#victorian snatched au

[oumaheroes]

The Missing

(Victorian Snatched AU)

Summary: ‘For a moment, they stood looking at each other in silence. Alisdair felt the stirrings of something in his chest, a sensation of things being out of place and about to fall. ‘Is he not here?’‘

Arthur is missing. With no money and no help from the law, Alisdair searches alone.  

Characters: England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales

Chapter 1

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Arthur, four. All quiet in the carriage on the way home from their mother’s funeral, Patrick riding up top with the driver and the rest of them inside. Arthur’s best clothes, not even that old, were still starch stiff and pristine despite the long day. He and Rhys were too young for proper black mourning attire but Arthur had treated his clothes as if they were just that, fearful of the puddles in the muddy path of the churchyard lest he dirty them. The biggest show of restraint Alisdair had ever seen him make.

Their father sat beside him, drunk. He’d been so the entire day, if Alisdair were to be more honest, but had continued to get worse throughout the service, a hidden flask on him at all times that allowed him to take secret swigs whenever he thought no one was looking. He filled the seat on his and Arthur’s side, a tense, swell of human being that hunched down to tug at his hair with his hands and rock backwards and forwards gently.

As they turned the corner away from the church, he choked back something, a sob or a curse Alisdair couldn’t tell, and suddenly he pulled Arthur into his arms to hold him close, pressing his face into his body.

Arthur stiffened and looked to Alisdair beseechingly. Their father never touched them, had never once held him as far as Alisdair had seen, but despite his displeasure Arthur stayed there quietly, looking to Alisdair the entire time.

  --------------------

It was exceptional, how the brain handled panic. How it could take even the most horrifying situation and somehow skew some sense and calm into it.

On the annex outside Patrick and Arthur’s bedroom, Alisdair turned Arthur’s teddy over in his hands, noting its damp fur and smudges of moss which clung to it- residue from the drain and its night beside it.

Patrick thundered into the bedroom behind him, breathless and echoey on the bare floorboards, ‘Anything? Al!’

‘Out here.’ Alisdair stood. The night was still early enough for the streets to retain the last of the day’s traffic, the handover of commuters travelling home to public house wanderers still ongoing. A loud cackle from a lady of the night in the distance, a siren’s song by the docks.

Alisdair held up Arthur’s bear in answer to Patrick’s question and watched understanding grow across his features.

‘Jesus.’ Patrick held a hand to his mouth and sank heavily onto the window ledge by the bed. He looked out to the London skyline behind Alisdair, scanning the rooftops as if hoping to see Arthur somewhere out there, ‘How… He didn’t run aw-?‘

‘Of course he fucking didn’t.’

‘Well, then where-‘

‘Christ! I don’t know where. If I knew where we wouldn’t be here, would we? Fucking idiot.’

Patrick buried his face into his hands with a deep moan and Alisdair turned away to look at the homes on either side of them.

All of the houses in this area were the same, a quick springing up of brick tenements to deal with the influx of population as the inner city swelled and broke its banks. Old villages swallowed up under the growing capital, communities wiped out and redone in their newly mixing masses. The new factory-worker homes all had the same design; flat annex roofs rose like stairs up the hill of street, fat bellied chimney stacks shared by two homes each. Between them all a rabbit’s warren of streets, dark and winding to the dark glitter of the Thames.

It was immense. Alisdair felt his heartbeat quicken, a fist in his throat squeezing it tight.

‘I thought he was with you.’ Patrick said quietly, head still in his hands, ‘I would never have-‘

‘Don’t, Pat.’ Alisdair couldn’t handle that conversation yet.

‘I don’t understand. He… I thought-‘ Patrick cut himself off. Alisdair heard him breathe behind him, taking shallow and quick gulps of air, ‘What do we do now?’

Alisdair shook his head mutely, looking from one narrow alleyway to another. He heard Patrick come out onto the roof behind him, the wet crunch of his feet on the gritty concrete.

‘This can’t be happening.’ His brother’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, ‘I don’t understand what’s going on. Where did he go?’

Alisdair longed for a pipe, or a drink. Something to stop the numbness in his chest, something familiar and normal to force everything to make sense again. It was a struggle to speak.

‘I think someone took him.’

Patrick reared back, ‘Piss off. From where.’

‘Here. The bedroom.’

‘… the bedroom?’

‘Arthur told me the last night.’ Alisdair forced himself to name his own failures. ‘He’d come in to me and Rhys again and woke me up. When I took him back, he told me that he thought someone was watching him.’

Patrick moved to the window, closing the pane and opening it again with one hand. It moved cleanly and smoothly in one go. Alisdair remembered closing it the other night when he’d put Arthur back to bed, the rust from the fused catch sticking to his fingers. With no lock, it was far too easy to open, and Alisdair couldn’t think of why they’d chosen to leave it like that for so long. Maybe because they had nothing to steal, and anyone who knew them or stopped to glance at the house long enough would recognise that much.

Patrick must have been thinking along a similar train of thought. He opened the window again and leant inside to finger the fused metal catch at the top. ‘He’s been glad to see me when I’ve come home recently.’ He said, standing up from the bed and wiping his hands on his trousers, ‘He’s been awake each time, like he’s been waiting for me.’

‘He told me that someone had been coming up here when you weren’t in, walking about on the roof for the last week. He caught them looking through the gap in the curtain.’

Patrick was silent. Alisdair couldn’t look at him, he didn’t want to see either judgment or pity on his brother’s face. ‘I thought he had been having nightmares, or half-heard a chimney sweep passing over. I thought that he was scared and was saying anything he thought might get me to stay. But now…’

Alisdair had meant to only relay what had happened, the facts and nothing else, but his words sounded like an excuse to him once said out loud, like an attempted dismissal of guilt. Why had he left him. Why hadn’t he kept him with himself and Rhys. The questions were already haunting him.

Patrick clicked his tongue and walked out on the centre of the annex, looking to the houses and their roofs either side, ‘That can’t be it.’

‘What else could it be?’

‘Why would anyone do that?’

Alisdair shook his head and joined him. There was nothing to indicate that anyone had been up there. No footprints or dropped items, or note explaining the situation. Windows were unbroken, the garden gate still closed. Whether it was locked or not didn’t matter, it was easy enough to climb over and if someone had been using the roofs to cut across, that wouldn’t even factor into it. The only thing out of place, Arthur’s bear, told them nothing other than Arthur had been out here at some point. Or, had thrown his most precious possession outside, to then leave another way without it. None of those options made sense.

None of this did.

‘He’s seven.’ Patrick chewed the inside of his cheek, ‘We don’t have any money to ransom him. No one we know would want him. We have nothing worth bargaining for. And he can’t… he can’t do anything; he’s not got a trade to be used.’

There was always more to offer than money. A life could go for anything, if the right price was asked.

‘He’s small.’ Alisdair said slowly, ‘and he can read and write. It’s more than most.’

‘It’s not worth-‘

‘It could be, Pat.’

Patrick’s jaw tightened. ‘Whatever happened, someone must have seen him go. Surely someone would have noticed if he was taken, Arthur wouldn’t exactly go gently.’

Alisdair breathed in deep through his nose, then out. Damp coal fire air, the smell of late nights and winter. He looked to Patrick; his one boot still untied. He looked young, half dressed in too large a coat like a teenager again masquerading as an adult version of himself. Alisdair checked his watch, tilting it until he could see the numbers of the dial in the moonlight, ‘You need to go to work.’

‘What?’

‘You’re going to be late if you don’t go now.’ Patrick’s mouth opened, then closed, and Alisdair looked back to the dark streets on the downward slope of the hill below. ‘They’ll drop you if you miss a day. You know that.’

‘I’m not going to work.’ Patrick said incredulously, ‘Are you serious?’

Alisdair felt the bear in his hand. Rhys had been telling Arthur that he’d fix it up for months now. It still wasn’t done.

‘I can’t go to work not knowing where he is.’ When Alisdair walked to the edge of the annex, wanting to calculate the drop, Patrick came around to join him and grabbed him by the shoulder, ‘Al, for God’s sake-‘

Alisdair shook him off, ‘You’re going to have to.’

‘Arthur’s gone.’

‘I know. He is.’

‘Then-‘

‘We can’t afford you not to.’

‘Alisdair-‘

‘Think about it Patrick! Do you think I want to ask you?’

Patrick said nothing for a while. Alisdair turned away again and heard Patrick shift his weight from one foot to another. Alisdair imagined that he was doing as he himself was- looking out to the shipyard on the river where the heavy barges were waiting to be unloaded. Hundreds of men waited there each morning, hoping for the chance that only a few of them would get to be taken on. Salaried men like Patrick were lucky to know there was a guaranteed place for them with pay at the end of the day.

The tight, choked feeling in Alisdair’s throat grew. He rubbed at his neck, hand shaking.

Eventually, Patrick said, ‘Then what are you going to do.’

‘Go looking. I’ll go around the streets and ask about.’

Another beat of silence. Alisdair could feel Patrick waiting behind him still, not wanting to leave things like this, broken and splintered like glass, but also knowing as Alisdair did that the rent was due. The debts were still there, even if Arthur wasn’t.

‘Try the sweeps.’ He said eventually, ‘There’s a local few always down by the King’s Arms around this time.’

Alisdair nodded but said nothing more. Patrick left, the door closed, and Alisdair watched his head pass under street lamps below until it vanished from view.

Rhys was in the kitchen when Alisdair went inside, sat at the table with a mug of something hot between his hands. He stared into it fixedly, drawn and dazed behind the steam in the yellow flicker of the tallow candle lamps.

Alisdair stopped in the doorway, his arms across his chest. ‘Did you hear, then?’ He asked softly.

Rhys nodded and hunched over his hands, pulling the mug in close. ‘Most of it. You were loud enough.’

Alisdair opened his mouth, a habitual platitude already there, and then closed it again. ‘I’ll go out and look. You go up knock up the street and then wait here, just in case.’

Rhys sniffed and looked up, ‘Just in case?’

Alisdair shook his head and reached for his coat.

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

The alleyways and streets of London twisted around and in on themselves, thin, spindly webs of spider silk between wide caverns of thoroughfares.

Alisdair moved quickly and aimlessly through the unempty night, past drunks and the homeless in their makeshift beds, their huddled bodies revealed by the islands of light cast by the gas lamps as propped in corners or on front steps. They watched him curiously, noting him immediately as out of place, and he felt their eyes and judgement follow him home.

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

‘No one saw anything.’

Rhy greeted Alisdair hours later in the dark, shoulders hidden under blankets by a dying fire. He jumped up when Alisdair came in, only to sink down again into the fraying armchair when he saw that he was alone.

‘Thirty-seven was asleep with her kids, thirty-five is still that single bloke who drinks in pubs alone- he wasn’t in.’ Rhys spoke his findings to the embers as Alisdair sat heavily in the spare chair, body bone tired and numb, ‘Thirty-three and thirty-six didn’t answer, Mr Tanner’s deaf, and thirty-four is the new family from China who don’t speak English.’

‘The rest of them?’

‘No.’

‘How far did you go?’

Rhys sat back on his haunches, his expressionless profile flickering orange as he looked into the fireplace. ‘Until I couldn’t see the house anymore.’ He turned to Alisdair, his lips tight, ‘Are you sure that-‘

‘Rhys.’

His brother shook his head and picked at the edges of the blanket, ‘Twenty-eight said they heard someone scream. Like a woman, or a child.’ He said the words quietly, hardly more than a whisper as if he were afraid to speak them. When Alisdair didn’t reply, Rhys looked at him, eyes searching, ‘We would have heard, wouldn’t we? If he had.’

Alisdair slowly began to untie his boots. Rhys moved closer across the floor on his knees, ‘We would know. You would have heard, Patrick might have-‘

Alisdair tugged off his boots and stood up abruptly, ‘Do you really want me to answer that?’

Rhy’s mouth tightened, lips pressing together to form a thin line. He shook his head and hunched over, fist under the blankets hard to his chest as if he were holding himself in.

Neither of them slept that night. Patrick came in to join them in bed hours later, the smell of fish clinging to his skin and hair like smoke under his bedclothes. They were too big to all fit together comfortable but he wedged himself in against the wall, Rhys in the middle like they had done years ago before Arthur was born.

Together they passed the night awake, listening to the sighs of the city until the collective church bells chimed morning.

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

AN:

Okay, so I said that I probably wouldn’t flesh this AU out beyond the first chapter and I was happy enough to let it lie mean and painful vague, but the story still tugs me too much to leave it alone. I hope that you liked this and it was worth the year wait!

The comment about Victorian mourning is a small nod to a very complex and layered cultural movement in Victorian era Britain and parts of the extended empire. One easy site to read about this topic in brief can be found here, though please do some of your own research! I find it very interesting

Thanks for reading!

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (1)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

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

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

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground. 

No, that’s a branch. 

Or is it a plank? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. You have one more option. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait with baited breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi. 

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

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

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

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

This was bad. Very bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

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

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

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

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all. 

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause. 

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

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

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

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

If it’s his ship that he wants…

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

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

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

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

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

“I can help you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

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

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

Is he about to cut your hands off?

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

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

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

“I’ll protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I led you astray?”

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard.”

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

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

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

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

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost?” he questions.

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

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain! One of the—oh.” 

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

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s gone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just saved his life.

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

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

“Not even an inkling?”

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you shake him off last time?”

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

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

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

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

“Portwater?” 

“Too far.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something you wanted from him. 

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

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

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

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

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

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

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

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

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

A kid. He was a child. 

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you pulled the trigger. 

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

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

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

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

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

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hasry. Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused. 

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten coin.”

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

“I’ll do seven!” 

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

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts. 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

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

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

You remain silent. 

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

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

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

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

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

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

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

“You’ve looked into my eyes?” 

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

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

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

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

You just pushed Chan overboard. 

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

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

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

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

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

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

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

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

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

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

Hoshi pushed him into the water. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me what? you grind. 

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

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise. 

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

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

[silkscream]

bullfight of love

ੈ✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: flirting, masturbation, porn watching, vaginal sex, riding, soft sub!choso, 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff

ੈ✩ wc: 4.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wanted to write choso being a weirdofreak pervert boy that's all. this is part of my fics for gaza <3 there will be a part two for this. do not ask me about a part two because it's already being made

Maki could kill you for being late again. Five missed texts, the final exaggerated with periods and exclamation points – and she never used proper spelling, let alone punctuation. It wasn't serious the way she made it out to be. 

Toji never cared about your track record. The bastard was never in the shop anyway, probably high off his ass in whatever shed of a place he lived in. Maki already hated her cousin enough for the rest of the crew, running that stupid video store like it was a real family business. It was a summer job to you and nothing else.

She sighs when she sees you walk through the door, handing you your name tag without a word before fucking off to the storage room to look at the new shipments.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment!” you yell after her. In response, you only get a middle finger, chipped black nail polish with half a skeleton decal hanging on.

It’s always slow on Mondays. Considering the new cinema that opened across the street, it's slow every day. You should’ve taken a job there, scooping buckets of buttered popcorn instead of telling off porn-stached men who continually mistook the shop as the old adult video store. 

You mindlessly watch Reservoir Dogs on the CRTV, shaken by the sudden flood of middle school students paving their way to the used video game section. Fumbling with the remote, you meet a hard-faced Maki once again. 

“You can’t put on Tarantino, dude. Kids are in here.”

“It was already on,” you shrug. 

