#((and now I shall take a break from replies because I want to draw you all a picture))

[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

[thegoober010]

HI the mettaton headcanons were AMAZING I LOVED THEM!!

Ok I have a bit of a specific request SO IF YOU CANT DO IT I WONT BE UPSET!!

But could you do a oneshot where Mettaton finds reader’s drawings of him, and old love letters they never gave him, and he realizes they love him AND THEN READER FINDS HIM LOOKING THROUGH THEM AND SJFJFJFJDJFJJD sorry im SO NORMAL ABOUT METTATON

-🐾 (im claiming my place as paw print anon now)

OMG I AM SO SORRY I DID NOT SEE THIS EARLIER GRRRR I WAS BEING SILLY YESTERDAY BUT I AM BACK ON TRACK NOW 😈😈

AND ALSO HELL YEAH I CAN DO IT DEARIE OMG TYSM IM GLAD YA LIKED THE HEADCANONS <33!!

I SHALL GLADY DO THIS REQUEST PAW PRINT ANON!!!

also IMA DO IT LIKE THAT THEY'RE ALREADY TOGETHER JUST THAT LIKE reader got too shy to give the letters/drawings and such to him even after they got together/didn't see the point after YA KNOW ANYWAYS LETS GET INTO IT

as usual gn! reader <3!!

TW/CWS -> NONE JUST FLUFF <3!!!!

word count -> 1.8k/1,848

"Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever?"

"Thanks so much for helping me out Mettaton!" You grinned as you picked up the huge overfilled box with your clothes. Mettaton turned his head over to you as you spoke, giving you a playful smirk, " Awe no need to thank me darling~! I'm always happy to help you out, especially since it's helping you move out into my home." Mettaton replied flipping his hair as he looked for any more boxes to put into the trunk of your car. Your face turns a light shade of pink due to his little pet names. You let out a soft chuckle as you open the door "Heh, still thank you, Uh I think there might be a few more boxes in the basement, could ya check for me?" You ask. Mettaton nods "Of course dearie~! Leave it up to me!" he says putting a hand on his hip before walking down to the basement to check for anymore boxes.

As you walk out to put the box in the trunk you slouch onto the side of the car, letting out a soft sigh. Jesus these boxes were heavy! Sometimes you forget how much stuff you buy.

As you were relaxing outside and taking a break from all the heavy lifting Mettaton was searching all throughout the basement. He was checking every crook and crevice of the basement so that he wouldn't accidentally leave anything behind. His metallic feet making a loud clanging noise as he walked, his eyes shifted over to a small box on the side of a dusty desk. He raised a brow as he quickly made his way to it. "Hehe, almost didn't notice this!" Mettaton giggled to himself as he gently grabbed the box and inspected it. As he moved it up to his eye level a small note escaped out of the open box. He raised a brow before bending down and picking it up. He inspected the note quickly, seeing how the envelope was open he let himself look inside. He took out the small note from the envelope, a small peek never hurt anybody, right? He skimmed over the note, his metallic body quickly heating up as he read every word from it.

'Mettaton, I wanted to give you this note because I've been wanting to tell you how much I truly love you, I love you more than anyone I have ever met, you're one of the first people, or well robots, to have ever made me feel this way. My heart beats a trillion times faster when I'm with you, I start to sweat and I dont know what to say, you just catch my attention every time you're near me or talk to me, you're one of the bets things to have ever happened to me and to have appeared in my life, no one has ever caught my attention like you. I hope you know what I mean, I hope you say the same to me, I hope you love me the same, because I love you so much more than you could ever imagine, I love you, so so much.' Mettaton read the note, over, and over, and over again. Each time he read it he could feel his body heat up and his heart (or well metallic heart- or monster heart? not even sure-) beat 10 times faster. A playful smirk quickly formed on his lips before he put the note back in, his eyes heart shaped as he placed the box down onto the desk. He opened up the box and saw even more letters. He grabbed a few of them and opened them, he read them as quickly as possible to not make it seem like he's taking to much time down in the basement.

'Ugh I don't even know why I feel like this, Mettaton I love you so much more than you could ever imagine, I know this note is a bit stupid, I know you probably would never like me back, but I just wish I could tell you already, I hope I don't just give up on this note like all the others but anyways I love you so much Mettaton, I genuinly do and I hope you feel the same. Ive never felt like this with anybody besides you. I feel like being with you my whole life, I feel like spending all my time with you, I want to spend all my time with you give you all my attention and love. I want to be with you for as long as I possibly can! I hope we can. I love you so much.' Mettaton could not stop reading these notes, god they were just so sweet! Mettaton let out a soft laugh, "Did they really think I wouldn't have liked them? Pff, this cutie really had no idea how much I loved them before huh." Mettaton thought out loud. He quickly opened up all the other notes, reading them. His body was currently overheating from joy and love. His pupils were heart shaped as he read through all of these little love notes that you had never given to him before. "I wonder why they didn't tell me about these notes now that we're together! Hehehe, I'll have to ask them later." He muttered, you both were daring after all, so he's a tads bit confused why you never gave him these notes after you confessed to him, he understands these were form way before you had confessed, but he wonders why you never gave them to him now that you two are together after all they're from the past and they honestly are super sweet.

He let out a soft chuckle before grabbing all the letters and organizing them. He closed them and peered inside the box once more before putting back the letters. He noticed a few more papers inside. Mettaton turned his head over to the stairs which led to the living room floor. He didn't hear any footsteps so he assumed it was safe to check. He grabbed the papers and gently placed them on the desk, he flipped through them. They were all little doodles of you and him together. They were mainly of you two going on dates and your little date ideas or about you thinking of him. He placed a hand on his mouth as he let out little giggles. His body was overheating as he looked through each one of them. As he looked through each of them he couldn't help but have a huge smile on his face. While he was giggling and smiling like an idiot at these notes and drawings he wasn't really paying much attention to his surroundings so he didn't hear you coming down to the basement, but once he heard your voice it was too late, you had caught him in the act of looking at your old and meant-to-be secret love-letters and doodles.

"Hey Mettaton I think that was all the boxes are ya done hereeee-..... uh- honey.... what are you doing...?" You ask as you had been making your way downstairs. You stopped midway on the stairs as you realized he had found that old box filled with your old love-letters and drawings. Mettaton turned his head over to you, a laugh escaped his lips and a playful smirk formed on his face as he saw your red, embarrassed face. "Hello darling! Nothing much just looking at these wonderful little drawings and letters you made to me in the past! Hopefully ya don't mind dear!" Mettaton replied putting the drawings and letters back gently. He closed the box and carried it, he walked over to you and looked down at your blushing, embarrassed face. He pinched your cheek as he laughed "No need to be so embarrassed! These are adorable I think I'll keep them!" Mettaton grinned, you tried to take away the box but due to his tall stature he was able to keep them out of your reach by holding them higher. "Mettaton!! Those are private! You weren't ment to find them! They're really old they're from before we got together and- and they're really bad!" You replied, your tone filled with shame as you crossed your arms, you hid your face with one of your hands trying to hide your embarrassment and just yourself in general as if that would work.

Mettaton smirked and shook his head. "But they're cute! I like them! So what if they're old and cheesy? They just show how much you really love me, no need to be so embarrassed!" Mettaton chuckled ruffling your hair. You grumbled in response causing Mettaton to take your hand of your face and pinch your cheek once more, admiring your cute features. "You look so adorable when you're all embarrassed like this! Just look at you darling so cute~!" he teased causing you to stumble all over your words. You let out a grumble.

"I'm taking these with us dearie! Now come on let's get going so we can move everything in early! We wouldn't want to be unpacking all your stuff late at night now would we? We don't want you missing out on your beauty rest hehe!" Mettaton giggled before using his arm to pick you up. Despite your many protests he loved picking you up, being able to keep you so close to him physically and being able to show everyone how close you two are made him very happy for some reason, it felt like he was able to show you off like this and he loved it! He giggled as he brought you two to the car, he placed you down so that he could open the back car door and place the small box on the seat. Once he did he closed the door and looked down at you. "Awe don't look at me like that dear~! It's not my fault your little love letters were so cute that I want to keep them." Mettaton remarked noticing your blushing face. "Ugh it's just a bit embarrassing is all..." You mumbled.

Mettaton placed his hand on his hip. He put his other hand on his chin as he seemed to think for a bit. "Hmmm, well, no need to be embarrassed! Those little notes just show how much you love me darling~!" he smirked. "Now come on, get in the car so we can get going, I want to get home and relax with you already!" Mettaton smiled as he bent down to give your face multiple little pecks on your cheeks, forehead and lips, leaving you all red in the face and feel embarrassed but also lovely. You gave him a peck on the cheek before nodding. "Fine, fine, let's get going then." You reply with a soft smile forming. He grins widely as he played with you hair. "Good~! Oh and- don't be scared to make me some new letters or drawings hehehe!! I'll appreciate every single one of them!" "Hm, fine, if that's what you want my love." You reply.

"Heh, I love you so much darling!"

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 16)

tw: literally Yves watching ur every move, super suffocating stuff, Yandere shenanigans

Yeah ok u guys decided to lust for the creep, then the creep u shall receive

after this chapter i mean

Part 17

You told him your opinion on Montgomery.

"I see." He replied. Yves deadpanned at you before pulling you in for another kiss on the lips. Your face and the tips of your ears heat up, you're still not used to this yet.

He pulled away and chuckled at your bashfulness. Trying to cover your burning face with your hands is futile, as it only makes him tease you more.

__

"Call me if you need to go somewhere. I'm available for you any time." He slung the straps of his handbag around his shoulder, and Yves prepared his car keys in his hand.

You told him 'okay' as you're rubbing the last of his lipstick marks off using a piece of wet wipe.

He stroked your head, traced his fingertips down your jaw and finally held your chin. He tilted your head upwards and gave you a forehead kiss.

You whinged as you now have to wipe off one last print. He bid you goodbye before closing and locking the front door behind him.

Soon after, you dashed back into your room trying to escape your housemates hollering.

Days would go on like this: Yves breaks into your house using the spare key, scare the shit out of you when you open the door to see him standing there, receive adequate kisses, eat (br)lunch, talk for hours, landlord comes over to fix more stuff, eat dinner and finally, at around midnight- sometimes later, Yves would leave.

You would go to sleep almost immediately, but definitely looking forward to the next day.

He started coming in earlier and earlier, working on his things during times where you had nothing to say. You asked him about his work, he tried explaining it to you but you zoned out. It's so boring and complicated. Full of numbers, charts and graphs, you couldn't care less.

Needless to say, he cooked all your meals and did all your chores for you. You always protested, because it isn't his job and you should be responsible for taking out the trash or keeping yourself alive.

Yves would simply ignore you and do them anyway. If you're particularly worried, he assures you that it's some sort of a hobby of his to take good care of you. If you insist that he stops, he will guilt you; making you think that you're unnecessarily taking away part of his joy in this relationship when it isn't even harming you. So you just let him do what he wants, and you benefit from it greatly.

You really like him. He lets you take a nap on his lap while he types away at your desk, Yves listens to you ramble about your interests and occasionally adds his own fascinating commentary to it. You were astonished to know he has a whole database of random fandom trivia in his head. He washed your sheets and made your bed for you every morning.

He lets you hog his portable fan to yourself. But eventually, his bargaining powers lead to your landlord installing a ceiling air conditioner in your room. The best part? No rise in rent.

Yves gradually introduced you to a solid skincare routine. It started off with a simple face cleanser and moisturizer. Then he added toner to the regime. Then a weekly exfoliation and bi-weekly usage of sheet masks. It was hard for you to remember to do it or have the motivation, but Yves didn't mind maintaining your skin.

You just love the tingles you felt when he reclined you on your chair and he massages your face with the moisturizer. His fingers skillfully work to unravel you.

He made your house actually enjoyable to live in. You haven't gone out in three weeks and that didn't alarm you. You are glowing, physically fitter than ever, clean and most importantly, happy.

You have the drive to do so many things. Like learning a new language, learning to code, learning to knit or crochet, learning to draw... anything you wanted to do, Yves is always the expert to consult. He would buy the materials you need and teach you step by step. It made sense for him to be an extraordinary mentor, because you found out that he was also an exemplary lecturer at your university at one point.

You confirmed that he's currently a researcher, specifically, a research mathematician who works together with other branches of academia including but not limited to human Psychology, biology and sociology. The gist of his project has to do with predictive algorithms and probabilities. It's impressive and complicated, too bad you're not interested beyond what was described in a nutshell.

It's no secret that you look up to him, seeing that you're also a student looking to advance their education.

But it begs the question of his age. He has done so much in a short span of time. You wonder what his true age is.

But it's almost impossible to know because he would be offended whenever his age is brought up. It seems like he despised being perceived as ancient, which you understand. He probably comes from a time where youth is overly worshipped. You let it go, it isn't like his age affects you in any way.

It doesn't mean you didn't try searching him up. At first you suspected that he was lying because you couldn't find anything about him working at your university on the internet. But you sent an email to the administration asking about him. They came back with the confirmation that Yves is currently a hired researcher there. Strange that they knew who he is without knowing his last name. You guess there's only one Yves in the entirety of his faculty.

Speaking of names, you were shocked to find out that Yves didn't have a last name. After tons of relentless teasing from Yves for wanting to know his surname and a platitude of shame-induced face coverings later, you finally discovered he doesn't have one. This was bizarre to you, but Yves only told you off for being insensitive towards him, as not everyone has the privilege of a last name. It seems like a touchy subject, better not bring it up again.

Although it has been around a month since you think you first met Yves, you can safely say that you're madly in love with him. He is way more attentive and caring of you than anyone you ever met. Not even your parents or guardians can compare. Absolutely no one in your life has treated you this well.

There is that nagging feeling that something is very wrong. It wasn't a "He is going to leave you for someone better" feeling, it was more of a "what if Yves is secretly an organ harvester and he's healing you up to make a good price on the black market?"

But due to blind love, you forced yourself to brush it off as some implausible, impossible, silly thought.

...is it though? Yves does give off uncanny vibes sometimes no matter how suave and sexy he is. He has a lot of things to hide and the knowledge that you have of him is not enough to save you if he ever decides to steal a kidney or two.

Maybe this relationship isn't good for you. It keeps giving you inner turmoil to lose sleep over. This is definitely too good to be true, no one likes being a full time babysitter for their partner; this has to be a trap! You think you should quickly break it off with Yves before it gets too--

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you felt the chilly air from the air conditioner nip at your skin. The bliss of not being boiled alive by your own fluid trickles down your forehead.

You close your eyes and grin, letting the wind blow on your sweaty hair. This is lovely, you're so grateful to have Yves in your life. If you didn't have him here, you wouldn't be able to enjoy this temperate luxury.

Yves lets his focused gaze linger on your form for a few more seconds before replacing the remote back onto the holder. Yves pressed the button on his stopwatch, the beep was soft enough to go unnoticed.

He checked the temperature, the time and the humidity of your bedroom before logging them all into his computer. Yves turned his head to look at your position on the floor, you're splayed out like a rag as gusts of cold air strike your body.

