#SIDE CHARACTERS ARE MuAH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notiddygothgf · 1 year ago

Text

1/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: hi pookie dookies!! ive been wanting to write choso for a while!! this is a one shot I split into two chapters bc its like, 11k words.... but! if u guys request it, I might add more chapters!!! thank u for ur support as always, muah muah!! (btw if u like tokyo rev go check out my other shit teehee).

★ w.c.; 4.5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI ITADORI WAS truly the best friend a girl like you could ask for. The two of you were kind of like childhood friends, though you hadn’t been close for a good portion of it. You didn’t remember the exact day Itadori had invited you into his home – though you knew it was some time in elementary school. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since.

There was one thing about the pinkette’s home life in particular that seemed to catch your young eye.

His older brother, Choso.

He was two years your senior – dark hair, dark eyes, he looked nothing like his brother. He had this scar over the bridge of his nose from an accident that had happened when he was younger. He was an elusive figure, something of a mystery to your young mind – he was always there, but never there.

He was content to dwell in the background like some sort of side character.

The first time you’d ever met him had been at one of Itadori’s baseball games. He’d invited you to show up – and at this point you had to have been no older than 8 or 9 – and show out for him. And show out you sure did.

You had your mother do your hair up real nice in those cute little pigtails you used to love wearing. You had scribbled his jersey number onto a plain white tee the night before, donning some hot pink leggings beneath.

And you screamed for Itadori, cheered as loud as your little lungs would allow you to. He won, of course, but that’s not the point here. You’d gone up to him after the game, wrapping your short arms around his frame – and at the time he was no larger than you were – and telling him he’d done great. Itadori grinned at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks, and thanked you. His smile was a thousand suns in one.

A hand on his shoulder had shaken the two of you out of the moment. A bigger hand.

It was his 11-year-old adoptive brother, Choso Kamo. An angel of the darkness, as corny as that sounds, but in that moment you swore the gates of heaven resided in those dark eyes of his. He stood out against the bright backdrop of the September afternoon. The sunlight filtered through his short black hair, reflected off of his pale skin, shooting rays right into your stomach and sending a horde of butterflies fluttering.

“This your girlfriend, Yuuji?” He commented with a half-grin.

You remember turning red at his comment, waving your arms around wildly. You remember the way his eyes creased as he laughed at you, one of the few times you recall seeing him laugh.

So what if you had heart eyes for your best friend’s older brother? It was harmless, just a little crush you had formed on the guy you felt had stolen your heart away. Harmless.

At least, it was until the two of you grew older. You started junior high, you started puberty , and as your body changed, so did his. So did your feelings, morphing from a butterfly crush to something more akin to desire as you began to see him in a different light.

He lost the baby fat around his face. His eyes had darkened, shoulders broadening. His hair got longer, falling into his boyish, scarred face in a way that rendered you entirely breathless.

He was becoming a man.

You were 13 and 15 now, stealing sneaky glances at him whenever he would pass by his brother’s room. Yuji, who had just been boasting about how he was starting to get taller than you, would pay it no mind.

It was just a crush. He was two years your senior, after all. You had no chance.

You were 13 when he would poke fun at you and his brother. He was 15 when he would laugh at the way your face would go red. He didn’t know that it wasn’t his brother you wanted.

14 and 16 when you first began to notice the subtle slope of his shoulders become more pronounced, more defined. When you began to notice the way his muscles would strain against the sleeves of his tee shirt.

He had always been a large guy, having hit quite a few growth spurts along the way. He had to have been about 5’10 at that point, practically towering over you. But lately, you thought he must have been hitting the gym. He would walk past Yuji’s open door – and in their house it was a family policy to leave the door open when you came over, even if Yuji was only a brother to you – with gym gear on. He would come back with sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling steadily.

Something about that made your hormones go wild for him. Inappropriate thoughts began to chew away at you from the inside, images of what he could do to you with such strength, even if you weren’t too certain what ‘doing’ even entailed at that time. The scent of his pheromones, something like that – or maybe it was the way his gym clothes hugged his body while he marched towards the bathroom to take a shower – it made you feral for him.

He was so much bigger than you now. It made your head spin with feelings you didn’t quite understand. It was just a crush… so why did you stay awake at night imagining him panting over you, sweat trickling down his bare chest? The way his muscles might ripple under your hesitant, inexperienced touch? The warmth that would bloom over your face when you imagined his lips on yours – this man who you had never gotten close to.

A man who you remembered having a late night conversation with in the kitchen while Yuuji slept right down the hall one night.

He was ransacking the cabinet for snacks when you found him. He relaxed once he’d noticed it was you, the two of you eventually falling into sugar-fueled conversation after he cracked open a pack of double-stuff oreos. A conversation about the taboo , about the things you had been told to keep quiet.

“You don’t have to be all flustered ‘round me, y’know,” He had told you rather softly. The two of you were separated by the kitchen island, but it felt like he was way to close to you. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about.”

“I’m not curious!” You had whisper-shouted back with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, you whore.”

“You just asked me what it felt like, liar,” He noted, quirking a brow at your outward reaction. He loved to get under your skin. Lived for it. “And for the record, I’m not a whore. Most of the times I’ve been touched have been with my own hand.”

“I’ve never tried… that, ” You mused quietly, head low. Your face burned with the heat of your admission.

He popped an oreo into his mouth, dusting his hands off carelessly. “What, masturbating?”

Your heart did a weak somersault. “Quiet!” You hissed at him. “Now what if Yuuji heard you talking to me like that?”

“Calm your shit,” he told you. “You’re too young f’me. Relax.”

He only chuckled at your words, shaking his head quietly while he resealed the oreos. Still, if he was thinking anything about your reaction, he didn’t voice it. You were glad.

But it hurt. It hurt, hearing him talk about you like you didn’t have a chance. Like none of the effort you put into your appearance around him had any effect on him because you were too young to steal his attention away. None of it mattered – the push up bras, the low cut tanks, the cherry lip balm.

In his eyes, you were only a kid.

“I’m a virgin,” you had blurted out, for some odd reason you still didn’t quite understand.

The pause that befell the two of you was one that you remembered years later.

“I can tell,” He had said, slim waist swinging side to side as he walked around the kitchen island, towards the exit behind you. He sauntered over to you with a smirk on his face and a plate in his hand, dark hair pulled back into a bun while his layers fell around his face. He was breathtaking, handsome, tantalizing build towering over you.

