not just some schlocky cheeseball nonsense with wall-to-wall jump scares.”

The man hummed, not seeming very interested in her answer. “That seems kind of boring to me. Have you ever seen Stab?” his tone changed again when he asked her the question, but once again Tara didn’t think much of it.

“Once, I think, at a sleepover, when I was like twelve.”

The man laughed at that. “You live in Woodsboro, and you don’t know Stab? Well, your mother loves that movie, she talks about it all the time in group. How well do you remember the original?”

“I don’t know, and it was like super 90s, it was really over lit, and everyone had weird hair.”

“Do you remember the beginning?”

“Not really, I mean it started with a kill scene, right? They always started with a kill scene.”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s right,” he tone shifted again. “It’s a girl at home alone, she answers the wrong number and starts talking with the killer who makes her play a game.” Tara slowed her movements again, thinking the conversation was treading into weird territory. “Would you like to play a game, Tara?” he whispered her name. A chill went down her spine and she quickly hung up, not bothering to answer him.

Tara tossed the phone on the counter, watching it as if it would ring again. Her eyes darted around the house, looking for anything that shouldn’t be there. She pulled out her phone and locked all the doors, arming the alarm. She knew it was Woodsboro and someone always liked to make prank calls, especially around this time of year but she wasn’t taking her chances. Tara looked out the window, not seeing anyone creeping around her yard as she closed the curtains.

Tara checked the time on her phone. Only several minutes had passed since she had talked to you. She still had a few hours before you’d get off and get to the house. Her thumb hovered over your contact, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. Tara knew she was just being paranoid, but she just wanted your comfort, you’d calm her down within seconds. She didn’t want to bother you though, she knew you were at work, you were busy, and you’d already been yelled at for just talking to her.

She left your contact and went to text Amber. She just needed to be talking to someone. It was clearly a stupid prank, but she just wanted someone to help keep her sane otherwise her imagination would drive her crazy.

Tara: It was some psycho. I’m locking the doors.

Amber: WTF??? You okay?

Tara started to type out she was fine and just a little jumpy. She knew it was probably a prank but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freaking her out. Before she could finish typing her text though the phone started ringing again, making her jump.

Amber: You should answer it.

Tara scrunched her eyebrows looking at Ambers text, she slowly lifted her eyes to look at the ringing phone again, then back down at her cell. Her thumb hesitated over the letters as she typed out her message.

Tara: How did you know my landline was ringing?

Tara: Amber?

Amber: This isn’t Amber

Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE BITCH

Tara moved to call the police; she had nine dialed, tears slowly began to fill her eyes, when another message appeared.

Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara ran back to the counter, picking up the phone. “This isn’t fucking funny Amber,” she said but couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.

“I told you, this isn’t Amber,” the same voice as before said, this time sounding much more sinister. Just then a video was sent to Tara, when she opened it, she saw footage of Amber, sitting in her room and brushing her hair. “Amber’s looking particularly fetching tonight. She really shouldn’t leave her phone lying around for anyone to clone.”

“What do you want?”

“I told you, I want to play a game,” he talked to her as if she was a child. “Stab movie trivia, three rounds, you call the cops, she dies, you get a question wrong, she dies, her parents aren’t home, I can be in that room in fifteen seconds. You want a warm-up question?”

“I told you, I don’t know these movies,” came out in a whine, tears already getting ready to fall. “I don’t! Ask me about something I do know,” she tried to bargain. “Ask me about It Follows, ask me about Hereditary, ask me about The Witch.”

“In the first Stab movie,” he continued, completely ignoring Tara’s pleas. “What Woodsboro native was introduced as the franchise’s main character?”

“It’s Sidney Prescott! It’s Sidney Prescott and she lived on Elm.”

“Correct. You see, you’re gonna do great at this. Okay, question one.”

“Nonono, I got that one right, it should count.”

“Anyone could have gotten that one right, Sidney’s in every movie but the last one. Question one, who wrote the original book the Stab movies are based on?”

“The chick from TV,” Tara struggled to remember her name. She had never read any of the books and she certainly didn’t watch the morning show the lady did.

“The chick from TV is not going to cut it Tara,” they let out a disappointed sigh.

“Oh! Gale Weathers! It’s Gale Weathers you motherfucker.”

“Correct. Amber might live to see the sunrise. Question two, who played the dumb bitch at the beginning of Stab one who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that the answer you’re going with?” Tara quickly typed on her phone, going to IMDB and looking at the cast for Stab. “A non-answer counts as a wrong answer Tara. Time’s running out.” He continuously repeated the words tick tock, getting faster and faster as the seconds passed, making Tara more anxious and scroll faster.

“Maybe I made a mistake,” he continued, causing Tara to halt her scrolling for a second. “Maybe Amber isn’t enough motivation.” Tara let out a shaky breath, preparing herself for his next words. “Maybe I should have gone after your little girlfriend,” he spit out, not able to hide is clear hatred. “It’d be much easier, I mean it’s late, there’s no one around. No one would even hear her scream.”

“She has nothing to do with this!” Tara screamed, sobbing into the phone. She couldn’t get the image out of her head of you leaving the bar and getting jumped by Ghostface, getting stabbed and left to bleed out in the street with no one to help.

“She has everything to do with this,” the voice snapped. Tara didn’t even have time to process the clearly emotional outburst. “Tick tock Tara,” they snapped again. “Or should I just kill both? I’m sure I can gut Amber and then make it to-”

“Heather Graham!” Tara screamed finally finding the name, cutting the killer off before he could threaten you again.

“Correct,” he said, going right back to his calmer demeanor. “You pulled that one out, now for the final question, who was the killer in Stab one?”

“Oh, I know this one you fuck,” Tara gasped, realizing she knew the answer. “It’s Billy Loomis! It’s Billy Loomis and he was Sidney’s boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson, and I got you asshole,” Tara couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved at getting the answer right. “I got it! I got it right!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Tara,” he almost sounded sympathetic. “But that’s just not correct.”

“What?” Tara whispered, confused, and not believing what she was hearing. “No no no no it is, that is right.”

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, there are two killers in the original Stab. I’m afraid someone’s gotta die now.”

“Nono, Amber I’m coming!” she shouts as she sets down the phone and grabs a kitchen knife, running for her front door.

When Tara threw open her door, she was met with the sight of Ghostface who quickly slashed their knife across her left side. Tara punched them in the face and slammed the door. She fought against Ghostface as he tried to shove his way in but eventually, she got the door shut, quickly locking it.

Tara pulled out her phone again, arming the system again and hitting the button to alert the authorities. She picked up her knife, slowly backing up down the hallway as she heard Ghostface relentlessly banging on the door trying to get in when suddenly the banging stopped. Tara’s heart dropped when she heard the alarm system say it was disarmed, Ghostface had access to her system somehow. Tara quickly armed it again, but Ghostface was ready, disarming it once again. They went back and forth arming and disarming the alarm system until it finally landed on armed.

Tara stood at the end of the hallway gasping for breath as she continued to sob. The landline rang again, startling her and making her swing the knife. She held the wall, sobbing as she made her way back to the landline.

“Hello?” Tara said, her words shaky as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, keeping the hand holding the knife raised.

“Bonus question Tara,” Ghostface whispered.

“Please stop,” she begged.

“Do you think I made it inside your house before you could re-arm?”

Just as Tara’s eyes widened with the realization, Ghostface came out from behind her, stabbing her in the stomach. Tara let out a scream of pain. When Ghostface pushed her into the kitchen island she turned around, smacking him across the head before he could stab her again.

Ghostface grabbed her by the head and shoved her to the floor. Tara rolled over, kicking Ghostface in the stomach. Ghostface brought down their boot, snapping Tara’s leg. Tara rolled over, sobbing from the pain.

Ghostface brought down his knife towards her face, but she reached up, causing the knife to go through her left hand. Tara screamed, holding Ghostface’s arm up as he continued to try and push the knife towards her face despite it still being in her hand. He finally pulled the knife out and Tara kicked him, making him lose his balance and crash to the floor.

Unable to walk, Tara crawled her way to the front door, screaming for help. Just as Tara reached the door and she could hear the police sirens, Ghostface yanked her back, stabbing her in the side several more times.

“Nononononono,” Tara screamed as Ghostface brought his knife down onto her again.

[fairyysoup]

it will come back

part one

a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie's version)

pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader

summary: You don’t go into the woods. You don’t talk to strangers. And you don’t, under any circumstances, approach a wolf. Unless one shows up bleeding at your door.

cw: dark themes, mature content, animal cruelty, animal death mention, gunshots, physical abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master, misogyny, suggestive themes, fairytale au, some kind of historical fantasy period, inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter, eventual smut (in later parts)

a/n: hiiiiiiii :) so remember when i said i'd stop posting fic on tumblr? well one mental breakdown later i decided that was literally making me miserable and ruining my hobby! so i'm back. it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me <3 this is a reupload

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

There are things they tell you about the woods from the time you are born, weaning you on them just the same as you are weaned on milk. Don’t go into the woods on a full moon. Don’t talk to strange men. Likewise, if you see a strange man alone in the pines on the full moon, run and don’t look back. And don’t, for any reason, approach a wolf at any time. They’ll kill you before you turn the other cheek.

In your twenty-some-odd years, you have never seen a wolf. You’ve heard them howling, distantly, so deep in the forest that you don’t even feel the need to be frightened by it. They exist in there, somewhere, going about their business as wolves do.

Sometimes you hear about the wolves wandering into town. Old Mr. Thatch, from just over the creek, said his pigs were slaughtered in the night. He’ll have to spend a fortune to get a few more. Torben Plack from the end of Warder’s Row saw one drinking from the horse trough outside the inn last month. 

There are whispers of wolves when a baby is missing from its crib. There are whispers of murder in the night. There are accusations that some of the townsfolk themselves are wolves in disguise.

Nonsense, the lot of it. Or, that’s what you believe. That’s what you choose to think about it– even though you’ve been told time and again that a pretty girl doesn’t think, a pretty girl believes and does what she’s told. She doesn’t go into the woods. She does her chores and she says her prayers and she marries a boy with a healthy income and lives quietly, rearing children until she can’t anymore.

(You don’t believe that, either.)

You don’t have the luxury of making any other choices, though. You are a servant, a milkmaid in the employ of a rather cold Master– you have no time for philosophy or discerning what you do and don’t believe about the local folklore.

You milk the cow. You chop the firewood. You feed the chickens. You harvest the cabbage and you don’t complain. You sleep on your bed in your shack– or, servant’s quarters– behind the grand house and you don’t, under any circumstances, question the Master or his wife. You wash the bedsheets after he sloppily takes his wife to bed, and you try to hide your disgust. 

You usually do what you’re told. Usually. 

On a night when the moon hangs round and full in the sky, lighting the stretch of land beyond your small shack in a milky blue haze, you’re building a small fire in the fireplace when you hear it. The howling. It’s so much closer than you’ve ever heard it, almost as though the wolves are just beyond the treeline that backs up to your master’s land.

You pay it no mind. Normally, the wolves are on the hunt for something– small animals that titter through the woods, unassuming until it’s too late. The howling will be distant soon, and you’ll be able to sleep soundly while the rest of the town frets about the dangers of the wolf-men, locking their windows and bolstering their doors. 

Just as you thought, the howls drift away slowly. You snuggle down into the covers of your bed, and you barely flinch when Mr. Thatch fires off a pistol over the creek, ringing through the dead night louder than hell. These things mean little to you. You’re more interested in what the land of dreams holds for you tonight– it’s one of the only reprieves you get from your long days of work.

It isn’t until ten minutes later, when you are mere inches from sleep, that you hear a soft whining outside your cabin door. At first, you think it’s the wind. Then, when it gets louder, you wonder if you’re imagining it.

And when it turns into a soft howling, well. That’s not your imagination.

You wrap a woven blanket around your shoulders and leave the door open when you step out into the chilly night. You don’t have a candle– you could always knick one from the Mistress, but that might risk getting caught, and you don’t love that idea. So, you contend with the little amount of light that spills out of the open door from your small fireplace, and you squint into the dark toward the source of the sound.

It takes shape in the form of a wolf. A big one, covered in black fur and curled up beneath the gabled roof, as though attempting to make itself smaller. It shivers and whimpers miserably, tucking its paws close to its body. 

You shrink back in the doorway, drawing your blanket closer around your shoulders. The hum of crickets in the bushes and in the grass across the pasture covers the shakiness of your rapid breathing. You don’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly be expected to bother the Master this late at night– even if it is a wolf, the barn is shut up and the animals are safe. You’d probably be expected to just stay put in your little cabin and wait for it to go away on its own. Maybe in the morning the Master will find it and skin it for the Mistress’s bedquilt. 

The image makes you shudder. This poor thing– even if it is nearly as big as you, even if it’s a nasty predator in the eyes of everyone else– is clearly looking for some sort of reprieve. Just the same as you do at the end of the day. You can’t let it be skinned alive just for searching for safety.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, and you know the creature hears you, because it flinches badly. Almost as though it may bolt away in a panic. “No, no… don’t be frightened.” 

You lower yourself down towards the ground, tentatively inching forward as the creature turns its head to blink up at you. Water brims its dark eyes, sparkling in the low light from your open door. Streaks of tears flatten the fur on its snout; the wretched thing lets out a noise like a sob, hanging its head like it doesn’t have the energy to stand you off.

“I’ve never seen a wolf cry before,” you tell it quietly. You’ve never seen a wolf, period, but you don’t need to tell it that. You’re not sure that it can understand you, anyways, but you keep talking like it can. “Are you hurt?”

The wolf snorts, sneezes loudly, and then trembles. There’s a high pitched whining, a heart-shattering noise that cuts deep into your chest as the beast cowers away from you. The whine turns into a low growl when you move a bit closer, but it doesn’t sound like it really means business. More like it doesn’t know what to do with your closeness. 

“Hey,” you say again, more insistently. You inch your way forward, crouched low to the ground, holding your blanket around you with one hand as you reach the other out toward it. You’ve never tried to approach a wolf. You don’t know if it’s similar to trying to gain a domesticated dog’s trust– hold out your hand, let it catch your scent. Show it that you mean no harm, allow it to come to you. “I’m trying to help you, okay? Let me help.”

The wolf growls for a moment longer before finally relenting, and reaching its head forward to sniff curiously at your hand. You don’t know what you expect– perhaps that it would drop its head again, or back away cautiously. Instead, the wolf surprises you by pushing its head into your outstretched palm like a sad puppy.

“Oh,” you coo, stroking the wolf’s soft head as it trembles. Its ears twitch against your fingers, and it snuffles a few times, its body shaking with each, like an all-too-human fit of sobbing. “Okay, baby. Let’s get you inside.” 