He opened another file, which is the floorplan of this house. His eyes scanned the screen, noting down the exact coordinates of your precise location.

It would always be like this. You would start formulating thoughts and suspicions on Yves, spiral so much that you contemplated ending everything to protect yourself, then something interrupts your mind and eradicating the unwanted ideas entirely. Be it a change in temperature, texture, hunger or thirst. Sometimes, it's because you feel you hit your Yves-interaction/social quota for the day. So he would excuse himself and leave your house until you recovered.

He always comes back at the perfect time. Just right when you're starting to yearn for him. Yves ensures he never leaves for too long to make you think he's neglecting you. But he wouldn't come back too soon to make you go "yuck, this bitch's face again?"

Your signs could be as minuscule as a lower lip twitch, a brief, split-second movement of the eye, flaring of nostrils, positioning of your arms or even a change in the depth or rhythm of your breathing.

Or it could be an increase in heart rate, body temperature or sweat beading from your pores. Hell, it could even be the sound of you swallowing your spit or the smell of irritation.

They are all telltale signs that you're about to do or think about something undesirable due to overwhelm or underwhelm.

It's scary. He could just detect it with his superhuman senses. But ignorance is bliss, you still didn't know that he's puppeteering your environment accordingly. He would very much like to keep it that way.

Yves must admit, he has been careless. For the past three weeks, he failed to consider that his daily presence is wearing you down. It was his own fault for disregarding his calculations, Yves was originally only supposed to see you four times a week; that was the most optimal arrangement.

But he was enamoured, as desperate and feverish as you to be together. He just hides it impeccably well. Could you blame him, though? This was the first time you acknowledged him, the first time Yves got to kiss, touch, and hug you as freely as he wanted. The first time he gets to observe past the use of cameras- he does not need to hide. He gets to put his elaborate meal plans to use, you're eating his cooking, he's washing your clothes and you're accepting his backrubs. This is the closest so far to the ideal he wanted in his life with you. Anyone would be greedy in his situation.

But he flew too close to the sun like Icarus did. The wax melted off his wings and now he has to face the consequences that would have been avoided if only he had controlled himself better.

He's starting to notice you're not as positively receptive to his kisses as before. Sometimes even outright grimacing and shuddering in disgust when you think he's not looking. You spent a couple minutes longer in the bathroom, sometimes up to an hour, claiming you had stomach issues. But you didn't have problems with your digestion, your boyfriend made sure of that. He meticulously checks everything that goes into your mouth and he knows you didn't even pull your pants down. All you did was sit in the corner and scroll on your phone.

You did it just to escape from Yves and he's fully aware of that.

It devastated him when he went through your internet history:

Yves removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He checked the timestamps, and you accessed the web since three in the morning.

"Why are my boyfriend's kisses and hugs gross to me now"

"Clingy boyfriend"

"How to tell my boyfriend to stop being clingy without hurting his feelings"

"How to say no to hugs"

"How to say no to hugs and kisses"

"How to say no"

"How to stop people pleasing"

"How to tell people that i dont want to see them but not forever just for a few days"

"Social battery"

"Therapists near me"

"Therapy price"

"is University counseling free"

"university counseling wait times"

"How to break up with my boyfriend"

"Is it rude to break up over text"

"Script for breaking up"

"Nice script for breaking up"

"Kind script for breaking up"

"Breaking up without hurting his feelings script"

"ChatGPT"

"Do retired lecturers have a habit of checking for plagiarism in their day to day life"

"Is AI generated content plagiarism"

"Jobs near me"

He knows he has no one but himself to blame. He had a plan all laid out, if he followed it to a Tee, it would have conditioned you to ultimately accept his intense love without complaints. He was supposed to give you a maximum of one kiss on the lips and four others somewhere else on your face. But gave you a whopping average of 76 kisses a day, 20 of which are on the lips; 1520% of the actual daily cap on kisses.

Likewise, he hugged you too much. Yves was only supposed to give you 12 hugs, lasting 8 seconds each at most, spaced throughout the day. However, you're in his arms for a total of 6 hours a day; 2250% of the maximum.

He is the first thing you see in the morning and the last face you perceive before sleeping, From before sunrise to past beyond sundown, you would be exposed to him; from 6am to 12am the next day; he would already be in your room before you're even awake. Subconsciously, you know he's there because the brain never stops working.

Of course, you would be sick of him! It doesn't matter if you came from an affectionate family or you turned out severely touch-starved, with extreme figures like these, anyone would be nauseated with his presence by the third week!

Yves fought back the urge to run the numbers back the fifth time. The cold hard facts are there, he made a grave mistake. Painstakingly recalculating everything is just a pathetic attempt to appease his denial that he lost control over himself.

He sighed and propped his head up by an elbow, absentmindedly fiddling on his calculator. Yves's eyes flitted up to the monitor. You're curled up into a ball on your bed, scrolling on your phone. Most likely to try and catch up with your own me-time. Yves could see pixels of bags forming under your eyes.

He shook his head and decided he must rectify this. Yves got up from his seat and sauntered out of his office, switching the lights off but leaving his surveillance equipment on.

Meanwhile, you yawned, closing your eyes and letting your phone slip next to you. Finally but reluctantly drifting off to sleep.

[justafandomgvrl]

Tattoo Artist Pt2

Laurent Leclaire x F!Reader

Around 1000 words

Part one here

Thank you to @winniethewife for some aid with dialogue

You pace in your flat nervously an hour before you’re supposed to meet Laurent. You stop in front of your mirror for the eighteenth time to stare at your outfit. Jeans, band tee, leather jacket, vans. You look at your phone and curse, realising if you don’t leave now you’ll be late. One last application of lip balm and your feet carry you out the door to your favourite coffee shop. Laurent waves you over to his booth and you smile, the nerves dissipating almost immediately.

You slide into the booth across from him.

“I’m glad you messaged me.” His warm voice consumes you. “I took a chance on that business card, and I’m -“

“I know.” You say with a small smile as the waitress comes and refills his coffee pot. He thanks her before returning his attention to you. “I’m glad I did too.” You say, his eyes gazing into yours and you feel so much more alive than you did twenty minutes ago in your flat. He picks up the coffee pot and pours you a cup. You add a splash of milk and a sugar cube, watching him as he supplied his black coffee without sugar.

“Oh, you like it as sweet as you are.” He says with a cheeky smile.

The date goes better than you expected. You laugh together, drinking way more cups of coffee than you should. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so light.

Within a month, you and Laurent have been for five different coffees in five different shops after five tattoos. Each one has been more and more discounted, much to Camilo’s annoyance. The one constant is Laurent never lets you pay for the coffee.

He smiles at you over your sixth cup in your sixth shop after your sixth tattoo. His hand is wrapped around yours and you feel warmth spreading from where he’s touching your skin.

“Why don’t you ever let me pay?” You ask and he chuckles.

“How could I ever let someone as beautiful as you pay? Pieces of art don’t pay for anything.” He says and you blush. It’s the same every time he compliments you.

“I’m only a piece of art because of your drawings.” You say quickly. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“No. The first moment I saw you sat there nervously waiting, I knew you were the most beautiful piece of art I’d ever seen. And now? You’re somehow even more beautiful.” He says, his thumb brushing your knuckles. You look up at him and he smiles in a way you’ve grown to adore.

“This past month has been so wonderful, Laurent,” you say and his smile widens.

“I agree. That’s why I wanted to ask you something.” You pause, putting your cup down and he takes your hands both into his own. “I know it’s only been a month, but I really adore you. You’re kind, and smart, and funny, and so beautiful. I was wondering if you would want to officially be my girl.” You pause for a moment, processing his words.

“Yes.” You whisper. He grins and surges toward you, leaning over the table to capture your lips with his own. “Your girl.” You whisper against his lips and he all but groans. You wonder what it would be like to hear- you cut off your thoughts as you kiss him back gently. You can feel him smiling against your lips before you break the kiss.

“My girl.” He repeats, as though he’s savouring the way the words taste in his mouth. He grins like a boy who just discovered how it feels to get dirty for the first time. “Shall we?” He asks, standing up and offering you his arm, having paid already despite your protests. You loop your arm through his and the two of you leave the cafe, wandering through the streets of Paris as though it was your city.

You find your way to Montmartre, the village that his tattoo shop is set up in. You sigh as you arrive at the Sacre-Coeur, the church of sacred heart. “I love the view from up here,” you say as you look down the steps that you had climbed to look over the village.

Laurent is staring at you when he replies, “me too.” He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as he turns to gaze over the village. You look at him and smile, gazing at his side profile. “I used to want to be a painter.” Laurent says absent-mindedly. You turn back to gaze at the village as the two of you sit down at the top of the stairs.

“What stopped you?”

“Not as many hot women.” He jokes and you chuckle, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Being a tattooist meant I could paint and be social with a bunch of people and find out about their lives. I like that.” He says with a smile.

You place your hand on the ground between you as the sun begins to set.

He rests his hand on yours.

“Do you know what the French would say about a view like this?” You ask and he looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“I was asking you!” You reply, nudging his shoulder with yours. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“They would say it’s beautiful, but not as beautiful as you.” You blush and he smiles.

In the pink, orange and purple hues of the sunset, your eyes almost seem to have an otherworldly glow. Laurent knows he’ll never recover from the sight.

[a-driftamongopenstars]

to let go is to embrace; astarion x oc fic

to let go is to embrace (763 words); astarion x gleam; t rated, tw injuries, act 3 spoilers - also on ao3

finally finished Astarion's quest. ough ough ough. it was perfect. he didn't go through with the ritual, and the ending of Cazador was fucking perfect.

His throat aches from screaming. His limbs burn with exhaustion. His vision is blurry, tears dried on the eyelashes. His hands still remember the grip of the dagger and the breaking bones and flesh of Cazador as he killed him one final time.

But his heart feels… lighter.

The weight of two century old pain is so much easier to bear when its creator can add to it no more. Not to him, nor to anyone else. But the guilt and the fear still lurk on the edges, threatening to return and to crush him, now that there is no barrier of a seemingly unachievable goal. 

The lights of the inn room are dimmed, all is quiet. Astarion, resting on a bed, looks up at Gleam, who sits beside him, a sponge in their hand. Bottles of salves are lined up on a bedside table, and there is a wash basin with water, diluted with blood. 

They offer Astarion a kindness after another, this time by helping with the plentiful wounds that Cazador and his minions left in the fight.

Astarion's heart fills with affection, just as his eyes sting with tears. He is too tired and too weak to push it all back. For once, he thinks, for fucking once someone cares about him. For him. He wants to be grateful and return it twicefold, but he doesn't know how. What does he have to offer? 

Gleam draws the sponge gently down his arm, washing away the blood, the pain. They drip the salve where bruises remain, those that Shadowheart's magic could heal no longer. Astarion watches quietly, as cuts close up into smooth skin and purple blemishes disappear.

"All right?" Gleam asks, noticing Astarion's glance. 

"Quite so," he replies, offering a small smile. Nothing else he knows to say, and his throat closes up on words.

Gleam pauses, resting the sponge aside.

Their eyes shine softly in the dim light. Light blue against black sclera, just like stars. Have they always been so bright? 

Unbidden tears make themselves known again, and Astarion swallows.

"Come here," Gleam offers, their voice softened. And Astarion moves, away from the pillows set up for him and into his tiefling's arms. 

To let go of all the worldly hardships, to let go of pain of memories and of things that have finally come to an end. To embrace a new future, because he has one now. Uncertain, but a future nonetheless.

Gleam's arms hold him strongly. Astarion breathes them in, soaks soundless tears into the soft folds of their shirt. He does not notice how his fingers curl into it, knuckles whitening against already pale skin. 

"I don't know what to do," he whispers into Gleam's shoulder, his voice weakened.

Gleam's arms remain solid strong around him, and soothing with comfort. They are a rock in a crashing sea, they are a lighthouse on the edge of a cliff, they are a rope thrown into the depths of a darkest well. 

"Astarion," Gleam says gently, yet firmly. 

Their hand runs through Astarion's hair, and momentarily he is distracted. 

"You have all the time in the world to figure it out. Free, safe. And with me by your side, if you will have me." 

Astarion's scoffs, pulling back to look at Gleam. Gods, he is beautiful. With a hero complex, proven so many times over, but Astarion cannot help but like that. Love that.

"Well, of course," Astarion smiles through tears. "Where shall I be without my handsome and daring barbarian?" 

Gleam laughs, reaching over for the sponge again as Astarion lays his hand upon theirs. Their fingers lace together, and he cannot help but love the way it looks. All the little things, he craves them like water to a dying man, but cannot allow himself to take any more than what he finds acceptable.

And even that is too much.

“Thank you,” he says at last. “For this. And for everything you have done for me. Which is an awful lot, I hope you are keeping tabs.”

Gleam smiles and draws Astarion’s hand to their cheek.

“I think your tab can be forgiven. Anything you need, on me.”

Astarion’s lips spread into a wider smile, he is about to make quite a joke of that, but another tearful gasp escapes his mouth instead. Since when does laughter makes him cry?

He rests against the pillow once more, watching Gleam resume the process. His mind is calmer, his heart is gentler.

Astarion wonders if Gleam knows that they are healing more than the visible bleeding wounds. 

[nicsnort]

Gravita Anima (part 13)

Nightcrawler/Fem!OC/Quicksilver Long-form romance and drama fic. All chapters have been posted on Ao3.

Intro (with link to Ao3 story) First Previous

Elle has spent the past few days carefully responding to social media posts and organizing with activists on the ground. The tours around the Washington Mall were all canceled due to the Brotherhood attack but her company did have a few others they assigned her to elsewhere in the city. During the past few days, she had nearly called the school a few times to see if anyone from the X-men would be willing to coordinate with activists but she held back. Elle didn’t want to abuse the trust that she had earned from them...though she did have an excellent excuse. She hadn’t realized it until she had gotten home after she had left them but Elle had forgotten her clothes in the guest bedroom. It was a shame as those were her favorite jeans.

Still as distracted as she was with everything going on. With the day of the vote approaching, Elle had not called the X-men at all. There was too much going on and with tracking the Brotherhood they didn’t need some petty activist whose ass they saved and had probably already forgotten about because she was just one of many bothering them.

Elle had just gotten home with a massive bag of Chinese food that would last her several meals when her phone chimed with Lucy’s assigned tone. “What has Kelly done now,” she groaned, setting down the food and glancing at her phone.

They found out. I’ve been fired. Need a drink.