Maki rolls her eyes and points to a small stack by the register – some John Hughes VHS tapes. Sixteen Candles. The Breakfast Club. Most shit that both of you hated.

“Gotcha.”

“Can you deal with the new kid, today? Toji didn’t scan all the new shit in like he was supposed to last week.”

“New kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Goth-ish. Like he got spit out of a Hot Topic or something,” she snorts. “No hazing.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

She scoffs at you before rushing back. You’d had a crush on her when you started working there, back when she still had an eyebrow piercing before she let it get infected. She had that Silent Hill look about her for lack of better words. Resting bitch face with a raspy pout. 

Your head swims a little, pounding from dehydration. The morning joint didn’t help, either, nor did the fact that you had to train a newbie today. 

It’s quiet after the kids leave, snatching up some forbidden R-rated movie that’ll traumatize them during a basement sleepover. You nearly doze off once the clock hits three, but loud footsteps bring you back to life. 

A boy that couldn’t be much older than you stares into you, narrowed eyes boring into your soul. You see the dark birthmark across his nose first, as if someone had slashed him with a blade in one straight swoop. He smells like cigarettes and his eyes are decorated with some reddish eyeshadow. Either that or he had the complexion of a sickly Victorian child. 

“Hey,” you deadpan. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the new hire,” he says. His voice is low. He reminds you of the goths that would hit on you at high school parties. He's prettier, though. 

You give him a once-over quickly – he’s taller than you expect, for some reason, and you notice the blooming swirls of abstract tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes and introduces himself. Choso. You repeat his name, tasting it on your tongue. He has half a mind to shake your hand but pulls away awkwardly. You take note of the silver rings adorning his fingers.

You tilt your head. “I like your, uh, space buns…”

“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes.

“Okay, so… have you ever used a cash register?”

“Yes.”

“Great. That’s basically half the job.”

You show him the ropes – how to make sales and deal with teens. Cash drops and tracking inventory. You ask him what attracted him to the idea of working at a run-down video store and he says he likes movies and easy money. His brother liked the place, too. 

“You got the Human Earthworm series, boss?” he drones, bored.

“Yeah, think so. You like romance-horror or just terrible practical effects?”

He snorts. “My little brother likes it. Wants to have a marathon with me.”

“Cute.”

Hours pass and he’s gotten the hang of it. If anything, there are more customers than usual today, because you suppose that Choso is conspicuous in appearance and the teenage girls that hang around at the food court need something new to play with. 

It stirs something uneasy in your gut, the waft of saccharine perfume in the air. Girls with tongue piercings, lollipops staining their lips as they bend over the counter to talk to Choso. Ripe girls.

They probably thought he could buy them alcohol, take them for a joyride. He’d only offer them an aloof, blank stare in return. It makes you almost giddy. By the time night comes around, you tell them to fuck off like flies.

“Closing time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Choso mock-salutes, an amused smirk on his lips. Half-lidded eyes like a cat, maybe a stoner, though he didn’t smell like it. You saw him on his break anyway, sipping down an Asahi Super Dry in the back as if you weren’t looking.

He already knew his place, knew that you wouldn’t rat him out. It was the way something flickered in his eyes when you caught him. A taunt, a quiet challenge. 

You watch him count cash. Chipped black fingernails looked odd on his veiny hands like they were painted in a rush by a child. You notice scrawled pen on his pale skin. Smudged phone numbers.

“Getting hit on already?”

He glances at you and shrugs, hiding a smile. “Half were just from bored teenagers. Other half bored single mothers.”

“Any takers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Ha. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” you snort. “As long as we get customers I guess.”

“Oof. You’re cold. You don’t care how I get these people to buy these movies as long as they buy ‘em, huh?”

“You’re not whoring yourself out by being a cashier. Relax.”

He shrugs on his jacket. Crumpled leather, the kind that held the smell of smoke over generations. It made him look like Takuya Kimura in that way, maybe if his hair was down.

He grins when he finds you staring.

“We done for the night, then, boss?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “Uh-huh. Night, newbie.”

He smiles sardonically, looking out and noticing the rain. He curses inwardly, knowing that skating home would be a bitch, and the next bus to his side of town wasn’t for another half hour. He clears his throat.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah. What, don’t have a ride home, kiddo?”

“Fuck off. I’m not a damn kid. I’m just not someone with a car,” Choso mutters dryly. “I work at a movie rental place for a living. I take the bus everywhere.”

“Sucks to suck then,” you smirk, saluting him goodbye. You throw him the keys. “I trust you to lock up then, yeah? See ya.”

He lets out a frustrated scoff but doesn’t bother to convince you, opting to watch you go. Once you’re out of reach, he sighs and turns, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around the dim store. 

Yuuji was probably out with that sea urchin–haired punk again. He had to remind himself to save up for a car instead of constantly having to share their parents’ beat-up Toyota.

He could take advantage of the shitty TV in the office, maybe. Watch a stupid re-run while he waits, because he sure as hell isn’t going to wait out in the rain. He walks in and settles on the black leather couch straight out of an amateur porno. He snorts and looks through a fat stack of DVDs in the corner. 

His mouth twists when he picks up something with a racy title. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s an adult film.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, scoffing. He lets out a low whistle, glancing around the office as if someone’s out there, ready to jump him. It’s eerily quiet. He can’t even hear the pitter-patter of rain from in here.

He skims the back cover. It looks crude, but Choso has never really been one to turn down something raunchy. He liked stupid movies, gory ones, art films with weird unsimulated sex. He’d gotten off to In the Realm of the Senses when he was thirteen. Skimming through something this cheap shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t arouse him — it would be as entertaining and silly as watching a sitcom for him.

He inserts the disc into the DVD player and waits for it to load. There are no cameras in the office, he notices. Figures. The way you talked about the owner made it seem like the place was barely being held together if not for you.

And then, he thinks of you. He immediately thought you were pretty, not that he’d ever let you know that. Plainer than his usual type, but something was alluring about the curve of your mouth, the way you spoke. He liked that you didn’t take shit most of all. It was probably the hottest thing about you.

He knew better than to fuck around with a coworker, however. It never ended well and resulted in petty drama. He was too old for that shit, wasn’t in high school anymore — he was a man.

When the intro to the film finally loads, a woman in a skimpy, barely-there dress appears on the screen. It’s something vintage, for sure, given the grain. She’s in a love hotel. 

Choso fast-forwards through blurs of messy kissing, colored lights illuminating a heart-shaped tub. He pauses on a frame of the girl riding, her mouth wide open in ecstasy. He presses play.

After about ten minutes, he finds himself in a trance watching with rapt attention at the way the actress moves. His cock twitches when he realizes that she looks a little too much like you. 

She moans particularly loudly and his mouth parts. Something snaps inside of him. 

He has to pause it again. Jesus.

Choso feels like a pervert. No, he’s a man with urges, needs. It’s a pure coincidence that the actress in the porno looks like you of all people. It’s not like he sought her out himself. A movie like this shouldn’t even be in here.

He grits his teeth, hands clenching around the couch leather until his knuckles are white. He takes a breath before pressing play again and his eyes widen when the girl gets even louder.

Ah, fuck it.

He mutters under his breath, shifting on the couch. Glances at the blowjob lips on the screen, soft and plush. He thinks of you and swallows. He bites his cheek, conflicted.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then again, no one has to know.

He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to resist the pressure building inside him. It feels like trying to contain a geyser with a cup, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet. 

After contemplating for a beat, he sighs and unbuttons the fly of his jeans, using his other hand to press play again. A gasp escapes his lips as he watches the girl on the screen. The curve of her back, the bounce of her tits. She looks soft. He wonders if you’d be as —

No. No. He’s not doing that.

He spits in his hand and strokes himself, his breathing starting to come out in short, uneven pants. There’s a rush of heat in his gut as he watches. His head tilts back slightly, eyes roaming the ceiling before closing them as he attempts to calm himself down. It’s no use.

His breath hitches, eyes glued to the screen. He’s memorized by the slick flowing out of her. Fuck, he hasn’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s killing him.

It’d be okay if he pretended it was you. It’s not like you would find out. He could imagine fucking your face the way the guy was doing right now in the video, making the bitch gag and moan. Whimpering at being called a good girl. 

“Oh, god–” he mutters, his voice a strangled gasp. She really did look like you. Disturbingly so. When he’s done, he’ll have to wash his hands for five minutes straight from the shame. 

He pants, his grip on himself firm as he squeezes his shaft. Precum smears over his tip and he groans at the sound of the woman’s whimpers getting louder and louder. It makes his lungs seize. He’s getting close.

He doesn’t even register the jingling of the doorknob.

Choso’s head jerks up, his eyes widening in shock as his head turns to see you in the doorway blinking at him. 

“Oh.”

His throat’s dry. What a cruel fucking joke from the universe. There’s no coming back from this. Not when the video’s still going and he’s still half dressed, hand on his fly in mortification.

You tilt your head, smirking. “Nice cock.”

Choso’s at a loss for words, staring at you with embarrassment and utter daze. What the fuck?

“I, uh…” he chokes out, his voice rough and more high-pitched than usual. Face burning. 

He’s going to get fired. No – he has to quit before you even get another word in, save the little dignity he has, maybe convince Yuuji to move to another shitty town with him so he never has to see you again —

“Forgot my wallet,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

You walk into the room, peering at him. Your eyes fall on the TV, which is still going. The moans feel cheap and tacky now that he’s back in reality. 

Choso scrambles to press the stop button on the remote, his other hand moving to put a pillow on top of his leaking dick. His eyes flicker wildly between your face and the screen.

“You find that in here?”

“Uh… yeah… I, um—”

You snort. “Forgot to tell you that this used to be an adult video store.”

“That explains the selection,” he mutters sheepishly. 

You eye him carefully. He blushes. “Didn’t finish?” you taunt.

He feels too fucking humiliated to say anything, so he mutely nods instead. He fumbles with the zipper of his jeans underneath the pillow.

“Need some help?”

He gapes at you for a moment before looking away. You look amused as you scan his face. Was he hearing you correctly? Was he dreaming?

“Are you— are you offering?” he gasps out, dumbfounded. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that in here.”

Choso’s jaw drops. 

He stares at you for a moment at a loss for words. Curiosity begins to win out over embarrassment.

“With… who?”

“None of your business,” you chuckle.

He doesn’t like that answer. His jaw clenches, knowing that it’s stupid that it hurts his ego a bit for no reason at all. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t press the issue as his gears turn back to your previous offer.

“Then you… uh… want to…? With me?”

“You want to, right?”

He swallows nervously, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks at your body shamelessly for a bit. He’s still so fucking hard. Finally, he nods shyly.

“Okay. Take your clothes off, then.”

For a moment, he wants to protest. This is the last thing he expects from you. Maybe it was a blackmail situation — if he doesn’t let you fuck him, would you fire him? 

He realizes that he doesn’t care either way if he gets to fuck you.

He pushes his jeans down with his boxer briefs, shoves the pillow in his lap away with a blush. Slowly, he strips off his t-shirt, leaving him completely exposed. He can feel your gaze on him, raking his chest and arms, the tattoos on his skin. He looks up at you again almost desperately. 

“I meant it,” you drawl. “You do have a nice cock.”

“Th-thanks…” he croaks. 

“Why so nervous?” you tease. “You were flirting with me all day.”

“Yeah, but–” he mutters, huffing defensively. “I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Wanna fuck you?” you finish for him.

You say it so bluntly that it catches him off guard. He hadn’t really given it too much thought. You were somewhat receptive to his advances if he could call it that. It was mostly him being himself. His sarcasm was meant to be flirting, but none of it was that serious. He found you hot and interesting. He liked that you could keep up with him. 

When he started touching himself with you in mind, everything was thrown out the window. He wanted you, and would probably dream about you when he got home, but the guilt and shame of doing something so depraved in his place of work made him embarrassed. He wouldn’t have been able to face you on his next shift, and then you decided to barge in and ruin everything. 

And now, you’re offering yourself to him on a silver platter. It was absurd.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“I think you’re hot. Isn’t that enough?” 

“You… you actually wanna… uh–”

“Yeah, Choso,” you roll your eyes. “I wanna fuck you.”

He shifts on the couch, eyes roaming hungrily over your body as his breaths grow labored. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Then… do it,” he mumbles.

You grin, moving to straddle his lap. His hands flex and he has to remember to not appear so eager. This is just a casual hookup with a coworker. One born out of bizarre circumstances, sure, but he needs to play it cool. He grips the edge of the couch.

“Don’t wanna touch me?”

He feels even more meek, if that was possible. He hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows. He’d had girls in his lap before. Bouncing them on his cock until they cried. For some reason, he feels like the submissive one here just because you’re on top of him. 

“Uh,” he stammers. His voice is quiet, nervous. You think it’s cute. “I didn’t know if I was, uh, allowed to—”

“Go ahead.”

He holds back from kissing you. Instead, he smoothes his large hands over your hips, the curve of your waist. He lifts his hands to the edge of your shirt and hooks his fingers into the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. The reveal of skin is tantalizing, makes his mouth water like a man stranded in a desert. 

Sparks jolt the length of his spine as his fingers brush over the bare skin of your stomach. Fuck, you’re soft. He knew you would be. He pulls the shirt over your head and ogles stupidly at your chest. 

“Someone’s worked up,” you tease, playing with his hair. You undo his buns, leaving his hair down.

“Of course I am,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re sitting on my lap, looking like that—”

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widen. 

“Please,” he breathes. It almost comes out like a desperate whine. “I mean— yeah—”

You raise a brow, laughing. It makes his face heat up down to his neck. 

“Begging already? Thought you’d be more of a dominant type.”

You’ve thought about me?

“I— I am,” he grumbles. 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you prove it later.” You lean in.

“Promise?” He looks at you with something eager in his gaze and your eyes soften. 

“Mhm.”

Finally, he captures your lips with his. You sigh into it and it makes his cock throb underneath you. He takes that as an invitation, his tongue immediately pushing past the plush of your lips. He reaches up to grab the back of your head and tangles his fingers in your hair as if he’s done it all before. It makes you moan a little in his mouth.

He moans back, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. You pull back slightly, leaving him to chase your lips for a moment as he lets out a small huff of protest. When you look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly parted and shiny with spit.

“You’re pretty,” you say without thinking. “Real pretty.”

He flushes, unable to form words. His expression immediately floods with disappointment when you get off his lap to stand. 

“Where are you going?” His voice would be whiny if it wasn’t so gruff from desire. 

“Relax, idiot.” You unbutton your pants, sliding them down slowly. He assumes you’re teasing him, which he doesn’t particularly mind. You’re a sight to behold. His cock twitches as his eyes look at your smooth thighs. 

“Get over here,” he huffs. You laugh, moving to straddle him. 

He doesn’t have time to react before you lean in to immediately nip at his neck. He lets out a moan, hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel his pulse quickening, the vibration of his moans underneath your lips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. His fingernails dig into the meat of your waist. 

He can’t stay still. It takes him everything in him to not rock his hips up into you. It doesn’t help that he can already feel your wet heat hovering over his cock. His brain nearly short-circuits. He preens under you, grabbing at you like you’re going to fly away. 

“Be patient. Wanna play with you first,” you mumble.

Choso’s eyes flutter closed as you speak. You sound so fucking sexy right now, he can’t stand it. It’s better than the stupid filler plot he scrubbed through in that damn porno. Miles better. 

“Play with me,” he grits. “Fuck — later.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you were pregaming this before I walked in.”