Again, it’s a shot in the dark. You back slowly away from the creature, whose watery eyes blink up at you, and then you stand, and open the cabin door wider. The wolf doesn’t move, still continuing to shake with its uneven breathing.

You take a step into the door, and watch as the wolf slowly struggles up out of its cowering position. On all four legs, it seems to be favoring its right front leg, lifting its left paw limply upward. When you take another step back into the cabin, and it follows, it shudders a breath and limps badly on its left leg. 

“Good job, honey,” you tell the wolf gently as it tentatively follows you into the cabin. 

You don’t know whether to leave the door open or to shut it; you’re not sure if there’s any wisdom in shutting yourself in close quarters with a wild animal, but you also don’t want the Master to find it come morning. You suck your teeth and swing the door shut, quietly latching it and hoping the damned thing doesn’t suddenly decide it’s too hungry. 

You turn, and take two steps before dropping to your knees in front of the fireplace, where the most light hits the ground. You drop your blanket to the floor, and pat your lap as you look at the creature shivering a few feet away. “C’mere. Lay down.”

As far as you know, wolves don’t normally lay down and play lapdog for strange humans, but this one does. You wonder at it, remarkable in its size and beauty, as it flops down tiredly onto your floor and rests its head in your lap. Through your cotton chemise, the wolf’s chin is warmer than the heat of the fire.

You pet the wolf’s head again gently as you examine its left leg. It doesn’t seem to have any major wounds except for a spot of wetness on the side of it. When you lift it, the wolf in your lap whines loudly.

“I know, baby,” you coo at it, trying to pet its head as soothingly as you can while you look over the mangled leg and paw. Through the fur and dirt, you see a patch of pink skin matted with bright red, and your own hand comes away smeared with blood. There is a bad gash, enough to still be bleeding. 

You don’t want to jostle the animal now that it’s relatively comfortable, so you bend backwards and sideways to reach the cup of water on the shelf at your bedside. It’s what you have on hand to clean the wound– you suppose you could sneak into the grand house to steal some soap, but just the same as the candle, you’d rather not risk it. You take your time in pouring cool, clean water on the wolf’s wound, rubbing dirt and blood away from the gash. In your lap, the beast huffs softly in response.

“I don’t know what you’re doing out of the woods,” you tell it as you tenderly clean its wound, expecting that you’re only speaking to settle your own nerves, “but you ought not to come around here too often. The men here are bloodthirsty. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.” 

The wolf heaves a sigh. For what it’s worth, you take that as some sort of acknowledgement. 

“I can’t do much else for you besides this,” you continue softly. The wound is clean now, the fur gone wet enough that you can pull it aside and peer at the gash itself. It’s quite deep, straight, and slices from the middle of its leg upward at a diagonal. It continues to ooze even as you examine it, painting your fingers red. You tip a little more water onto it. 

You grab one corner of the blanket you’d used to wrap yourself, and rip a strip off along the grain. The light pink fabric looks almost comical when you wrap it around the wolf’s leg, tying it and tucking the tails in gently so that it won’t fall off too easily. You figure, eventually, the damn thing will come off while the wolf goes off on its merry way. You don’t delude yourself into thinking you’ve got a pet, now.

“I wish I could give you more,” you tell the beast, petting your hand down its mane, feeling the silken fur slide through your fingers like the plushest finery that you’ll never be able to enjoy for yourself. “But, I suppose, you can rest here tonight. If you promise to stay polite.”

The wolf doesn’t fuss when you slide a stiff pillow under its chin, and slip back under the covers of your bed. You gaze at it, curled up in a big black mass on your floor in front of the hearth, and you wonder why on earth a wild animal would be so well behaved. 

You wonder how a wolf is capable of crying.

You wake in the early morning light expecting to find a big black wolf sleeping in front of your hearth. Instead, when you rouse and rub the sleep from your eyes, you find that the wolf is gone.

In fact, there appears to have been no wolf at all. No blood on the floor, no black fur on the pillow that has inexplicably reappeared on the foot of your bed. Your water cup is full. And the door to your cabin is latched, just the same as it had been last night, after you let the wolf in.

By all appearances, nothing happened last night. There was no wolf. You half expect that you dreamed the entire thing. And you would continue to believe so– but, the end of your pink woven blanket is still torn, missing a strip from the end, frayed along the grain.

You slip from your bed and fling open the door to your shack, emerging into the cool morning air. You look down at the nook beside the door where the wolf had huddled in the dark, seeking shelter away from harm. There is nothing there to suggest that it had been there last night. 

But you know it to be true. You know it.

How could a wolf, a four legged creature with full use of only three of them, manage to unlatch your door, step out, and then relatch it from the other side? How could your water magically refill itself? It’s a mile to the well in the town square, and it’s not like the wolf could have done it. 

Broken from your thoughts, you hear a shriek of your name. You lift your head to see your Mistress, fully dressed, feeding the chickens. The daily chores have already begun.

“What are you doing outside in your underclothes?!” your Mistress yells, flinging grain down at the birds. “Go inside and dress yourself this instant, you wretch! And begin your morning duties!” 

You jump, darting back behind the door. You hadn’t thought anyone would be out yet. “Sorry, Mistress!” 

You rush to grab your stays from the end of your bed. You’ll pay for that one, you think. 

There are a million reasons why you prefer doing your chores out of the house. 

One, the Mistress isn’t around to rag on you over every little thing. Two, you don’t have to be watching over your shoulder to make sure you aren’t in the Master’s way. And three, you can take all the time you want to do other things as well, as long as you get done before dinner has to be served. 

Your skirt is filthy, but it’s a beautiful day, and the creek that separates your Master’s land from Mr. Thatch’s land is babbling quite a bit, and it makes doing the washing up much easier than it otherwise would be. Which you’re happy about, since your arm is so badly welted you can barely curl your fingers. 

You sniffle and lift your apron to wipe your nose. Then you wring out the Mistress’s petticoat– of which there are far too many for one woman to reasonably have– you whine at the strain on your injured hand, and you move to the basket of other soiled clothes. You think about blowing your nose in the Master’s linen shirt, and you’re about two seconds from doing it, too, when you hear a splash nearby. 

“Shit,” says a man’s voice. There are a couple more splashes around the bend, and then yelps, and then there’s one enormous splash, and a laugh. 

“Hello?” you call, trying to peer around the bank of overgrowth beside you. Then, there’s a cacophonous amount of splashing, which makes you screw up your face, and a man emerges from around the bank of greenery.

You pause, holding your Master’s laundry in your hands over the water like you’re wondering whether to dip it in or not. Really, you’re just shocked to see a strange man on your Master’s property at all. He’s out of breath, rosy cheeked and soaking wet from the chest down.

“Um,” is all you can say.

“Hello there,” the man says with a rakish grin that flashes sharp teeth at you. You blink a few times, just to make sure he’s really there. And when you do satisfy yourself with the fact that, yes, he’s very real, you then have to acclimate yourself to the idea that he’s also absolutely beautiful.

His very pretty face is framed by long, dark hair, and his eyes are strikingly dark. There’s something on his skin peeking out of the open collar of his burgundy blouse, but to look at that from this distance means to look at the way his shirt clings to his body, and then his trousers, and if you weren’t already struck dumb, now you are.

“How– how are you– um.” You wave your hands around, gesturing to the general area around you. “Whatareyoudoinghere?” 

“I think I was going for a swim, of sorts,” the man laughs, holding one arm out a bit to indicate his damp appearance. 

“Who are you?”

“Now, there’s a question for the ages.” The man tromps forward through the water, splashing along gracelessly and with exaggerated steps, like he’s trying to make you laugh. “Generally speaking, no one really cares who I am, just what I want.” 

“Okay,” you snap, irritated by the man’s jovial attitude and his need to speak in riddles. “What do you want? Why are you on this land? What business do you have here, and with whom?” 

“Whoa, hey–” the man holds up his hands, and grimaces like it’s painful to do so. Then he recovers with a flashy smile. “I don’t mean you any harm, princess. I have no business anywhere, I was just following the creek and seeing where it leads. Guess the time got away from me.”

“I’m not a princess,” you grumble back at him.

He tilts his head, his smile lingering as he looks at you. “Just an expression, no need to be nasty.”

You scowl down at your master’s clothes, and then plunge them into the water like they personally offended you. “Following the creek from where?” He points his thumb over his shoulder, towards the trees. “You came from the woods?”

“Thereabouts.” 

You squint up at him. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows dramatically and takes another step towards you. “And may I ask who you are? Or shall I just call you ‘My Lovely Lady of the Creek,’ for time immemorial?”

You tell him your name flatly, and turn your face away as he gets closer, suddenly very invested in getting sweat stains out of your Master’s linen blouse using a cake of lye soap. “You should know not to go into those woods alone. There’s wolves.” 

 “Oh, I think I can handle myself in the woods, sweetheart.” Eddie smirks down at you. “Anyways, who wants to be in the trees on a day like this?” 

You grunt. You don’t think the man will be going away anytime soon, which is bad news for you, because the closer he gets, the more inclined you are to look at him. Then, you’re more inclined to talk, and you’ve already been punished once today. You don’t think you could handle another.

The man, Eddie, sits himself down on a large rock jutting out of the water next to you. He watches you for a moment, scrubbing with one hand at the cloth on the board in the water, and then he points down at your arm. His billowing sleeve flashes red in your peripheral vision, along with the silver of the rings on his hand.

“What happened here?” he asks softly, his voice losing its humorous tone.

You look down at the welted skin. It stings, but the cold water numbs the pain just a bit. Now that he’s brought your attention back to it, your eyes prick with tears again, and you sniff. “My Mistress caught me outdoors in my chemise.”

“She should count herself lucky. It’s a sight to behold.” 

“What?” You blink up at him. From this angle, him looming over you on a boulder, the sun rings his head in gold like a halo. “How would you know?” 

“I’m… supposing.” Eddie bites his lip, staring off to the side for a moment, as if suddenly at a loss for the right words to say. “You’re a very… beautiful girl. I can only imagine.” 

“That’s forward of you.” 

“Besides, it doesn’t answer my question,” he rushes out. He scowls back down at your arm. “What did that to you?” 

You heave a sigh. “Well, the Mistress told my Master. And the Master is very heavy handed with a cane.” A small sob constricts your throat for a moment, tears pricking your eyes again so badly that you have to stop working and close them. Your sinuses burn from the effort of holding it in.

“You were beaten because you went outside without a petticoat?” Eddie remarks incredulously, “That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, I… I was also late to start my chores,” you admit in a wobbly voice. “So I suppose I got off easier than most would…” 

“It’s cruel. I’d love to see how he would take it, if the tables were turned.” Eddie’s dark eyes flash dangerously when you look up at him; there’s something in the set of his jaw and the steely expression on his face that makes you think of the growling wolf last night. After a moment, he softens towards you again. “Why were you late to your chores?”

“I…” you trail off. You think about telling him about the wolf, but you wonder if he’s the kind of person who will go into town and yell about the wolves trying to steal women in the night, and you could do without the embarrassment. “I had a nightmare. Slept too late.”

Eddie clicks his tongue and rocks backward a bit. “A nightmare,” he repeats, considering the word like it’s a part of life’s philosophy. “What about?”

You don’t respond for a few moments. You’ve moved on to washing a pillowcase now, which is significantly less soiled than your Master’s blouse. “Why do you care?”

“I care because I hate to see My Lovely Lady of the Creek in distress. Even if she is completely vexed by the sight of me,” He says lightly, as you tilt your head down to hide the way your cheeks burn. He reaches up his right hand and produces a silver coin from behind your ear. You stare at it in puzzlement as he hands it to you. “What was your nightmare about?”

You hesitate just a moment before taking the silver coin. “Is this bribery?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie announces with a wry smile. “For your thoughts.”

You sigh. You could use the coin, you’ll admit. Maybe you could buy yourself a new robe, or a loaf of bread from the baker, or any other of the myriad things you’re in want of. 

You tuck the coin down the front of your bodice, where it slides down and gets stuck between your ribcage and your chemise. Eddie’s eyes follow the path that it takes between your breasts with a hungry glint in them. 

“There was a wolf,” you tell him quietly, going back to your work. “It came to my door bleeding. I brought it inside and nursed it. But when I woke, there wasn’t a wolf. It was just a nightmare.”

“Oh,” Eddie hums amusedly. “I wouldn’t call that a nightmare. I’d rather call it a dream.”

“A dream?” you echo with a scoff. 

“Yes. A lovely dream, with a heroine and a lonely beast in need of kindness.” He leans towards you, his hands on his knees. “But, you know what they say about wild things.”

You huff with indignance, but humor him, because you’re curious in spite of yourself. “I don’t know. What do they say?”

“You shouldn’t show them kindness,” he whispers, so close to your ear that you can feel his breath on your neck. “They’ll keep coming back for more.”

You startle, standing up with a noisy splash of water as you yank the last of the laundry from the creek. There’s a flush under your bodice that you don’t like, sticking to the coin that’s going hot against your skin as you think about it even being there. That it was produced by his hand. The more you think about it, the more you imagine it as an extension of his body, touching you just beneath your breast. 

Eddie snickers to himself as you hurriedly, shakily, smack the last piece of laundry into the basket with the rest, and pick up the washboard from the water. With a frustrated huff, you stand and rest the basket of laundry on your hip. You gaze out across the creek, and then away towards the trees, and finally, when you’re sure you can form words, you turn back to him. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Munson,” you say stiffly, so that you don’t trip over your own tongue. It comes out icily as a result, and you turn away to hide the way that you blush.

“Until we meet again.” Eddie presses his lips together, as though he’s stifling a laugh. Then he says, in a slightly bossy tone, “Take care of that arm for me, princess. Don’t want you getting any more beat up.”

You whirl around to ask him to repeat that– what the hell did you just say?– but when you do, the man is already gone. Along with any trace of his presence by the creekside. 

Except, the coin he bought your dream with still grows warm against the heat of your skin, under your bodice. 

[kitten4sannie]

15 - ꜱɪᴢᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ - ᴍɪɴɢɪ

ʜᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟᴅ

pairing: himbo bf! mingi x fem! reader feat. yunho, san, and seonghwa

genre: college/frat au, smut

summary: your boyfriend is really bad at taking hints.

w.c: 2.7k

warnings: alcohol use, weed mention, switch! mingi, switch! reader, mingi has a big dick, pet names, name calling, dirty talk, grinding, begging, unprotected sex (don’t be like them), bulge kink, exhibitionism, voyeurism, poor attempt at humor

a/n: love me a good himbo <3 this man is dumb in this just how i like themmm. also the song i imagine playing during the dance scene is “deep” by summer walker <3

FFF Masterlist

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You never particularly enjoyed the drink options at frat house parties. They only ever had giant kegs full of cheap beer, along with an endless supply of Tito’s vodka, swearing they had a life supply stocked up in the basement. When you asked Mingi’s friend Yunho where the soda was, all he did was shake his head and say in a slurred voice, “Coach said we gotta cut out sugar.” You genuinely wondered if he was trying to make a joke or if he was 100% serious, but the serious lack of anything chaser-related was making you think he wasn’t lying to you. It seemed like football players were fueled by countless liters of alcohol and protein powder alone. No wonder they were so aggressive on the field.