16, A man whose voice had dropped again in the last few months whispered those words, the ones you would never forget, “‘S fun. You should try it.”

You didn’t know what he had wanted you to try – having sex or performing it on yourself.

Either way, that night when you went home was the first time you ever tried to touch yourself. Fantasized about him whispering in your ear, holding you down, talking you through – while your pink-manicured fingers worked you up to your first orgasm.

Two years had never felt so far apart.

Choso had a girlfriend at one point. It was only for, like, four months – he was 17, you were 15. You only found this out when he’d come home after a pretty rough night with her. He looked pissed, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew he was too old for you, that you weren’t old enough for him, more specifically – but, still, you batted those lashes of yours up at him while you asked him what was wrong.

You didn’t tell him about the way butterflies erupted in your stomach like a hundred angry guisers when he told you his girlfriend had cheated, left him for another man.

You hugged him instead, telling him that it would be alright, telling him that she never deserved him anyway. You were the one for him, and one day he would see that.

Instead of turning to you – who had been right there all along, he had just been too blind to notice – he took his anger out on everyone else. He became cold, emotionally closed off. He became a serial heartbreaker.

For a while, whenever you came over to Yuuji’s, his bedroom would be vacant. Open, dark, just as he had left it. For a while, he would spend his nights with faceless hookups and meaningless dates. Itadori would call you to complain about it, about how “we’re home alone for dinner tonight and Choso just walked out”.

Your heart broke, too. He just didn’t know it.

He didn’t know you were waiting for him to come to his senses, for him to see you as a woman .

You were seated in the kitchen across from Itadori enjoying another late-night snack, sharing some hearty laughter. You had always adored your conversations with him, the ‘After-Hours’ talks, as you would often refer to them.

Your night had taken an unexpected turn when Itadori’s brother burst through the kitchen door with a giggling girl in tow. The late hour suggested that this was no ordinary visit.

Still, even though you couldn’t pry your eyes away from her, you didn’t say anything. You stayed quiet while your heart shattered into one hundred million pieces inside of your tight chest.

Itadori’s laughter had died down, giving way to an awkward silence. He greeted his brother with a smile, “Hey, bro. Who’s she?”

Choso shrugged, dark hair shifting over his eyes that seemed to glint beneath the dim lighting as he replied, “Company.”

His mischievous tone and the girl at his side left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed as you exchanged another quick glance with Itadori.

You felt frozen in place. You couldn’t move. No, all you could do was sit there like a dumbass and stare at him, watch the man you loved liked guide her by her hand up the stairs.

Of course. You had been naive to think that he would wait for you. He would be 18 next year.

He was out of your league.

Feeling the need for a momentary escape, you had excused yourself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. You had stood up, heart racing, and made your way up the stairs and towards the bathroom.

Conveniently, of course, it was located just down the hall from Choso’s room.

You crept down the hall slowly. As you passed by his door, you caught a sound. Something unmistakable – two people in hushed conversation uttering words in between kisses.

“Choso, baby.”

Another quiet kiss. Their lips separated.

“I’m ready.”

“You brought protection?”

Your embarrassment grew as you realized the intimate nature of the encounter happening on the other side of the door. Quickly, you averted your gaze, face burning, and ran off to the bathroom.

It took you a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe the awkwardness of the whole situation. Shit, you didn’t even know how to approach him after this.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you were still only able to imagine it was your voice behind that door instead of hers. That it was him pressing butterfly kisses to your lips. Him asking you if you were ready for him.

With your cheeks tinged a rosey hue, you resolved to keep yourself locked away in the bathroom until the thoughts subsided.

It seemed like it was a new girl every time you came to visit. A blonde, a brunette – he didn’t seem to have a preference. Every time you would watch him walk another girl to the front door, bidding her safe travels on her way home, your hope would wither away.

But the feelings never subsided. No, even when you would spend a little more time walking past his room on your way to the bathroom to eavesdrop. Not even when you would hear hushed whispers and quiet moans from the other side and imagine what kind of lover Choso would be. Would he leave marks? Talk dirty to you? Was he a giver or a taker?

Not even when the two of you would cross paths in the kitchen after his plans for the evening went home. He would turn to you with a knowing smirk, hair down and messy even though it did nothing to hide the red and purple love bites that littered the valley of his neck.

And he looked so good that you often found yourself wishing it was you who had left those marks.

It was as if he knew you were dying inside. Like something was beginning to change inside of him after all of these years. Like he took some strangely cruel pleasure in showing off to you.

No, you would have to remind yourself in vain. I’m too young for him.

You were just a girl in his eyes. That’s what you maintained.

So you went out and retaliated by losing your V-card to some kid from your class. Well, in your head it was retaliation. He was none the wiser about it, but it gave you a sense of satisfaction knowing you were able to fuck people who weren’t him.

Take that, Choso.

Yuji groaned, laying spread eagle over his carpeted floor, arms spread out on either side of him. He had grown so much – you could hardly contain the way your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his new physique. Like his brother, Itadori was a well-defined man.

God picked favorites, and it wasn’t you.

There was an open notebook splayed over his face. He gripped the spine, tossing it to the side.

“I’m over this chemistry shit,” He sighed.

You couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Still, you continued to sketch the rough outline of a circle onto the sheet of construction paper in your hand. You would need to make it perfect, just right, so that you would be able to incorporate it into your group project.

You turned the pencil over between your fingertips. “We’re gonna need more supplies.”

"Like what?" Yuuji asked, his frustration still evident. "I’m pretty sure we’ve purchased, like… every craft supply on the market."

You quirked a brow at the thought. "Scissors…?"

Yuuji pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "I don’t have those."

"Of course you don’t," you sighed, shaking your head. "Who the hell doesn’t have scissors?"

"I lent them to Choso," he retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Your heart dropped at the mention of Choso. You couldn't help but picture his face, his body, and wondered if he was asleep. You didn't want to disturb him.

Yuuji sat up, nudging you with his foot playfully. "Hey, why don't you go over there and get them? Make some goo-goo eyes, bat your lashes. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to you."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. "I'm sure I can find some in my backpack," you said instead, trying to avoid the suggestion.

"Come onnnn, you know you wanna go over there," Yuuji teased with a sly grin. He leaned in closer, cupping his hand around his mouth, and whispered, " He just got back from the gym. "

Another nudge from Yuuji finally made you relent. "Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes. "I’ll be back."