He glares at you. It’s entertaining watching the expression melt off his face when you lift your hips and immediately slam down on him. The moan he lets out is guttural. His hands immediately find your hips.

“Hah – fuck,” you breathe. “You’re bigger than you look.”

Choso lets out a strangled chuckle, head falling back on the couch. It makes him look even hotter, the way his tattoos flex with his collarbone. 

“Told you I wasn’t a kid.”

Your laugh tapers off into a moan when he gives a small, tentative roll of his hips. Testing the waters. You’re so fucking tight that it’s making it hard for him to even think. When he hears you gasp at being filled by him completely, his eyes widen.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Wanna make you do that again—”

“H-Huh?”

His eyes lock on your face as he grins, grinding into you slowly. 

“That noise–” he groans, his throat taut and dry. “You made this little gasp—”

“Ah–”

“There it is,” he snickers. His eyes gleam. “Just like that.”

Your eyes roll back, mirroring the roll of his cock inside you. Your cunt clenches around him and it feels like fucking heaven. He can feel all your wetness drool into his lap. He had the urge to push you into the leather, cant his hips up like something rabid. 

It feels like his brain was going to fall out of his nose, the head rush in tandem with the blood pumping into his cock. Impossible tightness. Snug cunt, petals closing into a bud. 

When you wrap your arms around him, it almost feels romantic. It’s dangerous.

He kisses you, then. Quivers when he feels you getting lost in it, tasting nicotine in your swapped spit. He whimpers as you start to move your hips with more intention. You smile wryly at his reaction, pulling away, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet.

You’re a fucking wet dream while you’re riding him. The way your hair brushes messily over your jawline, the way your mouth parts with a gasp every time he feels you pulsate on his cock. Choso grabs your ass greedily and kneads it, mesmerized at the softness of your flesh. 

“God, you look so fucking good right now—”

His eyes flash as he watches you move. He tries to match your tempo, rutting up into you with frenzied effort. His cheeks are flushed as he nearly unravels himself for you, his expression raw and hungry. He leans in to suck on your tongue, descending his wet mouth down to your jaw, your tits. Oral fixation.

You can feel him deep in your stomach, buried in you. It’s as if he could pierce you through the throat. You’re sure that you’ll ache everywhere by the time you get home. You’d never taken a cock quite this big, never been this wet, your insides swirling around like a washing machine. Your guts all muddled with something that felt too warm for just lust.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbles, hands pressing into your bare thighs. 

All his preoccupations with you had disappeared. He didn’t care if you thought he was a pervert, since you were one too, in a way. Letting him fuck you like this when he barely knew you at all, yet a repressed part of his brain made his heart flutter at the thought of you. It didn’t help that he could practically feel your heartbeat with his cock.

It isn’t romance — it has to be the sex. He can’t think about it too much right now. Not when he’s in a state of delirium inside your cunt.

“Choso, I’m close,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Fuck, me too.” 

His hair is tousled and sticky. Eyes glazed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grabs at your hips, guiding them to grind on him faster. Your wetness makes it all so smooth — all buttery, no resistance. You feel full.

He feels like he’s being squeezed to death, to heaven. It sends him over the edge at the same time he feels your pussy clench around him. You tremble in waves as you gasp out a moan. It’s more like a choked breath. He can’t stop watching you as you come, the way your eyes roll back. 

A whine escapes his throat as he cums. Everything that seeps out is slick, feels like something new and primordial at once. Seraphic, he’d say, if he happened to be drunk. He certainly feels drunk.

Choso doesn’t expect you to kiss him so sweetly after such a vulgar affair. He lets out a long exhale into your mouth with eyes closed, letting his head fall back a little while your hands cup his cheeks. His body is all melted limbs, languid sex. 

“Jesus,” he mutters. 

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes and gazes at you through sleepy lids. He lifts a hand lazily, brushing the hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Did you pick an actress that looked like me on purpose?”

He freezes. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks away.

“No,” he scoffs. “Just thought she was hot—”

You chuckle.

“I didn’t pick it, I found it,” he gruffs. “I’ll admit that… she looks like you… I guess.”

“Was I as good?” 

He scoffs again, his eyes flashing with a mix of playfulness and irritation. You were as much of a little shit as he was.

“You’re better,” he rolls his eyes. “I already told you what I think, dumbass. Real pretty.”

“Oh, did you?”

There’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I’d be pretty pissed if you weren’t better than some stupid video—”

“Idiot. Those girls are probably like, Olympians at fucking. Porn isn’t like real sex anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grins. He pauses for a moment, suddenly looking timid. “It’s just… a decent placeholder for when I… y’know.”

“Just call me next time.”

Choso’s eyes widen slightly, unable to hide his surprise. He sputters for a second.

“What? I’m, uh— not gonna call you every time I—” he groans, “That’ll be way too many times.”

You raise a brow.

“Wait, no— that came out wrong. I’m not some horny freak or something—”

“I mean, given how I found you…”

“That’s—” he stammers, unable to complete a sentence without his brain completely blacking out every millisecond. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Hope so. I don’t wanna fire you, newbie,” you grin.

His pulse quickens at your smile. 

“Like hell, you will. You’re too understaffed to fire me.”

[definatelymrhyde]

I guess I’ll send in my ask now 🤣

Since I already seen a post on Edward’s design choices, I’m curious what was the inspiration for Jekyll’s design? Like do you based him on a musical cast actor? Or your personal preference? Things like that.

HI HELLO IVE BEEN WAITING TO TALK SBOUT THIS AND JUST HAVNT YET AJDHSJSH

Jekylls design is based mainly off of personal preference and how I imagined him in my head when I first read the original novella!! I also gave him long hair because one; I love that design idea for Jekyll and think it’s super neat! I took inspo from the musical in that effect. And two; It made a great subject for any transformation scene. Because Hyde’s hair is shorter. How would Jekylls hair get shorter? Yeah. Im not gonna say it outright though because the implication is terrifying both to ME and to Jekyll. Because he was still very much so conscious during any transformation. He could see hear and feel what was happening. I also really REALLY love the red/green motif in TGS, so I snatched that too! Jekylls eyes also have opposite light/dark halves to Edward’s which was so I could have a little nod at the ‘opposite halves’ bit. I also think it’s funny he looks more like TGS Hyde than TGS Jekyll. Jekylls Eyes are a huuuge part of his design too!! As I mentioned before him and Edward have got an opposite eye thing going on, not just colour wise either. Jekylls eyes are darker on the bottom and lighter on the top while Edward’s are lighter on the bottom and darker on the top. I kinda think this gives Jekyll a neat little effect where he looks MUCH more worn out and tired than Edward does!! I also really liked the idea of Jekyll having little circle Victorian Glasses, but never actually decided wether or not I wanted him to HAVE said glasses. Hence we get that sometimes he wears glasses and sometimes he just doesn’t. I think it’s because he’s stubborn and refuses to wear his damned glasses for anything that doesn’t require fine detail vision like reading, writing or alchemy/doctor stuff. The glasses don’t really have arms on them though when I draw them so it’s beyond me how they stay on his face. For the rest of Jekylls clothes I went with the THS red/brown/warm colours theme. Originally it was meant to be just a TGS au but then @fanartsandstuff (sorry for the ping!!) drew an amazing photo of wtiht Jekyll with a darker vest and I fell in love with that idea!! So credits to them for that part of the design!! I also loooooovvveee gradients on my designs so of course he gets a little gradient on his pants and when I’m in shading occasionally the rest of his clothes too lmao.

Anyways I apologize for how long that was, I just think a lot about my character designs and how I execute them woshishahs

[earl-grey-teacake]

I had a question about the Victorian!AU

When you say victorian, what time period are you referring to?

Like, is logan wearing a lighter dress with a snatched waist from the time nearing the turn of the century, or is he on a big puffy dress from earlier in the period?

Ahh I’m so glad you’re asking this!

So I am referring to the later time period, specifically the year 1876. Dyes were commonplaces (even if some of them were poisonous), the princess line and bustle were in style, and while the dresses were form-fitting they also allowed for greater movement compare to the crinoline and hoop skirts. Laces, ribbons, ruffles, and frills are also popular at this time and I wanted Logan in all of them. The hats also look absolutely spectacular around this time.

The reason for 1876 is because it is in the middle of the decade. The upper-class looked to France, particularly Paris, for what was the next big thing. French fashion would travel over to England, the nobility would wear it and the market would attempt to copy it. This lets me dip into the fashion at the end of the 1870s early 1880s when it comes to dressing the characters.

Each family and character has an assigned color scheme, fabric/print type, stones and metal, and even the scent they are described with are associated with real world fragrances. (I went to the mall many times to see what fragrances worked with who)- if anyone is interested I will happily talk about this more.

Thank you for asking this! Sorry if I got a bit off topic😅

[n3kk1tty]

Beasts of Santa Carla

This story includes a lot of original characters. Photos of characters and favorite scenes will be drawn. You can find their photos on the masters list along with the prologue and past chapters.

( Masterlist )

Original Characters: Yutaj , mentions of Veve, Volk

(Beasts of Santa Carla is a AU of the Lost Boys. It involves adult themes, poly relationships, and is definitely not made for the underaged. If you don't like poly content, queer representation, shipping of the boys together or heavy sexual themes and violence. This story is not meant for you and that's okay. This story is made solely for my own enjoyment and anyone else who's along for the ride. )

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 5

You stare down at the mark on your wrist tracing it lightly with your finger tips. The chain tattoo a permanent reminder of the bet you had made with that foolish man.  How could they barge into your life and demand you'd fall in love with them. It was a ridiculous notion to someone who had been alive for 181 years and had been treated cruelly by love. The last time you were asked to be courted was in the Victorian era when you were still young and foolish. This was a foolish endeavor in the end but at least it would keep you from being bored you thought as you stared at the sun setting. Laddie was ecstatic at the idea of you going on a date with Paul and Marko. 

He had been dragging you around all day buying new shoes and makeup just for the event. You two had even gone into a fashion store in Santa Carla that served underworlders so you were able to snatch a new outfit from the current fashion trend for elves and angels. It was kinda fun running around with the child as you nervously looked at all the new things prepping for your first serious date since Queen Victoria was in power. You had plenty of wealth accumulated from the years working but you never had a reason to spend money on yourself frequently other than a passing want. So as you spoiled and taught your new little partner in crime you welcomed the change of pace with open arms nervously.

While Laddie was dragging you around Santa Carla all day playing dress up you had stopped in a witch shop after lunch. It couldn't hurt to present the pack with a courtish gift as a show of good faith and effort to this bet of romance. Though this gift was mostly for your own personal benefit. You place the carefully wrapped gift back into your pocket as you and the small Vampire walk the old steps down to the cave entrance. Laddie was running ahead excitedly with the makeup case as you swallow your nervousness and prepare for your first day of courtship. You were walking straight into the fire of the lion's den but you weren't going to be afraid. You were dead set on proving to David that this falling in love thing wouldn't happen plus you had to repay him for kissing your neck in the bath so an early wake up was for your favorite bottle blonde.

“WERE BACK! “ Laddie screams in excitement as the sun is swallowed by the sea and sleeping vampires stir. You shake your head at your trouble maker as you stand at the entrance before walking in confidently. “ I’m coming into your cave. Pardon my rudeness but I’m here for Paul and Markos date. “ You say in a reasonable tone pulling the young vampire with you to an old couch. You use the time to light up one of the barrels in the cave for lighting. Shushing the boy playfully, you ruffle his head gently .“ Laddie, it's impolite to wake people so harshly. You'll need to apologize to them when they get up, okay baby fangs. “

“ Okay big sis. I just wanted them to see your outfit I picked and the clothes I got!” You smile gently at the boy, hands caressing his chubby cheek. “ Well we don't wanna show them an incomplete look now do we. Why don't you help me put my makeup on before grumpy David ruins the surprise. “ Speaking of grumpy vampires, he was currently stammering out of his nest after Laddie's shouting had startled him awake. Following the sound of you two's hushed giggling and sweet scent wafting from the shared quarters of the cave. David stopped in his tracks as he looked at the sight of you on the couch smiling ear to ear as you walked Laddie through putting eyeshadow on your eyes.

“ Well good morning starshine did sleeping beauty enjoy his rest. I must have really tired you out for you to sleep past sunset though I guess when you don't work waking up on time doesn't matter.“ You teased David as you sensed him drawing closer. “ And I thought you'd be too scared to even enter our nest little moth. Must be bold to think I won't just keep you here while I have the chance. “ A fit of laughter bubbles out of your chest in response to the man. “ David, we are not on the same level. Plus I think I'd win our little bet quicker if you did.“ You flash your wrist at the man smirking as two blonde vampires come barreling out of the back towards you in almost comical manner.

“ A miracle must be happening Marko because there's an angel in the cave. “ Paul stretches out his arms along the back of the couch as he eyes your frame. The curly haired vampire whistles as he stalks behind David leaning against him.” Pauly I think you may be right. I do believe I see the most heavenly being in front of me now. “ You ignore them as you finish applying your eyeliner and massacre. “ You boys know damn well I'm no angel. Or do we need to go another round in the ring to prove it “ Paul Snickers as he moves in close to your ear. “ I could go all night with you in the ring. “ This comment sends shivers up your spine and a light blush to grant your face as you pinch the vampire's nose pushing him away from you.

“ No horn dog behavior In Front of Laddie. I ain't giving the birds and the bees talk today. Now shouldn't you be getting presentable for our date you so harshly fought for. You two smell like dogs. “ Marko pauses for a moment to sniff his pajama shirt before shrugging. “ Guess ocean rinse it is. “

“ Fuck no you ain't washing your ass in the ocean! What is with you hooligans and thinking that's a proper shower.” You stand up pulling the small item from your pocket looking around the room as you fume in annoyance. “ David y'all don't happen to have a door in this sink hole do you. “ A puzzled look crosses the three vampires as Dwayne comes around the corner lifting an old one up that's scribbled with graffiti. “ Princess I don't see how an old door is gonna help their odor. “ David chimes as you tug Dwayne over to a cleared wall for the door to lean against. “ If you give me a moment. I'll gladly show you your courtship gift as I seem to be the only responsible adult in this cave at the moment. “

David's eyebrow twitches at the comment but he can't chime in as Paul and Marko are currently smelling each other questioning who smells the worst. Maybe showering more frequently did need to occur. You thank Dwayne as he nods in response, a small smile to his face as your hand pats his arm. Fingers trace against a key of bone as you place it near the door knob. A keyhole appearing as everyone in the cave gathers around in amazement as unlocking can be heard before the door swings open revealing a bathroom within. “ Tada. Your very own bathroom with laundry facilities. Now for the love of all the underworlds below wash yourselves and clothes regularly like the rest of civilized society. Laddie cannot keep getting hose baths, it's getting outta hand. “

The five vampires rush in to explore as Micheal and Star inch closer in amazement. They had heard the commotion and had come to investigate only to be met with a mysterious woman opening a door against the cave wall into a futuristic bathroom. “ What is this? How is this. “ Marko says as he starts opening drawers full of things like band aids, medicine, hair styling products, and even makeup. Paul rummaged through the closet to see towels of all sizes in awe of the softness. Dwayne looks at the mirror feeling his face as he sees everyone's reflection. “ Not made of silver. Good attention to details, beautiful. “

“ It's the wonder of spacial magic. Most species utilize this now after it's founding back in the dark ages. All you need is the key to the room and anydoor you unlock with it will lead you right to this room. Even if the door is a graffitied old hotel door crudely leaning against a cave wall. “ The chaos twins rush through the other doors in the room to reveal a huge bathtub and a stone shower. Paul holds Laddie up in the mirror as they make faces and laugh something about it so sweet that a smile graces your face. “ So this and everything in here is a gift for all of us. We must be special to you. “

David looms behind you fingers tracing shapes into your back as he leans into your ear enjoying your scent. “ Laddie is special to me. And you must have not been taught proper etiquette in your lifetime as when you court someone it is polite to present gifts.” A hand snakes around your waist tugging your body against his form as he practically purrs into your ear. “ Seems a little extravagant for a simple courtship gift don't you think love. Or do you just like the idea of spoiling us. “ Your face heats up and annoyance finds its way quickly behind.