“Here,” Yunho said, handing you a solo cup filled to the brim with beer, his reddened eyes still friendly and bright. “My brother makes it himself.” You gave him a smile and a thanks, before scanning the crowd for Mingi. 

Once you found him, you took a few sips of the watered-down beer Yunho gave you, zoning in and out of the heated conversation your boyfriend was having with his friends about whether professional sports were rigged or not.

“Baby, can you please back me up?” Mingi asked in a whiny voice, snaking an arm around your waist, fingers squeezing you, his plump lips forming a pout. “Tell Seonghwa how stupid he is for thinking sports are fake.”

God, he was so fucking cute. You needed him. Needed to see him pout when he begged you to bounce on his dick. 

Taking a long swig of the glorified water, you cleared your throat, leaning your body against Mingi’s. “Seonghwa, I think it’s really bold of you to assume they’re all fake, and honestly, I think you might just be in denial since your teams never win.” 

The rest of Mingi’s drunk companions erupted in low ‘ooh’s’ and ‘damns’, some of them nodding their heads in agreement. San, who was already fucked up, made a show out of his reaction, smacking Seonghwa’s shoulder with his hand and pointing a finger at him, grinning at his friends. “He literally never bets on the right team. It’s so fucking funny.” 

Irritated, Seonghwa scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking a drink of his beer with one hand shoved into his pocket. “Where’d you find this one, Mingi?” 

“Don’t start.” Mingi clutched you against his side defensively, taking a sip from his drink. “Or else I’ll put hot chili oil in your jockstrap, like I did during your hazing.” 

That shut Seonghwa up, leading him to hold his hands up in defeat. Mingi idly stroked your hair while continuing his conversation with his friends, this time talking about their favorite plays from last night’s game. You went back to being bored, but this time your mind was swimming with thoughts of Mingi stroking your hair while his cock was down your throat. 

That was it. You needed to jump into action. However, you didn’t want to be too forward, not wanting to ask for Mingi’s cock in front of at least a quarter of the football team — though a part of you wanted them to know that he was about to pound you into oblivion. 

“Baby, I’m so cold,” you whined softly, looking up at Mingi with the cutest expression you could conjure up, rubbing your bare arms up and down. “Can you warm me up?” 

“Of course, doll.” Mingi let go of you and pulled his letterman jacket off, leaving him in a plain white, rather tight-fitting t-shirt. He put it over your shoulders, smiling at you. “Better?” As soon as you nodded and gave you a small smile back, he went back to talking to his buddies.

Damn. Too subtle. You weren’t about to give up, though. After staring into the distance for a while, idly sipping on your beer and still wishing you had access to a coke, you hatched another plan. Feeling ecstatic when a R&B song finally came on, knowing it would be easier to get into instead of the rap that was blasting out of the speakers a minute ago, you rubbed your hand up Mingi’s waist, lifting yourself up on your heels to murmur into his ear, “Baby, I want to dance. I really like this song.” 

Ignoring San’s begs for him to duel him in a game of beer pong, Mingi pressed a kiss to your temple, slipping his hand underneath his oversized jacket to touch the small of your back. “Let’s go then.” 

Maybe he was being subtle, too. How hot of him. “Yay~” You pulled his jacket off and walked over to Yunho, who was talking to someone else. You gave him the jacket, and in turn, he gave you a quick smile and put it over his shoulder to look after. 

Once the two of you were on the dance floor, which was just the oversized living room filled with drunken, sweaty people, you turned away from Mingi and pressed yourself into him, running your hands down your snug dress along to the tempo of the music. Mingi placed his hands instinctively on your swaying hips, moving along with you, leaning himself down to press his lips onto your jaw. Completely immersed in your own world, the bass thumping inside your ears, you began grinding on him in a more deliberate way, his heavy cock growing hard against your ass, making your brain feel fuzzy.

“Baby, they can see us, you know,” he mumbled under his breath, trying to pretend he couldn’t see Yunho waving at him from the kitchen and giving him a thumbs up. He definitely wouldn’t look at San, who was grabbing his imaginary tits and moaning obnoxiously loud. And he didn’t even notice Seonghwa staring at the both of you with contempt, even though there was a faint blush on his cheeks. 

You, however, noticed and acted accordingly. “Let them watch.” Placing your hands over his and guiding them up your body, you arched your back, squeezing your tits using his hands instead. Curious, you glanced over at the kitchen, finding Mingi’s friend's dumbstruck expressions to be particularly entertaining. That would give them something to talk about, instead of rambling about football for another hour. 

“Mmm…” Mingi buried his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, slowly brushing his fingers over your nipples through the thin material of your dress. 

Your plan finally worked, in the best way possible, more turned on knowing his friends were watching, but not being able to do more than that and having to live through Mingi when he explained all the different times you unraveled for him. He always made sure to leave out the countless times he did that, since he always ended up drooling and begging for you to make him cum with your tight cunt. 

It took one more roll of your boyfriend’s hips and a single tit squeeze for you to sigh, “Fuck, Mingi, you’re making me feel so hot…” 

Mingi suddenly ceased all movement as a loading screen appeared inside his mind. “You were cold just a second ago.” He tilted his head, idly rubbing your arms and feeling how warm they were, before bringing his lips to your ear, his voice laced with concern when he asked, “Yeah, you feel really hot. You’re not getting a fever, are you, doll?” His eyebrows rose with concern, his lips forming a pout once again. “You kissed me a bunch before practice earlier – and, oh my god, babe, you sucked my dick. That’s like, direct contact, right?” He gasped, clasping a hand to his face, his concern almost borderline comical, but the poor frat boy was completely serious. “Do you think I’ll get a fever too now? I can’t miss practice!”

“No, baby, that’s not…” You bit your lip, too desperate to have him inside you to get annoyed. Turning around, you ran your hands up his torso, from his abdomen to his pecs, suggesting gently, “You know, a good way to get rid of a fever is to sweat it out, Min. Come with me.” 

Once you led your boyfriend to the nearest empty bedroom, you shut the door and pushed him down onto the bed, licking your lips at the sight of him. Mingi was laying down on the mattress with his limbs spread out, his shirt just barely riding up past his hips, revealing his treasure trail. He observed his surroundings, taking note of the plushies sitting next to the pillows, before looking up at you with vague confusion. “This is San’s room. Why are we here?”

“Why do you think, baby?” you asked softly, kicking your heels off, prior to climbing onto the bed and crawling towards him, your body buzzing with anticipation. 

Mingi gave you a sweet smile, running his fingers through his soft brown hair, slowly leaning his head against the firm pillow behind his head. “You want to sleep?” 

“No, baby…” you started, straddling his lap and gazing down at him with love and lust in your hooded eyes, your hand settling on his broad chest. “I want to play…”

Mingi admired you, slowly running his hands from your thighs up to your waist, taking your words literally like he usually did. “Like Legos? I think Seonghwa has some in his room.” 

You couldn’t possibly get mad at Mingi, finding it adorable how incredibly dense he was. It was a good thing he had such a thick skull; it would definitely prevent him from getting any more head injuries whenever he collided with another player on the field. It was probably time to stop being coy and just tell him what you wanted point blank. No nuance. No hints. Just your raw desire. 

 “I want to ride your cock, Min. So bad. All night I’ve been thinking about you stretching me out,” you admitted, biting the tip of one of your fingers. Your thighs pressed into his hips, your core throbbing at the thought of impaling yourself on his oversized dick for the sake of being filled by your favorite football player. “Please, Min. I’ve been such a good girl.” 

The cogs moved inside Mingi’s head for a moment, then his eyes lit up, his lips forming a wide grin. “Is that why you were rubbing all over me back there? Why didn’t you just say that, baby? You know I’m bad at taking hints.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you started, lifting your dress off of yourself and tossing it onto the comforter, revealing you only had a small, lacy pair of panties on. “I should’ve just bent myself over the kitchen counter and asked you to fuck me dumb in front of your friends, huh? They’d like a little post game show, don’t you think?” 

Mingi groaned at the thought of railing you while his friends gave him pointers from the sidelines, growing hard underneath you. “You’re so hot, baby. So hot and so slutty for me.” He reached down to unbuckle his belt, popping it open, just for your greedy hands to do the rest of the work, eventually pulling his long, veiny cock out. 

Since you’ve been dripping pretty much the entire night, you were confident that you could take your boyfriend’s dick for a ride without needing lube. “You want me to bounce on your big cock, Min?” you asked sweetly, rubbing your soaked cunt back and forth across his dick, hearing him let out a small moan instead of a groaning sound. “Hm? Or do you want to fuck me senseless and make me cum all over your friend’s sheets?” 

“Please, ride my dick, baby…” he murmured, starting to whine from your change of pace, feeling your pussy slipping and sliding all over his sensitive spots, the tip beginning to leak pre-cum. “Pleaseeee, I need it so bad. I need it so fucking bad.” 

"Mmm, I suppose you've had enough, Min." You slid yourself to the tip and lifted it up just enough to begin pushing it inside, whimpering from being stretched out so intensely. Lowering yourself inch by inch, you ran your hands up underneath Mingi's shirt, lifting it up to see the defined softness of his pecs, grabbing and squeezing them.

Mingi arched his back slightly, biting and tugging at his lower lip when you finally bottomed out, the both of you moaning in unison. "Ride me, baby. Come on," he whined impatiently, running his hands over yours, guiding them down along his abs, enjoying the way your warm hands felt on his skin.

"Give me a minute," you replied in a strained voice, taking in a few deep breaths, waiting for the low burning sensation to subside.

Mingi lifted his hand up to press against your lower stomach, feeling the hard outline of his cock. "Baby's so full of me. You're such a good girl for taking my cock like this."

Something inside you switched, encouraging you to begin fucking yourself on his length, moaning, "Yeah, I'm a good girl...such a good girl for you, Min..."

"Yeah, you are," he exhaled, grabbing you by your hips and waiting for each moment you dropped yourself down to thrust himself into your tight hole, your breathy, high-pitched moans like music to his ears. "Fuck, I can feel you throbbing. It's so good, isn't it, doll?"

"So fucking good," you agreed, your lower half already starting to feel heavier, the feeling of getting pounded into by something so large and thick sending you into a state of bliss. "You're gonna make me cum soon..."

Suddenly, the door behind you swung open, and three distinct voices could be heard talking amongst themselves. "So, you're telling me your bong is in that mess on the floor?" Yunho questioned, pointing to the floor, trying to ignore what was going on in the middle of the room, the tips of his ears red and burning.

"Yeah, hold on." San walked into his room like it was just another day and stood near the two of you, giving Mingi a high five when he put his hand out. It must've been a regular occurrence with your boyfriend's previous partners. Personally, you were so dick-drunk, you didn't even care that San was studying the way your tits bounced along with your movements.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, sweetheart," San said, giving you a suggestive smile, before bending over to pick up a few articles of clothing and throwing them to the side, searching for his bong underneath the chaos.

Mingi continued to drill himself into you, his cock throbbing heavily inside you due to being watched by his friends, opting to grab both of your wrists and hold you down, not letting you move at it, forcing you to take everything he was giving you. "Baby likes being watched, huh? Is Baby gonna cum from being a little attention whore?"

"Uh-huhhh..." You kept your eyes locked on his, making small whimpers each time he pounded into you, tears forming inside your eyes from having an audience.

"Goddamn..." San mumbled underneath his breath, already holding his bong inside his hand, but staying still, mesmerized by the way your ass routinely bounced when Mingi’s cock slammed inside of you. Seonghwa and Yunho were in similar situations, leaning on each other and watching the both of you with dilated eyes, wondering how the hell Mingi’s giant cock somehow fit inside your small frame without splitting you open.

"I'm...about to cum, doll." He caressed your cheek, wiping a few escaping tears, before glaring at San. "Get out of here, okay? I didn't mind you watching, but you're not about to see me nut."

Disappointed, San let out a long sigh, making eye contact with you when you glanced over at him with barely open eyes, your orgasm building up inside you at a rapid rate. "Maybe next time I can watch you two cum," he mused, only leaving the room with his friends when Mingi grabbed one of the plushies on the bed and tossed it at San's head.

Mingi, still holding your cheeks, pulled you down on top of him, slotting his lips onto yours, his hips still moving at a feverish, somewhat sloppy pace. "Cumming," he mumbled into your mouth, listening to your many muffled cries, slowly pumping his cum into your abused hole.

You melted against him, your body going completely lax, your cunt pulsing heavily, as your arousal poured out of you and dripped past Mingi's inner thighs, seeping into the comforter beneath. "So good...that was so good..." you slurred, even though you weren't drunk from the alcohol.

"I'm glad Baby likes getting dicked down so much," Mingi mused, his voice low and gravelly, reveling in the post-orgasm bliss, rubbing your back in circles. His hand suddenly went stiff, giving you a concerned look.

You pushed a few wet strands behind your ear, tilting your head to the side. "What's wrong, Min?"

He gave you a small pout, his eyebrows drawn together. "My nose feels kind of stuffy.” 

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FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© toxicccred, 2023.

[gayconstruct]

Humans are Weird — Fever

We literally heat up to cook our bodies when we can't ward off things with our immune cells, and there's a VERY slim margin for what's healthy vs what's not. If you'd like to skip the context portion scroll down to the second set of emdashes

—————

For some quick context, I use some consistent concepts and variations of time words under the impression there's a unified, simplified time scale in an intergalactic universal community

Shifts are 10 hours with hour lunches

There's 3 parts to every species day — Work, Relax, and Sleep — all 10 hours

Diurnal aliens including most humans are working in the mornings, relaxing in the evenings, and sleeping at night

Crepuscular aliens are working in the evenings, relaxing at night, sleeping in the morning

And Nocturnal aliens are working at night, relaxing in the morning, and sleeping in the evening

The clock is from 01:00 — 30:00 (simple 30 hour days for an even number and more leisure time) and rolls over to 01:00 from 30:59 with 01:00 being the roll over from night to morning

Time Increments

Seconds = Instants

Minutes = Moments

Hours = Periods

Days = Cycles

Weeks = Phases

Months = Stages

and Years = Terms

—————

Temperature Rising

Diverse biomes and work sectors began to stir to life, as the many species stationed upon the Integrated Vessel Ro’Vanna responded to the coming shift change. The Universal Timepiece, standard across the known universe, finally struck 0100 Cycles, the nocturnal species like the Umborra and Nostro eager to spend their recreational hours peacefully, while Diurnal species like the Shal’Dorei and newly integrated Humans were waking to begin another productive morning. 