Only moments later, you found yourself standing in front of Choso's door, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you as you raised your hand up to knock. You rapped twice against the wooden surface. There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the world, one that made your heartrate pick up, and then the door cracked open.

He had one earbud in his ear, the other dangling over his chest. He wore a black wife pleaser and some grey sweats that hung loose over his hips – leaving little to the imagination. He looked so strong, muscular arm braced against the doorframe while the other held it open. His waist was thin, toned, so much so that you could see it through the fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like he had just hopped out of the shower – like cherry and musk. His wet hair was done back into a messy bun. His eyes raked over your trembling form.

With a gentle, familiar grin, he said, “What’s up?”

Your throat felt dry. You swallowed anyway, with a great deal of discomfort, averting your wide-eyed gaze. Ignoring the way your eyes lingered over the pale skin of his toned navel revealed where his tank had ridden up, over the v line that dipped down into his waistband, over the neatly trimmed trail that led down south .

“Do… Do you have scissors?” You asked him. You didn’t like how timid you sounded, or the way your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He paused for a moment, and somehow you knew he was looking at you. You were suddenly very glad you had worn a fitted v-neck tee shirt today, one that would have provided him with a bird’s eye view of your cleavage.

He’s looking at me.

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, stepping away from the door and into his room. You had only wandered into Choso’s quarters a few times with Yuuji, usually to steal something from him while he wasn’t home. You had never really taken the time to notice the band posters taped up over his walls, the black sheets on his bed, the clothes scattered over his floor in typical teenage boy fashion.

You poked your head in, taking a quick look around while his muscular back was turned. Ultimately, it was him you wound up gawking at, hungry eyes following the well-defined curve of his back into his slim waist, the curve of his bubble butt.

You looked away just as he had turned around. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say anything. A red pair of scissors dangled from his curled finger.

“Here,” was all he said, offering the tool to you.

You didn’t know when conversations between the two of you had gotten to be so tense, so strained. It used to come effortlessly. These days, however, it seemed as if you were always trying to run away from conversation with him.

You took it from him gently, dying a bit more inside when his large fingers brushed against yours, offering a slight nod in return. “Thanks.”

16 and 18, now.

You had texted Choso asking for his help on a particularly difficult math assignment. He was older, after all, you didn’t doubt that he was better equipped to complete the homework than you were.

That was the first time you had ever hung out alone with him. Without Itadori.

You would never forget the way the atmosphere changed when he sat close to you at the kitchen table. The way your skin prickled with electricity beneath his hesitant touch. He poked fun at you and your incompetence. You didn’t even care, not when he was sitting so close to you.

Alone.

The possibilities that filled your mind were less than holy.

Tensions were at an all time high. He had leaned over to help you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, when it finally snapped.

When you met his gaze with uncertainty in your eyes, making no real effort to put any distance between you and the man you had been pining after for so many years. In that moment, you saw it – saw him, saw that he finally looked at you as something more than just a girl.

Saw the way his gaze softened as he leaned into you. You let him get closer, close enough that his nose brushed against the tip of yours.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You remarked, even though you ached to be trapped in this moment with him a while longer.

He licked his lips, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”

Nothing compared to the delicate brush of his lips against yours as the two of you finally met in the middle, The way fireworks blew up in your gut. The way he cradled your cheek gently in the palm of his hand, crossing that unspoken boundary that the two of you had been toeing for so long.

Though you had made out with a few guys before, in your eyes, you had shared your first kiss with Choso in the kitchen that night. The first of many to come .

The summer between 16 and 17 was spent sharing secret moments with him behind doors, between appearances.

You sat on the couch next to Itadori, trapped in the second installment of a film series the two of you had been watching yesterday. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie over your school uniform.

You had come over to do homework. Just like yesterday, though, you wound up fucking around.

Itadori was far too engrossed in whatever was happening on screen to notice his brother leaving the kitchen just a few feet off to the side. He looked you up and down, dark eyes reaching into your soul and picking you apart at the seams. With a barely noticeable motion, he nodded towards the stairs.

You nodded back, heart thrumming wildly in your chest.

Choso gripped the meat of your ass in his hands, throwing your legs around his waist while his mouth danced against yours. You tossed your arms around his shoulders, head reeling from how effortlessly he had picked you up. He walked the two of you backwards until your back hit the door.

He continued to ravage you against that surface, too, tongue slipping in between your lips and exploring your mouth. You trembled against him, trying your best to keep up with him.

It felt so good – being pressed up against him, being given his attention. You wished it was more than secret kisses here and there, of course, but you would take what you could get.

“Missed you,” he hummed against your lips.

You didn’t even care if that was the line he used on all of the other girls. In that moment, all that mattered was his lips against yours, his hands on you, his attention.

You snaked your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting some of the dark strands between your fingertips. “I should really get back soon,” You gasped, relishing in the way his kisses felt up and down your neck.

He relented, letting you down. You pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t mean to keep ‘ya,” he chuckled lowly, breaths still heavy from the makeout session you had been having only seconds before. He nodded towards the door behind you. “Get back out there.”

You nodded wordlessly, opening the door. With one final smile, you slipped behind it. You felt like you were floating as your legs carried you down the stairs and into the living room. You didn’t even care how disheveled you looked.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t notice the way you were wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you plopped onto the couch beside him. He also didn’t notice when his brother wandered down the stairs a few minutes later, or the way he smiled knowingly at you before disappearing into the kitchen.

You were 17 when Choso left for college. He was 19 when his brother had thrown him a going-away party.

There were 10 of you in the living room, a few of Yuuji and his childhood friends all gathered around the coffee table. A movie was on. Some of them were engrossed in a card game in the corner of the room.

You and Choso lingered behind the group, situated comfortably on the couch behind all of the action. He was sitting so close that your thighs brushed against his, so close that it felt like he, too, wanted to savor the moment before interacting with you became a rarity. Before he moved out and started a new life somewhere hours away.

He didn’t voice any of these feelings, keeping his dark eyes unreadable and steady on the movie that Yuji had put on in the background. Selena Gomez was playing from a speaker somewhere behind the couch.

You almost wanted to lean your head on his shoulder. Almost. Never mind the fact that everyone would see it.

You distinctly remember the way he shifted closer to you when you pulled out a blanket. You let him make the bold move, seemingly unfazed by the potential audience only feet away from the two of you.