“Oh no.” Elle sighed and looked at her table - covered with notes and calendars for the cause. She needed a break. Then we are going out tonight, she replied to Lucy. Fuck them.

~~~~~~

Elle arrived outside Lucy’s apartment a little after 8 due to the bus running behind schedule. She was dressed in a black mid-thigh length skirt, a lower-cut dark blue blouse, and her walking shoes. It wasn’t the most club-appropriate outfit but she had gotten rid of her more sexy outfits a few years ago when she stopped going out in the evenings. Still, she looked visually appealing in her book, and with her makeup, she would draw a few eyes. While Elle was going for her friend, if she met someone for the night she wouldn’t turn down the opportunity, it had been a while after all.

She texted Lucy to tell her she was waiting outside and then opened the uber app ready to order a car. After a few minutes, Lucy stepped out of the apartment in a dark red pencil skirt, mid-calf black boots, and low-cut black shirt. They both looked hot and were ready for a night out on the town. Elle would be surprised if neither of them ended up with a pleasure partner for the evening. “Looking good,” Lucy told Elle. “So where should we start?”

“You too,” Elle replied as she summoned the uber. “Well, avoiding the touristy areas - of course - I got four places we can hit up across the river. Don’t want anything ex-coworkers might be at, after all. We are starting at Night Beats, then we can move north to Electric, west to Julio’s, and end south at Soul Heart for a soothing nightcap. Assuming we don’t find some fun to take home before then.”

As she was speaking the uber pulled up at the curb and the pair entered. Little did either of them notice the streak of silver rushing away.

Lucy smirked at her friend’s last remark. “Shall we have a code word for night candy?” She shifted her silver sterling bracelet on her wrist and touched her necklace to ensure it was still on. Perfectionist even for a night out. “Maybe like ‘I’m gonna go bang, see you tomorrow’? Or too wordy?” She got into the car, unaware that they were being followed.

“I mean it's more just on the nose. Let’s just let each other know if we need to find our own way home,” Elle told her friend with a grin. “Just in case you want to head home early or something.”

They were halfway to Night Beats, a place only chosen for the super cheap but powerful drinks to start the night, when a thought occurred to Elle. “Oh, you want to feel good all evening or let it happen naturally.” The driver likely thought she was talking drugs but of course, Elle was referencing her powers.

Her smile turned into something of a Cheshire cat as she picked up what Elle meant. “Pre-game me now please? Then alcohol can take the rest...” The resentment and loathing she had felt towards the Senator and her ex co-workers had felt sharper than before, and she wondered if it had anything to do with whom she had last feasted on. 

Elle tasted the bitterness of Lucy’s spike of loathing towards her former employer and coworkers. “Alrighty,” she told her friend with a similar grin. In college, she had used her powers like this liberally during parties - not to the knowledge of anyone else - everyone knew you had to have Elle at your party if it is going to be any good.

Reaching out with her powers Elle pumped some self-confidence, joy, bliss, and just a hint of pleasure into Lucy. As she had mentioned to Kurt on the jet the smaller number of people she was influencing the more precise she could get with emotions and this included making “special cocktails” of emotions for a single person. Lucy’s face slid into relaxation and soft bliss.

“Here ladies,” the driver said, “enjoy yourself.”

The music of Night Beats could clearly be heard through the building’s walls. It was already jumping but luckily no line yet. Perfect for shooting shots and getting their buzz on.

“First rounds on me,” Lucy announced as they walked in, the bouncer giving a curt nod and a subtle smirk. 

Once they were inside, the music amplified by ten. Lucy beelined to the bar and ordered two tequila shots of decent quality -- no need to be feeling sick at the start of a long night. She placed a twenty down and brought the shot to Elle.

“To the future! Whatever fucked up version it is!” She shouted loudly, toasting before downing it. In the background, more people entered one a handsome male with naturally silver hair and another silvered with age.

Elle grinned as she took the shot from her friend. They clinked the small glasses together and drank the shot quickly. Elle shook her head at the overwhelming taste but immediately felt the wonderful warmth of the tequila flow through her. She may have had a small dinner before leaving for Lucy's but she knew she would be feeling the effects soon.

Setting their glasses down on the bar, Elle pulled Lucy out to the dance floor. If they played their cards right that would be the only drink they would need to pay for themselves. They weren’t that lucky, however. After half an hour Elle paid for another round for herself and Lucy. Blissfully both girls were unaware of the two men, one decidedly older than most in the bar, watching them from the sidelines.

Lucy cheered as Elle gave her the second round, oblivious to the eyes on them. They both knew spreading out the drinks more was responsible. The music was loud, the lights blinding, and the beat thumping through their bones. It wasn’t the sort of place where one could easily pick up the feeling. They went back to dancing for a while. Within the next half hour or so, sweaty as they were, Lucy got a clear plastic cup of water for herself and another for Elle, just to hydrate. That was promptly followed with, to her glee, a man paying for their next two shots. 

Bringing it back to Elle after a wink to the man, she shouted after downing it, “Wanna move on? Bit dull here.” Not to mention, it was probably time to switch to mixed drinks rather than shots. 

Downing her third shot of the night Elle gave a nod to Lucy. She wasn’t feeling this place. It was a shame when she was younger this was one of the best places to go during the weekdays. At least the shots were still as cheap, and as strong, as she remembered. Wrapping her arm around Lucy’s they left the club heading down the street towards their second stop of the night: Electric. There was a bit of a line to get in. Perfect.

Elle and Lucy only had to wait about 10 minutes to get in. But during that time Elle began to get a creeping sensation on the back of her neck. It was almost like someone was watching them. Yet, when she turned around no one was there. Just a trick of alcohol then. Entering the thrumming establishment quickly drove the idea from her mind.

“A tequila sunrise for me,” she told the barkeeper after getting his attention.

Lucy shouted at the barkeeper over the music, “Long island tea.” Best to get the most out of a drink, she supposed.

As they waited, Lucy turned her back and leaned against the bar. She was trying to find a guy or two that would seem willing to buy them their next round. As her blue eyes scanned the area, they lingered briefly on someone who, she swore, had gray or silver hair. She blinked and he was no longer there. She shrugged, turned to take her drink, and placed a crisp twenty down for the pair of them. Hopefully, that was the last bit of money either of them would spend tonight.

Their drinks arrived shortly and the girls headed over to a table on the side of the dance floor to sip them. Elle’s eyes roved the people around them, sending out her feelers for anyone whose interest may have been piqued by them. She sucked on the cherry from her drink before crunching down on it. As she took another sip her eyes connected with a young man across the dance floor. He had a head of silver hair, not uncommon nowadays, and it certainly did suit him.

Elle glanced away from him for a moment as someone bumped into her and when she looked back he was gone. Shame. Perhaps she would look for him later. She still had half a drink and did need to slow down a bit.

“See anyone of interest,” Elle asked her friend but even as she spoke she noticed the man with silver hair once again. He was on their side of the dance floor now. Huh, he moved quickly, or else the alcohol was messing with her sense of time already.

Unaware of Elle’s unintentional target swimming in and out of her line of vision, Lucy looked around. She made a face and took a long drink before chewing on her straw. “Noooope.” She looked over at her friend. “Maybe if…” Her gaze flickered behind Elle, though she wasn’t sure why. She saw a young man with silver hair and raised a brow. “Weird choice.” 

When she looked back at Elle, she commented, “I suppose we can just pick whoever looks twice at us.” When she glanced up, the man was gone. “Hm.” She made a noise that the music ate up. “You?”

“I think so,” Elle purred as her eyes met with the silver-haired man again. She blinked slowly and allowed a coy smile to cross her face - unmistakably it was a look of interest. In return, she received a half-smirk. Looking back at her friend she waited for his play. After all, she couldn’t look too desperate.

“Finish that up and we should dance,” she told her friend.

Far be it from Lucy to disregard such an order. She downed her drink of various liquors and grimaced slightly at the taste. The effects were already making her feel good from before, and she looked forward to continuing.  As the two women walked out to the dance floor, which was surprisingly crowded for the early hour, the silver-haired man disappeared. As the music went on, Lucy found herself separated from Elle.

Nearby, however, the young man found Elle. He bumped lightly into her and gave a faux-sheepish grin. “Sorry about that,” he said over the music, “didn’t mean to bump you. Must be your beauty that blinded me.”

“That’s alright, but you can make it up to me with a drink,” Elle replied with a grin. Perfect.

It was a club and so the only appropriate pick-up lines were the cheesy ones, he believed. The silver-haired man’s eyes flickered to her hand then, as if he hadn’t even moved, he held up a drink that mimicked hers.

“Forgive me?” He grinned with confidence, amusement, and a hint of arrogance.

___________

Next

Fanfic Masterlist

[daisyvisions]

I ended up reading through some more of your works (it's how I noticed the reply 😅) and I really do love it! I hope writing can always bring you joy because you really are so good at it (in my unprofessional opinion) 💕

I'm looking forward to your juyeon pieces as well as what you have planned for the other members! and the lack of juyeon content really ie criminal 😭 so we all appreciate the efforts you're going to to try to bring out more of him.

the juyeon thoughts are bringing this convo to a 180 😭 but we all know how juyeon has massive hands (they are absolutely gorgeous). we also know that he doesn't really get mad mad a lot. he's sweet and easy-going for the most part. but what if you're acting up in front of some of the members and juyeon is really fighting to stay in control but soon, he's had enough.

imagije if he just shoves his fingers in your mouth in front of everyone. "since you seem to have trouble keeping that bratty little mouth of yours from running, let's put it to good use," initially just the tip. he knows you're a whore for him and his hands. you're whining around it, trying to take more but his other hand grabs your cheeks, stilling you. "now dear, let's not be greedy. you take what you're given."

the others don't know whether to stay or leave, especially not when Juyeon says "show us what else that mouth of yours can do" either way, it stirs something in you and you're sucking his fingers like it's his cock. you must appear starved but that couldn't be further from the truth. saliva is dripping down your chin. and whilst you're doing your best around his fingers, juyeon appears to pay you little mind, continuing his casual conversation with the others (who are clearly affected by the display). and so, you're left to clench your thighs to try to relieve some kind of tension in you.

juyeon's fingers are probably long enough to reach the back of your throat so when he's feeling... generous, shall we say, he'll suddenly push further in just to keep you on your toes and to enjoy the sweet startled gagging noises as you choke on his fingers.

when he's satisfied with your work (or even if he decides you're enjoying yourself too much), he'll pull out. you probably won't be surprised if his fingers were pruning. he'll draw his fingers carelessly along your line of drool, probably chuckling as you mindlessly chase after him. "where did my brat go, hmm? acting up because we have company. so good when you want to be, arent you?" he'll pull you in close and mumble a promise in your ear, "I'll deal with you properly later"

anyways, that was just a juyeon thought I had recently 🫠😅 idek if it makes sense 😭

i hope everything is good with you! and there's no worries about the response time!! I understand that everyone has a life offscreen-I'm just glad I got to express my joy for your writing 💕

i think for emoji sign off, I might pick the tea/coffee emoji ☕️ though I don't know if I'll be extremely active

thank you daisy!! I hope you have a lovely day 💕

-☕️

Thank you for your kind words and supporting by reading the other fics 🥺 really means a lot esp nowadays when I feel like I've lost my touch huhu

babe.... that was absolutely hot and it's giving ideas... like seriously that would be so hot omg 😩 I might even consider using this as a reference to a fic too (if I may ask for your permission ofc hehe)

everything's okay (I hope), work lately has been so bad mentally I honestly need a break soon huhu but trying my best and trying my best to be more active again here too! hop you're having a lovely day/night!! 💕

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

19th October >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Wednesday, Twenty Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

    or 

Saints John de Brébeuf and Isaac Jogues, priests, and their Companions, Martyrs

    or 

Saint Paul of the Cross, Priest.

Wednesday, Twenty Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

Ephesians 3:2-12

The pagans now share the same inheritance.

You have probably heard how I have been entrusted by God with the grace he meant for you, and that it was by a revelation that I was given the knowledge of the mystery, as I have just described it very shortly. If you read my word you will have some idea of the depths that I see in the mystery of Christ. This that has now been revealed through the Spirit to his holy apostles and prophets was unknown to any men in past generations; it means that pagans now share the same inheritance, that they are parts of the same body, and that the same promise has been made to them, in Jesus Christ, through the gospel. I have been made the servant of that gospel by a gift of grace from God who gave it to me by his own power. I, who am less than the least of all the saints have been entrusted with this special grace, not only of proclaiming to the pagans the infinite treasure of Christ but also of explaining how the mystery is to be dispensed. Through all the ages, this has been kept hidden in God, the creator of everything. Why? So that the Sovereignties and Powers should learn only now, through the Church, how comprehensive God’s wisdom really is, exactly according to the plan which he had had from all eternity in Christ Jesus our Lord. This is why we are bold enough to approach God in complete confidence, through our faith in him.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Isaiah 12

The rejoicing of a redeemed people.

R/ With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.

Truly, God is my salvation,    I trust, I shall not fear. For the Lord is my strength, my song,    he became my saviour. With joy you will draw water    from the wells of salvation.

R/ With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.

Give thanks to the Lord, give praise to his name!    Make his mighty deeds known to the peoples!    Declare the greatness of his name.

R/ With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.

Sing a psalm to the Lord    for he has done glorious deeds;    make them known to all the earth! People of Zion, sing and shout for joy,    for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.

R/ With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.

Gospel Acclamation

John 10:27

Alleluia, alleluia! The sheep that belong to me listen to my voice, says the Lord, I know them and they follow me. Alleluia!

Or:

Matthew 24:42,44

Alleluia, alleluia! Stay awake and stand ready, because you do not know the hour when the Son of Man is coming. Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 12:39-48

The Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.

Jesus said to his disciples:

   ‘You may be quite sure of this, that if the householder had known at what hour the burglar would come, he would not have let anyone break through the wall of his house. You too must stand ready, because the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.’

   Peter said, ‘Lord, do you mean this parable for us, or for everyone?’ The Lord replied, ‘What sort of steward, then, is faithful and wise enough for the master to place him over his household to give them their allowance of food at the proper time? Happy that servant if his master’s arrival finds him at this employment. I tell you truly, he will place him over everything he owns. But as for the servant who says to himself, “My master is taking his time coming,” and sets about beating the menservants and the maids, and eating and drinking and getting drunk, his master will come on a day he does not expect and at an hour he does not know. The master will cut him off and send him to the same fate as the unfaithful.