Qin, the most well known Troqir aboard and one of its select Charters, rushed to his station in the hub of the Astrometry Center, cranial crests flaring with an eagerness that to most of his crewmates would otherwise go unnoticed. Ready to start his shift as soon as his posterior hit the chair, the rather tall and muscular humanoid gracelessly plopped down, emitting quite the noise as he got started. Other species present had their full attention focused on their tasking at hand, not a single thought or care thrown to his quite hasty entrance to his station. Several crystalline scales in the crook of his neck iridesced at the thought of his companion joining him soon, his thoughts anywhere but the latest mapping data coming up on his Virtual HUD. Time passed quickly at first, the sturdy man pointing metallic fingers to different notifications that needed immediate attention, adjusting calculations to chart the next few thousand Cargo routes as he went. After roughly 14.5 moments, though, he turned to search for his oddly quiet coworker to notice that the Human had made no attempt to join him this morning, the thought causing a darker color to glisten across his crystal scaling.

He’s late.

Why is he late?

He specifically stated last night he’d “see me soon.”

He’s never this late.

For the first time in his life, Qin was completely out of focus. Several happy-go-lucky phases — human parlance, not his own — had enveloped him, exchanging his stark Troqir logicality for Human whimsy and curiosity. His work tempo was slower and uncoordinated, an unfamiliar feeling coalescing into the turbulent color shifts across his luminescent scales. Every instant that passed on the cargo vessel's timekeeper seemed to lurch at an uneven pace, a deepening pit forming at the base of his abdomen. For four and a half painstaking periods, Qin swallowed his personal thoughts to gain some form of traction on his workload, swallowing emotion as all of his people were taught and opting for diligent productivity, until - finally - the release of his allotted Nutrition Period arrived. There was no moment spared as his dense footfalls rushed towards his companions quarters, his focus unbroken as the ceiling dropped from 4 meters to a much tighter 2.4m. Qin, at just under 2.2 meters, absentmindedly ducked to overcompensate, having quickly become accustomed to this section and its many distinctions after quite a few visits. 

There at last, the tall, silvery man reached what was worth looking for, a door which read in standard human language,

Room 152

Aspen Wright

With the slightest shake in his hand, Qin formed his digits into a fist to knock. 

Knocking… he thought, quite the odd custom, but like many human practices, this was the most respectful of his companion’s personal space and time. For several instants, the silence in the Human Sector’s Hall allowed him no sweet mercy, the lone alien man uncertain what to do as his weight shifted back and forth between his feet, a metal clang ringing out with each motion. Thankfully, a digital projection finally slid across the width of the door, Entry Permitted, displayed in large English typeface.

Thank the Fathers and Mothers for universal translation.

With the invitation obvious and a rather low duck through the smaller door, Qin entered into the darkened room — the simulated window turned off, the curtains drawn, clothes strewn across the floor, and strange devices and pill capsules laid upon the table — not even the so-called “fairy lights” lit the quarters he had become so accustomed to. The Troqirian’s own voice came quieter than he expected, as he rasped out, “Aspen? Are you there?” A strange groan followed, then silence, then- a weary voice.

“Q-,” a cough, “Qin?”

“Y-yes… it is I, I am present,” a facepalm.

“Oh, this is a-” more coughing, “a surprise. Aren’t you on Lunch Break sweetie?”

For a moment, the light from Qin’s Luminescent Scales - ones at his nape, a few at his crests, even the ones on his exposed digits - shined brighter than before, a rainbow of colors flowing across their surface at the thought of being a “sweetie”, before taking a dim, solemn purple. “I- yes, but when you did not show up promptly 15 moments late after last night's recreation I- I began to worry. Lateness? Normal to an extent. Absence??? Abnormal, even for you… Did I… do something wrong? Did our meetings and leisure time make work uncomfortable for you?”

For his first time that entire cycle, Aspen bolted upright with a purpose, but immediately regretted it as a wave of dizziness caused the room to spin around him before he fell the wrong direction, right out of his bed into the floor.

The sight startled Qin, having no frame of reference where the human man was until now, “Fathers and Mothers! Aspen, are you injured!?”

With a weak chuckle and the groan of even more pain, he responded in turn, “I’m fine, I’m fine… I’m sorry to worry you, you never make me uncomfortable dear, I’m just a bit [under the weather] today.” Another small laugh came, and then he continued, “I was trying to tell you that, and I- I must’ve moved too fast… everything is- ugh everything is spinning. Could you help me back into bed?”

Frantic to assist, Qin’s larger form - clumsy in the smaller space, helped lie the smaller, lighter human in his nest, placing his head upon the pillow. Once situated, he covered the small man, as many human’s liked, and noticed his skin far hotter to the touch than normal, homeostatic balance oddly off. “Damn translator…” a joyous light crossing his scales as he used the human swear as he’d been taught, “for whatever reason the English to Troqirian dictionary hasn’t found a suitable translation for your imprecise speech… Could you please explain?”

“Ah, thank you for the lift, love.” Settling for an instant, eyes closed and his head on the pillow, Aspen pondered with a clouded, slow mind, trying to search for the words as his body ached and caught a chill. “... uh- an English idiom of common use in my native tongue… it’s like… to feel sick, to be unwell. I didn’t go to my work shift today because I’m too sick to go… I’m- I’m sorry I didn’t contact you to say something, this fever is really kicking my ass.”

Fever? What in the Cradles was a Fever? 

“Ah… Fever- yes. Hmm, and that is… The translator states you have an elevated temperature? You were hot to the touch, hot because you’re currently ill, or ‘under the weather’ as it were?” Pondering his line of thinking, Qin couldn’t help but attempt to puzzle it together, his evolved logic center placing presented data together to reach understanding. 

Why is his temperature so elevated? He… he’s too hot… His temperature felt at least 311.8°K through my temperature cells… Humans are on average 310.2°K and their species exhibits signs of death at temperatures of 315°K or more… Fathers and Mothers that’s far too close. That is far too close.

Startling Aspen’s tired eyes open, the large metallic man started in with question after question, “How are you okay? You were perfectly normal yesterday. You’re temperature is far too elevated! Are you dying? Do you need emergency services? I can call the Human Physician on board! I can, I can, I-”

“Stop. It is gonna be okay. This- uh this is a normal human response to various pathogens our immune system is unable to combat with its defense cells, so we get hotter and hotter to try to kill the invader before it can do too much damage. I’ve already spoken to the captain and the doctor and I was given some things to bolster my strength while I attempt to naturally ride out my fever. It’s gonna be okay Qin, I’m gonna be okay. The fever just has to kill the pathogen and it’ll break on its own.”

For several quiet moments Qin sat in disbelief at such a process. Actively breaking their delicate homeostasis for an illness? Their specialized cells unable to do it on their own??? He found himself running his digits through his smaller companions' hair as he pondered. He looked so weak, so small, so… precious. 

Breaking the deathly silence with a few coughs, Aspen shuddered from his fever chills, squinting to the light of Qin’s scales before smiling to himself, “I can see your scared glow through my eyelids, Qin, I promise I’m okay… though the comforting touch is nice.”

“Well your eyelids are thin layers containing Keratin and Collagen, it's a miracle your species is alive…”

A laugh, somewhat stronger this time, escaped Aspen’s lips as he smiled again, “And yours have thick metallic plates and the most beautiful glowing scales I’ve ever seen. What about it?”

A hot reddish-pink overtook the Troqir’s luminescent features as he realized what power the smaller man held over him. The power to care. The power to worry. The power to be emotionally honest, something found few and far between his own people. 

The power to be bold.

“Th-they’re beautiful, you… are beautiful, Aspen… I’m sorry I haven’t said it sooner. You always try to make advances on me, and I always try to deflect them with feigned ignorance.”

Slowly, the small human man scooted to leave some room next to himself in the bed, the blanket moving and leaving him even colder than he already was, “Please… could you stay with me a while longer… could you… could you cuddle me to keep me warm?”

The pink glow wouldn’t cease for some time, as the giant of a man laid down on the small bed and wrapped his warm silvery arms around his companion, a small humming noise coming from deep in his throat like a pur. Aspen snuggled close to stifle his chills, overjoyed to know his feelings were reciprocated. Feeling the radiant heat from his alien partner, he drifted into peaceful sleep for the first time that awful sick day.

[gojocp]

"checking" food

cw: fluff, gojo is a liar featuring: gojo satoru !! (< 33)

a/n: so sorry i haven't posted in soo long, i have gotten so busy lately !! also this is kinda based on this one tweet(?) i saw about some guy saying "my dad used to take gigantic bites out of my food to "check for poison" and i believed him for 10 years" or smth like that. hope u enjoy! lmk how it is (also i didn't know how to end this LMAO)

"we're home!!" satoru called out to the apartment, holding flowers, followed by a young megumi and tsumiki for the nth time, who held their own bags of food from mcdonalds - with tsumiki carrying an extra one.

"what's this?" you ask, as he hands you the flowers.

"nothin', just thought you would'a liked 'em." he started. "do ya?" he asked.

"yeah, i do, they're lovely, but i was asking about the food." you said. "i was about to start cooking."

"i know." he started, "just thought i would save you the work of cooking and bring back some suuuper good food."

"ohh, and my food's not 'suuuper' good?" you teased.

"of course it is! but it's mcdonalds, sweets, literally nothing beats it!!" he stated, pulling you in by the waist with a sweet smile, and placing his lips onto yours with a soft kiss.

"ew." megumi said, clearly disgusted at the white-haired sorcerer's actions.

"uhm, how about we eat and you guys can do that..later?" tsumiki suggests with a smile.

pulling away, you guide satoru by the hand and make your way to the table. upon opening the bags, you realize there are only 3 meals instead of 4.

"did you not buy yourself anything?" you asked your boyfriend.

"nah, i ate before picking them up." he responded. "hey megumi! before you start eating, let me check for poison in your food." he stated.

"huh? what about tsumiki and m- (y/n)?" megumi responds, quickly correcting himself before anyone noticed, unsure of the request.

"i'm gonna check theirs too. what? you don't want me to check for poison?" satoru retorts. "do you really think i would just let you die if i can do something to prevent it?" he says, trying to persuade the child.

"okay..." megumi says, not fully convinced but handing the bag to satoru anyways.

"great!" he exclaimed, taking a bite and eating almost a quarter of the childs food. "tsumiki, you too!" he says to her, doing the same thing.

"and you, pretty." he says to you, taking a bigger bite out of your food than theirs.

"okay! no poison, you guys can eat." he states happily.

"'kay.." you respond, bewildered by his actions. --------------

after finished the food and cleaning up, it was time for bed. after tucking in tsumiki and megumi, you both head to your own bed. you lay down with the comforter over you and rest your head on satoru's shoulder as he pulls you close to him.

"you know.." you start, "if you were hungry, i could've shared with you"

"i wasn't hungry! i was checking for poison." he retaliates with mock offence.

"okay.. but i don't think they'll believe you again." you say, leaning closer and sealing you lips together into another soft kiss.

"yeah, whatever." he responds, kissing you again. --------------

oh how wrong you were. this whole "checking for poison" act lasted until megumi started the 6th grade, as he decided he didn't need to check for poison and "if he dies, he dies."

"told you it wouldn't last." you said one night, as you laid in bed.

"hmph, whatever, he can die. i don't care!" replied satoru, upset at megumi's new-found independence.

"sure.." you responded with a yawn, snuggling closer and falling asleep.

[elmhat]

Dreblr Survey Results!

First of all, thanks to everyone who took part in this survey. There were 152 responses in total! This post just covers the statistical side of things; there will be more posts later for the long response questions.

Most popular characters

Dream (95.4% of voters)

Technoblade (84.9% of voters)

DreamXD (46.1% of voters)

Yeah, of course Dream was going to win this one, it's literally dreblr. But Techno landslided second place. No one else is even close. You've got to love that Lil Nas X got as many votes as Aimsey, Boomer, Eryn, Lazar and Vikkstar combined, and he wasn't even one of the options.

Most unpopular characters

Tommy (45.9% of voters)

Quackity (34.1% of voters)

Jack (28.1% of voters)

Quackity. My poor Quackity. This is so sad (<- unbiased). These results weren't quite as unanimous though, and a few characters avoided any hatred! I find it interesting that Techno got zero votes after doing so well in the last question. People just really like Techno.

Most popular arcs

Prison (72.7% of voters)

Doomsday & Disc War Finale (66.0% of voters)

Post-Prison (48.7% of voters)

Not really surprising that the prison arc won, since we apparently all thrive on suffering. But it's always nice to see the MCC prison roleplay making an appearance.

Most popular ships

Drunz (60.4% of voters)

Dreamnoblade (58.3% of voters)

DNF (54.9% of voters)

Let it be known that dreamnoblade was winning up until the last second. Alas, you were not powerful enough. And neither were awesamdreamers? I thought y'all ran this town? There were a lot of other suggestions for ships: some DNN, some fundywastaken, some Dream/XD, some awesamdreamity. My personal favourites are "c!DreamxRest&Relaxation" and "Dream/a good night's sleep," you guys were onto something.

Most popular duos

Dream & Technoblade (94.7% of voters)

Dream & Punz (63.2% of voters)

Dream & Sapnap (45.4% of voters)

I really can't adequately express how insane it is to me that Dream & Techno got that much of the vote. Like. Look at it. Only 8 people in this whole survey didn't put them as a favourite duo. That's absurd. And again, Dream & Sam missing top 3 by one vote.

Most popular factions

Syndicate (76.5% of voters)

Greater Dream SMP (51.0% of voters)

Eggpire (32.9% of voters)

Again. Look at the difference between first and second! If this isn't proof that Technoblade never dies, I don't know what is. Shoutout to the people who put the Antarctic Empire, 2b2t, and "Dream and all the traitors he pulled out of nowhere."

Most popular places

Arctic Commune (64.9% of voters)

Pandora's Vault (63.6% of voters)

Community House (58.3% of voters)

Listen, you don't have to tell me, I already know I forgot to put Church Prime. I'm very aware of my stupidity. But these results—do you even know how strong you have to be to overpower Pandora's Vault? In dreblr? Damn. That was also a last-minute thing, Pandora's Vault was winning.

Fandom behaviors

I'll admit, I didn't give the best options for this question, so thanks to everyone who wrote their own response. Apparently we're all big readers, so that's nice for us! We're also more likely to be a writer than an artist, but far fewer of us are writing meta. All in all, this looks like a pretty good spread!