He tossed the plush blanket over his legs. The lights were dim. Dim enough that they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed at the proximity.

Sixteen minutes passed. You felt like you were going to explode.

Somewhere along the way, though it’s all a bit fuzzy now, you remember feeling his hand creep down beneath the blanket to rest on your thigh. You fought to remain composed, even though the darkness undoubtedly shrouded whatever it was that Choso was planning to do.

He lingered over the skin on your thighs left bare by the shorts you had chosen to wear. His finger traced over you, igniting fire in your nerves. Again, you said nothing, letting him go about tracing shapes on your thigh while his face remained stoic and composed.

You glanced between him and the blanket. You couldn’t see the imprint of his hand moving, somehow, but you could practically feel the heat radiating from beneath it when his index finger slipped between your thighs.

19 years old. Two years had never seemed so far apart. When he was the age you were now, you recalled his voice being quite a few pitches higher. The same voice that had dropped even lower over the last year, now drawing you closer to him as he murmured into your ear, “Can I touch you?”

Parting your legs infinitesimally, you wordlessly granted him entrance. His fingers dipped down, ghosting over your cotton panties in a way that had you wondering how well of a disguise the dim lighting really was.

“What if they see us?” You had whispered back, even quieter. None of them had bothered to turn back. Even still, you wondered if one of them had X-Ray vision.

His voice seemed even deeper as it vibrated against your side. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

The moment his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, you knew you were in no position to disagree.

Yuuji and his friends were none the more wiser. Yuji didn’t notice when you whined quietly, letting him slip two fingers into your aching cunt, or when his brother worked you open on his fingers.

He didn’t notice when the two of you had��left to make out heatedly in the pantry, right against the box of assorted chips, right where anyone could walk in, turn on the light, and see you there pressed up against him disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes.

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

It would be another three months before you would see Choso again.

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

wanna join the ' choso kamo ' taglist?| bfb; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#choso kamo #kamo choso #choso #choso jjk #choso x reader #choso kamo xreader #choso kamo x you #choso x you #chousou #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuuji itadori #itadori x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #choso smut #choso fluff

1K notes · View notes

gyuswhore · 6 months ago

Text

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

384 notes · View notes

koishua · 2 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 ━━━ 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

genre: angst.

length: less than 0.600k words

caution: a take on grief and loss of someone close to you.

synopsis: he dies twice, yet his heart still beats painfully.

special thanks to my beloved, the sexc sexc talented incredible brilliant showstopping user @torhues for biting the bullet and taste testing this for me!! mayhaps my brain twin, despite our opposing opinions on hee's suffering. confirmed this is the only genre i can write

feedback and reblogs are desperately craved <3

lee heeseung has died twice in the long and arduous twenty-two years of his life. once, he had died when he'd lost his voice, abandoned and left stranded in a world where all people ever expected from him was that exact thing. the second time— the second thing he'd lost— had been the greater piece of his being.

his first death was somehow less painful than the second. it had been quicker to mellow out, the pain easier to soothe when you were there. heeseung experienced his first death with you by his side, holding his hand and sharing his tears. dreams he'd built, the work of what seemed to be his entire life. his first death felt much like a bullet did.

it burned, seared, bled and struck him faster than he could blink. the death of an artist's ability to create should have crippled him, and yet, it hadn't. you'd been right by him, held his wound and breathed air into him. you were his second life.

and you were, subsequently, his second death.

this one had hurt much more than the first. heeseung would come to describe this as the moment his heart and flesh had been ripped away from him, his soul following suit. that, however, would not be enough to describe how it truly felt. the second time was so, so much more than just a death.

this one, this one was not as merciful as the quick bullet that was the loss of his most beloved possession and passion. this death was a loss of his entire reason for living. this time, the pain hadn't ebbed away as easily. this time, the pain had settled deep inside his chest, an ache damned to stay there for as long as the heart buried inside of him would beat, no matter how cold and blue the blood that ran in his veins seemed. this pain would leave him paralyzed, the fight in him lost, not even bothering to claw for the air and oxygen his lungs desperately craved.

his second death had suffocated him from inside out. still, his blood, cold and blue, continued to run through his veins and somehow still functioning heart. you were his second attempt at life and you were his second death. you still haunt the corners of his mind, still hold a hand on his throat, each thought of you making your ghostly grip on him tighten to the point where he nears the edge of no return (he doesn't fight you back— doesn't have the heart to, when all he wants is to follow where you've gone to).

lee heeseung had died twice in the twenty-two years of his life, but had never been able to live for the third time. how could he? he'd lost himself in the waves right after you'd left. years would pass by and he'd still wonder if up was down and down was up. he was a man, once with eyes that shone as bright as the stars you'd point out to him at night, who'd been reduced into someone you'd be heartbroken to see if you were around. lost between a plane where nothing but your touch, your lips, your smile, and your laugh existed and the colourless world that his body continued it's daily affairs in. eyes unseeing, skin unfeeling, ears unhearing— his second death took something much, much more precious to him than his life.

lee heeseung's second death had taken away his soul; you were so cruel for doing that to him.

#feedback #every review this gets gives me such an incredible amount of serotonin rush 🤧🤧#this is far from being a long work even by my standards but it's definitely up there as one of my fav concepts to write about #the whole death metaphor thing had been something i pulled out of my ass and it somehow worked 😭😭#literally took me thirty minutes to write this completely too this feels unfair bc that never usually happens #i have an insane amount of unfinished drabbles #my drafts count of 300 can vouch for that #so this one is extra precious #that line is one of my favs too!!#it's the whole point of this really. he lives but is forced to go through the pain each and every day that it feels like he's never #truly 'alive'#in a way it's also worse than death for him #i know that this is a subject not a lot are comfortable reading be it bc of close real life situations or just general uneasiness #and i absolutely understand #this is just the way grief feels to me ig #it's just a little running gag of mine to always dump my feelings on heeseung's character #i just pray that no one ever gets the idea as though i am trying to portray this side of life as something beautiful #bc i often write about it and .. idk ig #it's not. it's a rotten feeling and it's so stuffy and it stays with you more than anything ever can #not everyone feels and reacts the same way #anyways i forgot where i was going with this tangent im so tired it's two thirty am so forgive my lack of overall brain power #i dont romanticise death or depression or anything related to those human experiences point blank #atleast i dont want to and would never ever intentionally do so with thoughts of harming someones way ofthinking about those topics in mind #so yeah goodnight i will be dreaming of this feedback muah muah you're the absolute bestest ever ria <3

100 notes · View notes

r0b0s-robos · 3 months ago

Text

Pretty Boy, a DCA x Reader Oneshot Summary:

The daycare attendants are head over heels for you. Sun especially tries his darndest to gain your attention and favor in any way he can. His daydreams and fantasies meet reality only to be thwarted by someone without any respect for theatre!