   The servant who knows what his master wants, but has not even started to carry out those wishes, will receive very many strokes of the lash. The one who did not know, but deserves to be beaten for what he has done, will receive fewer strokes. When a man has had a great deal given him, a great deal will be demanded of him; when a man has had a great deal given him on trust, even more will be expected of him.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saints John de Brébeuf and Isaac Jogues, priests, and their Companions, Martyrs

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

2 Corinthians 4:7-15

Such an overwhelming power comes from God and not from us.

We are only the earthenware jars that hold this treasure, to make it clear that such an overwhelming power comes from God and not from us. We are in difficulties on all sides, but never cornered; we see no answer to our problems, but never despair; we have been persecuted, but never deserted; knocked down, but never killed; always, wherever we may be, we carry with us in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus, too, may always be seen in our body. Indeed, while we are still alive, we are consigned to our death every day, for the sake of Jesus, so that in our mortal flesh the life of Jesus, too, may be openly shown. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

   But as we have the same spirit of faith that is mentioned in scripture – I believed, and therefore I spoke – we too believe and therefore we too speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus to life will raise us with Jesus in our turn, and put us by his side and you with us. You see, all this is for your benefit, so that the more grace is multiplied among people, the more thanksgiving there will be, to the glory of God.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 125(126):1-6

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

When the Lord delivered Zion from bondage,    it seemed like a dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter,    on our lips there were songs.

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

The heathens themselves said: ‘What marvels    the Lord worked for them!’ What marvels the Lord worked for us!    Indeed we were glad.

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

Deliver us, O Lord, from our bondage    as streams in dry land. Those who are sowing in tears    will sing when they reap.

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

They go out, they go out, full of tears,    carrying seed for the sowing: they come back, they come back, full of song,    carrying their sheaves.

R/ Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

Gospel Acclamation

Matthew 28:19,20

Alleluia, alleluia! Go, make disciples of all the nations. I am with you always; yes, to the end of time. Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 28:16-20

Go and make disciples of all nations.

The eleven disciples set out for Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had arranged to meet them. When they saw him they fell down before him, though some hesitated. Jesus came up and spoke to them. He said, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Paul of the Cross, Priest

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

1 Corinthians 1:18-25

We preach a crucified Christ, the power and wisdom of God.

The language of the cross may be illogical to those who are not on the way to salvation, but those of us who are on the way see it as God’s power to save. As scripture says: I shall destroy the wisdom of the wise and bring to nothing all the learning of the learned. Where are the philosophers now? Where are the scribes? Where are any of our thinkers today? Do you see now how God has shown up the foolishness of human wisdom? If it was God’s wisdom that human wisdom should not know God, it was because God wanted to save those who have faith through the foolishness of the message that we preach. And so, while the Jews demand miracles and the Greeks look for wisdom, here are we preaching a crucified Christ; to the Jews an obstacle that they cannot get over, to the pagans madness, but to those who have been called, whether they are Jews or Greeks, a Christ who is the power and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 116(117):1-2

R/ Go out to the whole world; proclaim the Good News. or R/ Alleluia!

O praise the Lord, all you nations,    acclaim him all you peoples!

R/ Go out to the whole world; proclaim the Good News. or R/ Alleluia!

Strong is his love for us;    he is faithful for ever.

R/ Go out to the whole world; proclaim the Good News. or R/ Alleluia!

Gospel Acclamation

Matthew 5:6

Alleluia, alleluia! Happy those who hunger and thirst for what is right: they shall be satisfied. Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 16:24-27

Anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.

Jesus said to his disciples: ‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it. What, then, will a man gain if he wins the whole world and ruins his life? Or what has a man to offer in exchange for his life?

   ‘For the Son of Man is going to come in the glory of his Father with his angels, and, when he does, he will reward each one according to his behaviour.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[legends-of-time]

The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 40: Late September 1924

Masterlist

Emma is at breakfast with Robert, Tom, Edith, and Rose, attended by Mr Carson when Mr Molesley brings in a telegram on the salver and hands it to Mr Carson. Emma watches curiously to see him take it to Edith, who is talking to Rose. Surprised, she takes it and opens it. She looks horrified at what she reads there. The rest of them exchange uneasy looks. Nobody says a word because they all know what this is, what it likely is.

Her editor is on his way to see her which can only mean one thing.

Since Tom is busy with meetings, Emma joins Cora, Mary, Edith, Robert, and Rose for lunch. Edith is dreadfully pale and silent, and the atmosphere is very subdued.

"Do we know when he'll get here?" Mary asks her father.

"Later this afternoon." Cora replies.

Thankfully Robert changes the topic. "I should have some drawings for you all to look at before too long."

"What sort of drawings?" Rose asks.

"Ideas for how we could renovate the run-down houses in the Village."

"Why is there such a building spurt?"

"Because the war showed how half the population were very badly housed." Emma replies.

"They were shocked by how unhealthy some of the new recruits were." Robert explains. "'You cannot expect to get an A1 population out of C3 homes.'"

"Who said that?" Cora asks.

"I think it was on a poster." Robert admits. Rose and Emma share an amused smile at that.

"I heard from Charles today. He and Tony are competing in the point-to-point at Canningford on Saturday." Mary tells them.

Emma looks at Mary curiously. Tony Gillingham? Honestly, Emma is getting sick of hearing the man's name. He's one of these men who seem to not understand that when a woman says no, she means it.

"Atticus was talking about that." Rose adds.

Emma looks at her curiously. "Atticus?"

"Atticus Aldridge, the chap I met in York."

"Has he become a friend?" Cora asks.

"Yes, he has, rather." It's Mary that Emma shares an amused smile with this time. "His parents, the Sinderbys, have bought Canningford Grange."

"And now they're wooing the county." Robert remarks. "Lord Sinderby's rich, isn't he?"

"Who'd take it on if they weren't?" Mary points out.

"Well, why don't we all go, make a day of it?" Rose suggests.

"Yes, we could ask Granny and Isobel and take the children." Mary agrees. "Emma?"

Emma nods. "Why not. I'm sure Dr Clarkson will survive without me for one day. Be good to have an outing with the children."

Mary turns to her mother. "Shall I tell Charles they can stay here?"

"Of course, if you want them to."

All this time, Edith is suffering through what must sound like completely meaningless chatter to her.

"When this fellow arrives, it would be nice if you could leave Edith and me to see him on our own." Robert says.

——

The editor arrives as he said he would. Emma can't help but linger outside the Drawing room, anxiously waiting to hear that Michael Gregson is officially dead. To hear what they all expect and dread.

Her pacing up and down the Great Hall is paused when the editor exits followed by Robert. Emma can tell be is his face that it's true.

Edith emerges then and Emma hurries over and wraps her in a hug. It takes a moment before Edith returns it. After a short while, Edith pulls away.

"I think I need some air." Edith says.

"I'll come with you." Emma offers.

Edith shakes her head. "No, no I want to be on my own." She looks on the verge of tears.

——

Emma goes to her shirt at the Hospital that evening in a daze. They have been thinking Michael was dead for over two years but to hear it confirmed makes Emma's heartbreak and as she thinks of the pain Edith is in and the pain Michael must've been in during his last moments. A silver lining is that Edith will inherit Michael's publishing company.

The next day, Emma learns that Sergeant Willis is coming back with the Inspector again but this time it is to see Miss Baxter of all people.

The day wasn't busy so Emma gets an extended lunch break. She takes the chance to go home and spend a short while with the children before heading out again. She's just coming down the stairs to go back to work when she hears someone call her name.

She turns to see that it is Thomas, holding a flat wooden box and looking like death warmed over twice at this point.

"Thomas?" She walks over to him slowly as if she's afraid she'll startle him and run away, which wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility.

"I need to talk with you, please?" He looks close to a total breakdown. His voice is shaking. Emma's heart breaks.

"Uh, yes. Yes, of course."

Thomas leads her up the stairs and into the attic before arriving outside the bathroom in the men's Servant Quarters.

He opens the door. "Come in here."

Emma having felt the nervousness build up inside her the entire time he's been following him, is hesitant to go in, but follows him inside. Thomas closes the door and bolts it, which makes Emma swallow heavily. Thomas puts the wooden case down on a dresser and opens it. Inside are a hypodermic syringe, glass phials and pill boxes. Oh, God.

"I'm sorry about this." He speaks.

"Go on. I can take it." Emma urges. She's here now so...

Thomas opens the fly of his trousers and pulls them down far enough so she can see the huge, inflamed abscess on his backside.

"Christ." Emma hears herself whisper as she struggles to look at it.

Thomas pulls his trousers back up. "I thought it would pass, but it just keeps getting worse. I can't sleep."

Emma feels tears well up in her eyes. "I'm not surprised."

"Help me." She stares at him in shock. "You were always asking if I need help. Well, now's your chance. I don't know what to do."

Emma swallows, gathering herself. "We're going to Dr Clarkson, now." Thomas looks down, accepting the inevitable. Emma talks in a fast and firm voice, taking charge. "And we'll show him the... syringe, and the liquid you've injected, all the pills you've been taking, all of it. Follow me down in five minutes, and we'll meet by the backdoor. And bring everything with you, do you understand?"

Thomas nods.

Emma needs to get out of here. She moves towards the door and opens it, but Thomas pushes it closed again.

"I've done something that I shouldn't have. And if you knew what it was, you wouldn't want to be part of this."

"I know what it was. Now, come down in five minutes." Emma replies.

——

Dr Clarkson is surprised when Emma returns to work with Thomas in tow, but when he realises the situation, he immediately gets to work with his examination. Emma hovers, assisting him when he needs it.

Emma has to hold back a sob as she hears Thomas explain what's been happening to Dr Clarkson. She's glad when Thomas moves behind the screen to get dressed in his clothes again.

"Well, that's all done." Dr Clarkson says to her as they wash their hands.

"So, it won't trouble him further?" Emma asks.

"Not as long as he stops poisoning himself." Dr Clarkson replies.

"You've had a look at the things he brought, then?"

Thomas steps out from behind the screen then.

Dr Clarkson turns to him. "You've been injecting yourself with a solution of saline. It obviously wasn't sterilised." He takes his coat off. "Repeated injections would cause fever, and abscesses at the site."

"Christ." Emma mutters.

"I assume this is a course of treatment you've spent money on?" Dr Clarkson asks.

"Yes, a lot of money." Thomas replies. "I went to London for what they call electrotherapy. And the pills and injections were supposed to continue the process."

"The purpose of which was...?"

Thomas hesitates in replying, he glances over at Emma, who tries to give him an encouraging nod though she feels ready to cry as she knows the answer already.

"To change me. To make me more like other people. Other men." His voice is so low it's nearly a whisper.

Dr Clarkson has put his jacket back on and moves to stand behind his desk. "Well, I'll not be coy and pretend I don't understand. Nor do I blame you. But there is no drug, no electric shock, that will achieve what you want."

"You mean I've been taken for a mug."

"My advice to you, Thomas, would be to accept the burden that chance has seen fit to lay upon you. And to fashion as good a life as you are able. Remember - harsh reality is always better than false hope."

Thomas nods.

——

Dr Clarkson happily gives Emma the rest of the day off so Emma joins Thomas in walking back to the house. It had begun to rain while they were inside.

"Well, that'll give you a good laugh." Thomas remarks.

Emma does not feel like laughing in the least. "It won't."

They step through the gate into the street. Thomas opens an umbrella and holds it for them both while they walk along through the Village.

"And I don't expect you to understand, but I think it shows you to be a very brave person." Emma says.

Thomas laughs. "What?" He says incredulously.

"To inflict such pain on yourself to achieve your goal. Think what you could do in this world if you just set your mind to it." Emma says, trying to find the silver lining in this whole situation.

Thomas looks at her, then laughs again. "You're daft, you know that?"

It takes a moment, but then she smiles back.

——

Emma joins Cora, Robert, and Rose in the Library. She sits across from Rose, who's reading a book, on a red settee with a book. Isis is lying listlessly on the carpet, with Cora in an armchair at her side, looking through a magazine. Robert is at the writing desk.

"Why did you finish work early?" Cora questions as Emma makes herself comfortable across from Rose.

Emma shrugs in what she hopes is a casual way. "Dr Clarkson said he didn't need me. He'll call if there's an emergency."

Rose looks up from her book. "I must telephone Atticus to warn him we're all coming."

"Why don't you ask him for dinner tonight if he's free?" Cora suggests.

Emma is happy with the change in conversation. "What a great idea."

"Could I?" Rose asks eagerly before realising and toning it down to what she likely hopes is casual. "I mean, just as a friend."

"Oh, just as a friend, absolutely." Cora says. She smiles knowingly with Emma. Rose eagerly runs out.

Robert comes ambling over to them and squats down to pat Isis. "I wish Isis would perk up. I might ask Stapeley to have a look at her."

"It can't hurt." Cora replies

"So, what's the plan with the cottages?" Emma asks.

"We've found the designs we're looking for." Robert replies as he strokes Isis' ears. "They are on the cheaper side, but since we would have to wait twenty years before be gain any real profit, I think it's worth it."

Emma nods. "The important thing is that people are in a good home."

"Precisely."

——

They are all gathered in the Drawing room before dinner, including Violet, Isobel and, for the first time, Atticus. All except Mary, who apparently has a surprise for all of them.

She calls from outside the door. "Is everybody ready?"

Everyone turns to look expectantly at the door. Emma sits near where Atticus and Rose are gathered near the fireplace, so she hears them talk to each other quietly.

"What is this?" Atticus asks in an undertone.

"Oh, it's my cousin Mary. She says she's got a surprise for us. You'll love her." Rose replies.

Atticus, while beaming, says, "I intend to love everybody."

Aw, young love.

"Ready or not, I'm coming in."

Thomas, who thankfully is beginning to look a bit better already, comes in and holds the door for her and Mary appears, sporting a new bobbed haircut. Everyone ohs and ahs.

"Pola Negri comes to Yorkshire!" Isobel remarks.

"Well, we really are living in the modern world." Cora echoes.

"Definitely suits you." Emma adds.

Robert, Tom, and Billy, who are in a corner of the room at a jigsaw puzzle game, look up in astonishment. Mary does a pirouette to show off her new hairstyle.

"Golly, I'm jealous." Rose says before gesturing to Atticus. "Mary, this is Atticus Aldridge."

Mary shakes his hand. "At last, Mr Aldridge. Rose has talked of nothing else."

"Oh, she's only teasing." Rose quickly butts in.

"Can't I take it as a compliment?" They're grinning at each other like idiots.

Mary turns to her grandmother. "Granny, what do you think?"

Violet looks at her unimpressed. "Oh. It is you. I thought it was a man wearing your clothes."

Emma's smile drops when she notices Edith, who sits quietly in a corner, the only woman wearing all black, looking very unhappy.

"Emma's right, it suits you." Tom complements.

Robert, however, is not even looking any more.

"Papa, do you agree?"

"It's certainly just the sort of thing I would expect of you." Robert says diplomatically.

Edith gets up and comes face to face with Mary.

"I suppose you disapprove?" Mary says to her sister.

Edith looks at her sister in disbelief and anger. "Not especially. I'm just amazed that even you would choose the day after I learn the man I love is dead to try out a new fashion."

"I don't believe that's quite fair." Cora says.

This doesn't stop Edith. "And if that weren't enough, you've planned a jolly picnic for Saturday. Am I really expected to join in?"