A sharp jab of your elbow gets the vampire off of you as he hunches slightly over from shock. “ It's because you feral hellions don't know how to properly wash your ass frequently. I can't even imagine how you use the bathroom or that you brush your teeth every night. Would it kill you to wash your coats you smell like old blood, body odor, and cigarettes.” You start tugging on David's cheeks as he returns the favor grabbing your horns as you two snarl at each other. One vamped out and the other hissing frustrations at the man mentioning cologne is not a bath. “Well how sweet of you to provide us the ease of this access. Maybe you should join us and take care of us sweetheart. You really seem to enjoy telling us what's proper. “

“ Oh gladly I'll whip manners into your behind. Though I think you'd like that too much , my bottle blonde. “ You and David start pushing out of the room into the cave as now you've acquired an audience in your little spat. “ Are you flirting or fighting?” Laddie says standing in the door frame. This gains a laugh from Paul and Marko as they have never seen David being treated like this. You and David freeze in your fight as your face is red as can be trying to not upset the little one.” We're definitely flirting, Laddie. We're getting along swimmingly; this is how romance works isn't it David.” David grabs your face placing an aggressive kiss to your lips, you growl back glaring at him as you press in further pulling back with a sloppy pop sound.

Your face is red as you hiss at the man a smug smirk on his face in his satisfaction. “ See, we were flirting, little man. Just some play fighting. “ You curse at the man in your native tongue high pitched clicking and chirping coming from your mouth as you growl. “ Wanna repeat that dollface didn't quite catch that. “ David's smirk grew larger as the blush on your face intensified, grabbing your wrist with your matching tattoos on full display. Marko jumps at the sight grabbing your arms holding the tats to each other. “ This totally isn't fair! We got our asses kicked for a date and you paid for a night now you have matching tattoos openly kissing and totally cosy with each other! Where's my kiss for my broken nose huh.”

Paul slides in grabbing the smaller vampires shoulder pouting himself. “ Yeah weres our kisses. We've been flirting with you all week baby.” You shrink into yourself as the three vampires circle you blush still heavily on your face. “ You two horn dogs can get kisses when you finally wash your ass! Now hurry up or we will never go on our date. “ The two run away from you laughing as you chase after them kicking at there bodies with your foot. The pair dodging haphazardly as Star and Micheal watch from the side lines both enamored by your sight. You were confident around the boys even though you were new and you didn't take shit from them something about that they liked.

They just couldn't figure out what you were as you definitely weren't a vampire nor were you human. “ If you two keep undressing me with your eyes I'm gonna catch a cold. “ Micheal and Star froze as you walk closer. Your scent was intoxicating to them and it definitely wasn't helping the hunger within them. “ We weren't meaning to stare.” Micheal said, turning away from your piercing gaze nervously. “ It's nice to finally properly meet you. I’m Star and this is Michael.” You grab Stars hand bringing it to your lips you place a kiss on her knuckles. This makes a feverish hue spread across her soft features .“ It's a pleasure to meet my sleeping beauty. Sorry our first few chats have been through pen and paper. You must be exhausted spending time with these boys all the time.”

You smile as you blatantly flirt with Star In Front of David knowing well the feeling of his jealous eyes burrowing into your back. You'd have to be stupid to not know David wanted you to treat him like this again but it's just too fun to get under his skin and knock his ego down a peg. This man was gunning for your heart and you weren't gonna make loving you easy for him but he liked this game and so did you. “ I enjoyed the letters and food you brought for me. It was kind of you to help me out when you didn't even know me. “ Star tucked her hair behind her ear as your smile grew wider the more jealousy you could feel from a certain blonde. “ Oh well of course. I don't mind spoiling a beautiful girl like yourself. I have plenty of money to provide and Laddie practically demanded breakfast before his teachings. If you don't mind I'd love to chat with you two to see how your education is going as well. “

You walk back over to the couch you were previously sitting on as Laddie opens the makeup case selecting nail polish to put on your nails. Micheal and Star follow sitting on the water fountain staring back at you as David sits in his wheelchair fuming. Dwayne lovingly pats David's shoulder before heading to do some laundry in the new washers you provided. “ Now handsome I can tell you're just dieing to ask me some questions, no need to be shy. I won't bite. “

“ Unless you want me to. “ You wink as the Micheal feels his heart skip a beat in excitement. “ Who are you. What are you. “ Your tail moves to display In Front of you spikes flailing up to be on display. “ My name is (Y/n). I don't have a human last name but I belong to the vermilion house. I am a succubus hybrid. My father is an incubus and my other father is a jorogumo making me a hybrid of an incubus and spider demon. “

“ Wait, you have two fathers. How does that even work? “ A eyebrow raises at the halfling's response, gaining a flicking of your tail from you. “ If you were reading the materials I provided in the section about Santa Carla residents you'd know succubi are a breeder species. We can bend our genders to our liking since birth and at will. “ Pheromones swirl around you before laying on the couch in front of them is you in your male form. You were bigger, more muscular, and had a deep sultry voice. “ And once we are marked and have mates. It doesn't matter if we stay in incubus or succubus with partners of the same matching gender. A simple kiss can cause a pregnancy to occur as once we are in heat cycles any shred of DNA can be used to make what humans refer to as sperm and egg cells. The beauty of a succubi is our ability to breed with almost anything; we can also produce offspring from multiple partners.”

You raised your hand transforming back into your female form as it suits you much better. “ I prefer my female form so I present it to mortals and immortals alike as female. “ Star looks on you with curiosity as David's eyes never come off of your form. “ What's those tattoos on you and David's wrist? They seem to be important for you to just now be revealing yourself to the group after hiding so much.” This question ignites a playful fire in you as make eye contact directly with David glaring back at him. “ A certain grumpy vampire thinks your whole group can win my heart. So we made a binding vow that I have to try spending time with you all in the chance we will fall in love with each other. While our little bet is going on I'll be your group's teacher and personal juice box of sorts. If he wins I become your mate permanently and obey him. If I win David gets to know the sweet defeat of being wrong and I'll know for certain love will never be possible for me. “

Pheromones swirl around you as you send them directly the vampire's way. “ But don't think I'll make it easy or that you get my blood and knowledge for free. I'm going to savor every moment getting personal and feeding off of you all. Specifically I'm savoring being a pain in David's ass till he caves and admits he can't love me. I just need one of you to say it and I'll be gone like smoke in the sky. “ David smirked evilly back at you staring you down. “ You keep trying to get under my skin but the more you deny your heart the more I'm going after it. “ Star and Micheal couldn't believe what they were hearing. You were trying to fall in love with everyone in the group because you and David made a bet. This is not what they wanted when they wanted your attention. They wanted your feelings to be genuine for them.

“ If you don't like David, why would you make a bet like that? What's stopping you from leaving and did you two not consider our feelings in the matter. “ Laddie looks up from painting your nails as he stares into Michaels, almost unnerving the poor boy. “ You can't break a binding vow Micheal. It's like breaking a pinky promise.“ The man becomes frustrated as he stands up in a huff. “ You can easily break a pinky promise. It's just as easy as getting up and leaving like we're doing now. “

“ I'd sit down if I were you. “ Your pheromones hit the pair of half vampires as their vision gets dizzy and they slump back down to sit on the cool water fountain edge. They cover their mouths as your scent was making them ravenous. They wanted to bite you, they wanted to do things to you, they craved you but your words angered Micheal like you weren't considering how he would feel about this. Just like David didn't care about how he felt about having to kill people to stay a vampire with him. “ I see you still need a little convincing Micheal that my words are true. I enjoy your feedback on the matter. I know this deal happened without your consent and that pisses you off but moving forward I promise anything between us will happen at a pace you're comfortable with. “ You stand above the brunette hooking your fingers together, you stare down into his confused longing eyes.

“ How about our first lesson, handsome? I show you what a binding vow is. “ You hold a piece of gum up between you as blood encircles your intertwined pinkies. “ Micheal I pinky promise I'll give you this piece of gum. “ A red line forms on your fingers as you pull away from him flashing the gum. “ And what will not giving me the gum do. I don't see the importance of this red line you've put on my finger.” You place your finger In Front of him as you pop the gum in your mouth biting down. Suddenly and violently your finger is absolutely obliterated right before his eyes like it had been pierced and smashed all at the same time. You winced as your blood sprayed the two in the face Micheal looked in horror at your mangled finger he just helped destroy.

“ People with power have a hard time doing what they promise unless something is on the line for them. So the heavens made binding vows. If a party breaks the vow depending how serious the vows deal is, say like falling in love. The more the punishment will be. “ You smile at the man as your blood flows back to you and with a sickening pop and twisting your pinky is back to it was before flesh healing before his eyes. “ And what's gonna happen if you don't follow David's bet or he doesn't follow it either. “ The blonde smiles behind his cigarette as he takes a long drag staring his favorite halfling down. “We will probably turn into inside out porcupines. “

You place a hand on Michael's head ruffling it a bit as the boy looks pale. “ Don't look so pale baby face. One may start thinking you care about us. It's best not to think about the deal in general. It only involves me and David playing a game of chicken. You can love me, hate me, I don't mind, I just hope we can at least be friendly for you and Laddie's sake. I’m only here because I'm bored and y'all are cute.” A soaking wet Paul suddenly lifts you in the air as a towel is tied loosely around his waste twirling you around as you squirm at the sudden wetness. “ I knew you couldn't stay away from our group's good looks. Us vampires are irresistible.” David rushes to help hold up Paul's towels as Laddie tries pulling you off of his older brother, you kicking and squealing in protest.

The tension in the cave has disappeared completely as the scene of you three. Star leaned against Michaels arm gently looking at the commotion and sharing a look with the boy. With just your presence you lightened the group up, especially the tension between David and the two. It wasn't a fight about if David actually cared what they wanted and it wasn't another night of being pressured by their companion to join them in eternity. It was just the group back to how it used to be before Michael, it was fun. It was intoxicating to be back in this peace. With David too busy with you that took the heat off the halfling's and to say they weren't planning to use you was a lie. They had planned to accept your blood and become day walkers and get themselves free from having to eat humans. They just didn't know how but with you not afraid of David and him currently at risk of becoming a porcupine they could relax.

They had a hard time standing up to him. He was controlling and sometimes forceful with what he thought was best for people he loved. It made it hard to hate him as he never did anything to the group outta malice but instead twisted devotion. You get tired of wiggling against the naked wet man as you let out a high pitch whistle which makes Laddie stop in his wake, eyes turning yellow and vamping out. Before anyone could process what is happening you give the child one command. “ Double team.” Laddie jumps up grabbing Paul's arm on you before he jumps swinging his whole body weight like a battering ram against Paul's leg knocking the vampire over. You place your legs on the ground in a stance grabbing Paul's arm before you use the momentum to fling him over your shoulder and onto the couch. David looks down in his hands where Paul's towel is and he instinctively drops it to cover Laddie's eyes. 

He may have succeeded at saving Laddie's eyes but definitely not Star or Michael who got full front seats to Paul's show. “ How the fuck did you teach Laddie to do that. “ Paul says as he's flopped over upside down on the couch still on display as Star and Micheal are covering their eyes but laughing a bit at the display. Marko and Dwayne come out of the bathroom to the scene on the couch. The poor silent vampire almost drops the laundry basket while Marko starts laughing so hard he flops onto the floor. You grab the towel tossing it over Paul's unintentionally spread eagle as you let out a wolf whistle admiring his barness. 

“ Guess you are a shower not a grower. “  Paul blushes a bit smiling with a  wink before he gets off the couch. A fuming Dwayne hands him his freshly cleaned clothes before slapping his ass back into the bathroom. “ I leave to do laundry and you guys get into whatever the hell that was. “ You smirk at the man as David let's go of Laddie's face patting the kid on the back for the excellent leg sweep. “ In fairness you let the tall  lanky blonde escape the bathroom unnoticed. Paul hasn't exactly been the one to think sometimes.” Dwayne grumbles at David but is just glad the chaos is subdued for now. “ I was busy keeping Marko from mixing all the soaps into one to use on his head. “ 

“ I would have smelt like the Ultimate soap. “ Dwayne shakes his head before you chime in. “You'll absolutely destroy your curls doing that. Also I got you stuff for your curls. Why is your hair still wet?. “ Marko innocently smiles up at you before blinking a bit tilting his head. “ I just let my hair air dry. “ Of fucking course he did. You shake your head. You will absolutely not stand by and let him do that to his beautiful curls. As a woman with a cousin who you've helped take care of her hair since y'all were small, you are appalled at this blasphemy. Grabbing the man from the floor you usher him into the bathroom, having Dwayne find you a stool or chair. “Laddie, can you bring me the products over there? Marko who has been taking care of your curls for you. “

Star stands in the doorway watching you gently looking the vampire over. “ Well Star was giving me help for a little bit but she's been pissed at us so I've been just doing it the way I used to. “ The girl looks away, ashamed as you shoot her a questioning look. “ And what would Star be mad at y'all for. “ Marko hums to himself looking over his shoulder to make sure David wasn't nearby to make a fuss. You get the picture and bring Star in the room shutting the door so no one could snoop on your impromptu therapy session. If you were gonna be around these vampires all the time you would put up with no drama from this. “ Ever since Micheal came she decided she doesn't wanna be a vampire with us anymore. Her and Micheal won't feed and for a while so wasn't Laddie. It was kinda scary, their energy dropped and they started feeling sick.“

As you put product in the man's hair you make note of the girl's uncomfort as she holds onto Laddie. “ If you don't wanna talk about it sweetheart with me around, you don't have to be here. Though I think it's important as a pack, you talk about your problems calmly. Why don't you wanna feed or be a vampire?. “ You pulse calming pheromones into the room as you don't look at her, letting her decide if she wants to talk or not. “ We miss the sun. We don't want to kill people to survive. You guys are used to it but we aren't and I don't think I ever will. “ You look in the mirror staring at the beautiful girl shaking your head.

“ And your solution was to starve yourself till you found a way to not be one? Star I know that it's not any of y'all's fault for not understanding your own people's society or diseases and such. That is a job your sire was supposed to do.” You pause to grab the brush to start forming curl clumps in Markos hair as you go back to work. “ But starving yourself halfing or not. You'll eventually cause insanity to yourself. When vampires aren't able to feed on human blood or demons for a long while even if it's just a cup of it every six months they risk getting a disease called madness. You'll become worse than an animal. An uncontrollable ravenous beast who won't stop killing till you're put down.“ Star looks worried as she looks down at Laddie, coming to realize the severity of what she had been doing to him when she had him refuse to feed. “ But we've been eating alot of protein and animals since you gave us those books. We should be fine. We've been doing better. “

“ Sorry to break it to you. But that's only a temporary solution especially for halfling's. You'll have to choose eventually and going back to human ain't really a thing that happens after becoming a vampire. It's an incurable disease.” Star shakes her head, panic lacing her words as Marko shifts his eyes to the side, not able to look at her. “ But the comics said. That if you destroy the sire you'll return to a human. “ Paul hears this from behind the door in the bathroom he was changing in and your hands immediately stop. You go stiff understanding exactly what she's implying.