This fic is based off this song! -> Naethan Apollo - Pretty Boy [LYRIC VIDEO]

Read the FULL fic/CHECK TAGS on AO3 -> here

Sneak Peek!!

His non-existent heart fluttered as he remembered doing a show with you just the other day. You played the valiant knight who fell for the trapped princess.

“Oh, Princess,” the knight called up the tower. “Your father has trapped you in these walls, but I will take you away from these cold bricks and mortar!”

The princess fawned, swooning over the open window of her tower. “My knight!”

Children laughed at Sun’s high-pitched, shrill voice. Your smile as you sucked in your lips to stop from breaking character made him feel giddy.

“My knight!” the princess exclaimed. “Your words bring me hope! But, how will I escape these walls?”

You cleared your throat, still reeling from his unexpected voice.

“Princess, I will-” you snickered. “I will catch you! Jump into my arms, my love! So that we may run away!” The knight held a hand over his chest as the other gestured to his love.

The princess looked over the ledge, uncertain. “I’m frightened, Sir Knight! These walls are all I’ve ever known. What if the world outside is cruel?” Sun’s smile slacked. “What if I do not survive the fall?”

“Fear not, Princess!” The knight’s booming confidence made the princess cover her mouth in awe. “I will catch you! And should the world be cruel, we will face it together, in love!”

The crowd of children was torn between sounds of disgust and adoration.

The knight spread his arms wide, awaiting the princess’ embrace.

She stood on the ledge.

Sun looked at you, staring intensely. The moment your head turned, he looked away.

“I will catch you.” The knight said earnestly.

The princess nodded. “Whatever you say, dearest knight!” She jumped into the knight’s arms.

Sun held your hand, the only thing separating his segmented fingers from yours was fabric.

The princess clung tightly to the knight, before planting a big kiss on his cheek. “Muah!” she vocalized. “Muah, muah! My hero!” she rejoiced.

The puppets disappeared to the side of the wing. The show ended and you stood from behind the stage. “Okay, kiddos, snack time. Get in a row- Peanut allergies to the left, please!”

You were stepping away before Sun had even stood from his spot. He looked down at the puppets you tucked haphazardly into the lower shelf of the back of the stage. His eyes remained on the princess, noise falling away as he stared into the black, beady eyes and the golden-braided hair that draped over her shoulders.

“Sun!”

He jolted upright. “Coming! So sorry, Sunshine, just tidying up.”

#[r0b0.readingcircle]#fnaf sb #dca community #fnaf dca #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf sun and moon #sun x reader #moon x reader

156 notes · View notes

somerandomcockroach · 4 months ago

Text

@keferon OKAY BUT LISTEN YEAH I would loved if it was just fun ehehehe and sassy flirting with the demon no one sees pfffht, literally summoned a demon just to flirt with, and I guess it could have been going for a long time, just little strips with their funny adventures and then plot can go to the fact that he wants to give him a body and Shockwave would agree or that they just stay the way they are and just hang out like this together (Alo I remember that you wanted to put Ratchet (I keep writing Ratched instead of Ratchet buuuh) and Drift in it as another demon and their summoner thing whghweghgwe but I like how you made two separate stories for them that happen at the same time, okay I am actually PRETTY MUCH invested in this story, I like a lot how it goes and gets tangled and how mixes up with idw ideas and other stuff a lot)

BUT NOW that you changed it that way, you made a few more things that reader might be interested a lot in, like that promise he made and you mentioning that he will regret it, how their relationship progressively develops, plus the fact that Blurr was a frivolous slob gifted with dark magic AND how the tables turn upside dow and he get consequences for what he did in the most unpredictable way for him and how he surely changes in his behaviour, getting more and more concerned about his promise and maybe truly loving someone for the first time in his life and wanting to change something. And then figuring out that that same demon actually was a person before, someone he knew, someone respectable, kind, shiny, absolut sun of a person, who died (I am still on my knees waiting to know how exactly he died...) miserably to the point that he absolutely can't stand his life as a demon and NOT EVEN being able to kill himself!!! And Blurr was a pupil in his school, he saw him, he gifted him an ability to make his magic work for him, gave the freedom to live among everyone to all who was poisoned with this dark magic. OH WAITA HGSDHAG the thing that beastformers can't walk among transformers and the fact that dark spellers also could not, and how these events happen at a close times, OKAY so dark spellers got their kind of freedom thanks to Senator Shockwave (OH MY GOD what if Orion can see Shockwave and will recognise him right away COUGH) BUT I am wondering if beastformers will get some kind of an official declaration or some kind of school to be educated in and I wonder if Deadlock/Drift (I think after leaving he will change his name from the last episode...) will volunteer to be a teacher t be something more, or he will just end up with Ratchet wandering around the world, or maybe there will be a whole damn revolution where all monoformers and beastformers leaded by Drift go against the system, and maybe these events happen at the same time as a Senator Shockwave fighting for the rights of gifted... Okay I'm getting carried a little bit ahsghag excuse me... OH I GOT carried away A LOT I wanted to get back to the point that Blurr, now figuring out the past of Shocwave, dealing with all the events, dealing with what he has done and find a way to free them, at the same time STILL having adventures and fun since I'm sure he can be a good mood lifter to moody Shockwave and even see him in a really good mood since he is... well, not just a demon made of hatred but the wonderful kind of person in his previous life... (okay being carried away but what if Orion might declare the freedom to beastformers (AJHGAJHSDJAH OH MY GOD I IMAGINED JAZZ AS A PANDA HAVING A ROMAN WITH PROWL AND PROWL NOT KNOWING ABOUT IT OKAY SORRY) after seeing what it lead to after Senator Shockwave. And maybe Ratchet will be able to get his sign back freely after revolution will be successful or he will be forever blind just to be free and safe with his husband OKAY LISTEN I think it is obvious that I really like the thing you do....