"Hopefully not, as you usually spoil everything." Mary says, irritated.

"Huh. Yes, I do. It seems I do." Edith says bitterly. "Goodnight, Mama. I'll have a tray in my room." She turns to Atticus. "I'm sorry, Mr Aldridge, but you might as well know what we're like." Edith walks out. Mary sighs. Atticus looks extremely uncomfortable.

"Poor darling. She's so unhappy." Cora says sympathetically.

"But she hasn't clapped eyes on him for years. She must have known long ago he was dead. We all did.

"It doesn't ease the pain, surely you of all people know that." Emma argues.

"Should we go on Saturday?" Isobel wonders.

"Please don't cancel." Atticus pleads.

"Rose and I are going, whether you're coming or not." Mary retorts.

"Maybe it would be good for her to have a bit of time on her own to think." Robert says.

"All this endless thinking. It's very overrated." Violet remarks.

"Oh, Aunt Violet, I do love you." Rose says awkwardly.

"I blame the war. Before 1914, nobody thought about anything at all." Violet gets to her feet as if to lead the way into the Dining room even though dinner hasn't been announced yet, but what would that matter to her?

——

Emma had already asked for the day off on Saturday.

Emma watches as people mill around on the Sinderby's new estate, waiting for the start of the steeplechase. A bookmaker is taking bets. The horses, with numbers on their saddlecloths, are being led to the starting point.

Emma had taken Ivy and Michael around. Both had stared at it all with wide eyes, bouncing with excitement.

A little later, a line of riders, both men and women, can be seen racing across a field and jumping fences. Emma joins Robert in watching the race through their binoculars at the edge of the canopy where they are joined by Cora, Isobel, Violet, Rose, Billy, Tony Gillingham, and Charles Blake at various tables.

Emma is anxiously chewing her lip the entire time, particularly when one of the riders is thrown. Emma joins in with the spectators in cheering as they approach the end point of the race.

Emma moves back to her seat. Charles is sitting next to her, dressed for riding, and looking like he's almost sick with nerves but he gives her a weak smile.

"I hope I will get that enthusiasm when I'm out there." He remarks.

Emma gives him a pitying smile. "Don't worry. I'll be your number one supporter."

Charles chuckles. "Where's Mr Branson?"

"This isn't exactly his scene." He'd also argued that he had a new tenancy contract to check and that he wanted to go through the figures for the repair shop. Emma wondered how necessary most of that is but she doesn't argue.

Robert moves to sit next to Isobel and Violet at the other table. He leans back to talk to Charles. "Well, I think you are very brave."

Charles looks like he would've scoffed if he wasn't so nervous. "Brave? I'm petrified. I don't even know the horse I'm riding."

"How long is the course?" Rose asks Tony.

"Three miles. Twice round a course of a mile-and-a-half, to sort of–" he gestures, "–where you can see that steeple over there."

A woman, also dressed in riding clothes, including breeches rather than the more traditional riding dress for women, comes walking in under the canopy. "Well, hello."

Tony looks at her in surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?" He seems familiar with this woman.

"What do you think? Riding a point-to-point." The woman replies. Tony kisses her cheek. Very familiar.

Robert stands up and walks over to them. "Won't someone introduce us?"

"Miss Mabel Lane Fox. Lord Grantham." Mabel nods pleasantly to Robert.

This gets Emma to sit up straight. This is Mabel Lane Fox?!

"Where are you staying?" Charles asks her, now standing.

"Last night I was with the Lawsons at Brough, but they're away tonight so I'll head back to London." Mabel replies.

"What a trek. You'll be exhausted." Blake remarks. Emma gives him a suspicious glance. Is he up to something?

"You're perfectly welcome to stay with us." Cora invites. "Lord Gillingham and Mr Blake will be there."

"Have you brought enough clothes?" Violet asks.

"Oh, I think so." Mabel remarks.

"I know so." Charles says. He and Mabel exchange a grin, the significance of which escapes everyone else, especially Tony though Emma gives them a suspicious glance. If he's trying to push Tony back to Mabel, Emma isn't complaining.

Mary and Atticus then arrive, also in riding gear, Mary in a skirt.

"What's this? Where have you been?" Robert questions

"Mr Aldridge and I fixed it last night. His nice parents let me change at the house." Mary explains.

"I do wish you'd call me Atticus." Atticus says.

"I must say I admire you." Robert says.

"It'd be a poor show not to ride at our own event."

"Quite right. I shall cheer you on." Rose beams. Atticus returns it.

"When did you decide to ride?" Billy asks Mary.

"Yesterday, when I was having my hair done in York." Mary says.

"What about a horse?" Robert wonders.

"Stephen rode Trumpeter over this morning. They're down by the starting post."

"This really does seem like too much of a coincidence. Are you stalking me?" Tony says to Mabel.

"I shall ignore that, as I'd hate to think of you as a vain man." Ugh, apparently being stalked is supposed to be taken as a compliment in these times.

"Well, you certainly know how to surprise."

"That sounds like a compliment. I must say hello to Charles." She walks past him towards Blake. Tony looks like he feels like an idiot but quickly brushes it off as he leans over to greet Atticus, who has taken a seat next to Emma. When Mabel arrives at Blake's table, he kisses her on the cheek. The two begin whispering together before she gives him a friendly pat on the arm. They are definitely up to something.

——

The steeplechase is still in full swing. It's the next group's turn, including Tony, Charles, Mabel, Mary, and Atticus.

Just outside the canopy, Robert is carrying George on his arm as he looks through a pair of binoculars. Next to him, Billy holds Sybbie, Emma with Ivy while Nanny is carrying Michael on her hip and pointing. Rose had gone off to cheer on among the spectators while Cora, Violet, and Isobel watch from inside the canopy.

They watch on as the participants climb onto their horses, getting ready to go.

"They're just about ready to go." Robert observes.

Sybbie looks towards her grandfather. "Let George look, Donk." Robert sighs at the nickname but holds the binoculars for George. The two-year-old frowns in concentration as he looks through them.

Sybbie turns back to the binoculars her father is holding for her. "Daddy, look! Aunt Mary!"

"I can see her too!" Ivy cries.

Emma laughs and Billy grins. "Very good." The latter says.

The riders and their horses ride to the starting post. Emma chews her lip anxiously. Here's praying for no accidents.

The riders line up. A man with a flag gives the signal to start, and they're off. The crowd cheers.

Ivy smiles and chatters happily in her mother's arms as they share a pair of binoculars between them. Ivy turns to look over her shoulder at Sybbie, gesturing and chattering to which Sybbie replies. Billy and Emma share a grin over their daughters' heads.

Mary is racing along with the best of them, overtaking Charles. Tony and Mabel are racing side by side. Emma can see that Mabel is laughing.

Mary sets her horse at a frighteningly high fence and takes it with ease. They soon arrive back at the starting post and slow down, finishing the first round. Mary is the first woman to finish. Emma claps and cheers with her children, Nanny, Robert, George, Billy and Sybbie.

——

Emma, Billy, Cora, and Robert emerge from the canopy as Mary, Blake, Rose, and Atticus go to meet them after getting some drinks.

"Well done, and thank God you're all back in one piece," Robert remarks. A tweed-clad couple comes walking towards them. "Who's this?"

"These are my parents." Atticus explains, before introducing everyone, "Mother, Father, this is Lord and Lady Grantham, Emma Branson, Billy Prior. Lady Mary you already know. Lord Gillingham, Mabel Lane Fox, Charles Blake and, of course, Rose."

Nods and bows all around.

"Lady Rose, how lovely to see you again." Lady Sinderby greets warmly. Good to see Rose is on good terms with her potential mother-in-law. "Why don't you all come back to the house to bathe and change?"

"I'm going to leave it until we get back to Downton but thank you." Tony replies.

"I can't tempt you to stay for dinner?"

"Not today, when we're all covered in dust. Why don't you all come to Downton tomorrow for dinner?" Cora invites.

"That seems rather an imposition." Lord Sinderby says.

"Not at all."

"Then we'd be delighted." Lady Sinderby accepts, looking almost pointedly at her husband.

"You haven't met my mother-in-law and our cousin, Mrs Crawley." Cora gestures at the two ladies, who have remained at their table under the canopy.

Lady Sinderby nods across to them. "Good afternoon." Her husband touches his hat.

——

Edith is gone. That's what Tom said when they all returned to Downton. She didn't tell him much, just that she needed to leave. He had offered to give her a lift somewhere but she had refused, saying she would take one of the cars to the Station and leave the keys with the station master.

Tom immediately offers to walk down to the Station to collect it. Emma hurries after her husband.

"Did she really not say why?" She questions him as he gathers his coat and hat.

"No, she didn't. She wouldn't say," Tom admits, "but it has to be about Michael Gregson, right?"

Emma frowns. "Suppose so. I can't help but think it might be something else as well."

"Like what?" Tom asks as he shrugs on his coat and places his hat on his head.

A little girl at the farm that Edith seems so attached to in recent months. One where she looked heartbroken at the idea of spending time away from her.

"I don't know I can't say, not just yet."

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[companionwolf]

Paper Crowns

Central only remembers the Commander’s tendency for strangely theatric retelling of Jewish stories once they’re up on the bar, wearing a cape made of their bedsheet and a paper crown.

Judging from the shaky steps and ruddy face, they’re at least a little drunk. Definitely tipsy, Central thinks, tugging at the collar of his sweater. He weaves his way through the throng of chattering crew, finding a spot at the end of the bar to look up at the Commander and shake his head.

“Get down from there,” he says, “you’ll fall.”

“Fuck you, it’s Purim,” they answer, before ungracefully tripping over their cape and falling with a crash behind the bar; Central sighs at the sound of glass breaking and swearing.

Their head pops up over the edge, hair and face slick and dripping with liquid from broken bottles and blood. “It’s all good! All’s well! I’m fine!”

“There’s blood all over your face,” Central says. “I think you gave yourself a nose bleed.” And slashed a cut across your forehead, he thinks, eyeing the wound.

“I said I’m fine!” they say louder, as they wipe their face with their hands, fingers flickering purple as they brush them against the forehead cut. They pat at their head, find its bare, and then drop back down again, reappearing once more with their now slightly crushed and dampened crown.

“Gotta be...in character...or something,” the Commander manages to mutter to him while clambering back up onto the bar.

“Hey everybody!” they yell.

The throng’s chatter dials down a tick; Mox, Outrider, and Kelly standing near the dart board, stop in their discussion and look toward the bar. Central sees the Skirmisher say something that makes the two laugh as they take in the Commander.

“Y’all remember storytime back in December?” the Commander asks the crowd as they open a beer; murmurs of “Yeah” and “is this the spring one?” reply.

They go on, prancing back and forth across the bar top. “We’re doing it again, but this time it’s a one person theater performance!” They pause. “Technically it’s called a spiel, because Jews love fancy words. I dunno guys, it’s just always been called a spiel and I ain’t stopping now. Anyway, here we fucking go!”

They pantomime drawing back a curtain with their free hand, sashaying to the center of the bar.

“The setting is Ancient Persia, in the city of Shushuan. That’s Sector...uh, well it’s definitely a sector. Middle Eastern area. Anyway, Persia has this king. He’s got this name that practically no one can pronounce or write properly— Ashashearetz? Ahasearus? Ashehaha? Something starting with A.”

They shrug.

“So, King Asparagus has this feast. It’s a long event, multiple days. And on the last day he’s drunk as shit and goes ‘Queen, get naked for us! show off for us!’ And the Queen, name’s Vashti, understandably goes ‘Fuck no’ which me too. Who wants to get undressed for a bunch of weird drunk guys?”

A shudder runs through them; a few of the girls shout agreement, Kelly yelling from her place on Outrider's lap “Stick it to the man, Vashti!’

“Damn right,” the Commander says. “Course, this is a king who is also very drunk, so he’s pissed as hell she’s not obeying, and in a rage sends her away. Some texts interpret this as she’s killed for her action but since I’m an optimist we’re saying she’s just kicked out. The servants of the king go ‘well shit we can’t have no Queen’ to which Asphalt answers, ‘We're gonna have a pageant! All the girls of the land shall come to the palace and I will choose a new wife from them!’ And so that event was set up, because king says it, you better do it, unless you’re Vashti and are kind are fucking badass.”

“Where’s the Jewish people?” calls someone.

“We’re getting there,” they answer. “So there’s this guy named Mordecai, who also has a name no one can agree on a spelling for. Mordecai is the adopted dad of his orphan niece Ester, who like all the girls, goes to the pageant to be judged."

“Now there’s this guy named Haman—“ The Commander cuts themselves off, snarls. “Sorry, it’s tradition. Make noise when I say the fucker’s name, ok? Scream, stamp your feet, whatever, just drown it out. Let’s practice: Haman—!”

A cacophony answers, hooting and hollering. Someone does a Wilhelm scream, another person starts rapping. The Commander nods, looking thoughtful.

"A little unconventional, since we don't have the little spinny noise makers but you all seem like you get the concept well enough to compensate," they say. "So remember -- everytime I say that name, just … freak the fuck out. Cool? Cool. Let's move on."

The Commander readjust their crown, and then with their free hand and a Psionic wave, pulls something from behind the bar. It's a crocheted three pointed hat-- they throw it out to the crew.

"That," they say, "is the hat of our antagonist, Haman." They pause to let the jeering die down. "Now this motherfucker is the councilor of the king. What is a councilor? I don't actually know, but I think it's analogous to whatever me and Central have going on.

"So they're gay," says Kelly.

The Commander flushes red. "Demoted to rookie!" they bark, but they're laughing too. "In any case that would definitely add a dimension to this story that rabbis…probably have argued about honestly but no, they're not gay as far as I know and remember, just stupid on the king's part and evil on Haman's."

Another phase for the noise, and then they continue. "So evil not-Central, because my second is good and lovely and also Jewish, is able to kind of do whatever he wants, because Persia's government is kind of not sensible in the slightest. so he goes 'everyone must bow to me when I go by, because fuck you' and makes it a law."

"So the Jewish people do not follow this man's law?" says Mox.

The Commander points a finger gun at him with their free hand. "Yes! Specifically Mordecai, because he is also smug and a motherfucker but considerably less powerful. Anyway, we love Mordecai. Haman…does not and he's pissed, naturally."

"And they fistfight," says Kelly.

"God I wish," the Commander says, tipping their beer toward her. "No, instead we shift away from evil hat man to Mordecai proper, because our good Jewish boy has overhead some fuckery from the palace guards. It goes a little bit like "killing the king is my plan for Monday.' 'OH shit ME TOO lets do it together <3'."

Someone shouts, "How the HELL did you make a heart with your voice?"

The Commander shrugs, takes a long swig off their drink. "Psions can do weird shit," they say. "Can I keep going?" Central nods at them from his place at the end of the bar.

"So Mordecai goes and tells the king that maybe he should deal with that, and he does, and all's well," the Commander continues. "So well, in fact, that the king goes to Haman and asks 'what would you do for someone so amazing and good and nice that you just have to honor them?' And Haman, who's internally like HAHA ITS FOR ME, answers 'money, fancy shit, and let the entire kingdom know of my I mean their greatness.' The king nods. 'Go," he says, 'do that for my man Mordecai."

The Commander pauses, grinning. "Haman pissed off 2 times combo. So much that he starts plotting. And this scares the shit out of Mordecai, but CUT JUMP ITS PAGEANT TIME."

To emphasize their words, the Commander jumps along the bar, misses their mark, falls off again. Central sighs into his hands as they clamber back up, brushing off more shattered glass and alcohol.

"Are you…okay?" asks Outrider.

"...Yes," the Commander says.

"You hesitated!" Kelly says.

"I'm very well," they say. "Superb."

"Maybe someone should…take that drink from you," says another soldier. The Commander shakes their head.

"I am allowed one drunk day a year and that day is called Purim," they say. "I'm good. It's all good. Let's see what's happening at the pageant."

They draw their cape around them like a dress. "So, Esther. Everyone remembers me mentioning her? Niece of Mordecai? Thing about Ester is she’s the hottest and baddest girl in town, so naturally the king picks her at the pageant. And off she goes, becoming queen and chilling in the palace, with one caveat— she’s Jewish as hell and nobody knows, save her uncle."

"I see where this is going," someone calls.