Joining the fandom

The most popular time to start watching the dsmp was between New L'Manberg and the Disc War Finale, but honestly, it's split into fairly even quarters between the main "seasons" the server was active. To those who joined after the finale streams, hi! I hope you're enjoying your stay!

Thoughts on the finale streams

I'm actually a little blown away that no one rated the finale streams a 1. Not a single person. There's nothing more I can say other than this response is overwhelmingly positive.

Is the fandom dying?

It looks like the answer is no! 82.9% of us are still moderately interested in the dsmp or more, and for almost a third of us, it's consuming every part of our brain. I don't know about you, but for me, this is actually something I really needed to see.

That's all for this post, but there will be more results soon for the questions with longer responses. I'd strongly recommend sticking around for that, some of them are hilarious. Well done for making it through the stats!

As an aside, well done to the 35 people brave enough to put their name to what they said in this survey. Because some of what they said was *ahem* very interesting.

[genshin-impact-unofficial]

Naughty Little Secret Pt.3

Reactions of Genshin men finding your spicy literature.

Bonus Ft. Scaramouche, Itto, and Xiao

(Part 1) Diluc, Cyno, and Thoma (Part 2) Childe, Albedo, and Alhaitham

Tags: PG-13, Sexual Themes, GN!Reader, Technically SFW, Crushes, Lot more cussing in this one, Use of the word dick but not sexual lol, All these boys dont know how to regulate emotions, Bullying scaramouche, fluff-ish?, Spoiler: Xiao wants to be dominated! Notes: (repost)

Scaramouche

You worked your ass off to rise up in the Fatui ranks. Not everyone could handle the cut throat atmosphere that you had to endure day in and day out. But still, it really takes a special kind of self-loathing to accept the position as the right hand General of the Balladeer. It’s almost like he enjoys making your life hell. You endured it simply because you’ve come too far to let that little brat ruin it all. 

 “General Y/N, be ready to leave at dawn.” The harbinger stated to you, lounging casually at his desk, appearing not to have a care in the world. You turn around slowly and don't even try to hide your annoyance on your face. Your hands were already literally and figuratively full of paperwork that you had every intention of completing before this point. You take a deep sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose to keep the growing migraine at bay. 

“Yes sir, where shall I prepare us to go?” You ask calmly, it was not worth it to get snippy with him this early. He would surely only take it as a challenge.

“Hmm... I feel like exploring the ruins of Mondstadt.” The man shrugged, glancing over at you to see your reaction. 

“Mondstadt?!?! That’s a three day trip sir. Are you-” You stopped yourself when you saw the devilish grin on his features. This was exactly what he wanted. “Orders received, I’ll inform the convoy to be ready at dawn.” You stated sharply and swiftly turned to exit the room. What a dick. You were no stranger to these impromptu expeditions. Chances were, Scaramouche really did have business to attend to at the destination. What never ceased to boil your blood, was the fact that he loved to withhold this information from you until the very last minute. You packed light and awaited your next orders like usual. 

 -

The first leg of the journey was incredibly dull since you had refused to travel in the same wagon as Scaramouche. Even when he went out of his way to push your buttons during stops, you would only give him a short reply and walk away. It was quite annoying to the harbinger. Having nothing to entertain himself with left the Balladeer in a terrible mood. By the time camp was set up for the night, he stormily resigned to his quarters immediately.  Scaramouch’s belongings were already left on his sleeping cot when he entered. It was no doubt set up in advance to avoid risking anyone getting on his bad side. He opened is bags to retrieve his intelligence reports.... but the contents inside were unfamiliar to him. What an incompetent crew!

“I’m going to have someones head for thi-” His agitation ceased when he read your name written neatly on the ledger inside the pack. About time...something interesting. Without any regard for your privacy, he flipped through your notes. Ugh, you could be such a bore sometimes. You were his favorite play thing, but above all else you were also a diligent attendant. There was nothing but concise notations on work matters inside, so Scaramouche tossed it aside and searched further into the bag. His next finding was a book, seemingly a fiction novel with a bookmark indicating you were still in the midst of reading it. Boring.... The man thought while mindlessly skimming through the pages. 

The cool night breeze hit her bare skin, raising goosebumps all over her body. Only the scorching warmth of his hands could be felt as they explored her every curve. The lewd sounds of their passion rang throughout the trees and her legs began to tremble in pleasure as he- Scaramouche immediately slammed the book closed with far too much force and threw it back into your bag. He didn’t even bother zipping it up before storming outside. 

You had just finished your duties for the night. It took twice as long since your infuriating boss just had to throw a tantrum and go hole himself up in his quarters. Your tent was luckily also set up and ready for use. Maybe you would even treat yourself to a little reading, that is if you didn’t pass out from exhaustion as soon as your head hit the pillow. You didn’t think twice before opening the bag atop your bed. Huh? This isn’t- 

“Y/N TAKE YOUR STUPID STUFF! ESPECIALLY THAT FILTHY PORNOGRAPHIC BOOK OF YOURS!” Scaramouche was bursting into your tent and just about whipped your bag at you. The boy’s expression was incredibly uneasy, his bright angry blush could be seen from Celestia. On one hand, you were positively furious that he had the nerve to snoop through your things, but on the other hand you examined the sight of your flustered boss.... now that was new. 

“It’s not porn...” You forced down your utter embarrassment and rolled your eyes at him. “It’s just a little romance novel, don’t tell me that’s what’s got you so utterly nervous? Did you need someone to guide you through its contents?” You asked in a low sultry tone while taking a couple slow prowling steps towards the harbinger. His eyes were now as wide as saucers, bewildered, he stood frozen in place. 

“You’re being ridiculous.. I don’t - How dare you assume-” Scaramouche tried to form a complete thought, or maybe a threat, but it was painfully obvious he had lost his ability to think straight with you leaning in so close to him. Personal space was getting awfully scarce when you saw the Balladeer’s eyes flicker for a fraction of a second to your lips and back. You grinned wickedly, deciding it was time to put the helpless boy out of his misery. 

“Well then!” You suddenly clasped your hands together, leaned back, and shoved Scaramouche’s pack roughly into his arms. “Since you’re all set, then out you go.” You smiled cheerily, spinning him around and kicking him out of your tent without a second glance. “Nighty night, see ya in the morning sir.” 

Scaramouch stood rigidly outside your tent, face burning, utterly disheveled, and reeling from the interaction he had just had. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the thrill of your attention or from how absolutely fucking livid he was at you.

Itto

You weren’t an ‘official’ member of the Arataki Gang per say, but you were no stranger to their big goofball leader. Itto had slowly wormed his way into your daily routine and he had no plans of leaving anytime soon. The oni and his friends were a blast to be around, but you just weren’t the type to run around causing mischief. You worried that you would just end up being a killjoy. Instead of being a stick in their ever-exciting mud, you settled for hanging in the background of their antics and just reveling in their positive energy. You even brought your own entertainment so you wouldn’t be a bother to them. 

Itto on the other hand, had been dying to recruit you into the gang since FOREVER! You were so cool and smart all the time! But every time he offered you a spot, you politely declined. Damn! That just made you even cooler! He wouldn’t quit here though, it just wasn’t in his nature to give up on something so important. Itto gathered his boys and hashed out their next plan. Impressing you with their mad skills didn’t seem to do the trick. Maybe.... maybe they needed to impress you even HARDER! The gang chattered in excitement, an extravagant burping tournament already forming in their little heads.

“OR how about you try to appeal to Y/N’s interests?... Ya know, like trying to get to know them more?” Shinobu interjected before their tournament plan actually got momentum. Itto contemplated her words for a moment before breaking out into a wide grin. 

“Yeah, yeah yeah! You’re onto somethin’ Shinobu!” Itto praised. “I gotta show them how well we get them! Then Y/N will be begging to join the gang!” 

“Ok well... I don’t know about-” 

“Come on boys! We got some work to do!” It was too late. Itto was charging full steam ahead before his second in command could get another word in. The oni had to play it cool the next time he saw you. If you caught wind of what they were trying to do, it might ruin the whole plan. The whole operation was considered a “Super-Top-Secret-Arataki-Gang-Stealth-Mission”. It was all so brilliant, but the only problem was.... how was he supposed to figure out your interests without asking you? 

You were always so thoughtful, like when you make the time to listen to Itto rant on and on about his latest and greatest plans. He just wanted to listen about your favorite things too! Itto hardly took his eyes off you as you settled into your usual spot to read. That’s it! He’ll get into reading! That way he could talk book stuff or something! All he had to do was read all the books you read. Easy!  

The next day, Itto scoured high and low at every bookshop in for the title he saw you reading. He got some strange looks from some of the shop owners, but in the end he found it! He ended up selling a couple of his Genius Invokation TCG cards for the mora, but it would all be worth it in the end if it meant you would become their newest member. The oni was so excited he couldn’t even wait for the boys. He ended up sitting right outside the bookshop and cracking open the volume. Itto flipped around the pages, his version of ‘speed reading’ as he calls it, until a specific passage stuck out at him.

He sunk his teeth into her supple skin, and latched onto her neck. Red and purple love marks littered her needy body. Big rough hands gripped at her thighs, sharp claws claiming them for his own. The next sound was that of tearing fabric for her undergarments were no more. His mouth watered, it craved her, and he would restrain himself no longer.- 

“Boss! Did you find it?” Itto was startled when he heard his gang arrive. 

“Uhhhh HEy! Nope! Not a thing.” He said shutting the book and shooting to his feet. “Wow look at the time! I- uh... I got to go eat supple. I MeAN GEt SuPPER. Hahahah I A GOtta gO ByE!!!” Itto could hardly control the words spilling from his mouth. He took off running, leaving the gang utterly confused.

Itto struggled to sleep that night, unable to grasp the thought of you reading those graphic depictions all the time with a straight face. The next time you encountered the oni, it was transparently obvious that something was very wrong. Itto’s signature loud and confident personality had done a complete 180. He refused to look at you... like at all. You feared you’d done something to offend the big lovable goof and you decides this had to be sorted out right away.

“Itto is something wrong?” You had to resort to cornering the man to get him to talk to you. It was a humorous sight to see, you blocking the path of a huge oni that could easily barrel through you. Of course, the moment Itto’s eyes met yours, a fresh blush began to bloom across his face. He broke, instantly coming clean about everything.

“WeWantedToHaveYouJoinSOSoSoBadWeTriedToFindOutMoreAboutYouYourBookIsFullOfSomeDirtyScenesAndNowIDontThinkIWasSupposed-” Itto spoke impossibly fast and you couldn’t understand the flustered jumbled mess at all. You placed a comforting hand on his arm, encouraging him to take a deep breath. After giving him a moment to collect himself, you prompt him to start again but slowly... 

“The gang and I really like when you’re around. We want you to enjoy being around us too. So I thought if I, uh.... ya know. If I figured out what you were always reading about, that I would learn more about you. I just ah... didn’t expect the um...” 

“You read my...” You paused, the pieces finally slotted together in your head. “Oh archons! Uh actually, you can just leave me here Itto. I need to find a big rock to go die under now.” You said absolutely mortified. It was your turn to not be able to look for friend in the eye ever again. Covered your cheeks that were sure to be red as the oni’s horns now.

“What? Hey, come on now Y/N.” Itto jumped to action and like a switch he was immediately trying to cheer you up. “It’s not that bad! The rest of the gang doesn’t know a thing, and I promise my mouth is locked shut! I swear, oni’s honor!” He held one hand in the air and the other over his heart. “How about I tell you a secret? That way we’re even and no one has to be embarrassed, yeah?” Itto suggested. He leaned down to meet your eye line and to offer you a sweet smile. “Let’s see, ooooo I got it! So one time when I was practicing my mad skills on the beach my great sword slipped right out of my hand, the handle hit me straight on the noggin. Knocked me right out for hours.” You couldn’t help but giggle a little, it did sound very Itto after all. Seeing you smile spurred him to continue. “That’s not even the worst of it! When I woke up, bunch of salt water leaches were latched on my neck and chest. I couldn’t let the boys know, I have an image I gotta keep here. So when they asked me about the marks... I may have told a little tiny lie that they were hickeys.” Now you were struggling to breath with how hard you were laughing at the ridiculous story. 

“Okay okay I feel better. You win.” You hold up your hands in playful surrender and Itto’s triumphant smile was once again where it belonged. It reminded you why you loved his company so much.

“Of course I win! They don’t call me the one and oni for nothin! HAHA!” 

Xiao

Reading mortal ‘light novels’ was something relatively new to Xiao. He may not be able to see why you love it so much, but he respected seeing the passion in your eyes while recanting the epic fictional battles. It was endearing enough that the yaksha agreed to read some of the suggestions you made for him. The strange nuanced situations sometimes confused Xiao, but you were always happy to break it down logically for him. It had become a pleasant pass time for both of you.

“Y/N I finished this one.... It was good i think.” Xiao handed you back the book you had lent him. 

“Pfft, you think? Did you like the story?” You chuckled, amused. 

“The last one, I liked that one more.” The adeptus stated decisively. Xiao would never speak negatively about your interests. But... sometimes he opted to change the subject instead. 

“Ah, you have good taste.” You praised him, the excitement was evident from your expression. “I just finished the squeal yesterday! It should be on the desk over there, you should definitely check it out!” Xiao nodded and couldn't help but be amused. He grabbed the top book off your desk, not caring in particular if it was the correct one. The trivial plots were not his reason for doing any of this anyway. He would never tell you, but it was so he could in sit here beside you and just be content in your company. He didn’t know many people comfortable enough to spend hours together in silence. It was a relief not to be required to fill it with idle conversation. Xiao settled in the chair next to you and absentmindedly began to read the repetitive lines of words. Just  like the volumes before, he began to see the plot set up to follow the same tropes and struggles all over again except, huh....

He sat obediently in front his charge, and it was as if her power hungry gaze could swallow him whole. She wanted to control his every breath and moan while she had him here. His heart, body, and mind belonged to her to do with as she pleased. Her orders were direct and clear and he would always desperately follow. When he dis as he was told he was always rewarded by her noises of ecstasy. The sound of it sent a pleasant shiver down his own spine. He lived for this, for her, and he would serve her until she was nothing but satisfied-

“Xiao are you alright? You look feverish.“ Xiao tore his eyes from the pages and locked onto your concerned gaze. He was lost. How was he supposed to handle the thoughts swirling in his head? Your book was so... lewd. How could someone like you read? Did that mean you thought of.. “Xiao?”

In a split second, the yaksha was gone in a puff of black smoke. You were left alone and baffled by what the hell just happened. Was something wrong? He usually explained before leaving suddenly, or at least had the decency to say goodbye. You thought over and over in your head, but it all became clear when you spotted the abandoned romance novel on the chair. Ohhh no. 