#I mean I will repeat one hundred more time that fanfics are really hard for me to read... I just can't concentrate on that for a long time #if they are not VERY good.. usually it is much easier for me to read real books #So I know little about characters slowly reading idw and I can't just jump on plenty of fics and just look at them from afar #But such little comic... yeah #the characters in them are understandable for me you put emotion in them and growth that I can easily read on and just observing things #also it is much easier for me to see a ready pictures to jump on something to animate and it goes so smoothly that I still wonder how you d #it and I am absolutely not okay about this fact pfffht #Aaaaah why am I saying all that... where from I started and where I was leading to...#I THINK I JUST WILL SAY AGAIN THAT I LIKE THIS AU WHEEEEEEEZE #Also rewatched your tags under First Aid and... I forgot the name *cough* you can see how good I am with names VORTEZ! Fixed ehfghasghagfe #And yeah ahsghdgahg... I can't read such fics. I like when I see that characters can stand for themselves and it isn't an abuse....#I mean it is okay to show the hell they go through BUT only if from both sides #I didn't read ShockBlurr fics but from what I've been hearing from you both... I wouldn't like it #So I'm happy I come across your version of them and I LIKE IT #And I LIKE the First Aid pair with Vortex if I see a good version of them #I mean in idw he is *muah* put him in a blender but I don't see a good way of using his perks and First Aid's perks good together #They both are maniacs PFFFFHT so yeah... fics disappoint me and I barely read them even if to get better at understanding characters #So I'm happy about what you do since I am very slow at getting into stories like transformers even if I like it

38 notes · View notes

velvetlilacsdaisies · 9 months ago

Text

Fourth Wing Men HCs: nicknames for him

Includes: Bodhi Durran, Garrick Tavis

A/n: I haven’t wrote some headcannons in a HOT minute, but me and @garricks4thwingqueen have been conspiring and inspired me to take a whack at it again. These got a smidge long, so I will make a part 2 with more characters, and other scenarios, but you know who had to start with! I also included some AI pics I’ve been cooked up that are mashes of my fancasts ideas for the characters. I have the hardest times visualizing a lot of characters and places in stories and sometimes the AIs I’ve seen all look alike or aren’t itching the right part of my brain. Disclaimer: I tried to take into consideration book accuracy, but AI is AI and I only dabble w it on my phone. So I’ll take what I can get. Skin tones, hair, proportions may not be perfect. These just personally help get a better concept, and I find fun to make, and anddd risking forgetting about a free 7 day trail from time to time 🕳️🤸‍♀️ *muah* enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking/smoking (if u squint), suggestive content

Bodhi Durran

Bo/Boh, beau, bowie, Bo Bo, babe, love

Xaden and him are maternal cousins. While the firstborn always had the weight of responsibility growing up being an heir by his parents. The younger cousin was always ‘coddled’ by his. Though he adored his family, he hated how they always doted on him. Mainly because of how much his older cousin and his best friend would tease him about it.

Xaden and Garrick started cooing “Bowie” and “Bo Bo” at him when they were 12, he was 11.

“Bowie, don’t forget to write to me.” “Bowie, be good for your uncle.” “Oh Bo Bo don’t you look so handsome today!” They’d snicker to him under their breaths when he’d arrive at the fortress when his mom would drop him before flying out to an outpost. Watching how his cheeks flushed red, and he had tight balled fists pressed at his sides.

Once the doors closed, after formal introductions with his Uncle and lingering personal staff were done, and once the adults a room away—he would hurl one of his clenched fists at their shoulders.

Starting a playful brawl amongst the three

Spoiler alert: Bo Bo back then lost once or twice…maybe a handful of times

Then as awkward teenagers when problems were simpler the three of the pubescent boys discovered churam and drinking. Bodhi started unironically calling himself Bo Bo and Bowie, mockingly teasing himself as a ‘bit’.

The young men were sat around a fire in the clearing to the outside of Riorson House. Xaden and Garrick in a heated debate over a petty topic. “Bo Bo can’t comprehend what’s going on right now.” He would say, exaggerating and scratching his the top of his head. It had been effective for the most part to ease the tension between his friends

Now from time to time, he’ll still do it especially if you’re present. He always thought you looked cute as you shook your head with a crooked smile spread across your face when he did it

Sometimes fhd guys would find him doing something badass, you’ll hear triumphant whooping from Xaden and Garrick, endearingly using the nicknames they called him as a child

“Go Bowie!” “Bo Bo that was fucking awesome!” “Bowie! Bowie! Bowie!”

But if anyone else besides the select few called him those names, he’d glare daggers at them. Like the time Ridoc tried to call him Bo Bo during lunch while the group was joking around

Bodhi’s boyish grin disappeared instantaneously. “If you ever call me that, I will rip your tongue out.”

The first time he heard you call him Bowie tho, he nearly melted. It was one of the first times you slept over with him and he had to get up early for a leadership meeting

You propped up on elbow, using your other hand to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Do you have to go, Bowie?” A small pout on your lips watching him get dressed

His other pet names from you were selective, usually just calling him Bo/Boh, but your favorites were Babe and Love

Babe being the one you leaned towards the most

especially when you would catch him doing something ridiculous or he’d press your buttons. Or just when you wanted something

“Babe? Are you kidding me?” “Babe stop!”

“Babe can you get me another drink, please?” You asked, looking up from your lashes with puppy dog eyes. He folded every time no matter if you were closer to the serving station or bar. How could he say no when you gave him that look? Not caring, flipping all his friends off as they’d give him knowing smiles.

He was a simp for you

Love was usually reserved for tender moments with him. When you’d notice he’d be having a bad day, or to calm him down when you’d notice he was fuming silently beside you at something going on

Intertwining your fingers with his giving a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright, Love.”

Or holding his cheeks, bringing him to eye level with you. “I’m here, Love. Can you take a couple deep breaths for me?”