“ And you believed a comic book written by mortals of vampiric knowledge they've been taught through grape vine encounters. Do you understand what you just implied? The level of treason you'd face killing your own kind in this town.” You put down the brush and in an instance you're grabbing her face looking her dead in the eyes as Star's face turns to panic tears threatening to spill but only the people in this pocket of space can hear her whimpers. Your eyes soften, unable to stand the look on her face. “ Star. If you kill any underworlders in this town you'll be hanged from the peers and executed in the worst way possible. Any humans caught killing underworlders in this town would also be killed the same and have been. That book is wrong and will only bring you downfall. It will harm you and everyone you love with statements like that. “

Marko snarls from the chair pissed at what he has heard and so does Paul but before either can say anything or move your glaring them down. “ You two listen to me now and listen good. I don't care if you've known me for a lifetime or a few weeks or a few fucking hours. Any of you two start a fight in this room right now I'll sure as fuck finish it. Now y'all three need to sit your asses down and fucking talk it out. This discussion is not leaving this room. “ Laddie runs from Star holding onto your legs as tears pool in his eyes. Your hand falls to his head as he whimpers into your leg. “ Why can't all of you go back to liking each other? Why does everyone always fight now? “ The boy shakes scared of another brawl about to break out. He hated when the pack fought and ever since Micheal came that's all they ever did. No one had time for him anymore until you showed up and here they were ready to fight again.

The three vampires look down at the boy. Was this what they were doing to him? Was this what all there back and forth had done to their little unit. Star used to smoke with Paul all the time and watch the night sky over the ocean. Marko and her used to make homemade jewelry for their outfits and they would help take care of animals together. Now look at them. They were at eachothers throats all the time and their relationship had soured to the point of not talking to each other. All of them were too selfish to think about Laddie's feelings in this. That's how he got away that night. That's how he ended up a day walker because everyone in the pack forgot about him or the care for each other and just worried about their selfish wants. Your tongue clicked in annoyance.

“ You are all being stupid and selfish. “ The three look at you in shock. “ Someone had to say it. Paul and Marko you two are dumb for not listening to your pack members' worries and concerns. Star your stupid for thinking a comic book gave truthful information and that murder was a solution to not wanting to commit murder.” You grab Paul and Markos' faces , shaking them side to side. “ Which by the way news flash only these fuckers are some of the vampires who still enjoy hunting. There's a ton of vampires who don't kill you guys are just too ignorant of your own freaking species society. Do you know how much blood banks make by tricking humans into donating blood for money willingly. All you have to do is go to one and tell them you're a vampire they will sell you blood at a discount.”

The three faces are in shock as you rant at them like a mother scolding kids who just fought over a toy for nothing. “ Star if you wanna walk in the sun drink my fucking blood, eat my flesh, you can even suck my blood like a juice box every night. You don't have to go commiting murder, or doing something stupid just to get your ass sunburned. You don't even have to ever drink a drop of human blood. I’m sorry I can't make you human but I'll be your willing supply of food as long as you'll have me. Just stop hurting the people who care about you and you two fuckers need to learn to push your feelings to the side and talk it out.“ Stars face explodes into blush as she stutters at your proposal. You come closer to her flexing your chest up at her making her head spin as you get closer determination on your face.

Paul can't help but laugh at the scene as it looks like your two seconds from giving Star a gay heart attack. Marko begins to chuckle as well as you continue to push yourself forward into Star so stupidly determined you're not even noticing your two seconds from motor boating the girl like an angry tiny bird puffing it's chest. “ And what's so funny huh! Can't you see we're having a moment. “ You look at the boys as Star buries her face in her hands, turning away from you. The boys now even further in a laughter fit at the scene causing Laddie to look up at them in confusion. “ She's totally been eyeing your tits all night and now your shoving them in her face telling her to eat you. “ Paul chokes out from laughter as he slumps onto Markos shoulder.

“ I mean I'm sure Star has been thinking of eating you in other ways. '' Marko pokes fun at the female vampire, the laughter replacing all the negative energy in the room and it feels like the relationship is being patched even if just a little. “ Shut up you two. Geez. Don't you have a date to go on. Shouldn't you be getting ready. “ Star punches Marko lightly as she picks up the diffuser, finishing up Markos hair for you. Laddie starts grabbing makeup staring up at Paul with sparkles in his eyes while the tall vampire immediately understands the assignment. You and the young boy get to work with Laddie putting on makeup with your assistance and you styling Paul's hair.

It had been quiet, too quiet. David had left to put his actual clothes on and to try and fail at flirting with Micheal again who had been giving him the cold shoulder. Dwayne could sense the mischief in the air as well, as they were sure no one left the cave. That meant that four people of the crew could be up to no good in that bathroom as it was entirely too quiet. As they open the bathroom door they don't even get a chance to react. All they hear is your voice saying “God said let there be light!” And then what can only be described as a mini flamethrower In Front of them as Laddie squeals in amazement on the counter. Paul and Marko are going ballistic in chaos at the flame and Star is looking on in shock and awe.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING IN THE BATHROOM. “ All five of you are sitting on the couch as Dwayne is spraying the bathroom with air freshener to get rid of the smoking hair spray scent as David chews you out for your pyromania stunt. “ Laddie asked what flammable ment on the hair spray. “ Paul says, rubbing the back of his neck. “ So (Y/n) had a lighter and she is responsible. “ Marko says, looking at the floor, not daring to look at his pissed off mate. “ And you two just went along with that! Laddie was in there !” David's voice is serious as he glares at you and Star down, her squirming in her spot while you confidently lean against the couch, legs spread out almost in a defiant stance.

“Yep” You reply putting emphasis on the end with a popping of your lips making the blonde glare down at you. He keeps making eye contact with you, getting closer as you blankly stare back, flipping your lighter around between your fingers. The man grumbles for you to explain yourself. “ If you had to know Laddie is more of a visual learner and kids will do stupid shit all the time why not do it with responsible precautions. I was holding the can and lighter plus the room has air conditioning and fire precautions in place. Anyone who could get hurt was standing behind me and well if I got my ass lit on fire I can just Heal myself up. So really you're blowing a fuse for nothing fussy fangs. “ David grabs your face roughly pulling you closer to him as his facial expression morphs vampiric and his tone low and threatening.

“ Just because you can heal yourself doesn't mean I want any of you hurt. You may not care about your body but I do. Now cut the shit and take this seriously. “ You look him in the eyes as you place a kiss on the tip of his nose laughing in his face as he looks confused and a little flustered at the display. “ Aw. David cares about my well being, how cute! You know David you're really hot when you try acting all angry with me.” Grabbing his face forward you place several kisses to his face as David is stunned and taken aback at the sudden affection. It's like the man is short circuiting as you've been not the least bit affectionate since yesterday and have been antagonizing him the whole time you've been around him.

With one last aggressive kiss to his cheek later and his face stained with blush, confusion, and lipstick. You pop up off the couch grabbing Paul and Marko in a rush while you walk back to the door against the wall pulling a paper out from your bra. “ Well it's been fun flirting with you Sweethearts but me and these chaotic boys have a whole night of mischief ahead of us. I'm just afraid there's not enough of me to go around for the night. “ You bite your finger drawing blood as you throw the paper to the door with blood on it. This causes the paper to turn black and dissolve into the door , demonic eyes and flesh taking it over as you fling the door open to a bustling market place beyond it.

Before David can protest and make it to the door you've already pushed the pair inside as you are closing it on the man winking to him you blow him one last kiss. “ You really shouldn't scold me In Front of the kid David. You know how much it turns me on” Just as he reaches the door it slams shut returning immediately to normal the paper And blood having disappeared as soon as it was shut. The man aggressively opens the door only to find the bathroom once again in there while a confused Dwayne and Micheal enter back in the cave after getting the bikes set up. Not only had you succeeded in flipping David's anger into extreme lust but now you had blue balled the man as well.

He didn't know whether he enjoyed this game with you or not sometimes. All David knew is the next time he saw you, you were definitely gonna have to take care of his needs.

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

The night market was bustling with all sorts of underworlders and heavenly alike. Stores lined with demonic, angelic, and human goods while people walked by in swarms. It momentarily distracted the boys while you were bent over against the wall trying to catch your breath from what you had just done. You weren't thinking, fuck you weren't even processing what had occured till you placed that finale kiss. You absolutely did not want to acknowledge that you had not only kissed David affectionately or that you were actually aroused by his care for you. But you got such a rush of energy and excitement that you peppered that man's face like you were seasoning him with your affection.

The worst part is you weren't thinking when you did it. It all happened on instinct after that man lit your heart ablaze with the statement he was scolding you because he was worried of you getting hurt. It was dumb. It was a poor move on your choice and you were faking it till you made it trying to deny something in your heart was touched. If this was a dating sim that man just scored a point and you practically had stars in your eyes when those words came out his mouth. Though luckily you were good at bluffing for the most part and was able to run off before you could meet the consequences of your actions.

Paul and Marko are in awe at the site before them. They had been transported to a world they had never seen before and it was busting with life and creatures like them. It was like walking straight through a story book and damn they were hooked. Marko freezes before patting his body down slowly coming to realize not only was he not wearing his favorite jacket but neither was Paul as they didn't even have time before they were pushed out the door to snag them. “ Fuck our wallets are back at home.” The pair turn around to the stone wall you're leaning against to see the door completely gone. “ Oh shit. How do we get back. “ Paul says also coming down from his shock to recognize he also had no wallet on him.

Your head shoots up as you pray they don't make a comment on what had just happened instead hoping to get this date started and far away from what just transpired. You grab their arms leading through the crowd as you smile cheerfully. “ Don't worry about it! I have a copy of the bathroom key so if we use that we can enter straight back through that door. But let's not worry about that now. I don't know about you boys but I'm starving!” The boys are confused but they quickly forget about it as they enjoy the feeling of your arm intertwined with theirs. “ How are we gonna pay for food though? This doesn't seem like the place dining and dashing will go over well. “ Marko says, making note of the angry looking demons guarding their stalls and shops with pride. 

“ Don't worry sillies. I’m paying tonight! My treat. I did kinda wanna apologize for breaking your nose Marko and almost crushing you with my ass Paul when we dropped out the sky. “  Paul smiles down at you cheekily as you strut along the streets. “ I think that would be my preferred method of leaving this world. “ The blondes laugh in unison as you smile gently back at them. “ I did wanna set some rules though you absolutely have to follow here. The night market is between the planes of existence so it's in a neutral zone. It's a lawless land held together by a code of sorts. Don't steal anything. Respect the staff. And if you start fights keep them outside the shops. “

As you say this you three witness a ghoul coming out in a bucket dismembered as an angry Harpy places him outside their store. A swarm of demonic children running up to it begin rummaging and eating through the pile of viscera. “ If not, you'll end up like that guy. Some necromancer will revive you but hope you have enough deadmans coins to keep yourself from slavery. This isn't really the place your money will be worth much anyway. The hells and heavens share a currency unlike the earth realm. “  Paul turns his head looking down to see a small devil child rooting through his back pocket. “ Hey! Scram kid!” The kid flashes his teeth at Paul in a huge smile before running off with his friends. 

This prompts you to reach into your bra pulling a black card out. “ That is why I have bags of holding sewn into my bra. An old succubi stage trick we borrowed from clowns. “ Marko takes the chance to peek in your bra's pocket as you show him the strange bag glowing with items inside. “ That's awesome babe! What things can you fit in there!” You laugh as you walk into a shop showing him the pocket attached to your skirt as well. “ Well my bra I mostly use to hold makeup, money, or my lighter. If I wanna hold objects from our shopping trip I need to be able to put them in there without flashing my tits to everyone here. So I had my spare clipped into my skirt. “  

You feel yourself tugged closer to the tall man's body as he whispers in your ear gaining a blush from you. “ Guess we will have to make sure not to undress you till we get home. “ You laugh pushing his face away as he licks your hand in retaliation. “ Well if it ain't my favorite regular! Where have you been (Y/n), I was worried you were gonna get thinner on me. “ In Front of you is a tall Yeti woman standing at the  restaurant's entryway, her white hair tied back by a bandanna. You raise your arms up and happily allow the 8ft woman to lift you up swinging you like a limp cat as she greets you. The boys looked shocked as the woman let's you go patting your head with her huge hands like you were a child. 

“ This would be my favorite place to eat in all the realms. This tall Yeti woman is my unofficial official godmother. “ The yeti woman proudly stands straight as she ushers you to a booth seat by the kitchen. “ How do you have an unofficial official godmother? “ Marko questions as he looks over the menu that's in a different language, you motion for one in English to the tall woman. “ Her father and aunt have come here since wee and small. They grow up in Yutajs shop, find mates, bring mates here, have babies, babies come here. Father gets drunk with newborn strapped to chest declaring me godmother. I am proud godmother. (Y/n) Where is Veve or wolf boy. Why bring vampires? “

You laugh as the boys try to decipher the image of an infant you strapped to your birth father's chest while drunk thinking of the implications of a parent doing such a thing. “ God mama meet two of the boys who are courting me. I figured for our first official date there would be no other shop who's food could compare to yours. “ The woman pauses before lowering herself down to the boy's eyes glaring daggers at them as she looks them up and down. Paul and Marko feel intimidated by her height alone but her bulging muscles and huge clever on her side also don't help. “ Tiny one. Last time courtship go horribly wrong. You sure these boys don't hurt you. God mama will gut them like fish if single hair is misplaced on your head. “

Paul audibly gulps as the yeti reaches for her clever before you grab the boys hands smiling at her. “ Don't worry about me, Yutaj. These boys are sweet, good boys. If you'd believe it they challenged me in combat for my hand in courtship and won. They are very strong. “ The woman gets closer before clapping her hands loudly. “ Aw! Proper yeti courtship! Lucky girl. You all must drink eat and be strong. I be right back!” The boys relax in their seats as they glance at the menus but back up to you. They could sense and see the past courtship comment made you uneasy for a second which worried them as the short time they known you, you hadn't ever cracked under the pressure.

“ Something bothering you sweetness? She mentioned you were hurt before. Do you wanna explain that to us? If not, you don't have to, okay?” Paul says grabbing your hand gently massaging circles into your palm as your leg bounces under the table anxiously. Marko slides in next to your side placing a hand on your shoulder massaging it as well. “ We just wanna know so we don't do anything to upset you when you're around okay. “ You look at them as you sigh a bit fiddling with fabric draping from your collar. “ This is only the second time I've been in courtship before. Courtship for succubi is a little more serious than just dating like humans due as matting is permanent for us. Let's just say the last one ended with some oni losing his eye and me spending the next 100 plus years running away from him and what happened. “

Marko tightens his fist in anger not knowing if he should push you further as your mood seems to be souring. They wanted to know you more. Know what brought you pain, what made you you. You had lived a life longer then there's and you know so much but it seems like you're keeping your cards close to your heart. They are staring at you and you know it. You don't want pity, you don't wanna be the victim forever. You just wanted to move on and this courtship was the first huge move you made in a long long time towards finding a sense of normalcy. You had settled in Santa Carla fifty years ago and was just now settled without being hunted down and hassled. You had friends, you had community, and you now were slightly comfortable at trying for love again. This was your opportunity to at least try to get a happy ending and stop living in the past. You sigh slumping back in the seat pushing them away.