-

It had been two weeks since your interaction Xiao. It only took a couple of days before you were able to push past your humiliation and call out to him. You waited.... but It became clear that the adeptus was avoiding you. Even your trips up to Wangshu Inn proved fruitless time and time again. Was this guy being serious right now? The remaining feelings of embarrassment and annoyance had completely dissolved into fear by the second week. You began feeling worried that your friend may have just completely dropped you, or was out there hurt. The weight of it all was eating away at you. You finally made the decision that you had to know for sure.

“XIAO!” You yelled off the rooftop of the inn. “I know you hear me! If you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, at least tell me to my face! I won’t force you to be my friend, but at least be honest! Please, I just can’t take this!” You call out loudly into the wind. It would look absolutely mad to any passersby but you didn’t care anymore. 

“You’re being absurd.” Xiao’s voice muttered, appearing without a sound on the rooftop.

“Xiao! I’m so glad you’re o-” You almost were so excited to see the boy again that you started to step forward without thinking. Remembering the situation, you restrained yourself. You wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable. It was obvious from his avoidant gaze and rosy complexion that he was just as uneasy as when you last saw him.

“Who’s telling you that I want nothing to do with you. It’s nothing but a lie.” Xiao stated seriously. Blush or not, he seemed offended by the accusation.

“No one said anything. I assumed as much since you’ve been ignoring me for weeks! What am I supposed to think Xiao?” You explained to him frustrated. You perhaps still felt a little hurt, but you didn’t realize how much. Not until you felt tears begin to prick at your eyes. “It’s hurtful to go from having a best friend, to meaning nothing to them.” You cross your arms and try to blink away the tears threatening to fall. Xiao is the one to step forward next, clearly processing what you had just said and barely coming to a realization. Fuck, this guy can be so dense sometimes.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have hurt you while I was only thinking of my own shame.” His voice was soft and earnest. “Please believe me when I say, I never wanted to stop being close to you. And please allow me to resume doing so.” You smiled, of course forgiving Xiao without hesitation. But not without conditions.

“I forgive you... But as my best friend, you have to promise not to tell a living soul about that book. Not a peep, nothing! I’m talking, take this secret to your grave.” You beam up at him, officially declaring him your best friend for the first time. 

“R-right of course.” Xiao’s composure stuttered once again, a fierce blush returning to his cheeks. “I promise, not a word...”

<A/N: This was an ask from my old blog! I was scared for a moment it was lost to the ether but I found it in my documents! Writing flustered Scara is so fun NGL!>

[bxrbieq]

Hotel, Motel - Chris Sturniolo x f!reader

i’m so sorry this is so late i need to lock in but i hope u all enjoy!

mdni 18+

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, cursing, Chris calls you ma

Touring with the triplets and appearing at their shows had been crazy fun so far. You didn’t know them super well but the fans had really enjoyed the collaboration and the content that came along with it. 

The shows and traveling were super fun, but the tour bus was getting old for everyone, and being in such close quarters with one of the finest men you’ve ever encountered was taking a toll on you. Hence a hotel being booked for the night. 

Cranky and exhausted, you all drag your bags into the lobby to check in. It should’ve been a super simple process, and it was… up until Nick was handed only 3 sets of room keys, instead of 4. 

The room pairings were already set up, Nick and Madi, Matt and his girlfriend, while you and Chris each got your own. 

Nick tried to ask the front desk attendant about the mistake, but apparently nothing could be done last minute. Fuck. You’re stuck with Chris for the night. 

Nick looks at you sympathetically, “Do you wanna squish in with me and Madi? I’m sure we could make it work.”

“It’s alright, I can just sleep on the couch.” You say, trying to not seem nervous. 

“I’ll survive as long as you don’t snore” Chris giggles. 

You roll your eyes while internally freaking out. How in God’s name were you supposed to survive the night sleeping in the same room with him? His constant playful teasing and subtle touches were already enough to drive you crazy. 

Your terror-induced thought process continued up until the elevator stopped at your floor. You all find your respective rooms and Nick pats your shoulder after you all exchange goodnights. 

Unlocking the door in silence, he leads the way in and flicks the light on. Immediately, he turns his head back at you and smirks. 

“I hate to tell you this, ma, but uh.. there’s no couch…” he says before chuckling to hide the slight blush growing on his face. 

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You push past him to check and it’s immediately confirmed, the only thing to sleep on is a queen-sized bed. 

You jump to problem solving, “Maybe we can call the front desk and ask for extra pillows and blankets? Then I can just make a nest on the floor.” 

“You know I’m not about to let a lady sleep on the floor." he says, taking a seat on the bed. 

“Well you probably need the rest more than I do.” 

“It’s not happening, if you want we can set up like a pillow barrier between.” He says taking off his shoes and stretching, his shirt lifting up just enough for you to see the waistband of his boxers. 

“It’s fine, just don’t start cuddling with me, freak.” You say jokingly while grinning at the man in front of you. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He says, making you tense up a little before he laughs it off. “I’m gonna take a shower, don’t wait up.”

Naturally, you wait up. You can’t manage to sleep with the image of him in the shower haunting you. The thought of his soap hands running through his shaggy hair, his torso dripping with water while his strong arms flex, his cock- before you can finish your thought, the shower turns off and you hear the door open. 

You readjust and try to look nonchalant, but as the door opens and Chris emerges you lose your cool again. 

He comes out shirtless with only a towel wrapped around his waist hanging low. Low enough for you to see the V shape underneath his stomach, leading into his light happy trail. He’s still got little drops of water on his chest. His hair’s still wet and messy. 

It’s literally a painting. 

“If you wanna fuck me just say that.” You’re snapped out of your trance by his quip, followed by him chuckling. All you can do is blush, but quickly roll your eyes to try and protect your dignity. 

“You’re annoying, put a shirt on.”

“Is that really what you want, princess?” Jesus christ. His little nickname makes it impossible to ignore the heat between your legs. 

“Yes, Christopher. And some underwear, please.”

“If you say so.” He smiles, walking past you to sift through his bag. After grabbing them he goes back to the bathroom and you take the opportunity to change into some boxers and a big tour shirt. 

The next hours are spent mutually scrolling on phones trying to sit as far from each other as possible on the bed. The energy was weirdly tense in the room, not just because you were both only in underwear and shirts. 

Out of the silence Chris leans over, “Yo watch this video.” He outstretches his arm making him roll over to face you, propping himself up on his other arm. 

As the video plays in front of your face, you can’t help yourself from staring at his veiny forearm. He looks so strong… you wonder what it would look like while his fingers pump in and out of you, his arm straining. This was getting out of hand. 

“Y/n?? Did you even watch the video?” 

“Oh yeah it was super funny!”

“It was about a missing dog? You really weren’t watching, were you?” You freeze. 

“Whoops. Distracted sorry.” 

“I figured,” he says and drops his phone on the bed, scooting a little closer. “Too busy staring at me.” he says with a little smirk, looking up at you. 

“God shut up” You respond, picking up a pillow and whacking him lightly.

“You know it's true, ma. You think I don’t notice how you look at me? How you squirm when I touch your back? Hell, 2 seconds ago you were bright red just from seeing me shirtless.” He’s looking at you with darker eyes, as he lightly reaches to cup your knee with his much larger hand. 

“Now I’m embarrassed.” Was the only thing you could come up with in your state of shock. 

“Don’t be, hun. There's a reason I flirt with you.” He sits up now, right next to you. 

Avoiding eye contact while he turns his head to look at you, “I just didn’t want to ruin the tour and I didn’t think you would actually take any interest I mean-“

“Shut the fuck up” He says as he places his hand on your jaw and turns your head towards him, pulling you into a kiss. 

This cannot be real. 

His thumb grazes your cheek as he nips at your bottom lip. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

He smiles into the kiss and you giggle, he takes his opportunity and deepens the kiss slipping his tongue in. 

Chris rolls on top of you with his hand still on your cheek. You take the opportunity to slide your hands under his shirt. He groans lightly into your mouth before breaking the kiss to sit up and takes his shirt the rest of the way off.

 As he's sat on top of you now shirtless he looks down at you with soft eyes.

“I’ve been waiting to do this since we met.” 

“What’s that?” You ask

“Get a good look at your tits, sweetheart.” He says and slides your shirt up your stomach, revealing your chest. 

“God they're even better than I imagined.”

You grin and slide the rest of your shirt off. He wastes no time taking a breast in each hand. If the night's teasing hadn’t been enough, his large hands massaging your tits had you squirming underneath him. 

“Fuuck you like that, don’t you, ma? Like when I play with you?” He’s still sitting up, looking like a greek god above you while he straightens his arms to reach you. 

You nod in response and bite your lip. Chris starts tweaking and lightly pinching your nipples making you audibly moan. He wets his lips a little and leans back down again to kiss you. The feeling of his chest against your bare skin is so intimate. 

Breaking the kiss you pant underneath him, but before you can say anything he spits in your mouth and reattaches as you swallow. His hands roam your body and he places one to cup your heat. 

“Chris don’t tease… just touch me.” 

“I guess you’ve waited long enough.” He adjusts in order to slide your pants off revealing your soaking pussy. “Such a good girl, you’re already so fucking wet for me.” 

He takes his middle and ring finger and slides them through your folds. Bringing them to his mouth he lightly sucks your liquid from his fingers. 

“God you taste so fucking good.”

He takes his hand back down to rub your clit while propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at you. He circles it softly with perfect placement making you grind into him while letting out breathy moans. 

“I’m gonna put my finger in, ok baby?” 

“Please oh my god” He grins hearing how your voice quivers. Chris’s middle finger slides into your hole, immediately increasing the pleasure tenfold. He curls his finger in between thrusting in and out. 

“You’re doing so good for me, ma” You groan underneath him as he scissors his fingers inside you, stretching you for him. “Look so good underneath me.”

“Fuck please keep rubbing me Chris I’m close…” He understands and speeds up his pace rubbing your clit with his thumb as he fingers you.

 “You’re so tight, it's gonna feel so good inside you. You want that, princess?”

His praise egged you on as you nod in agreement, feeling yourself heat up as your orgasm approaches you.

“I want you to cum for me baby, ok? Cum all over my fingers.” His words push you over the edge as you tighten around his fingers and cum with a final high pitched moan. 

He pulls his fingers out and gives you his charismatic grin before locking his eyes on his fingers and separating them, seeing how your slick stretches. 

“Jesus christ, you really do like me, ma.” 

“Maybe a little.” You giggle and glance at the strong cock outline in his pants. “You want me to take care of that for you?” 

“I mean if you insist, gorgeous.” He winks and you assist him in taking off his boxers. He finds his place on top of you and his cock rests on your stomach. He leans in to kiss you lovingly. 

Leaning back again he takes your legs, placing your ankles on top of his shoulders. His cock now against your pussy slightly poking at your soaked entrance.  

“Please put it in.”

“So desperate for me, hm?” 

“Yes god please just fuck me.”

“Oh, you’re begging for it?” You blush and can’t bring yourself to resist. 

“Please Chris, I need you. I just want you inside me.” 

“There ya go.” He grins, taking his hand down to guide himself inside you. His tip enters you and you already feel the stretch. He groans at the newfound warmth and continues pushing into you. Once he bottoms out, he looks at you with soft eyes. 

“You ready?” 

“Fuck yes.” you say as he thrusts for the first time making his way deeper. 

His grip on your legs gets harder as he slowly moves in and out. Closing his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek a little to stifle a moan. 

His thrusts start to get faster as he watches you moan and cuss underneath him. His angle helped him quickly hit your g-spot, making you even more soaked. 

He twitches inside of you and lets out occasional whimpers. In between the both of your noises you could hear the slapping of skin and how wet you are as his dick slides in and out. 

“You’re so fucking tight I dunno how much longer I can last, ma.” He groans. 

Chris maneuvers his hand down to your clit to bring you closer to your orgasm.  

He keeps rubbing as he slides in and out of you. His panting and intensity only eggs you on. 

“M’ so close.” You whimper as his movements get sloppier.

“That’s it, hun. Cum for me. Show me how bad you really want me.” 

He continues hitting your g-spot as you feel your orgasm approaching. The sight of Chris over you sweating and groaning above you sends you over the edge as you clench around him. 

“Fuck such a good girl.” He pulls out and strokes his soaked cock a few more times before shooting his load onto your stomach and chest. His dick twitches a little above you before he rolls onto his back next to you. 

“You’re fantastic.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Chris.” He smiles and looks over at you. 

“Not bad? I guess I’ll take it.” You laugh and reach out to play with his hair a little.

“I think it’s my turn to shower.”

“Can I join you? I’m not one to just stare like a creep… unlike someone I know.” 

“What do you think, smartass?” You giggle and hop up, racing him to the shower.

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Dynasty of Flames

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen-Royce Reader

Summary: Being born into the most respected and equally feared houses in the realm made people look up to you as if you were a god and the devil himself, in equal measure. People say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin; and when news of the birth of Daemon’s firstborn- a girl, spread, people could only wait in anticipation to see which side of the coin faced up during her birth. 

Aemond slowly, and I mean SLOWLY, letting his guard down

Warnings: Incest (duh)

Part 1, part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Part 6

Y/N heaved a sigh of relief once she was within the comfort of her quarters after the hearing. She closed her eyes for a moment to process everything that had happened. How Luke almost lost his claim, how she argued back with Vaemond, how he insulted the boys, when he publicly insulted the princess Rhaenyra, how Daemon took his head for it.

She was terrified at first; not by the sight of Vaemond's disembodied figure crumpled on the floor but for what might happen to her father for killing a lord in the presence of the king and other nobles.

Daemon was not charged with anything and was let off the hook without a single consequence of his impulsive decision.

The princess walked to her bed and sank into the soft mattress and covers, taking a moment to close her eyes. After a few moments she turned toward the little table by her bed and stretched out her hand to grab the letter she had noticed was passed from under the foot of her door when she'd woken up. She was in a hurry in the morning to make it to the throne room on time so she hadn’t read the letter at the time.

She curiously eyed the seal that held the parchment shut. It was a blue-coloured wax seal that had the symbol of a dragon wing. The princess carefully pried apart the paper so that she might read the note and at first glance, she immediately knew who it was from.

It wasn't the language that was used, but the handwriting that gave it away. It was his handwriting. Y/N was a bit confused as to what he had written and why he felt that it was necessary to pen it down instead of just telling her: she was quite literally only a few steps away from him. But then again, she doubted after last night's conversation he would want to talk in person; she had of course stormed off from him.

Her eyes skimmed over the words and she, subconsciously, began to read the note in his voice.

"Ñuha dōna Y/N, nyke jaelagon naejot gīda skoros mirre īlon ȳdragotan nūmāzma mōrī bantis. Iksan vaoreznuni syt se mijegindita ñuhoso nyke dīnagon ezīmagon udra skoros iksin isse ñuha bartos, nyke gōntan daor nūmāzma naejot vēdros ao."