Sometimes you broke out the corny double entendre of beau. Very select people would get it, but you thought it was great

Mainly you’d be out to the taverns with your friends when you’d use it. Usually when a girl would approach him, and you’d try to hide your jealousy tho it was plain as day

“He’s actually my beau.” You’d say, a sinisterly sweet smile on your face when a girl tried to introduce herself. Your hand twirling the curls at the nape of his neck. Bodhi would always shiver from the gesture, trying to contain his arousal at your possessiveness

Then later in the night, he’d pin you to the wall of his room. Pressing feverish kisses up the column of your throat. “Are you gonna show me all the way I’m your beau?” He muttered before grazing the delicate skin with his teeth

Garrick Tavis

Gare, Tavis, Gary, Gare Bear, Hon/Honey, Sir

His parents tried to call him Gary at one point growing up, but he always ignored them or begged them not to call him that. It always sounded so stupid to him

Garrick was blunt, dry, and straight to the point not caring for nicknames. Only really preferring to be called by his name or Gare on occasion by his friends and acquaintances. His last name an even better alternative than a nickname

But Xaden, Imogen, and Bodhi took a sick pleasure in all the creative corny nicknames his parents would try to make a thing for him growing up.

“I think we oughta get Gary’s input?” Imogen leaned her chin in her hand as they all discussed weekend plans after school looking over at the towering young man. The side of her mouth crookedly lilting upward, knowing she struck a nerve. Garrick could already feel his eye twitch, clenching his quill as he acted like he hadn’t heard them a few feet away at the table in the library.

“It seems Gare Bear’s not in the mood today.” Xaden would casually lean back in his chair, smirking, and watching his best friend stroll into the dining room late for dinner time after a terrible day

Which would result in Garrick walking by, and tipping his chair back causing the Riorson to flail and fall backwards. “Relax asshole,” Xaden hissed, rubbing his head.

To this day they still called him the silly names. Taking immense pride when you had picked up on the memo, and started to call Garrick the names he despised. Especially because you two weren’t each others favorite people at first

The first time it happened, it was when Garrick pissed you off. He had been criticizing all your sparring movements, and you had enough. “Sorry we can’t all be perfect like you, Gare Bear.” You’d sneer, watching the irritation form on his face.

“Do not call me that.” He’d glower, but you’d just smile brightly. “Whatever you say…Gare Bear.”

Seeing how it got under his skin, from that moment on you’d always call him just to pester him. Enjoying the glare he’d shoot your way or awaiting for whatever witty remark he’d reply

Eventually once you two started getting along, you called him his first name, being more considerate towards his feelings. Garrick’s chest filling with disappointment as he awaited the usual Gare Bear falling from your pretty lips.

“Hey Garrick,” it was a rare moment when you found him by himself. None of your mutual friends around for once, and one of the first interactions you had alone. “What?” He looked up from what he doing. “I said hey?” You gave him a weird look. “But you called me Garrick.” He said in disbelief. “That’s your name isn’t it?” “You always call me Gare Bear tho.”

That’s when you realized he secretly liked it despite him trying to act annoyed at you.

Then when you had officially started dating, he had to get used to fact you loved calling him all these terms of endearment. Deep down, loving how you could make him become bashful by your words

“Here you go, Honey.” Leaning down, kissing his cheek, setting down a dish of apple crisp in front of him. You knew how much he liked the dessert and grabbed an extra one when getting your dinner. Garrick’s cheeks tinged red and chuckled appreciatively, “you’re the best.” His friends just silently stared as if you two had three heads. “What’s the matter?” You asked the group unphased, taking a seat. “You broke him.” Imogen replied in awe.

You had changed his perception on being called nicknames. Even letting it slide when his friends poked fun at him with the once despicable nicknames

Out of all the nicknames you called him, his favorite by far was the one you’d use in the bedroom.

“Please,” you begged, while sitting on your knees. “Please what?” Garrick gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You gulped, “please Sir.” A cruel smirk on his face, pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

175 notes · View notes

takaaxo · 11 months ago

Text

Woooo my first rottmnt -w- I wanted to do a prompt to get me motivated, I love them so much, PLEASE NICK I WANT SEASON 3!!

Raph being my favourite, he's JUST A SWEETHEART LIKE HOW CAN ANYONE HATE HIM?! How he cares for his brothers, and he's such a gentle giant💖😭

Mikey is relatable to me, mainly because he's the youngest and I'm the youngest in my siblings too and there's more perks that he does that I feel more than the others.

Donnie is such a cool design to me, especially the fact the turtles are based on a different species of turtle and him having a physical disadvantage to the rest yet solves around it with his battle shell is MUAH 💋 also all his gadgets are cool looking.

Karai is so underrated, as my girl just PERISHES, I wished she had more screentime, to you know have family bonding with the turtles. Like I ACHE FOR MORE FAMILY DYNAMICS MAN!

I frickin love April, I love her energy and such a sister vibe. I would love her as a friend, how she fits perfectly with each turtle ESPECIALLY DONNIE it just shows how much of a good character she is.

I love Señor Hueso, he's such a funny side character, I love how he calls Leo "pepino" and how bro just fuses into ✨Don Suave✨

#rottmnt #april o'neil #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt leo #rottmnt karai #rottmnt senor hueso

170 notes · View notes

siren-serenity · 11 months ago

Text

morning routines

characters: donquixote rosinante/corazon, gn!reader warnings: fluff a/n: - in my household, we live, laugh, love rosinante - LOOK AT MY HUSBAND!!!! I DON'T CARE IF HE'S CLUMSY, I'LL PROTECT HIM *shaking fists in fury at oda* why did you have to kill him?!?!? - feedback is appreciated!

Before (Marine life)

early mornings with dawn breaking through the clouds // staring out the window overlooking the training grounds // inhaling enough donuts as breakfast before sengoku or garp catches him // being thrown to the side on accident in an attempt to wake up smoker // ironing his marine uniform

The beeping was the first thing to wake him up. Loud, repetitive beep noises from the alarm clock would cause Rosinante to groan and pull the tailor-made blanket over his head in an attempt to muffle the noise. Although, he would get out of bed a few minutes later, having been too awake to go back to bed. After getting out of bed and folding it properly (old habits died hard, he guessed), Rosinante turned to stare at the slumbering Smoker.

He's heard rumors from the new cadets of his roommate. How merciless he was in their training. How fearsome he seemed, so fearsome that they didn't even dare to look him in the eye when talking. But when Rosinante spies the little trail of drool from his mouth and his messy bedhead, he can only snicker to himself.

"Wake up, Smoker!" Rosinante shakes him before eyes widening at a sudden thought. 'Wait, doesn't he have those instincts-'

Smoker sat up suddenly, hand outstretched and pushing Rosinante towards the wall. Wispy smoke trailed out of his hands as he used them to boost Rosinante's shove against the wall. The blond crashed against the wall, groaning at the pain that blossomed.