"Do you? Great, don't spoil it," says the Commander. "Meanwhile, Haman. Finishes his plotting. Plot result: KILL THE JEWS. Very original, say the Jews at this. Super good job, dude. Definitely not something we've dealt with."

The Commander waves their drink around. "Esther convenes with her uncle, who lets her know about Haman's plot and basically does to her what our pal the Spokesman did to me ala 'save our world' except the world here is literally every Jew."

"What are you on about?" someone asks. "Who's the Spokesman?"

"He used to be on the council who helped determine XCOM's funding," the Commander explains. "Everyone else started sucking alien dick except him so now he's a, uhh… he's a friend. A friend of ours. With inside benefits of sorts. We love him."

"Wow, I thought you were loyal to Central," says Kelly, grinning.

"Demoted to whatever is below rookie," they say. "I am not banging the Spokesman. What the hell, Kelly."

"If you are, we need to have a talk," Central says.

"I promise you I'm not, sweet Central," they say, sliding over to his end of the bar and tussling his hair.

"You two are so fucking weird," says someone. "Save it for the bedroom."

"Can we get back to the story?" says another.

"Yes we can, thank you," the Commander says, straightening back up and returning to the center of the bar. "So Mordecai drops this on Esther, who goes 'well damn' and starts Operation: Save the Jews. What does this include? Step one: extravagant banquet. Step two: fuck."

The crew exchanges looks. "Esther and the king?" akss someone. "Or uh…"

"Esther and her husband, yes, and once they've had food and fun times Esther goes oh lovely husband can I ask a favor? He goes of course. And she goes you'll protect me from anyone who wants to kill me, right? And he's like sure yeah okay. And she's like cool, another banquet tomorrow too. Be there. And he is."

The Commander pauses to take a breath. Mox is talking quietly to Outrider and Kelly, who are throwing small glances over to them. They arch an eyebrow. "What? What is it?"

"Are you sure you're not just making shit up again? To inspire us?"

"If you're inspired, great," the Commander says. "If not, that's also great. I'm just…" Their shoulders slacken a little, and they go from pompous tipsy performer to deeply sad and visibly drunk faster than Central has ever seen. "Trying to keep it alive. The stories, I mean."

They fumble for a new drink, take a long sip. "Anyway, at this new banquet, Haman's there too-- Esther actually invited him. And the king's like oh shit not what I expected but something i can work with."

"They fuck again?" guesses a rookie.

"I guess the king is thinking that, yeah but no, they're just eating and drinking and such," the Commander says with a shrug. So Esther goes 'so what if I told you I knew someone who does want to kill me? 'Well, they'd be dead,' says the king. 'Great, what if I said it was this dude?' Esther continues and points at Haman. Oh shit, Haman. Oh shit, says Esther, entirely different cadence and tone and everything."

"Oh shit seems like the least amount of exclamation," says Mox.

"There's probably a lot more than just that expletive, you're right," they say.

"Fuck," Mox says confidently.

"Absolutely," the Commander replies, nodding. "Okay, so. Esther reveals she's a Jew. Haman goes FUCK. The king goes TO THE GALLOWS WITH YOU which Haman was actually building for hanging Mordecai on so you know. Irony."

"You're telling it wrong," says someone from the crowd.

The Commander frowns.

"I don't remember my hometown's name, you think I can remember details of a holiday I missed 20 years of?" they ask.

"Sorry," comes the reply.

"It's chill," says the Commander, "my hometown sucked anyway. What am I missing?"

"It was for everyone," the soldier says. "Not just Mordecai."

"Ah," says the Commander. "That's… wildly inefficient."

"You sound like the Hunter," says Kelly, frowning.

The Commander blinks. "Horrific, thanks for informing me," they say.

"So they hung the hat man?" says someone. The Commander nods.

"And we have these little hat shaped cookies now, that we eat on Purim… good God I miss those a lot."

"We could make some," says Central. "I made cupcakes before, I can find the ingredients for that."

"Central I WILL kiss you if you make hamantaschen with me," they say.

"You'd kiss him anyway!" yells Kelly.

"Demoted!"

"I'm already at the bottom!" she answers. "Beyond it, even. You have no power over me anymore!"

The Commander rolls their eyes but they're grinning. "So back to the story, just for a second because we're at the end -- guess who the king makes councilor instead?"

"Mordecai?"

"Mox, you get a gold star, you're an excellent audience member," the Commander says. "Yes, Mordecai."

They give the crew a warm look. "So yeah," they say. "On Purim we dress in costumes, get drunk, and revel in the fact that those bastards haven't managed to kill us yet."

The Commander raises their newest beer to the ceiling. "A toast to us too, XCOM -- we're not dead yet either."

The crew toasts them back, and then the bar fills again with chatter and noise. The Commander slides off the bar and stumbles to the couch in the corner, dropping heavy onto the cushions.

Central approaches with water, gently pushing their crown back from falling off their head as he sits next to them. "You okay?" he asks.

"I had too much," they say, hiccuping around the water.

Central shakes his head at them, but his eyes are soft. "I liked your spiel," he says. "Never seen somebody do one all by themselves."

"I think I'll ask for help next time," they say, leaning against him. "It's more fun when it's more like a play."

"Mmm," he answers, wrapping an arm around them. "Next year, then."

"You think we'll still be fighting?"

Central hesitates. "I wouldn't put money on it in either case," he says.

The Commander closes their eyes. "It would be nice," they say with a sigh. "But yeah, let's not bet on it. Let's just… hope. Hope's good."

"Hope's good," Central repeats.

And he thinks, that at this moment, he really does believe it.

[peterpparkrr]

Pinned (pt. 5)

Series: Pinned

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Summary: A walk home and an intersession.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: n/a

A/N: sorry for the delay! Covid #shreked me so this one’s a short one.

prev. part // next part

“Lord Bridgerton,” A clear voice greets him as he pushes through the door of Mr. Raugland’s tailor shop.

Anthony didn’t think he would ever tire of how you say his name. The bite had disappeared from your words in the last few weeks, but the teasing tone remained, and he loves it.

He still can’t quite put his finger on what it is that draws him to you. Why you are the woman that has completely ensnared his attention. 

But he feels like he can’t get enough of you.

“To what do I owe this poorly timed pleasure?” You ask as you give him a knowing look. You want to admonish him, he can see it in your eyes. But, surprisingly, you hold your tongue, causing Anthony to break out into a wide grin, knowing he’s won.

You loathe to admit it. But you like Anthony Bridgerton. You like the attention he gives you. And the way he looks at you, like he wants to know you. To truly know every part of you, not just to undress you and have his way with you.

Though sometimes you feel his gaze heat as he looks at you and you know that there is that too. 

And even when he bothers you at the worst times, you can’t stay mad at him. Not when he smiles at you the way he does.

“I believe this is actually the perfect time to bother you, because you’re done at five today, which means you can help me find a new cravat,” Anthony explains as if it is obvious. “And then I can escort you home,” He adds as he lowers his voice to a near-whisper.

“You always have ulterior motives, Lord Bridgerton,” You reply as you cross your arms over your chest.

“No, I just need excuses to see you,” He tells you. “And your indifference wounds me, if I were a lesser man…” He trails off.

“A lesser man would have given up by now,” You remind him. 

“Which is exactly why I get to reap the spoils of my hard work,” He tells you. “Your company,” He adds when your eyebrows raise at his response.

“My company? Is that what it is?” You reply as you try not to smirk too broadly at him.

“Of course,” Anthony replies quickly as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“Of course.”

After helping Anthony pick out a cravat that would match his waistcoats he makes his purchase and is off with a heated look. After you help another customer you leave the shop in one of your coworker’s capable hands.

You gathered your belongings from the back and left out the back door. You find Anthony already waiting for you in the alley. 

“Shall we?” He asks.

You roll your eyes but nod as you both make your way, taking the long way, winding through London’s side streets as you two head back to your flat, talking of everything and nothing as you navigate the busy streets.

You’re nearly to your flat when Anthony suddenly reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you into an alleyway between buildings.

You gasp at the sudden movement, trying to right yourself as you press your hands into Anthony’s chest in an effort to keep yourself upright.

Anthony grins down at you as one of his hands finds its way to your neck, gently cradling your head.

“You can’t do that here!” You chastise him in a low hiss as your own hand moves to grab at his wrist and stop his movements.

“Who’s going to see?” Anthony challenges.

“All of my neighbors for one,” You argue as you give him a stern look.

He merely raises an eyebrow at you.

“Sorry, for us lowly peasants there is no entertainment except for our neighbors' comings and goings, I’m sure you would not understand, since you are such a high and mighty Lord of the realm-”

“That’s enough of that-” Anthony cuts you off as he grabs onto your forearm and pulls you back towards him.

And you know you shouldn’t. But you let him. 

He kisses you soundly. You’d assumed, perhaps naively, that after your first kiss, Anthony’s urgency would dissipate. But the man kisses like a man dying of thirst. His lips attack your own like he fears you may disappear any moment. 

And you feel like you just might.

He groans lowly as he presses ever harder against you. The space between you is long gone, but you still feel like it’s not enough. You want him inside of you. In a way that you can’t even fully describe. Not in the way that you know he wants, as you can feel the instance of his need low and heavy against your lower stomach, which sets something else alight deep within you. 

But then suddenly you remember you are just steps away from a busy street, fully in view, and fully in public, practically in broad daylight. 

 You gasp as you pull away from him.

“We must stop,” You tell him breathlessly.

“Must we?” Anthony asks lowly as his mouth still rests just beside your cheek. 

You are a very dangerous man, Anthony Bridgerton,”

Anthony growls in your ear as he finally pulls himself away from you and stares deeply into your eyes.

You’re mesmerized by his blown-out irises, the desire evident all across his face.

“Perhaps…” He starts to offer as he stares down at you intently.

“My brother will be home any minute, we...I can’t,” You tell him quickly. 

You see something flash across Anthony’s face that you can’t quite discern. You just silently pray that it isn’t a look of disappointment.

“No, of course, of course, we can’t,” He agrees quickly.

“I…I should go,” You tell him.

Anthony nods. 

You offer him a small smile before you hop up onto your toes to press a brief kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you for escorting me, Lord Bridgerton.”

A few days later, you’re just about ready to fall over when you finally push through the door of your flat. You almost don’t even notice John sitting at the table as you dump your things on the chair by the door.

“Oh, John!” You greet him as you pull off your cloak and hang it on its hook. “How was your day?”

“Someone saw you,” John tells you as he stares at you, his face stern. “With your fancy little Lord.”

“Who?” You ask sharply as your head whips around to stare at him. You feel your stomach drop. “For the last time, Mrs. Haymow doesn’t know what she’s talking about-”

“-You need to stop this. Whatever you have with that man, you need to put an end to it. Before this destroys everything you’ve built for yourself.”

“If this were to get out? Properly, I mean, it would ruin us,” He tells you. “Everything we’ve built for ourselves would be gone.”

Him. It would ruin him. That is what John really means. His political aspirations would go down the drain if something like this were to get out. 

But you know he’s right. He’d been the one who’d pulled the two of you out of destitution. You’d saved yourselves from the workhouse thanks to John’s entrepreneurial spirit. Thanks to his hard work. He’d been the one to save you both when you’d still been a child. 

You know you owe him your life. 

“You’re right,” You say after a long moment, when you finally glance back up at him. “I’ll end it.”

[littlepadika]

🎀 pink (Din)

🧼 laundry detergent (fake dating)

🍄cottage core (innocent kink)

with some fluff and smut included maybe?? 🥺👉👈💘

Hi @ppslutt I don't think we've interacted so hello! Thank you for this request! Omg i am both soft and amused by this idea. Hope you like this... Din is such a cheeky bb but at the same time a feral fucking machine hehe

500 follower celebration (closed now)

Warnings: Asshole ex boyfriend, protective mando, innocent reader, unprotected piv smut, fingering, 18+

source: @reilink

"Can I sit here?"

Din startled. He had been glaring holes into the metal table at the cantina for so long he almost forgot there were other people around. He was in between bounties. Waiting for Karga to come up with something worth his time.

He nodded at the seat across from him which you fell into. He would usually say no, preferring to be left alone, but you were hardly a threat. Young and apparently unarmed. You looked stressed. Eyes darting all over the room. Were you in trouble?

"Thank you." You tapped your fingertips on the table. "My ex is here and I don't want him to see me alone."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No." You stare down at your lap. "I just don't want to talk to him."

That made sense, but Din couldn't understand why you were talking to him specifically. Most people feared Mandalorians. He expected you to want to hire him or ask him to kill your ex. You glanced over your shoulder. Din followed your gaze, identifying the man in question, an arrogant looking human with his arm around a girl with her back to you both.

"I'll leave you alone in a minute." You turned your attention back to him. "What's your name, sir?"

"Mando." He grunted. You replied with your name. Din's ears perked up when he heard it. The sound of it echoing in his mind. He had never heard such a name before. "Have you ever seen a Mandalorian before?" Din couldn't help but ask.

"Is that what you are?" You felt embarrassed at his amused tone. "Am I supposed to bow or something?"

Din chuckled, which came out as a crackle through the voice coder. "No. But people tend to stay away from me because- because we're killers."

"Oh." You swallowed a gasp. It never occurred to you to be afraid. "I didn't know. I've never been off world."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You snapped your head up to see your ex standing over you, an angry look on his face. "I thought you didn't like going out."

"I-I can go where I please!" You jut your chin out.

"Fucking bitch. You're just spying on me, aren't you?" Your ex spat. Din clenched his fist, not liking the way this bastard was speaking to you. He could easily break this man's arm and hardly break a sweat.

"I'm not!" You cried shrilly. "I didn't know you'd even be here."

"What are you doing with him?" Your ex turned to Mando with a sneer. "Tryin to make me jealous?"

"Obviously it worked." You glared. "Now go away."

"No hang on- you're gonna come with me and we're gonna talk."

"I think it's time for you to go." Din rested his hand on his holster, his voice impossibly low. You shivered in your seat.

"Whatever." The man gave up, backing up a little. "Good luck with this one, Mando. She's a prude."

You looked down in shame feeling angry tears sting your eyes. It was hard to believe you once loved this asshole. Din felt his temper flare in his chest. Your ex finally left, looking over his shoulder a few times to watch you and Din.

"I'm sorry." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I'll leave you alone now."

"I don't mind." Din said, surprising himself. He hated seeing you so upset. He thought about going up to that bastard and putting a hole in his chest, but that wouldn't make you feel better. "Can I get you something?"

"I don't know." You looked up at the bar trying to read the menu overhead.

"What kind of fake boyfriend would I be?" Din joked, hoping to see you smile. It worked. You let out a small giggle into your hand that made Din's heart constrict strangely. He ordered you a Tatooine Sunset.

"You don't want one?"

"No. Thank you." Din hesitated before adding "I don't remove my helmet."

"Ever?" Your eyes widened.

"Not in front of people."

"Oh." You took a small sip. "It's really yummy. Thank you."

Din noticed the prick from earlier still watching you both. "Come over here, ad'ika." He tapped the seat next to him.

"Why?" You asked, looking up from your cup.

"Because that nurf herder is watching us."

"Oh." You frowned, moving to sit next to Mando.

"Lean into me."

"Like this?" You asked again, tilting your head onto his cold beskar paldron.

"Yes. Good." Din nodded, enjoying the look of anger that passed over that bastard's face. "Sit closer."

"I-I am." You blushed, moving until your legs were pressed against him. He wasn't super comfortable with all the metal.

"On my lap, ad'ika." Din patted his thigh. He was being bold but something about your instant trust in him made him want to hold you closer. Feel your soft body on his. You go bright red as you stand and then perch on his knee. His gloved hand covered your lower back.