“ For starters, thank you for the comfort but I don't wanna be touched when talking about it. I appreciate y'all trying to win me over. I really do. Just I stopped believing in love or any romance after what happened. Once you get your power taken away from you like that. You just never stop feeling powerless. No matter how much you get stronger, run away, or deny what happened.” You pause, taking a deep breath scratching your claws at your neck. Your foot thumps against the ground wondering if you should sour the night like this. Was it really their job to put up with your trauma? It happened ages ago. Why couldn't you just drop it. You hadn't seen that guy in over 60 years. “ Take your time. We are just here to spend time getting to know you. And if this is something you feel like we should know (Y/n) then feel free to let us know. “

Paul's words almost brought tears to your eyes with just how gentle they were treating you. They were strangers to you and they were treating you with such care right now. It was almost a complete contrast to how you had interacted with them before. “ When I was younger me and my cousin would sneak out of the underworld where we lived to explore the human world around the shrine my dads worked at. We eventually made friends with this oni boy who lived in the mountains around the temple. We all three grew up together and he would always tell me I'd be his wife when we were older. Of course I never did take it as seriously as I should have. “ A waiter comes with some water and you order appetizers while you try making it through this hard discussion. But a part of you knew maybe talking about it could help you let go of some of the pain it was causing you.

“ Well when I had my succubi urges finally kick in at eighteen we quickly discovered my hunger was much stronger then what one person could provide. I didn't know how serious he was about me being his wife, or how jealous he could be. When he found out I started feeding at brothels to keep myself alive after pre-saved essence stopped working, let's just say I found out the hard way how obsessed he was. “ This was painful to admit it was like a dam broke inside you. The words were flowing out of you like a nonstop ribbon and the more you tried to stop it the more came out as images of that haunting night flooded your brain. Part of you wished you could blame the two for mind manipulating you to be so open but truthfully it's just because you felt safe in the moment. You let out a laugh trying to stop yourself from breaking as you had no clue why you were being so open but it felt so right.

“ The only reason I got away that night unmarked was because I was able to claw his eye out before he had me completely pinned. These collars aren't full proof, a strong enough person can get through them and that was proven. Everytime he finds where I am without fail he shows up trying to force me to be his. He followed me halfway around all the realms, slaughtered anyone who was even slightly close to me, and has tried everything he can to get his hands on me. The only reason he hasn't succeeded is because I’m fast and constantly evolving to keep up with his endless pursuit.“ You reach in your bra pulling out a hand rolled joint with your red herbs in it gulping in the calming smoke as you could feel your anger bubbling. Trying hard to cope from your information dumping as the boys stair in a mix of sadness and anger. “ So if you wanna do something to avoid triggering me just don't try and fuck with my neck or collar. I'm happy y'all want to go the low and slow route but I think if you ever tried to get my collar off I'd kill you all before I even had a conscious second to think what I was doing. I'm that broken from this nonstop nightmare I've had to endure just because some fucker loved me. Now I don't wanna talk anymore about this depressing shit on our date. I've ruined the night enough. “

You look down at the table as the waiter comes with your food asking if you'd like anything else. You dismiss him stating you're not as hungry as you thought you were, sipping your water as you dare not to look at them. The table is silent as the boys contemplate the information they were given. Brewing in anger at the hard life you must have had just trying to keep away from that bastard. It was no wonder why you were being so push and pull with the group. You were trying to break past that trauma but it seemed like it was easier said than done. Marko takes the straws from him and Paul's drink as he fits them to his fangs. You two look up at the curly blonde only to try and choke back a laugh as Marko stares at you declaring very seriously he was not a vampire but a walrus now.

“ What's wrong (Y/n) can you not love me in my new found Walrus-ness. My fangs can not dare pierce your gorgeous flesh as my tusks are too long. Behold them in their glory. “ The man trys to take a drink of his water but can't get the cup closer to his mouth, choosing to instead try and fail smacking his mouth to it. Your mood lightens as you begin to giggle and chuckle as he keeps attempting to drink with the straws in his mouth insisting he is infact a walrus. “ Hey! That was my straw you jerk. You're getting your spit on it.“ Paul tries reaching across the table to retrieve it from his mates mouth only to have his hands batted away furiously. “ This isn't a straw, these are my tusks! How dare you try to take my walrus pride from me.” Your face turns red from trying to hold in laughter as the two bicker and fight across the table slapping each other's hands away before the straws fall out coated in saliva.

“ Oh no! My tusks!” Marko pouts as Paul scrunches his face at them deciding he doesn't want his straw back after all, trying to wipe Markos spit back on him. This causes you to completely break into a fit of laughter at their attempt to cheer you up. These boys were nothing but dorks after all and had done their best to cheer you up. You fall onto Markos shoulder giggling as you try reaching for the food at the table deciding that tonight's going to be fun no matter the hiccups as long as you were with these two. The pair join in your laughter and you spend the rest of the time in the restaurant enjoying stuffing yourselves full before your next adventure of the night.

When it's finally time for you to pay and leave, Yutaj comes running from the back with a drink for you. “ What is this?” You look down at the mysterious thick pink liquid in the small shot glass as the Yeti woman proudly smiles. She pats your back harshly telling you to drink quickly before it gets cold. Raising an eyebrow but not one to turn down a free drink you down it as the boys watch. “ Tis fertility drink. Must be strong for marriage and child birth. “ You almost choke as the tall woman states this and the boys bust into laughter as your face goes bright red. “ WERE NOT MATES YET! Jesus Yutaj are you trying to ship me off to the wedding bells already! “ The tall woman laughs ruffling your head in her hands. “ God mama, just happy to see tiny one finally smiling again. Good husbands make you smile and laugh for rest of your days. I approve of these two, must bring others for God mamas judgement though. I good sense of character.“

You leave the restaurant with the boys teasing you calling you their tomato faced bride placing kisses to your forehead as you elbow them in the sides making your way to the arcade.  You three spend some time exploring the game floors and looking at all the stuff to do before you start hoping onto machines eagerly. Paul and Marko become extremely competitive at the racing games hurling insults and trying to rile each other up while you keep eyeing the cute stuffed animals in the claw machines behind you. You three start racking up tickets in a huge pile as you play through game floor after game floor enjoying your time filled with competitive banter and light flirting. You show your skills off in pacman, street fighter, and waca-mole. You are able to effortlessly defeat Paul and Markos score while they do better in other games. Marko being way better at frogger, shooting games, and skeeze ball while Paul kicks both your asses in racing games, air hockey, and basketball. 

By the time y'all make it to the prize counter you're holding a pile as tall as you. Paul uses his share to snag a gaming console on the top shelf for the pack to enjoy at home while you use your tickets to try and get things for the others. Marko noticed you had been eyeing all the stuffed animals in the machines but you never stopped to get one for yourself. You hadn't even used your tickets on yourself at the prize counter. So while you and Paul are laughing shoveling your items into your bag of holding talking about how much everyone will enjoy the stuff you got them Marko turns to the biggest stuffed animal he can find.

“ Hey babe what did you get?” Paul says looking up to see a bear that was almost Markos height staring back. It was black with red eyes and had horns and a tail. The only way he knew his mate was behind it was Markos curls just barely sticking out from the top. “Tada! For our tomato bride a big stuffed animal that you can cuddle when we aren't around to help you sleep. “ You stare at the bear and the two blondes as your eyes almost sparkle looking at the big thing. You had eyed it earlier but didn't want to seem childish for wanting soft things. Tears pricked your eyes as your face flushed, emotions hitting you strongly. Without thinking you tackled both the bear and Marko to the ground as you feverishly squeezed the life outta the bear rubbing your face on its softness. When you pulled away your smile was from ear to ear as your tail swayed in excitement.

“ I love it Marko! I’m gonna name him brownie batter and he's gonna go on my bed when I get home. “ Markos stares at your face as his heart flutters in his chest. In this moment it felt like the world stopped and there was nothing but you and him. He swore to himself he would do anything to make you smile like this more often as his gaze softened on you. “ I’m glad you love it sweetheart . You know your face is the most beautiful when you smile like that.” His hand gently scooped against your face as he felt the warmth radiating off from your body. The air between you was electric as your gazes met and before you could think you placed a soft kiss to his lips.

Soft and plump lips pressed gently to glossed ones in a feathery embrace. When you pulled back your brain was light and fuzzy as you felt on cloud nine. Before you could think you were being hosted off the ground by the taller blonde who excitedly peppered both your cheeks with kisses and praise squealing about how cute you and Marko were but he wanted some sugar too. Marko gladly obliged, kissing his mate back with passion as you froze in place. The pair stopped to look at you wondering if maybe this was too much. You shyly scooped Paul's face down to yours as you gently kissed his lips. He let you guide the pace and with a quick soft moment of affection you pulled away before hiding your face in your bear refusing to talk to the either as steam came out your head.

“ I need a drink!” You shouted quickly turning from the pair darting away towards the nearest bar as they gladly skipped behind you allowing you your space to process what happened. When you three did finally find a joint to hit up for some liquor it was a struggle to get your new plush friend tucked away into your skirt pocket. Just as the last of his plush limbs tucked into your skirt your attention was pulled to the crowd at a table cheering with thunderous roars and chants. You three weasel into the crowd staring down at what was going on and at the table sat a dwarf, red oni, and orc. Your heart caught in your chest for a second but relaxed instantly as you knew that wasn’t your one eyed harasser.

“ What are y'all doing?” Paul asks the demon imp next to him who points at the wall where the most breathtaking electric guitar that Paul had ever seen stood hanging. “ There having a drinking contest for that guitar there. It's a one of a kind handcrafted instrument from Lucifer himself. Shit sucks, these three losers probably gonna win it”. Marko made note of Paul's staring instantly, agreeing with his mate how cool the instrument was and deciding if it was a drinking game he'd gladly win to gift his tall man that awesome instrument. “ Is the game free to join in?” The imp looks at him like he's crazy before a wicked smile appears on his face. “ Fuck yeah anyone crazy enough can join!” The crowd cheers as Marko sits down at the table filled with shot glasses stacked in all sorts of manners and succubi and imps bringing out shots on platters.

You finally snap out of it to realize one of your crazy bastards was at the table. You push close to lean down in Markos ear as he makes motions hyping the crowd up while Paul cheers him on as well. “ What do you think your doing!?” You whisper in his ear as the others smirk at him. “ I won you that teddy bear now I'm winning Pauly that guitar.” The blonde smiles at you as the glasses of alcohol are dishes out to opponents. “ Yeah I can tell that. But you do know what this game is and who your opponents are right?” The blonde is still innocently smiling at you as you take that as a definite no. “ They are playing devil's towers. You all have to drink the same alcohol proof level and stack the shot glasses ontop of eachother. Those are the three most alcohol tolerant species known to the realms and you're a cocky vampire.”

Marko quirks an eyebrow at you as he takes a shot of the liquor he was handed, it burns his throat momentarily with a slight sweetness coating his mouth,  he knocks it back quickly before definitely putting the glass on the table before you. “ What's got you worried babe I'll be fine. I drink plenty enough. And besides, the rules seem simple. “ You can feel your annoyance grow as you step back allowing this man to learn his lesson the hard way as you pull Paul in close. “ I bet three shots in and you're carrying the drunk bastard home. I ain't giving no one piggy back rides tonight in these heels.“ Paul rubs your back looking down at you as Marko takes a second shot stacking it, the crowd cheering in response. “ Why's that hun. It looks like he's just shooting back a cloudy liquor, can't be that bad. “ You turn to the table counting down after Markos third shot before both you and Paul hear a loud thump followed by a babbling vampire and the three demonic men laughing at him. 

“ Because that's definitely 200 proof shots he's taking.” Paul's face goes white as he retrieves an extremely drunk Marko who's about to puke as you shake your head in disappointment. “ That's what that sissy vampire gets for trying to drink with us real men. “ The oni chokes out as the other two men laugh with him in agreement. “ Hey sweetheart! Why don't you take a ride on something bigger then a tooth pick tonight. How much you cost for a night anyway whore.” The man reaches to try and fondly your ass as Paul instantly vamps out giving a nasty growl to the men, Marko growling as well through his stupor. You pat their shoulders reminding them they can't start fights here and that it's fine as your spiked tail smacks the drunkard's hand away. Paul softens a bit as he kisses Markos head beginning to walk away as you follow. All of a sudden a shot glass hits the back of Paul's head making you turn with a stare to the table of degenerates.

“ I ment to hit the little succubi slut but hitting the fruit bat there's even better. Running like a bunch of cowards. “ That was the last straw. You could put up with being degraded and treated like nothing but an object. But you'd be damned before you let anyone hurt these men who have done nothing but been nice to you all night and respected your boundaries. “ Actually Paul. You and Marko take a seat. I'm getting you that guitar baby. Mama has some trash to take out first though. “ The crowd cheers as you sit down at the table, a smile with so much ill intent behind it even the gods would be afraid plastered to your face. “Darlin, could you put fruit syrup in my shots? I prefer to actually enjoy my drinks. If you don't mind, are there any limitations to how someone can stack the shot glasses?. “

The imp woman smiles at you as she explains the rules to you. Last one standing with their tower still up and not boozed out wins. If your tower topples, you're out. If you pass out from alcohol or tap out you lose. You puke or get up from the table, you're out. You can use any ability to stack the glasses but you can't glue them in place. The woman smiles as you kindly thank her twisting your neck side to side with a sickening crunch. “ So the fruit bats whore gonna win them their honor back. Can't wait for when you get too drunk to make it home girlie. We will see if your little boy toys can keep you safe. “ The Red Oni smiles at you showing his yellowed teeth with a malicious tint in his eyes as you stop yourself from impaling him right there and then.

As soon as the tray comes out you down three shots right In Front of the men beginning your tower with confidence. “ Oh excuse me should I be going slow for you limp dicked fucks. I know how the senior citizens have a hard time keeping up.” The three growl slamming three shots in quickly behind you as it's changed from a slow paced game to a race to keep up. As the men take shot after shot trying to follow you knocking one after the other you pause to slit your wrist in front of them as blood oozes on the table. “ What the fuck are you doing!” The dwarven man stairs in horror as a giggle escapes your mouth. The blood bubbles and moves before a swarm of leaf cutter ants start to pull themselves out of the rusty pool. You knock back another glass as you pass the shot glass to your writhing black pile. Your little buddies take the glass and gently stack it in a stable position on your tower.

“ Sorry my hands just get so tired from having to stack these glasses. Having my ants do it is so much easier.” The dwarf makes a face at the pile turning away to try and not puke. The orc gets upset waving down the servers in a rush. “ Is this really fucking allowed!? Doesn't that count as someone else stacking the glasses for her!” The imp woman smiles evilly as she places more fruity shots In Front of you. “ Not at all. They obviously came from her blood so they are part of her. Would you like to fold sir? There is no rules against the matter. “ The man gets furious and before he can think his leg bumps the table knocking down his roughly stacked tower. “ Aw what the fuck!?” The bar keepers drag the orc out the bar cussing and fussing, tossing him in the alley like trash. The other two stare at you as you lazily down shot after shot. Making your tower quickly hit fifty. The dwarf keeps trying to avoid staring at the ants as they gingerly stack the glasses in a stable manner.