"My sweet Y/N, I wish to clear whatever we talked about last night. I apologise for the poor choice of words and an even poorer attempt at wording my thoughts, it was not my intention to offend you."

Y/N continued to read and then immediately sat up as she read aloud the latter part of the letter, wincing inwardly.

"Kesan sagon olvie biare naejot rhaenagon isse se Godswood gō īlon bartos naejot se dēmalion tistālion, se kessa olvie vaoresagon naejot ȳdragon isse issaros"

"If we could meet in the Godswood before the hearing, I would be most appreciative and would much prefer to talk in person"

The girl slowly folded the paper and heaved a sigh, now wishing she had read the letter on the morrow. She quickly put the letter under her pillow and stood up from the bed, wasting no time in pushing open her doors to go find Aemond. Y/N was a bit hesitant as she neared his chambers, especially after she had ignored him all morning and unintentionally left him to await her arrival at the Godswood.

But no matter, she would be honest and tell him that she hadn’t read the letter until, well, now.

She'd only knocked thrice before she heard the sound of footsteps, indicating that whoever was in there was getting closer to the door.

As soon as the heavy wooden door swung inward to open, Aemond's lips parted ever so slightly when he took notice of who was awaiting him on the other side of the door. Y/N was the last person he was expecting.

"Princess" he greeted curtly "lost your way perhaps?"

"I know my way around the keep quite perfectly thankyou" the girl briskly responded which made Aemond chuckle "I got your note, though I could not find time to read it in the early hours of the morrow. I only just broke the seal and discovered your wish to see me in the Godswood"

Aemond's expression softened.

"Well, nice to know you did not intentionally leave me awaiting your arrival all morning" his piercing gaze never wavered and he was rather impressed by how unfazed she was by it "I was on my way to the dragon pits. After such an eventful morning, I wish to go for a short flight around the city"

"Ah" Y/N simply smiled. She too used flying as an escape from the world sometimes; riding on dragon back was rather therapeutic "I shall leave you be then my pr-

"Would you care to join me?" he quickly asked before he could change his mind "after all, you do owe me the pleasure of your company after you had me wait for you all morning"

"Unintentionally"

"Unintentionally" Aemond repeated. Word of the day, he thought.

Y/N hadn’t informed her family of her plans with Aemond. Luke was reaffirmed as Lord of the tides and she wanted them to joyously celebrate it instead of ruining their day by announcing that she was going to spend her time with someone they all seemed to dispise.

Y/N was a bit hesitant at first, to make herself seated in the sadle atop Vhagar. The dragon was known to be quite hot-tempered and hostile but Aemond assured her that Vhagar wouldn’t hurt her at all if it was accompanied by him. So, Y/N just took his word for it and climbed into the saddle, Aemond following soon after and seating himself behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist to grab ahold the reigns that would allow for him to control the large beast.

"You aren’t afraid, are you?" he asked as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of Y/N's ear "of Vhagar?"

"Do you wish for me to be?" she asked with a smirk.

"You'd be a fool not to" he grinned as Vhagar stretched her long, leathery wings.

"Are you afraid, my prince?" Y/N asked, gripping the saddle as she felt the Dragon jolt violently, signalling that she was getting ready to take flight.

"I am not" he responded.

"Then I suppose that makes us both fools" Y/N turned so that she might steal a glance at him and that resulted in their noses bumping. Aemond leaned away at first, not expecting to have her face merely inches away from his and Y/N grinned at this before turning around just as Aemond asked for Vhagar to take to the skies.

"Soves, Vhagar"

Y/N closed her eyes as she basked in the familiar sensation of the cool breeze blowing against her face, like the wind was peppering her with kisses. She hummed to herself, leaning back into Aemond's chest which felt as rigid as the back of a chair.

Aemond could feel her body move slightly as she heaved a long sigh of contentment. He let go of the reigns and pried her fingers off the saddle to bring her arms to the sides, outstretched.

At first, Y/N gripped his hands, shifting in her seat a little so that she could balance herself even though she knew she was securely chained to the saddle and there was no way she would fall out. Eventually, she loosened her grip and gently rested her comparatively smaller hand in his large one.

Aemond liked the feeling of her soft cool skin against her warm hand, her fingers delicately brushing along his skin as she faced her palms outward to feel the wind hitting against it. Aemond ran his fingers along her knuckles, refusing to break away from the contact. He didn’t know why he was craving the sensation of skin against skin. It was like someone had set a fire ablaze in his chest and the only thing who soothed those flames was her touch.

He was a bit happy that he had forgotten his riding gloves that day.

"Y/N" he leaned in again so that she might better heard him amidst the wind "about last night, I did not wish to imply that I would marry you because it was something I believed to be merely obliged to do"

The princess didn’t respond but she tilted her head slightly, her cheek brushing against Aemond's lips, signifying that she was paying attention.

"You are the blood of the dragon and you deserve nothing less than what befits the gods. I can provide for you, ensure and contribute to your happiness" Aemond made a bold move and slid one arm around her waist, relaxing his tense frame "I only wish the best for you, something I can and will give to you, willingly"

Y/N listened to him intently as her pulse began to quicken.

"No mere lord in the realm would cherish you as much as I do, my dearest friend. I would kill for you, conquer cities for you. You've stood at my side when I had no one and I promise to stay by yours just the same" he continued. He remembered all the horrible marriages within this house: his own mother’s to the king, a marriage that had broken the family. His older brother and sister's, a marriage in which the both of them barely spoke. Daemon and Rhaenyra's, a marriage that was deemed scandalous. Aemond never really expected for anyone to love him, not after his injury but he did have something far more precious that none of the others had: a genuine friendship "the both of us, together, we will be vehement. I am more than willing to take my closest friend as wife because I couldn’t see a more suitable match"

Aemond, this time, deliberately brushed his lips against Y/N's skin, right behind her earlobe which made her shudder.

"I am willing to marry you not solely out of duty. I am willing to do so because I believe we can restore our house to its complete glory"

taglist: @ladybug0095 @sahvlren @bunny24sstuff @dellalyra @ellabellabus07

[plslovemeforeverandever]

Dude you have no idea how thrilled I am to find another blog that appreciates the concept of a yandere solid snake as much as I do. Oh my God just imagine him and Liquid in a yandere rivalry over the same person-

Welcome to the tiny circle of hell @bweoo and i populate :3 (they made my pfp i love it soooo much mwah)

Not sure what took you to my blog since I'm a literal nobody, but thank you for asking! That Good Yandere Mg s content is in tragically short supply both here and on ao3, though what exists is pretty good.

(You can take my thoughts with a grain of salt since i haven't finished twin snakes yet hehe. Bweoo gave me that sweet infodump)

For Liquid and Solid, their issues comes from a conflict of perspective

As we've semi-established, Solid is an overprotective type yandere. The kind of man to lend a hand unprompted when needed- whether it be a ride home, a steady hand or a warm word.

(The kind of man who lights his cigarette under a streetlamp across the street from your appartment. Keeping an eye peeled. Just in case)

Overbearing, watchful, observant, in a way the average person could never comprehend. He's lucid enough to know his actions are strange - swiping clothes from your beloved's laundry bin is hardly normal- but he cannot for the life of him pull away, helpless to escape their orbit.

Despite these acts, Snake's desperate to preserve a sense of normalcy.

His end goal is ensuring his beloved's happiness + wellbeing no matter the cost to his mind, body, and sanity. And if those costs are paid by other people uninvolved in his balancing act...no one (especially not you) needs to know

At the end of another mission, tossing and turning alone in his quarters, Solid yearns for your warm warm hands.

Liquid however, is a whole other can of crazy. A churning sea riddled with insecurity, daddy issues, and zero impulse control wrapped up in a set of chiseled abs

Where Solid is "selfess," Liquid is greedy. Where Solid is stable, Liquid is erratic. He demands every iota of your attention while denying he wants it.

Don't be fooled by his british rage, Liquid craves validation like a flame craves oxygen. He needs the addictive high of your eyes on him. Only him.

He's your world entire, after all (as you are his).

Why would your pretty little head think it needed anyone else?

Unfortunately, Liquid does not take to anyone breaking this illusion. As shown by canon, he deems violence an appropriate problem solving skill. Just last week he jammed his thumb in agent's eye socket for "flirting" (read: asking your name)n. After that, no one breathed a word in your direction.

While he's never turned that blazing heat of hatred on you, it's only a matter of time. A stray glance here or a head tilt there and his beloved might find themselves in hot water with their big bad terrorist 'lover.'

(He's not all bad, not all the time. Not in the dead of night, his arms wrapped around your smaller frame so tight you feared fusing into a single being.)

Ok I went off too long . Anyway...

Solid and Liquid's rivalry/relationship is already tumultuous, but add a common obsession to the mix and their fight would reach a fever pitch.

Solid's careful meticulous planning all goes out the window when Liquid snatches you from the compound. He sees no problem in taking - id might as well be his middle name- and claiming the ultimate prize.

Solid panics -> rushes off to save them -> spirits them from Liquid's maniacally laughing arms -> Liquid devises a way to strike back in rage -> and so on and so forth until one of them explodes.

Not to mention a good chunk of Liquid's insecurity stems from being the "inferior" twin. Losing his partner to Solid is too crushing a blow, so he fights tooth and nail to bring s/o back. Even if he has to drag you kicking and screaming all the way to his base.

Snake wants a peaceful Alaskan retirement, while Liquid wants to set the world ablaze with his beloved by his side. Obviously these futures are not compatible.

Both have a vested interest in securing s/o to "protect" them from their twin. Both see themselves as s/o's ideal lover

As for who would win? While Liquid has boundless passion, Solid and his more lax demeanour might win s/o over.

It's up to you viewers! Stay tuned maybe for other things if you want.

I'm running out of steam

(Big boss is a whole other can of worms. To me. He is a fusion of both solid and liquids best/worst traits. The snake yandere gene is real)

Hope this helped (?) Somehow. Have a good day !!!

[generalkenobee]

friends with benefits with a toxic!kylo he finds out the reader has feelings for him but he doesn’t reciprocate

love your work <3

this is literally just angsty smut so-

HEAVY DEGRADING IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE ABOUT THAT TOPIC DO NOT READ-

"f-fuck.. Kylo I'm gonna cum-" and you did, your cunt drooled all over his hard cock.

"I'm the only one who can make you feel this good yeah?" He knew that he was the only person to bring you to climax other than yourself and he used it to his advantage

"yeah, only you" you responded holding his face and bringing his lips to yours, which he responded with a look of discomfort "what's the matter?"

"I have matters to attend to. " Was all he said while leaving the room making you deeply upset.

---

"hey, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to join me for lunch?"

"and why would I want to do that willingly lieutenant (L/N)" he said smirking

"well it's just that w-we.. well last knight was-"

You could feel tears starting to look in your eyes threatening to spill. "Yeah I know but" Kylo paused and smiled at you. He leaned down and whispered in your ear

"just because I fuck you doesn't mean I'm your little boyfriend got that?" His voice was annoyed "pussy and personality are two different things darling"

---

It was later that night when Kylo was inside you once again. He walked you to his quarters and said he had a surprise for you.

"yeah you love this cock don't you?"

"y-yes supreme leader!"

"you don't get to cum till I finish, do you understand?!"

You nodded trying to deny the building knot in your stomach.

His cum was hot and thick. When Kylo Ren came it was like a faucet, it didn't stop till it was leaking from your hole to the floor. Then he pulled out once he finished inside you.

"w-wait I didn't -"

"so?" He looked over at you once again annoyed.

You pulled your pants up with cum still leaking from you, he never cleaned you.

"Kylo..I've been meaning to talk to you.."

"what?"

You took a deep breath

"I really like you, I mean we've been having sex for quite a while so I think it's only obvious that we get together "

He laughed in response

"you really think I would date you? Once again- I'm fucking you because you're my toy! I like the way your cunt feels wrapped around me, you're nothing but my cock sleeve, do you understand?"

You were crying again. You really thought he might feel the same, he was the only person who made you finish, he was your first, he took your virginity and he was acting like you were just there for his enjoyment..

It was amazing

[dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies]

⋆ hello and welcome! ⋆ dandy // she/they // minor // sapphic // aus // enfp // leo ☼ libra ☾ pisces ↑ // basic dni // gluttonous user of brackets // in love with everyone and everything a little bit // life's so fun, life's so fun! // know it's for the be-e-e-tter.

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⋆ albums ⋆ norman fucking rockwell! // ttpd + the anthology // evermore // born to die // did you know there's a tunnel under ocean blvd? // pure heroine // melodrama // folklore // this is what it feels like // good riddance // hmhas // quarter-life crisis // if i could make it go quiet // am // the good witch // the rise and fall of a midwest princess // snow angel // punisher // stranger in the alps // the record // home video // historian // this is why // bury me at makeout creek // puberty 2 // five seconds flat // riot! // guts // bright future //brand new eyes // songs // capacity // masterpiece // stick season // preacher's daughter // live through this // sundays // prelude to ecstasy // wet leg // rae // saturday night wrist // i can // heaven or las vegas // vampire weekend // so tonight that i might see

⋆ tv ⋆ gilmore girls // cruella // heartbreak high // 10 things i hate about you // 27 dresses // do revenge // friends // all the bright places // pride and prejudice // how i met your mother // mona lisa smile // never have i ever // gossip girl // pjo // little women // but i'm a cheerleader // now you see me // the hunger games // the breakfast club // murder mystery // the fault in our stars // yellowjackets // how to lose a guy in 10 days // heartstopper // the princess and the frog // knives out // tinkerbell // geek girl // to all the boys i've loved before // five feet apart // the devil wears prada // knives out // anne with an 'e' // atypical // the babysitter's club // riverdale // ratatouille // enola holmes // mean girls // wednesday // the vampire diaries //

⋆ books ⋆ the invisible life of addie larue // we were liars // the raven cycle // the folk of the air // anne of green gables // little women // daisy jones & the six // the seven husbands of evelyn hugo // the hunger games // red white and royal blue // they both die at the end // pride and prejudice // pjo // the fault in our stars // all the bright places // five feet apart // turtles all the way down // heartstopper // solitaire // loveless // tuck everlasting // one of us is lying // sadie // she's too pretty to burn // caraval // the illuminae files // aurora rising // malory towers //

⋆ taglist + sideblogs + notes ⋆ #asks // #incredible remarkable awe-inducing mutuals <3 // #just dandy thoughts // #anon // #tag game // #picrew // #ask bait/#ask game // @path0logical-people-pleaser // @idespisemyrottenmind // intro post was inspired by @svnflowermoon and @glcive - go check their blogs out, they're lovely <3 // last update: 16 june 2024 // bye and thank you for reading!! //

[spyderlady]

Patch me up, my love

(gif by dailymarvelgifs)

note: i have had zero motivation as of late as uni has been destroying me so i wanted to write something cute that wouldn't take up my entire brain so enjoy <3

ꗃ pairing: kate bishop x fem!reader

ꗃ warnings: teeny tiny bit of gore but mostly fluffy kate <3

ꗃ word count: 1.8k

summary: a wounded kate shows up at your house and you patch her up

─────────── ୨ ♡ ୧ ────────────

It was an awfully warm October night. The sky was murky, the pale, silver moon hid behind a blanket of grey rain clouds. The smell of damp earth in the air hinted at a downpour arriving soon. A small yawn escaped your lips as your eyes shifted to the clock on your desktop. It was quarter to two in the morning. You sighed, looking down at the binder beneath your palm. You had finally finished drafting the layout of an essay that was due tomorrow. Now it was time to type it all out. Your fingers slowly moved towards the various keys on your keyboard as they started typing a variety of letters one by one.