"Look at him." Din instructed, smirking behind his helmet.

"Oh he's so mad." You giggled. "This is fun, mando."

"It is, ad'ika." Din couldn't' help but agree.

"Wh-what does adeeka mean?" Your tongue got caught on the syllables.

"It means 'little one'."

"I'm-i'm not a child." You frowned, ducking your head. A weak objection as you were sitting in his lap right now.

"It's not just for children." Din placed another arm around your legs, pulling them more securely onto his lap. He regretted that he was in full armor because he could not feel you but that was also probably a good thing or else he'd be hard. You smelled divine.

"Mando he's still staring." You whispered against his cowl which was surprisingly soft.

"Shall we make him even more uncomfortable?"

"Mhm." You nodded, kissing Mando on his cool beskar helmet, where his cheek would be. "How's that?"

"You can do better than that." Din encouraged, enjoying the little game.

"Oh yeah!" You grinned, feeling your competitive spirit rising. "How about this?" You lowered your head, leaning against his neck, kissing him through the cowl. You could feel his warm neck and strong pulse against your lilps. He swallowed hard, his hand tightening over your thigh.

"We should walk out now. Really make him jealous." Din suggested, mostly to stop you from giving him a full on erection.

"Oh yeah." You hopped off his lap, taking his large leather clad hand in yours. "Come on."

Once outside in the warm sun you laughed at your antics. You had never had so much fun. You used to fear your ex. He was mean and cruel. You felt safe now that you had Mando. You tried not to worry what would happen when Mando was gone. Din watched you hungrily, beaming up at him, your face lit up in the daylight. He subtly turned off his tracking view in his visor so he could just see you without any distractions on his screen.

"Thank you Mando."

"You're welcome." He let go of your hand making your face fall. "What's wrong?"

"I want to keep playing."

"What do you propose?" Din felt his cock twitch behind his flight suit.

"I think he would be really jealous if I had marks on my neck." You suggested boldly. Din shook his head in disbelief.

"You are not a prude, you know that? I'm sorry he said that to you."

"I was only a prude with him. He was ugly." You grimaced but recovered. "You're beautiful, Mando, and I want- I want you. Not just to make him jealous but I want you."

"Oh Ad'ika..." Din chuckled. "We can do both."

This led to Din taking you in the alleyway behind the cantina. First he knelt down between your legs and fingered you until you were dripping into his hand. He wanted to watch your little cunt squeeze and flutter. Your little mewls grew louder and louder until you came with a cry. Din loved how innocent you were. You didn't even know how to be quiet. You didn't hide your pleasure. He hoped your shitty ex was listening. Hearing your sounds that he never got to draw from you.

Next he stood lifting you up with ease onto his hips. You were already delirious from your first orgasm you shot up to the stars when he entered you. You tightened your legs around his waist, holding onto his broad shoulders. All thoughts of being seen or herd left your mind. You were overwhelmed, Mando pushing into every corner of your senses along with your pussy.

"Fuck..." Din grunted, feeling your hot walls suck him to the hilt. It had been so long he realized how sensitive he was. And you were so tight. He held your ass up, pulling it to grind into him with every stroke.

"Oh Mando!" Your head fell back against the wall. "This-it's so good."

"Mmm you feel amazing, ad'ika. So fucking perfect." Din watched your face slacken with the pleasure he was giving you, your plush lips teasing him. He wanted to feel them. He wanted to put his lips over every inch of you. Your eyes were drooping, staring right into his visor.

"Stay with me, little one. Look- look at us." He fucked harder, leaning back slightly despite the ache in his lower back, watching the point where your flesh met. Your little swollen clit was sitting right on top of his dick, smashing against his pelvis with every stroke.

"Oh-Maker-I'm gonna cum again." You cried, scrabbling against his shoulders for better leverage. You wanted to fuck him back. Din readjusted his grip allowing one hand to be free to circle your clit.

"Who's making you cum?"

"You! You, Mando!" You cried feeling your stomach go incredibly tight then spasming with your orgasm.

"You think anyone else could make you feel this?" Din sped up also nearing his own climax. His voice was rough and torn up, cracking and stressing the voicecoder.

"No-no one else!" You answered eagerly, wanting to please him. "I don't want anyone else."

"Good girl. Fuck- you want to be mine?" He felt his cock twitching. He was seconds away from cumming inside of you. This was the last chance to pull out.

"I want to-be yours- please." You nodded vigorously, looking up at him so he could see you meant it. You dug your heels into his lower back. His grunts became short and quick with each thrust then he came abruptly, crashing his forehead against yours. You gasped feeling the spot where you were joined grow incredibly wet.

"Stars..." Din hissed feeling his pleasure prickle down his spine into his cock. "You mean it, ad'ika?"

"Yes. Show me the stars, Mando."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My masterlist

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @ajeff855 @what-iwish-you-knew @kirsteng42 @fan-of-encouragement @sleep-tight1 @pascalisfairyy @ceniington, @prettypedros 🧁, @pascal-rascal424 @axshadows @prideandpascal @frenchyjuju @pedrosmustache @blackmarketmummy @Idreamofboobear @pretty-brown-eyess @persephones-garden @javierpinme @mylittlesenaar @bellaorisa @elinedjarin @beskarboobs @beskar-candy @dindjarinneedsahug @anaaaispunk @headinthestarz

Din Taglist: @a-skov @pasckles

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

request of how twice would react if they saw their girlfriend, who is also the 10th member of twice getting flirted with while being on a reality show by another boy band member right in front of them? thanks!

Twice Reactions

A male idol flirting with their 10th member and gf in front of them while on a reality show

Nayeon

"I'm sure Y/N would love going on a date with me."

Nayeon was hastily arguing with one of the boy when she heard that cocky comment made about you by the leader of the group. She was bewildered for sure, but fast to reply, ending both her argument with the mc and your interlocutor's attempt to flirt with you at the same time.

"No sitting arrangment needed just make sure he sits as far away from Y/N as possible and we'llbe fine.

Jungyeon

"That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard."

Your girlfriend appeared behind the annoying douchebag who was forcing himself to you. She just came back from a call and was not please to hear this guy flirting with you when she came back. She decided that it was easier to make him feel dumb than to snap at him. She just got closer to you, her arm circling your shoulders as she presents herself.

"Hi, I'm the only one whose bad pickup lines got to her. Now let's crush you to that arm wrestling contest shall we ?"

Sana

Sana was too busy admiring your perfect cat ears to catch on what that dancer was telling you. Yet when you looked at her clearly asking for help, she reacted right away still without looking at anything but you though.

"You're really bad at this game."

She said it with the nicest tone, a big smile plastered on her face as she tried to give you a kiss on the cheek. Which made the robotic cat ears go crazy right away, making her win the game.

Momo

Momo had to hold back her laugh when that boy approached her to ask if he had a chance with you. Amused by his audacity, she encouraged him to try, telling him that you liked bold and direct people when you really don't. After his first attempt failed, he looked back at her for advice and she just cheered him up still pretending he had a chance. She only stopped because the break was over and you had to go back to filming.

"Try harder next time little boy, she might break up with me for you who knows."

Jihyo

Jihyo stop caring about men flirting with you as soon as she understood you were totally obvious to it. There was nothing to worry about if you weren't even taking it as flirt. However this guy was starting to become a problem when he decided that touching you was okay. She'll push his hand away sending him a terrifying look playing her assigned character perfectly. Thank god she got the husband role and not him.

"She is my wife !"

Mina

Mina was sulking, she knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help it. She wished you didn't end up in the same team as him, even though he was the one making you win. When it was her turn to choose which wire to cut off her bomb, she decided not to listen to him. Turned out she was right and the bomb didn't explode making your team win. When you hugged her as a celebration she forgot even being jealous of him in the first place. He could flirt all he wanted in the end she was one winning.

Dahyun

Dahyun got caught making a digusted face on camera and was asked by the mc what was the matter. Of course she couldn’t just say that it was her reaction to the flirty smile a boy was giving you but she could still get back to him in front of everyone. So she just decided to play along.

“I think it’s him, he’s the mafia. He didn’t pay attention to anyhting we said”.

Indeed too focused on flirting with you he didn’t bother listening what was happening in the game, soon enough everyone agreed on killing him. Turned out he wasn’t a mafia member which both Dahyun knew since she was the mafia.

Chaeyoung

You were trying to be concentrated on what Chaeyoung was drawing on your back but this guy just kept talking to you, to the point where you missed a few important hint. It was starting to pissed your girlfriend off, she was doing her best for you to understand the word before his team but he was too much of a distraction. Out of the blue she turned you side ways and finished the drawing making you guess it right away.

"Pabo !"

Once you took a look at her drawing you could see that it was no other than that annoying guy.

Tzuyu

Tzuyu wasn't taking any flirting lightly, she finds it terribly disrespectful. This dude started hitting on you, giving you side glances and 'helping' you with your archery mission. And it didn't go unnoticed by your girlfriend who immediately reach for the bow, aimed and hit the center. She then took your hand and brought you to the opposite direction.

"Let's win this game and crush him down or else I'll have to kill him."

Hey, here is your request. Hope you'll like it, give feedback 😁-Ael

[dragon-kazansky]

A handsome muse | Helmut Zemo

Requested by @cherry-season

You hadn't spoken much to Zemo since his prison break. He had definitely noticed how little you had said to him, but how much you looked at him.

Every time he caught your eye, he'd smirk, amused by the way you would panic and look away.

It wasn't until you had all arrived at the safe house that he discovered why you were being so distant with him. You didn't appear to be shy with anyone other than him, so he was curious if his reputation had affected the way you saw him.

Turns out it was a lot more innocent than that.

The hour was late. Extremely late. Bucky and Sam had retired hours ago. Zemo had intended to go off to bed too, but you hadn't made a move to do so yourself. He was concerned on if you would be alright on your own. He knew you could hold your own, but you would sitting alone in a semi-dark room in silence.

Zemo sat down near you.

"Are you not tired? It's been a long day."

You didn't say anything. However, Zemo noticed the way you seem startled by him speaking to you. You curl on yourself a little bit as you grip your sketch pad a little tighter.

He had seen you pull it out every so often, but didn't bother to indulge himself in your hobbies. He just let you get on with it when he saw you sketching. That's not to say he wasn't curious about your artistic skills.

He tilts his head in that way he does.

"I don't bite, you can talk to me."

You bite your bottom lip as you glance up. He's smiling softly at you, his gaze seemed welcoming and warm. This man made you feel a certain kind of way and you didn't know what to do about it.

"I know."

His smile widens as you reply to him. This is the first time you actually spoken to him.

"What are you drawing?"

You stop and stare down at your pad. You can't possibly show him.

"I won't intrude if you don't want me to."

Considerate of him.

"It's... it's nothing important... not worth talking about."

Zemo gives a little shrug, "very well."

You both remain sitting there in silence as you sketch a little more. He catches you glancing up at him, but you're quick to look away from him. His gaze is intense and your heart won't stop racing.

Why does he have to be so good looking?

You sketch a little more before closing your book and tucking between your arms, close to your chest. You look at him shyly as you stand.

"I'm going to bed."

Zemo rises from his seat and says, "then shall so I."

Suddenly you start to feel bad.

"Were you... did you stay because of me?"

"Perhaps."

"You didn't need to do that. You could have gone to bed ages ago."

"But you would have been down here on your own." Zemo speaks softly. "Would you rather I hadn't?"

You shake your head. "No, I... thank you, I suppose if would have been a bit lonely otherwise."

You both reach you bedroom door.

"I suppose you could look at one of my sketches."

"I would be honoured."

You flip the book open to one of your favourite drawings. It was of Sam and Bucky on the plane. Neither one of them were looking at you, Sam appeared to be talking to Bucky, who had his head turned to you.

You hand it over to Zemo.

He's careful with the book as he looks at your work. His eyes scan the detail you had put into it, from the details of their clothes, to the expressions on their faces.

"You did this on that flight?"

You nod.

"You have talent."

You find it hard to look at him as he compliments your drawing. You don't notice that he turns the page, eager to see more. Not until it's late.

"Now this is talent."

You look up to see he had turned a couple of pages to the one you had been working on earlier. The one of him. It's just a portrait of him, but the detail is impeccable. You had put so much hard work and care into it.

You're quick to take the book from his hand and hold it close to you.

"I didn't mean for you to see that!"

Zemo chuckles. It's a deep wholesome sound that rumbles through his chest. His eyes are so dark in colour, but the way he's looking at you makes your knees weak.

"I'm honoured to be considered worthy enough of your talents. Am I really that handsome, or are you exaggerating my looks?" He teases you.

You can't any words out.

Zemo chuckles again as he reaches out and tilts your head up to look at him.

"No portrait would ever be able to capture your beauty."

You're pretty sure your brain just malfunctioned.

"It's... it's just a practise portrait. You were a convenient muse for me."

The Baron smiles softly as he leans in close.

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to being your muse again."

Zemo takes a step back and bids you goodnight. You watch him disappear into his room further down the hall. You enter your own room with too many thoughts and a raging blush that won't go away.

How would you ever be able to face him again?

@ajeff855

[i-did-not-mean-to]

A gift for a gift

@scyllas-revenge has been so very kind to draw this beautiful little Ori for me and I could not help myself but to write a very short fillet about my best boy :D

Words: 1k

Warnings: haunting (but crack)

“How are you? Cracking on?” the haunted doll from across the aisle whistled quietly at you.

“Break a leg,” you hissed back, meaning it quite literally; as far as ghosts and haunted objects went, you might well have been the worst – and not in the sense of ‘terrible’ and ‘dreadful’ – ever seen, or in your case, completely ignored.

Maybe it was because you had not died on a battlefield or in a vicious political coup; no, you had simply fallen in an old crone’s kitchen and broken your neck like the klutz that you were – had been, really – and now, as if to mock you, you were forever trapped in a teapot of all things. 

Found by some teenagers – high on another kind of pot altogether – you had been brought to this small shop of curiosities – just an embellishment for ‘useless but somehow already used objects’ – and thus been condemned to a literal eternity of emptiness. 

“I’m dainty while you’re just fragile,” the doll muttered, “also, you’re really quite ugly.”

As if you didn’t know, you thought acrimoniously; you had seen yourself in the reflection of her glassy, staring eyes more than once when they turned on you like beacons of doom. 

She – at least – was a terrifyingly creepy vessel of an old demon while you were just a piece of earthenware that would not compliment any set in existence; by now, you were so embittered that – were you ever to be purchased – your new owner had to be very fond of sweeteners if he didn’t want to drink hot vinegar instead of fragrant tea. 

“What about this one?” the voice of a young man asked and – a moment later – you could make out two dark eyes shining dimly in the badly lit porcelain section. 

“That’s an interesting piece,” the owner purred, lifting you off the shelf and presenting you proudly, “it is said to be haunted by the ghost of a mysterious girl.”

His hands were sweating and a tad too warm, probably because he was lying through his teeth; undoubtedly, he said that about every item in his darned, little shop. Also, you had never been mysterious, you were not even sure you were now despite being a haunted…teapot.

“It’s quite charming,” the man replied and took you from your jailor; this pair of hands was dry and long-fingered and the face looking down upon you was of a pale, friendly loveliness that made you wish that you had been polished more recently.