“ What's the matter? Don't like bugs, dwarven boy?” The man stares at you in horror as you open your mouth, centipedes, beetles, and worms wiggling in a furious frenzy before you slam your teeth down with a sick crunch in front of him. Blood oozing from your mouth in a sloppy display. This causes the man's stomach to flip as he runs from the table trying to make it out before he vomits. Paul is a little freaked from the display as well but impressed with how quickly you are knocking out shots and opponents. Your poker face was strong as you funneled shots down your throat like a conveyor belt. It was the rare occasion you were happy your father had taught you his drunken ways. If this man knew who your father was you were sure the whole bar would shudder at even the utter of his name. Devkar of The Vermillion clan.

In his younger days he traveled the globe bar hopping from country to country; relm to relm drinking whole communities dry while sleeping with any man who was even slightly feminine. Devkar would start fights and leave a wake of destruction wherever he went in his storm of chaos. It honestly surprised everyone he ever settled down and had a kid, let alone with only one partner. You knew your dad's dirty tricks and you were putting them to good use with the abilities he had given you. Your father was a master healer and had learned every healing magic he could get his hands on for one sole purpose. He'd use his ability to continuously heal his liver so he could out drink even gods. You weren't that dedicated as he was but flesh manipulation was your specialty so while it appeared you were drinking the shots you were actually funneling them into a makeshift organic bottle inside your torso right now.

The ants were made when you were mostly sober so they could keep doing their task while you attempted to keep the alcohol from hitting your bloodstream as much as possible. This meant you had to have complete focus on what you were doing as the drunker you got the more difficult it would be to keep this little trick going. “ Your little bug trick ain't gonna work on me little bitch. “ The oni man slurred as he was starting to show effects of being dangerously intoxicated making it difficult for him to stack his glasses in an effective manner. Your plan was working perfectly. You may not be as strong as your opponents but in a war strength wasn't always the winner. You had great knowledge of many different species from working frequently with customers and knowing what could make them break was pushing you in favor of winning.

Orcs were clumsy, big, and easy to anger. Making the orc knock over his tower in an angered state was the easiest way to defeat him. Dwarfs were strong drinkers and huge eaters but none of their cultures recipes ever included bugs instead usually involving meats and cheeses. So You had made a bet that you'd have to get the dwarf to vomit to win against him and you were right. Usually it unnerves non insect based creatures the idea of having live squirming insects in their mouth so your trick worked in flipping his stomach. Now for your last obstacle was the Oni. These fuckers could drink a lot but there was one biological trick to knock them out you learned from your father. Make them drink quicker then their muscles can burn or process out the alcohol and keep them talking so they don't notice before the huge amount of alcohol infused blood slams straight into their brain. This way they wouldn't notice and slow down preventing you from getting them too drunk to continue.

You smirked as you took your 70th shot as the man struggled to keep his eyes focused and hands from shaking as he hurled insults at you. You leaned against your palm making a gun shaped hand jester at the man. “ Bang!” The oni collapsed face first into the shot glasses as the crowd exploded into cheers. You let your ants return to your body as you stood up confidently grabbing the guitar before you looked at the imps and succubi for permission. Obviously this man had been treating them like shit before you got here so while he was passed out you'd do this one thing for your fellow service workers that they probably wanted to do to him all night. You transform your leg into an armored thorned boot as you stand over the collapsed giant.

Paul, Marko and the crowd cheered in joy as you repeatedly slammed your thorned foot into this man's crotch. Blood went everywhere as the crowd went crazy with patriots and staff alike singing praise for the abuse after you dish out sick blow after blow crunching visceral hitting the floor in a wet hot pile. When you finally do decide to stop, the man finally starts groaning in his drunken sleep as you are sure he will never get to reproduce unless he pays someone a pretty penny to fix him up down stairs. Though you are sure he's gonna be black listed from the night market after making enemies with almost everyone in this bar. You hand the boys the guitar and key home as you go use the bathroom to empty the liquor out of your torso as it starts leaking into your bloodstream. Unable to keep it together anymore, once you and the boys make it out of the line of sight of the bar you collapse face first as your body instinctively relaxes. All the liquor hits you at once and now you are too drunk to even stand let alone comprehend the following events.

Paul stares in shock as Marko bursts into a fit of drunken giggling, joining the curly blonde as you talk incoherently in a drunken babble. “ Oh sweethearts. What are we gonna do with you too? Time to get your drunken butts to bed. “ Paul gently smiles as he scoops you up in a piggy back as Marko hooks his hand to Paul's belt loop. The night ends with two giggling demons clinging to each other in a hazy bubble of joy and alcohol as Paul gently guides you into the nest in the cave whispering his praise for you both just as the others get home in time for the drunken chaos to begin.

Else were an abused drunk oni stands before a throne of skulls as his king stares down at him in disgust. Behind the man is your portrait in a golden frame. The drunkard in a fit of rage points to the painting shouting. “ THAT'S THE WHORE WHO DID THIS TO ME! THAT VAMPIRE DICK SUCKING BITCH-” Before the man can even utter another breathe the king crushes his skull in an instant blood and brain matter shooting out as everyone bows in fear before him. “ How dare you defile my bride with your filthy words and presence. You will pay with your life for tainting her light with your existence.“ The man turns to the painting staring at your faded image in a passion. “ Soon my goddess. You've returned to me again.“

Likes, Comment, and reblogged are appreciated.

( Previous Chapter)

( Chapter 6 )

[wolfstarlibrarian]

Helloo!!

I was just wondering if you knew any fics where Remus is a photographer? The plot doesn't necessarily matter, just as long as Remus is a photographer, and that it plays a not necessarily central role, but at least so that it gets mentioned often throughout the story.

Thanks!!

A picture of my dog because she's adorable🫶

Well since you sent a picture of your ADORABLE dog, clearly this request must be filled.

Photographer Remus 📸

Exposed by @remuslives23 (Part 3 of the Muse Verse series) Sirius helps Remus overcome his insecurities.

Ink & Parchment by @prettyremus A cache of letters between Remus Lupin and Sirius Black has recently been uncovered. Join us as they are released, and read the story of their love through their own words.

Walking in a Wizard Wonderland by @yumenouveau It's minutes till Christmas and Sirius has just finished bar-tending for the a Victorian-style wedding. He'd been watching the cute photographer all night, but little did he know the other man was looking back at him too. With how hard it's started to snow, Sirius wonders whether the other man will be able to get home or if he'll be staying over for Christmas

Rule of Thirds by bluepeony Modern AU: Sirius Black, star of the university's football team, only wants one thing: a teensy-weensy, harmless little kiss.

Pictures of You by @cacchieressa He stretched out his hand desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of the spot that [he] had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and the best, forever. ~F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

[connectionterminated13]

tell me more about your Victorian au it sounds cool

The basic premise is FNAF but old.

Charlie Lives with her father Henry and the rest of her family in America until word of henry's inventions spread to Britain where he's paid by an incredibly wealthy man named William to come and build cool robots for his collection of oddities. Charlie goes with her father to Britain and starts living in the Afton household and becomes friends with Williams children. Meanwhile William deserwilliam and finds a book about how if he uses child blood he can create cruel monsters from the bodies of children and other people that he can use to show off to all of his other rich Victorian friends. So he does the only reasonable thing which is to kill Charlie. Or at least attempt to kill her it doesn't work but she's left bedridden and William does his other thing of warming into Henry's life and separating henry from everything he cares about.

Meanwhile Mike gets bigger being jaded that he can't spend time with Charlie his crush and best friend so he does the only reasonable thing of sneaking into his father Spooky audity room and shoving his little brother's head in a taxi dermid bear. You know what happens next... Around this time William gets fed up with trying to do freaky child blood soul magic by himself so he gets Charlie to do it because she can actually do magic stuff and He makes a bunch of weird fucked up animal creatures To show off to all of his weird fucked up victorian friends. Throughout all of this Elizabeth and susyes you are being nice and slightly safe until will makes these freaky puppet things with Henry meant to kidnap street children for their blood, And one of them snatch Elizabeth.. Well all of this is happening Charlie is still "bedritten" Even though she's healthy aside from the effects of weird blood magic on her body. So she decides to escape and runs into Michael and then the plot starts. I haven't figured out a lot after that.....

[kirythestitchwitch]

assassin!Klaus/fence!Caroline au - Girl, buy a clue: he is flirting!

He was taking too long. Caroline did her best not to fidget, a bad tell at the best of times, but he brought it out in her. His careful hands–hands that could have belonged to a musician or maybe a sculptor–kept touching things and despite the gloves he wore, she would have to take a Lysol wipe to the knives after he left. 

That was hardly a logical response but Klaus Mikaelson brought that out in her.

Sliding a knife from the velvet cloth they were kept rolled in when tucked out of sight, Klaus tested the weight of it in his hand. “You always have such an eye for a well-crafted blade.” The blue of his eyes was warm as he looked at her sidelong across the knife. “I appreciate you opening your private stock to me on such short notice.”

Caroline crossed her arms. “Well, you did promise to make it worth my while. Where’s this chip?” She made her voice sound skeptical out of habit. Annoyingly, Klaus had always come through on a promise, and he wasn’t likely to start being flaky now.

A sly little smile lingered around his mouth as he slid two fingers into an inner pocket of his casual yet stylish coat and pulled on the ends of a loop of bright blue ribbon. Soon a necklace slipped free and Klaus held it out towards her, like a temptation. Caroline hesitated a moment, then put out her hand for him to drop the necklace into. It pooled in her hand, slightly warm from being next to his skin, ribbon a satin tease against her fingers.

It was a locket, blue and white enamel forget-me-nots on the lid studded with tiny diamonds. The ribbon ended in a necklace clasp. Victorian, excellently cared for, and worth a pretty penny all on its own, the necklace shown in the lights of her cozy outer showroom. She could think of several buyers in the jewelry market who would coo over this, despite the lack of original chain.

“It’s very pretty,” she allowed, prying it open to reveal a Micro SD card inside where a picture probably once resided. Gingerly, she plucked it out of the necklace. “Are you looking to sell it?” Snapping it closed, Caroline wiggled it in her hand, yes or no.

“Sell? No. It’s a bit of a momento, you see.” Klaus set the knife back down on the velvet.

“Pity.” With an underhand throw, she tossed the locket back to him, and he predictably snatched it out of the air. From behind the counter she stood behind, she pulled out a tablet and pressed the SD card into a slot in the side. Tapping her finger on the screen, she opened up the password prompt from the predictably encrypted chip.

“Don’t suppose you’ll give me the password?” She joked, starting to turn the tablet towards him.

“Caroline,” he said simply, and she paused, waiting. After a moment, he clarified. “That’s the password. ‘Caroline.’”

She stared at him for a moment, face turning inexplicably rosey. “That’s a terrible password. Someone could brute-force hack that in like five minutes.” 

Klaus looked extremely amused at this. “They’d have to take it off my person first, and after you kill the first dozen professional pickpockets, the rest tend to get the message. Still, there is the occasional stupid young one.”

Caroline shot him an appalled look as she turned the tablet back around to face her. “Please tell me you aren’t killing every teenager that tries to pickpocket you on the subway?” The mayor would have to declare another Son of Sam.

He shrugged unconcernedly. “A broken wrist seems to suffice as a deterrent,” he replied, as if he and that Ducati he had parked in the alleyway outside her showroom had any passing acquaintance with the subway. You probably couldn’t open her up in the city–although something told her that Klaus didn’t give much of a damn about speed limits–but maybe he got out of the city and let her go on the highways out of New York. She absolutely, positively, did not wish he would take her with him and let her feel that wind in her hair, nope.

Having those types of thoughts–or any others about Klaus–were off-limits. He was a client, nothing more.

[oumaheroes]

Hi,

I just wanted to say, I love your Victorian Snatched Au and I also find the little pieces of information about Victorian times very interesting. I just have one question if you don't mind: How old are each of the brothers supposed to be?

Thank you!! And wonderful question, I dont kind at all <3 I haven't clearly listed them

In The Missing, Arthur is the youngest at seven, then Rhys at fifteen. Patrick is 19 and Alisdair is the oldest at the grand old age of twenty two

Arthur was very much a surprise haha

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (3; final)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please be okay. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for leaving quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What he sees puts his heart in his throat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could find his freedom elsewhere. 

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

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

THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And…?” he asks in silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks. 

“Everything,” you sigh. 

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

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

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

“I mean it.”

“Hm?”

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

“Who said I didn’t have to?”

“Our deal was done.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you are…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”

“Tell me.”

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

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

“How humble,” you hum. 

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

“Am I a survivor?” you question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you stay with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Majesty—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”

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

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

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

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

Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit. 

Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart. 

Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted. 

He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company. 

“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents. 

“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms. 

“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”  

There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed. 

He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him. 

“Stay. Please.”

True as he has always been, he does.

THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.

And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life. 

Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner. 

The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night. 

Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion. 

Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented. 

“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone. 

“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile. 

“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”

Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”

“Disappointed?” 

“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment. 

“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.

Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”

“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”

Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”

At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?” 

Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”

He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours. 

But you don’t. 

“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”

With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”

It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”

“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”

Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?

“Are you going to abandon me too?”

His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him. 

“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.

“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably. 

In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you. 

“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”

Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”

“I don’t want someone! I want you!”

He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly. 

“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”

He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.

“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”

Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him. 

“I—” he stutters. “The court—”

“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”

You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer. 

“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”

Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth. 

It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”

He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”

For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more. 

The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath. 

The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back. 

“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”

As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face. 

“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”

With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight. 

BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely. 

Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign. 

But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own. 

Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask. 

“Has the Captain approached?” 

“No, your Majesty.”

You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.” 

Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body. 

Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep. 

That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss. 

Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out. 

Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock. 

“Your guards mortify me.” 

“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”

“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”

Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. 

“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”

“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”

It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”

He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”

Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway. 

Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it. 

If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle. 

From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.

He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving. 

Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.

With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him. 

Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed. 

“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”

“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”

Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”

He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much. 

Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether. 

Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing. 

By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed. 

He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable. 

Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar  that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound. 

You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound. 

On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist. 

The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air. 

Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up. 

“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh. 

The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard. 

“Soonyoung!” 

Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced. 

Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs. 

Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach. 

Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.

“What…What’re you doing?” 

Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question. 

It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—

Ah. 

If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him. 

Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know. 

The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive. 

Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten. 

“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?” 

Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his. 

Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly. 

The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white. 

With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers. 

You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.

Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused. 

All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were. 

You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue. 

He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit. 

“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder. 

When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt. 

It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further. 

And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system. 

It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree. 

“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible. 

Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were. 

Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”

Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath. 

“I need words, my love.”

Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”

The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you. 

You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him. 

You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence. 

Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks. 

His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling. 

Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth. 

Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you. 

In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before. 

Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up. 

And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”

He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?” 

It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”

You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”

Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear. 

“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”

His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions. 

The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth. 

“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”

“You weren’t?” 

He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”

Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.” 

Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.” 

You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”

Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you. 

And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you. 

“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest. 

“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again. 

Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before. 

“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely. 

“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud. 

Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own. 

But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely. 

Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay. 

He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake. 

Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern. 

It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—

Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you. 

“Oh, Soonyoung.”

Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched. 

All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed. 

He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure. 

One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast. 

It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.

And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again. 

“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”

You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further. 

He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop. 

“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”

Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you. 

It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made. 

He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs. 

You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed. 

“Hi,” he grins. 

“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face. 

He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could. 

You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth. 

“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest. 

You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping. 

He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face. 