The past week had been rather slow and quite boring to say the least. Your Avenger girlfriend was off to a mission and you weren't thrilled about it in the slightest. You weren't delusional like the rest of the world who romanticised superhero life. You knew the risks that came along with being one and the sole thought of Kate never returning home from a mission has always terrified you, even though you knew for a fact that Kate was capable of quite literally anything. However, you mostly kept your thoughts to yourself as you didn't want to come off as the selfish, clingy girlfriend. And before these thoughts could consume you further, you quickly shifted your focus back onto the essay, but that didn't last long either. Your attention was swept away by a tap, almost like a knock on your window. You turned your head towards the sound and flinched at what you saw but were quickly comforted when realisation settled upon you.

Kate's dark, raven hair, the same shade as the inky night sky behind her, glistened under the silver moon. The glow from the white orb reflected against her dazzling sapphire eyes. The corners of her pale lips were lifted upwards into a shy smile. Her brows were upturned, the inner corners puckering a little. Your gaze moved to the thin stream of blood that dripped from the massive gash wound on her forehead. She lifted her right hand a little to wave at you while her other hand held the windowsill tightly so she wouldn't tumble down. Kate seemed awfully unbothered for a cut that deep in the front of her face.

You quickly rushed to your window, pressing the latch down to slide it open, "Kate, oh my god!" you cried out, grabbing her arm in your hands. You felt the rigid muscles of her bicep tighten even more under your grip as you pulled her in.

"Hey," she whispered in an apologetic voice while carefully standing up on the narrow windowsill as you helped her in. She stepped into your room, leaning down a little so she wouldn't hit her head on the wooden frame. Once inside, she threw her bow on the floor and her body slumped onto the couch by the window. A groan left her lips, "Patch me up, will you, my love?" she said in a dramatic tone, scrunching her nose at you a little.

"Katherine Bishop, how are you so calm about this?" you questioned, authoritatively as you simultaneously shut the window behind you.

"Because you're here, my love," she murmured, a subtle grin appearing on her blood smeared lips.

You groaned, rolling your eyes at her. You made your way to the kitchen as you quickly filled a bowl with lukewarm water and a few spoonfuls of sea salt. You opened the cupboard above the sink and pulled out the small white first-aid box that you had solely prepared for a situation like this. Deep down you knew a day like this would've come, regardless of how much you despised the thought of a wounded Kate showing up at your doorstep...or your window. But as of this moment, patching up Kate was your priority so you quickly rushed back to your bedroom.

You couldn't help but smile a little as you saw Kate lie so comfortably on your couch, her legs crossed as her hands rested on the armrest. You walked over to her side with the supplies and crouched in front of her, placing the supplies on the table beside. Kate opened her eyes slightly to look at you. Her rough, blood stained hand reached out to grab your arm as she tugged onto it lightly, signalling you to sit on her lap. That's when you noticed a cluster of tiny cuts all across her arm.

"No, Kate. Not now, you're hurt," you said while you dipped a cloth into the bowl of water. After pulling it out, you squeezed the excess liquid and looked up at her.

"Please, trust me," she insisted, tapping your arm with her fingers.

God, Katherine. You're so stubborn. You thought to yourself as you slowly got up and gently sat on her lap. You didn't want to put all your weight on her, it didn't feel right to but it was Kate and nothing would stop her if she had made up her mind. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you closer as she leaned towards you, nuzzling her nose into the crook of your neck.

"Careful. Let me see your face," you ordered, cupping her face lightly and turning it towards you. Her eyes were shut but a very faint smile was visible on her bruised lips. You patted the moist cloth on the cut as Kate moaned softly every now and then. You dipped the cloth in water frequently and repeated the process a few times to clean the wound.

"I've got a door, you know?" you finally broke the silence as you picked up the bottle of antiseptic solution and a few cotton pads from the table.

Kate's eyes slowly fluttered open, a subtle smirk now accompanying the mellow smile from earlier. "Yeah, I know," she whispered, her hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear as she gently cupped your face, "I like the window better. Much more thrilling," she added, smugly. She leaned forward a little to tenderly press her lips to yours. You very gently reciprocated the action for you didn't want to hurt her but you realised how desperately you missed this. The way she held you ever so gently, the way her warm breath pecked your skin before her lips found yours, the way you felt her grinning as she parted from the kiss.

The corners of your lips had lifted up to form a gentle smile. You exhaled softly before pouring the antiseptic onto the pads. You dabbed the pad gently onto Kate's wound and felt her suppress a groan under her breath.

"This may sting a little," you whispered, examining the cut.

Kate nodded, squeezing her eyes shut but quickly threw her resolve away as you patted the wound with a little more solution. "Motherfu-" she paused but you noticed her fist on your waist that had tightly scrunched up the fabric of your shirt in it. You pulled the pad away but you couldn't help but smile at Kate's gesture. You leaned forward to blow some air at the wound to cool the stinging down a bit. After the wound was clean, you placed a piece of gauge on the cut and held it in place using surgical tape. Finally, you applied an antiseptic ointment on the minor cuts that were scattered all over her face and arms.

Once you had finished patching her up, Kate wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer as she buried her face in the hollows of your neck.

"You've got to be more careful, Katherine," you whispered, caressing her cheek with the tips of your fingers.

"I know," she mumbled into your neck, tightening her grasp on your waist.

"As much as I love what you do, I really don't want you to do something reckless. I don't care what the stakes are," you added, wrapping the roll of gauge back into the casing. The words sounded extremely selfish once you repeated what you just said in your head but now you didn't care. Kate mattered to you and you were going to voice your concern before it was too late.

Kate sat up straight, her sapphire eyes meeting yours. The reminiscence of a deep sorrow was visible in them. Her hand reached up to touch your cheek as she caressed it. The rough surface of her palm gently stroking every inch of your skin.

"You know, people out there need me, love," she smiled a little, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. It had always pained Kate to choose between the two things she adored so dearly in her life. Her work and you.

You simply nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. A sigh left your lips before you spoke up, "I know, but...I need you too," you whispered, shyly.

A bright smile spread across Kate's face. Her hand cupped the back of your head as she pulled your face closer to hers. Her lips lingered over yours for a while before she broke the silence, "And you have me, love. You always will, I promise," she whispered against your lips before finally pressing her lips to yours. The warmth of her breath felt enticing and pulled you right in. Your lips weaved together as though they were meant to be.

A delicate smile was now visible on your lips as they parted away from Kate's. She giggled before gently touching her forehead to yours. The two of you stayed silent for a while before you spoke up, "Now rest. I'll get you something to eat," you whispered, slowly trying to get up but Kate grabbed your hand and tightly intertwined her fingers with yours.

"No. Stay," she whispered back, squeezing you gently in her arms.

"I won't be long," you replied with a faint smile while cradling her face in your hands.

A sigh left Kate's lips as she loosened her grip on you. She pressed her back on the couch and nodded gently. You smiled before getting up and letting her hand go. You were about to walk out of your room but that's when Kate called out to you, "Y/N," her raspy voice echoed through the confined walls of the room.

You paused in your tracks and turned around. But before you could reply, she continued, "I love you," her eyes were gleaming, her mouth curved into a pleasant smile.

Your face lit up at her words. "Oh, sweetheart, I love you too," you whispered, your voice slightly breaking.

Kate smiled widely at you before dropping her head back on the headrest and closing her eyes. You glanced at her one last time before walking out of your room as you bit your lower lip, trying to hold the tears that had welled up in your eyes from spilling out.

[thegeminisage]

star trek update time. once again, i've fallen behind, thanks again to hades. sunday* we watched "equilibrium" and "second skin" and last night* we watched "the abandoned" and "civil defense."

im typing this at fuck o clock monday night its scheduled to go up without me tmrw morning

equilibrium:

hi, sorry, the cold opening of them having dinner here......i could have watched a whole episode of this alone. odo learning to cook. kira thinking he's cute (HI???). bashir being precious about beets. sisko best cook ever. it was so good and i was a little wary when jadzia ruined it with a trill mood swing or whatever i was like damn this episode won't make me like dax any better unfortunately

actually though the episode was fine. the hallucinations were decently scary and i liked getting to know jadzia a little better ie about her hatred of doctors

it was also nice that 1. bashir stopped being a freak about her and 2. her hair is less big now. her falling asleep in his quarters (and her wanting the bottom bunk bc of curzon falling out of a tree) was so cute actually. i want to like her!!! i'm trying hard.

i also really liked the mystery in this episode, but if we're talking times a trill has been traumatized by going into a bad host, what about that one guy who stole her in like season 2 or whenever...?

i wish dax had gotten to apologize to kira also :( women should be kissing not fighting

i do LOVE when sisko calls jadzia old man. i think it's so fun. the gender of it all. i also really liked his little line about how he still misses curzon sometimes but would also be devastated if anything happened to jadzia. dax both is and isn't curzon, both is and isn't jadzia...where that divide is and what makes up dax vs what makes up jadzia is really fascinating to me, i wish we explored it more

scene in the pool at the end i was so afraid she was gonna get naked. thank god.

second skin:

hhhhholy fuck

so, i loved this episode right up until the very last second. firstly, every kira episode is great. she's fantastic and so well-written and such a talented actress, i'm obsessed with her. secondly, we flirted with an amnesia plot for a hot second which was so fun. thirdly, what the FUCK

i love also, hi, that kira unpacked so much of her thoughts about the missing week of her life in odo's office. he's literally her sounding board. is this thing on? they love each other

the sheer raw fucked up factor of kira waking up AS A CARDASSIAN. she looked like she wanted to tear off her own skin and who can blame her. i hardly recognized her

GARAK IS HERE. i really love whatever he's going going on with sisko. "this is extortion" "yes it is" and also "that's the first totally honest thing you've ever said to me" every single conversation they have is like. garak flirts for fun and for sport with everyone in this show (INCLUDING KIRA???) and sisko is constantly meeting him in the middle . also, him putting the fear of god into that ship that tried to board them <3

the mystery of this episode was so intriguing. i was on the edge of my seat waiting for the gang (INCLUDING ODO!!!) to rescue kira. i wanted to figure out the Truth, bc obviously she's not a fucking cardassian. but i do feel they dropped the ball a little at the end

firstly, it seems too convenient that kira happens to look SO much like the real illiana that her OWN FATHER could not tell them apart. yeah, yeah, ten years, but are we serious rn?

SECONDLY, i don't think kira getting teary when given this keepsake (which was already weird) and declaring this cardassian dissident to be a "good man" is very IC. she's only come to that kind of understanding with one cardassian before (guy who pretended to do war crimes), and given the traumatic nature of this whole ordeal, i would have expected her to have mixed feelings/have trouble expressing this aloud, even if she did believe it. so we ended on kind of a weak note there, overall though incredible experience

the abandoned:

first, when i said "give odo a baby" i did not mean it like this.

second, dad sisko. my best friend sisko. sisko holding a baby, sisko missing his own baby, sisko sisko sisko my beloved

uhhh sisko not doing good with his own son because...drummroll please...jake is still dating the dabo girl

i genuinely thought this was a throwaway line but we have a whole fucking PLOT in here

i don't understand sisko at the end of this ep being like "yeah they can keep dating." ik this show is 30 years old but JAKE IS SIXTEEN. THE DABO GIRL IS 20. she seems nice and definitely she shouldn't be judged for being a dabo girl and if this character were like 18 i'd be like, okay, that's two years, she's only technically an adult, but TWENTY? at this age, 4 years is a HUGE gap

also, her tits were pushed so far out i wasn't even sure if they were real or not...HE IS SIXTEEN. like yes he knows what tits are but she is an ADULT??? eugh.

ANYWAY, odo's quarters!!! i like that he finally has a real room and doesn't just live in a bucket at work like presumably the cardassians made him do. kira bringing him a housewarming gift and wanting a peek at what he had going on in there was genuinely so sweet i wanted to kerm. i'm glad we got that since they argued later BUT win for me bc we also ended the episode on them

rip odo's trauma :( lab specimen ptsd meets founders identity crisis for a total fucjing breakdown. he did pretty good considering

civil defense:

10/10 EPISODES THIS ONE WAS AMAZING

lots of really fun sisko moments in this. i love when he gets to save the day and i love when he hangs out with jake. jakes was extremely brave and helpful too he saved their asses a bunch of times. today he got to be one of the grown-ups

GARAK IS HERE! i love how he showed up to help and then everything became immediately worse. every time you'd think "it cannot possibly get worse than this" it does

odo and quark essentially being locked in an elevator together. odo calling him devious (honorific). quark calling odo a guy with integrity (derogatory). i still don't Love quark but he's extremely funny and his scenes with odo are always a riot

STAR OF THIS SHOW GUL DUKAT. he showed up to laugh at their predicament and generally be unhelpful which was pretty funny but also i was a little mad at him and then he threatened kira which made me REALLY mad at him (she was so solid though she didn't budge and inch hell yes girl) and then he. got trapped on the space station also which was FUCKING hilarious. like i had been just mad enough to enjoy seeing him suffer under the reverse uno and find it IMMENSELY satisfying. you thought GARAK was a cringefail loser at getting this space station to work? he has nothing on gul dukat, who managed to not only make it EVEN WORSE but lock himself out of every system on the station. incredible work

absolutely though the best part of this episode BY FAR was when gul dukat was flirting with kira and nobody realized it but garak and he called him out on it 1. humiliating him in front of his crush 2. roasting him (bc anyone could see kira would have better taste) 3. reminding him that he's married 4. propping up kira herself bc garak supports women's rights and bajorans rights and also their wrongs. garak diss track when.

anyway, this episode hit the perfect balance between tense and funny, every single character had something fun to do or say, fucking excellent television

TONIGHT: um. um the first tng movie. um. the one with. the one where. please don't make me say it