“Oh, yes,” the owner murmured, audibly unconvinced, “it’s a classic.”

You knew that you were horrendous; of a muddy beige with gaudy, bright flowers that looked as if they had been painted on by a toddler about to have a temper tantrum, you were far from beautiful or valuable in any way.

“I’ve just broken mine and I wouldn’t mind having a bit of company,” the man smiled and carried you – ever so carefully – to the counter.

“It is haunted though,” the owner repeated sharply, “and I do not vouch for what shall befall you nor will I take back the blasted thing if it starts rattling eerily in the middle of the night.”

Jesus in his manger, you cursed inwardly, that had been one time and you had only wanted to draw attention to the fact that there was a bit of cardboard stuck under your ceramic ass that made you sit uncomfortably.

“Oh, I think we’ll get along great,” the younger man replied with a warm smile and – waving aside the dark box you had dreaded – he lifted you into his arms and swaddled you in the soft wool of his knitted cardigan.

As soon as you were set down on a pristine kitchen counter after a thorough bath, a bag of herbal tea was dropped into you, followed by piping hot water that made you feel more alive than you had for a long time.

“What is that abomination?” another man popped his head around the corner and frowned at you.

“It’s my new teapot, isn’t it unique?” your owner – for you had claimed him as yours now – replied with a beaming smile that discouraged the newcomer from disparaging you further.

“Eh yes, quite,” he replied sheepishly and withdrew again with a low chuckle; maybe you had to rethink that part about not rattling loudly in the middle of the night after all. 

“Never mind Nori,” the soft man said, “I am Ori by the way. I hope we can be friends and you will not try to kill me or anything.”

He laughed under his breath – a bit embarrassed to be talking to what he thought to be an inanimate object – and carried you over to a small nook surrounded by high bookshelves.

“Ah greetings, newcomer,” a tiny ballerina made out of handblown glass chirped, “has Ori found another one?”

You stared through your awful flower decorations in shock.

“He’s lonely,” an antique hand mirror propped up against a row of books explained, “but too shy to actually go out and make friends; his soul yearns for companions and so, he keeps finding…well…us.” 

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” the glass beauty sighed, straining against the confines of her never-changing prison to crane her neck, “He is such a darling.”

A warm palm and five tender digits curled around your handle, and you let the sudden burst of affection in your truly immortal soul – the very emotion a memory you had thought long lost – sweeten the beverage as it gurgled into the sturdy mug, translating all the praise he would not understand.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” you asked as you were set down again, glancing around the room full of cursed and haunted objects.

“No,” the mirror answered sharply, “we get rid of those who would harm him.”

“We do,” came the squeaking, rusty affirmation from a miniature suit of armour standing guard on a doily on top of a pretty but rather scuffed sideboard.

The man – Ori – had pulled out a book from under an embroidered cushion of prodigious ugliness and was reading quietly now, smiling to himself, content with his little salmagundi of idiocies.

“We are his ghosts,” an old grandfather clock chimed.

And with a deep tenderness and a longing look lingering on Ori’s sweet face, you retorted: “And he is ours.”

So, this was my bad joke of the day, I hope you've enjoyed this :D

If so, I'd love for a bit of feedback...Nobody likes to laugh alone hahaha

<3

[defdaily]

‪[TRANSLATION] Arena Homme+ Magazine April 2021 Issue featuring JAY B

Translated by defdaily.

JAY B is free and starting again from scratch. That is what JAY B has in mind. GOT7’s leader announced that he would be leaving JYPE as the group stays together. JAY B is preparing to debut as a solo musician while planning to also release mixtapes and hold exhibitions as Def. We had a chat with JAY B, who has gained more freedom and strength, at the swimming pool about courage, depression, literature and aspirations.

Did you come here alone?

Yes. I took a taxi here. I was the type to go around freely even when I was in JYPE but catching the taxi to work this time around felt new.

All GOT7 members decided to leave JYP but stay together as a group. As a leader, you needed to make a decision, right?

Although we ended up leaving JYPE, we wanted to continue as GOT7. We all agreed to leave [JYPE] and try it between ourselves.The product made from me taking responsibility/taking charge was the single 'Encore’ that was released not too long ago. I was involved in the whole process with a new record label. I was happy to see a good response [to the single]. It was lacking in some areas but I was just very proud that we were able to show a different step. Since we showed through this single that “we did not disband”, what’s next is more important. When we left JYPE, Director Jung Wook mentioned "Your role as a leader starts now." I'm realizing it now.

”I wanted to learn everything about the process of releasing an album and how difficult it is. I wanted to start again from scratch.”

Your role as a leader actually starts now.

I used to find the role of a leader burdensome at times but now I feel a greater sense of responsibility. While supporting each person’s journey, I thought I needed to be the one to step up once we got back together. We also talk regularly in our group chat. Not long ago, Jackson went to China. When Mark went to the USA, I could see him off but when Jackson was leaving, we couldn’t be together because of a schedule. So I told him to have a safe flight, apologised for not being able to see him off and thanked him too. He replied saying he’ll take care and be back.

What motivated you to leave the large agency you've been working with for a long time?

The thought came to mind suddenly as we were promoting as GOT7. Am I taking all these benefits I get for granted? When a schedule is released I just do it, and when they ask me to confirm things I do, but what kind of long process has it gone through before it came to me? Who sends a request and how is it processed? Why am I only waiting until it reaches me and simply watching it unfold? I wanted to be directly involved in that process. I wanted to learn everything about the process of releasing an album and how difficult it is. I want to be humble and start from the bottom again.

Didn't you need the courage?

Of course I did. I was also afraid. My position has risen to all the way up here, but when it comes to my actual knowledge, I think I'm only down there. I was afraid that the difference would feel too big once I left the company. But I think I would have been more afraid if I stayed at JYPE. Since that difference would have grown bigger and bigger. My real self is here, so I should face it head-on a little faster. That's what I thought.

As JAY B or as Def. who releases mixtapes and holds exhibitions, you must have had the desire to do something new.

I want to do research and build it up step by step without haste. JAY B will show hip hop and RnB music that appeals to the general public and Def. will do activities that Def. wants to do. It could be mixtapes or exhibitions, or other different kinds of fictions. Def. is the nickname I used as a bboy before I became a trainee. It’s like air floating about freely. It could be house or soul or acoustic or even modern rock. In a way, you can say that Def. is close to my “main self” but since I debuted as JAY B, I’ll also show a devoted side of myself through JAY B. I want to be a person who can do both what he has to do and what he wants to do freely.

Listening to your mixtapes, and hearing that you like the styles of D’Angelo and Ray Charles, you seem to be attached to the Southern US rhythm and blues and soul music.

I do like them a lot. I like the entire hip-hop culture that originated from there. That culture also includes DJing, graffiti and even bboying. Since I started as a bboy, I would look up older videos to watch, study the culture and also look into what each dance move symbolizes, with my bboying crew and that's how I became fascinated. What captivated me the most was their obstinacy. I felt respect towards the conviction and obstinacy they carried with their culture.

Is that mood still incorporated in your music and dance?

Yes. For example, I don’t think choreography is dance. I think dancing is when music plays and you like the rhythm and start humming and bobbing your head and moving your body. I think dancing is a free act you do out of enjoyment.

What was the reason you joined an idol group after starting out as a bboy?

I gained an interest in music too, not just dancing. When I was young, I listened to D’Angelo’s music and wanted to become a singer like him. But I was rebellious when I first joined JYPE. Haha. I was even suspended for a month once as a trainee. I definitely said hello but they said I didn’t so they said "If you're going to be stubborn, then go home" and me with my young heart replied “Then I shall head home.” and left. Then I met up with my bboying crew after a long time, and in just a few months it turned into a different world. The crew members were above me and I was worried because I could feel myself far away by myself. Should I go back to bboying? Should I continue as a trainee? In the end, I wanted to do my very best in whatever I chose so I decided to focus on becoming a singer. Since I wanted to do music, it was a choice I made with no regrets.

You started as a dancer and ended up as a main vocalist. What was music to you back then?

It was a challenge. Trainees are divided into singing and dancing. I joined as a dancer but what I wanted to do was become a singer and not just do dance. But since I was put into the dancing division, I worked even harder with singing to break that prejudice. I often felt defeated. I still feel defeated with singing. Haha. But music is about endless research. Now it’s more about research than studying.

You grew up as an only child to your parents who did farming?

I was an ordinary kid. I enjoyed Haruki’s Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage and thought the “colourless” kid was just like me. I was a calm kid who helped his parents with their farm work. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t have any older siblings but they said I used to talk to myself a lot. My mother said there was a way she would know if I was home or not. If I was home, she would hear me talk to myself and be like “Oh really?” “Yes really” haha.

It’s extraordinary to read Haruki at that age.

There was an older friend that I knew and he was really cool. He looked really cool reading on the bus with his legs crossed. He said “Hey, Read a book and build up some knowledge.” As I was trying to be cool like him, I gained a favourite author and started reading more since I enjoyed it.

What kind of books do you like?

When I was a teenager I often read Kafka On The Shore. It felt like Kafka was just like me, and so while reading it, I even cried. The style of Murakami Radio was also interesting. The ending phrase “But I like that more…” was very witty. I’m collecting books from secondhand bookstores from authors who won the Young Author awards. I like Lee Jang-wook's short story Byeon Hee-bong. The main character knows the actor Byun Hee-bong, but the world doesn't know him. He would ask "Don't you know Byun Hee-bong from the movie The Host?" But no one knows. I like stories that don’t intend to be funny but they end up making me giggle.

What do you read these days?

I try to read poetry. I purchased and read the first volume that appeared on Moonji’s Poetry Collection, but it has too many Hanja characters. Haha. I started with Munhwak’s Poetry Collection. I have volumes 1 to 85. I also read poet Park Joon's collection of poems and poet Lee Eun-gyu's Affectionate Name. I even underlined and wrote things down.

Among the idols and musicians I’ve met, I think you are the most extensive reader.

We went on tours often and we would have a lot of time in my hotel room. When I went out I took pictures and when I stayed in my hotel room I read books. When I go on an overseas tour, I pack around 30 books in my suitcase. Then I bring back the books that left an impression on me, and those that didn’t sometimes I dispose of them there. These days, I look for independent publications too. I often look for independent publishing bookstores in Nakseongdae or Haebangchon. There are many books that contain honest stories that are not refined, and the power of those sentences is great.

How does reading influence your work?

The poetic expressions with poetic license help when writing lyrics. You read a new sentence and think “What is this expressing?” You receive inspiration from that image being expressed in a new way. I think of lyrics as poetry too. There are times I write how I feel honestly, but when I want to include a certain meaning I’d want to write the lyrics like poetry.

In your photo exhibition <ALONE> last year, you took pictures of objects and signs in the middle of the road.

Wouldn't it feel very lonely if you think about it from an object’s point of view? The camera captures just an instance but the object will stay there. I think each person has an insatiable loneliness. I like the artist Seonglib’s works, and I feel loneliness in his drawings. I don't know why I keep talking about loneliness, I guess I’m familiar with loneliness.

Seems like you take more pictures of objects and landscapes than people.

I don’t really like taking pictures of people. You can clearly see a person’s emotions in their eyes. I prefer hiding things rather than revealing them too much. I prefer objects, backgrounds, and natural objects rather than subjects that openly express 'It's me!'. Tranquil things, I like when you go past something and go “that’s how it was.” I try my best since my job requires being presented to people but that’s also how I am.

Who do you like as a movie director?

I like Woody Allen’s directing. My favourite is Match Point. It's a love story that goes beyond taboos, and it's electrifying. The face of the actor who secretly asks the reunited lover to give him her number remains in my memory for a long time. How could he direct such a real-looking, raw look in their eyes? When I was a theater and film major, I used to take directing classes rather than acting. If I were to direct a film, I would like to shoot an eccentric witty romantic comedy like Love Fiction directed by Jeon Gye-soo.

Are you self-conscious as an artist?

I’m interested in a variety of genres, and interact with crews often, but I think goofing off just because they are an artist is an arrogant attitude. Everyone is their own artist, no matter what they do, right? I'm not trying to be pretentious, I just think there's a difference in expression, and people who work in the office are also doing their own art. That’s why I’m a little shy about the title “artist.” Is there a need to be puffed up with pride because I’m an artist? I’m just a person.

While filming for “What's in my bag” and revealed your medications for depression and panic disorder. When did you face your depression?

I didn’t know I had depression. I thought I was being weak for a short while and let it pass. But on an occasion I got examined and found out I had depression. They asked how I lived by without going to the psychiatrist. I said I just thought I was the type to feel blue. Haha. I’m the type that doesn’t show [what is wrong] but they said I was in a state where I needed treatment. After going to counselling and taking medications, I’m much better now.

“I just wanted to talk about it. It may not show, but depression is both a common and dangerous illness.”

I think you’re cool for having the courage to talk about this.

I got diagnosed and looked at the people around me. There are friends who are ashamed of it and try to hide it, and there are friends who talk about it as if it’s insignificant. I just wanted to talk about it. It may not show, but it’s both a common and dangerous illness. A mental illness is an illness too. Among my fans, or those who read this interview, if there is someone who feels depressed, don’t be ashamed of it and I hope you receive treatment and overcome it. It’s not an embarrassing thing and it doesn’t need to be hidden. And I was filming content where I show what’s inside my bag; I can’t lie. I wish everyone would be healthy.

Are you bad at lying?

Yes. If I have to tell a lie, I think it’s just better to not say anything. Since I’m the type that’s honest and straightforward, I also don’t like beating around the bush.

Can you share a way one can take a step forward towards recovering from depression?

Look at the world in a broad view. Know that there are many places you haven’t been to yet and there are many things you haven’t felt yet. It's also good to take a walk and go off your usual route and take a path you've never been on. Small adventures can also be of great help. Just by leaving the house you’re already halfway there. I think there are more ways you can refresh yourself outside rather than inside. Also, I thought I was an honest person but after being diagnosed with depression, I thought I should be more honest with myself and more faithful to myself. At times like this, think of yourself before others.

What do you believe in?

I just believe in god. I don’t have a religion. I don’t know what kind of existence god is but I do believe that there is a god. When I’m thankful or am having a hard time, I pray. “Thank you.” “Please let me get through this wisely.”

What is the greatest motivation that moves you?

As long as I’m alive, I want to continue doing work that will leave a message. I believe that there is no next life. I think I should live this time diligently to the fullest. To have no regrets.

Translated by defdaily.