“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek. 

“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.

“I’d let you, but…”

“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine. 

He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”

“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark. 

Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart. 

“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”

BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens. 

It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.

The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace. 

Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this. 

The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same. 

“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”

He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”

“Soonyoung—”

“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”

Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.” 

“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name. 

“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”

You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.” 

It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes. 

Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers. 

Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers. 

He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone. 

And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly. 

Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”

Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens. 

You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow. 

You could get used to this. And you will. 

THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace. 

The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses. 

The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer. 

And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks. 

You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship. 

There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow. 

His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take. 

Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago. 

By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern. 

“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom. 

It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?” 

“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”

His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”

By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you. 

“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”

Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.” 

There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s. 

“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands. 

You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port. 

“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at. 

He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace. 

“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”

“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light. 

One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder. 

He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back. 

As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon. 

There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend. 

For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings. 

That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you. 

Always. 

[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3

[the-ichor-king]

marksman OC expansion :3

Locke is a victorian-style steampunk marksman, also his name is a pun on ‘flintlock’ bcuz- well he’s centered around firearms- that’s like his whole character-

Word count: 515

Freakshow! AU belongs to @hootbon

TW: SVICIDE ATTEMPT MENTIONED UNDER CUT

Locke took a bow as the audience cheered and clapped, smiling widely (a red herring, of course) as they threw all sorts of gifts his way; flowers, confetti, bits and pieces of bones (he didn’t even want to think about where they got those from), and other things that Locke couldn’t identify as he was whisked away from the ring. He had managed to shoot each and every clay bird that was tossed high into the air without fail, and watched as the audience scrambled to snatch the shattered pieces as they rained down from the sky, eager to take home a souvenir from the show.

Locke hoped that Caine would think well of his performance this time; he spent hours practicing and training just to win some semblance of approval. But, as usual, Caine merely looked at him with contempt and disdain. Not good enough. His forced smile dropped, and he said nothing as he slipped past the newest member. Locke envied her clothing; neat, clean, and relatively untorn, save for a few rips here and there. The fabric was still vibrant, and looked out of place compared to the tattered, faded costumes everyone else wore. The living doll.

No more a doll than a shiny new toy for the ringmaster to play with until he broke it, Locke mused to himself. He wondered what piece of her the amalgamation would take for themself once she began to show signs of abstraction. The bow, perhaps. Maybe the skirt.

“Marksman.”

Locke’s head shot up; he had been lost in his thoughts once again. His gaze met the narrowed eyes of the ringmaster’s, scrutinizing each and every bit of him. Caine held out one hand expectantly.

“You know the new rule, marksman. Your shotgun. Give it here, please.” Caine said, not an ounce of emotion detectable in his voice.

Locke remembered the time Caine had caught him with his firearm pointed towards his head. Several rounds had been fired already, leaving gaping holes in his face (or lack thereof, he only possessed a mouth filled with jagged, sharp teeth). Caine was not happy to have to fix that issue, and now Locke was prohibited from having his gun outside of shows or practicing new performances.

Locke unceremoniously dumped the firearm into Caine’s outstretched hand, which disappeared with a snap of the ringmaster’s gloved fingers. He retreated backstage, climbing the rickety staircase up to the lower balcony where he watched Pomni’s ballet performance with indifference. In his honest opinion, it was amateur at best, but the audience clapped and cheered nonetheless. They’d probably still applaud for a dead skunk if Caine dressed it up. The thought made him smile, but only for a fleeting moment before he started frowning again.

Locke wondered how long it’d been since he first showed up, and how long it’d take before the twins tore him to shreds to prevent his inevitable abstraction. With the way things were going, it probably wouldn’t be much longer.

“Good,” Locke mumbled to no one in particular. “I can’t wait for this bull████ to be over.”

[phantomdecibel]

I think an au where Elias is just some Victorian bastard who’s content with body snatching every once in a while and just owns the institute for fun but everything around him stays the same is amazing for comedic potential. Especially if he’s still like. Super smart when it comes to fears but doesn’t understand shit outside of them.

Gertrude still tries to burn his institute down. He still kills her for this, he never knows why she tried to do that. Jon gets paranoid about it? Damn shawty, that sucks, he’s not about to go to prison about it though.

Some fucking cop is threatening him? Acab, threaten her back! Oh no she’s threatening him again? Well better trap her in his institute!

Jon quit? Hm. I wonder if he’ll accept statements as severance pay….

Jon is gone? Hm. Probably nothing to worry about.

He was kidnapped?…well at least his skins never looked better.??

The apocalypse happens and he is just there. Vibing.

lmFAO??????? that sounds amazing and hilarious. I need it now–

[transingthoseformers]

The next part of the Dratchet Family AU starts years later when Ratchet is established herself. A quick background for Drift and Ratchet.

Ratchet is born in Vaporex to Remedy (a Medic) and Cogwheel (an Engineer) who broke several laws to create her. They manage to slip her in as a member of the Golden Harvest with Remedy’s credentials. Ratchet has no idea she was created this way as culturally and "scientifically" it is known the only one who is supposed to be able to reproduce with someone else is the Prime. Ratchet is quickly identified as being a Medical Frame with outstanding dexterity.

Drift is born as part of a helicopter request for the military during a war. She is extra and unneeded so her Spark is going to be sent for “reprocessing” since it doesn’t meet the charge criteria, but the Foreman takes pity on her and sticks her in a speedster frame before rushing her out without ID but at least she lived.

Ratchet made waves early with her “miracle hands”, discovery of a new treatment for Pigment Nanite Fading in older Cybertronians. She refuses to peddle in “recommended upgrades” (a la Victorian doctors paired with miracle cures) unless they have actual backing. This has put her at odds with both certain investors in her hospital now that she has been promoted to one of the head doctors. She has the saving grace of her skill and reputation that makes her difficult to dispose of.

Drift has a rough life because without an ID she doesn't exist and can't do anything. Can't get legal work, can't get "societal support programs", can't leave the city legally, or exist. She has to get by doing crimes and with others who aren't deemed "fit for society". This is how she meets Ratchet who had been caught up in Sentinel's Civil War with Zeta and ends up being saved by Drift who'd been making money during the chaos of the war.

They stay in contact, start working out of the back rooms of bars until Ratchet has enough prestige to open her own clinic which Drift helps pay for and is definitely breaking the law and treating people under the table without payment or ID required. She also has an anonymous contact in the Church who helps get clean IDs for people that come into the Clinic.

Any onto accidental baby acquisition.

Hot Rod is born from the Silver Bloom, the last generation born before the war. He was born in the Nyon Hot Spot, but was sent to Rodion’s Deltaran Medical Facility’s Crèche when it was discovered he was Matrix Compatible on orders of the Governor of Nyon, Thunderwing, who was dealing with Pickup’s Crisis, which is a protest turned arm conflict being ran by veterans from Sentinel’s Rebellion against Zeta.

Hot Rod is very curious and becomes known for his penchant for breaking out and visiting others. All of the medics are constantly having to snatch the protoform up and bring him back. He likes following people around and is strangely social and fearless for a newborn. The patients are enchanted by him as many have not seen a young protoform before. Ratchet actually meets him first when she is doing her rounds and keeps running into giggling and eventually is told about the small rider she has on her. Hot Rod has magnetized to her back.

Hot Rod is a very social and likes to do rounds visiting the log term patients and workers. The workers learn to check themselves at the door and it becomes a game for him of hiding on people.

Drift makes a deal with Hardtop (Swindle's sibling) to get parts for the Clinic.

When Hardtop and Drift break in to the Deltaran Facility for supplies for the MPC patients, Hot Rod wakes up and thinks that they are playing a game and loves visitors. He magnetizes to Drift who gives him good vibes. Drift makes it far and tries to transform only for her proximity sensor to go off as if she has something jammed in her seams. She finds Hot Rod who is delighted and giggly and she takes him to the safe house and alerts Ratchet via their private channel.

Ratchet and Drift plan for how to get Hot Rod back in and Ratchet comes up with the idea that he magnetized to her when she left and will fake a return to her office and out, making a point to walk near the Crèche. She intends to return with him in the morning, but before they can the missing protoform is reported and the polity is in chaos because one of the two Matrix Bearers born in this generation has been taken. (The other one is Thunderclash.) Sentinel Prime sends out his personal guards to investigate it and suddenly the crime know includes heresy which is a capital offense.

Hot Rod spends time with them and Drift calls him “Roddy” because he is the “Rodion Protoform” in the news cycle. Roddy bonds with them to the point he starts imitating their frame, imprinting on them to take Ratchet's red and Drift's speedster frame which is deeply concerning and why protoforms are kept in the Crèche until they are assigned a caretaker and can bond with them.

Drift is trying to track down Hardtop to threaten him into silence as he only other person that knows Drift was there and Hardtop attempts to kidnap Hot Rod after talking to Drift and escapes. Drift doesn't tell Ratchet but she goes after Hardtop fully intending to kill him.

The reason Hardtop wanted to kidnap Hot Rod is that he got an offer from Alpha Trion to bring him the protoform.

Ricochet, AT's agent, is sent to make sure it works out. When things go haywire he is supposed to “clean things up”. Hardtop, panicking, tries to contact the Primal Agents investigating, Heretech and Wing, but Ricochet gets him first.

Hardtop is found dead which makes Drift nervous. Ricochet though is one of Ratchet’s patients as he investigates and observes them as Hardtop had reported they had them in the message Ricochet intercepted. Ricochet likes them enough to decide to not kill the good doctor and her lover.

There is a confrontation at the Clinic when Drift catches Ricochet trying to take Hot Rod and fights him. The Clinic gets lit on fire in the struggle with Hot Rod's Outlier ability activating and Heretech and Wing show up joining the fight. Ratchet who'd been shot is dragged out by Wing.

Ratchet is arrested by Wing on suspicion of crimes against the Primacy. He protects her from Heretech, who wants to kill her because he likes killing, but Wing stops him by cutting off Heretech's hands, protecting her as he realizes she's carrying. She begs him to save Drift and Roddy, but he sadly informs her that the fire is too hot and Ratchet passes out. Drift, impaled on her own sword, has to watch Ricochet disappear with Hot Rod and manages to drag herself out into an alley pursuing him and is delirious for days.

By the time Drift wakes up Ratchet is known to have been taken which she knows is synonymous with execution and becomes determine to find Ricochet and the missing baby, their baby.

Ratchet meanwhile wakes up in a gilded cage, healed and with a tracking anklet and Wing walks in. He updates her on the situation. Neither Drift nor the protoform were found in the ruins and are believed to be dead and the bodies melted with the rest of the building given the heat. Ratchet is horrified and she asks dully why they have not charged her with heresy. Wing informs her she has been given a Special Exemption due to extenuating circumstances. This is how she learns about Pharma and her carrying.

There's some legal things surrounding protection of carrying mechanisms in religion that Sentinel doesn't want to fuck with so either Ratchet lets him claim the baby and gets in line really quickly or Primal Consort Mirage has a miracle child. Ratchet takes the former and becomes the Primal Doctor and Sentinel's "Amica", getting to know Mirage and adopting an outward appearance of piety to protect Pharma, who is her last connection to Drift. She becomes friends with Wing who was her contact cleaning the IDs.

Drift starts her quest to find Ricochet and this knocks into a whole hornet's nest called Alpha Trion, Jazz, and Ravage.

Oooo damn, so Ratchet's backstory is a mystery to her for a while

Interesting on the detail of the Prime supposedly being the only one who can reproduce, because I think we've definitely thought about that before on this blog too

Awww on Drift and Ratchet working together to help people

Roddie is adorable and amazing

Ah shit it's the special cops

Oh no

Oh no Ratty oh no

damnnnnnn.

Sentinel? Not wanting to fuck with something? You don't see that all that often

damnnn. That's one hell of an adventure

[ao3feed-supercorp]

Red Light

by D4mm17

Kara nearly ripped James’ arm off as she snatched the tickets from him.

“You’re sure she’ll be there?”

“You can never be one hundred percent sure with these things, but I think this is your best chance at finding her.”

“It’s been three months since she’s gone missing, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“She’ll be there, Kara. Have faith.”

Words: 2195, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supergirl (TV 2015)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers, Maxwell Lord, Veronica Sinclair (DCU), Samantha "Sam" Arias, Sam is very brief and only mentioned

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor

Additional Tags: A/B/O, Alpha Kara Danvers, Omega Lena Luthor, Kind of victorian AU-ish?, Kara is royalty, Kara saves the day, Forced Prostitution, Nothing graphic is described or implied, Nothing bad happens I couldn't do that to our babies

from AO3 works tagged 'Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor' https://ift.tt/vYkLNtG via IFTTT https://ift.tt/vYkLNtG

[bahbah-bee]

Masterlist

This is my masterlist. Currently updated as of May 7,2023.

I write yandere and dark fics. These may contain some disturbing scenes that are not suitable for all audiences. All of my writing has dark themes and reading is your own personal decision. My writing does not reflect the actions, morals, and values of BTS and is only meant for entertainment purposes. You have been warned.

Ot7

Even In Death I Am With You (Series)

Yandere AU, Supernatural AU, Ghosts/Vampires, Possession, Obsession, Thriller, Horror

It was only meant to be a small trip; a getaway from everything crazy in your life. But it soon became clear you didn’t know crazy. Uncovering secrets of the past in a foreign country different from your own, you start to unravel the pieces to a much larger mystery than you expected. It isn’t until you are hunted down by men who were supposed to be dead for centuries, that you start to realize how little control you really have.

Prologue Chapter One

Want to join the taglist? Here —> Taglist

Namjoon

Tiger Lily (Series)

Flower Maiden AU, Historical Korea AU, Royalty, Prostitution, Horror, Thriller

Summary: To be a flower maiden is to know pain. Pain that comes in many forms. It's too bad for you that your curse is not well known, and running from the only man who knows about it, won't do you much good. Run while you can... for when he catches you, there's no telling what how he'll ravage you.

Seokjin

Coming Soon!

Hoseok

The Point Of No Return (One-Shot)

Phantom of the Opera AU, Victorian AU, Obsession, Thriller, Horror

You started your days as a mere dancer at the most famous (and infamous) opera house in the city. After facing the tragic death of your father, you found solace in music, and it wasn’t soon after that someone assisted in your passion to flourish. Your very own Angel. But as you travel down the depths of the house, he seems more like a Phantom than an Angel and you wonder if you’ve past the point of no return.

Loosely based on the musical the Phantom of the Opera.

Currently writing and will come out soon!

Yoongi

Snatched (Two Part Series)

Harpy AU, Dystopia AU, Obsession, Thriller, Horror

There were two important things to remember in this world: That harpies were stronger than humans and that helping people always came at a cost. You never seemed to understand that. Even when your clients warned you to run, you helped regardless. Even when your boss acted strange, you helped. It isn't until you're in too deep that it occurs to you... you may be the next one snatched. (Polyamorous Taehyung + Yoongi)

Part One

Taehyung

Snatched(Two Part Series)

Harpy AU, Dystopia AU, Obsession, Thriller, Horror

There were two important things to remember in this world: That harpies were stronger than humans and that helping people always came at a cost. You never seemed to understand that. Even when your clients warned you to run, you helped regardless. Even when your boss acted strange, you helped. It isn't until you're in too deep that it occurs to you... you may be the next one snatched. (Polyamorous Taehyung + Yoongi)

Part One

Jimin

Coming Soon!

Jungkook

Coming Soon!