"Mornin', Rosinante..." Smoker grumbled, running a hand through his white locks. "What time is it?"

He just groaned, head upside down and his lanky legs sticking upwards. "Good morning to you too, Smoky."

Smoker's eye twitched before he launched a pillow into Rosinante's face.

But in the end, Rosinante's morning routine didn't change much throughout the years. Maybe there was a promotion or two, which would result in him adding a few more steps to his routine. An ironing of his new uniform (which would cause him to burn himself sometimes) or the plop of his cap on his messy blond locks -- the usual. His routine was fixed and sometimes, as Rosinante stared into the mirror as he brushed his teeth, he wished it could be a bit more...fun.

After (With you)

extra toothbrush next to his // containers of his favorite make-up brand next to your facial products // sitting on a stool and your weight straddling his waist as your careful hands applied his signature make-up // a kiss to your cheek and earning one in return, causing him to grin boyishly

Rosinante smiles, waking up with an arm looped around your body and your legs tangled with his. Your head is pressed onto his chest and your hair is scattered across his heart-patterned pajamas. He almost didn't want to wake up but the sunlight that streamed in through the window disturbed your slumber. You blinked wearily.

"Morning," His voice was raspy and he cleared his throat to try again. You looked at him, eyes still puffy yet filled with a gentle sort of love that never failed to make him melt. "Good morning to you too, love."

You get up, stretching your arms and wincing at the audible 'pop'! sounds. Rosinante stands up and takes a step, only to trip over literally nothing and into your expectant arms. He chuckles to himself, too used to his clumsiness and you press a kiss to his lips.

"Falling for me so early in the morning?" You laugh and pull him by the hand to the bathroom. It's practically muscle memory at this point - hand him his toothbrush and toothpaste before reaching out for your facial products. He pops a kiss to the top of your head in thanks, releasing a loud 'muah!'

"Rosi!" You playfully gasp as he drops his head onto your shoulder and nuzzling himself in the crook of your collarbone. His messy golden hair tickles your skin and your grin only grows wider. "So this is the feared Commander of the Marines?"

"Mhmph," You feel him nod into your skin. "Fear me!"

You lean down, spitting out the toothpaste and looking into the mirror to wash away remnants. You spy Rosinante's lovesick stare, eyes in the mirror meeting yours and you can practically see hearts.

"So scary," You make jazz hands, giggling as Rosinante puffs up his chest. "You're too cute to be scary, love."

As always, whenever he hears his nickname, he melts into a puddle.

"I've been domesticated," He pulls you into a hug and with his tall height, he easily swallows you into the fabric of his pajamas. His arms wrap around your body like a cocoon of warmth. Rosinante's next words are muffled. "So you have to take care of me."

You laugh, nodding against his chest. Rosinante presses a kiss onto the top of your forehead and you melt.

"Of course," You pull him gently by the collar to press a kiss to his forehead. Then to his cheeks. His eyelids. His nose. Finally, his lips and you remain there for a couple of seconds before leaning backward. His eyes flutter and a blush crawls onto his face. "You're mine, aren't you?"

"I'm yours," Rosinante agrees, slightly breathless.

#one piece #one piece x reader #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #rosinante #rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante x reader #rocinante #rocinante x reader #donquixote rocinante x reader #corazon #corasan #rosinante corazon

203 notes · View notes

strangesthirdeye · 4 months ago

Text

ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴍᴇ (ᴏɢ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ x ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: One last call

Warning: IT'S OG STEPHEN STRANGE, MUAH 💋, heavy angst, death, blood, last call, sad, acceptance. Dying, Major character death, snow. Pretending that everything is ok

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ring.... Ring...

Stephen woke up from his sleep after hearing the ringtone of his phone indicating that someone was calling him. Stephen sighed as he opened his sleepy eyes. He looked on his right side where you should be but he finds nothing. He remembered that you told him that you will be back late because you got a mission with Tony, Nat and Wanda.

You are an Avengers, of course you will come home late. Stephen scoffed as he reached for his phone on the bedside table. There he saw your name displayed on the screen. He slides the accept button on his phone screen.

"hey, love" Stephen murmured sleepily.

"hey, honey" you replied in a low voice.

Stephen frowned. "Are you okay? You seem.. tired?"

"I'm good.. Just a little sleepy" you replied weakly.

"Where are you really?" Stephen shuffled his position on the bed for comfort.

"Bed?" you replied.

"You should have slept, you must be tired after doing the mission" Stephen advised.

"I know, I just.. I just want to hear your voice... Before I sleep" You said lowly.

Stephen smiled to himself. "Is that why you called me? You miss my voice?"

"Yeah.."

"Well, now you've heard my voice, you can rest now" Stephen muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"I know but.. Let me just hear your voice one last time before I sleep.. Your voice makes me feel safe and calm" You replied lowly.

"What do you want me to say if you think my voice makes you safe and calm?" Stephen stared at the ceiling of his room.

"Anything.. Just say it.. Even if it's nonsense or something like Mystic Arts? Kamar Taj? Dimensional demons.. Anything" You suggested, voice faded more and more.

Stephen let out a breath. "I don't know what to say actually.."

"Oh, please.. You surely have anything to say.. Just well, whatever.. For me? Please?" you pleaded.

Stephen agrees and there goes he tells everything that happened during your absence in his presence. Not long after he finished his talks he was silent.

Somehow, he could sense that something was wrong. Not in his room or Sanctum, but the other side of the call on his phone. You. He feels something is wrong with you.

At first you seem tired and probably sleepy, but over time, you get tired and tired. At first he thought you were just sleepy after doing the mission. Tough Mission. You are probably just tired but then whenever you try to answer his conversation you just hummed and replied with short sentences which left him more confused.

"Are you sure you want me to continue?" Stephen hesitated.

"Yeah.. I don't mind" you replied shortly.

"When are you going back to the Sanctum?" Stephen asked.

"I don't know.. Maybe 3 or 4 days or maybe I'm not coming home due to this mission" You said, voice getting lower and lower.

"You sound tired, love. I think you need some rest so that you can finish this mission quickly" Stephen suggested.

"Yeah, I'm definitely tired.. You should go back to sleep too... I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep" you replied.

"It's nothing.. Actually I was also expecting you to call me but I think you should just rest.." Stephen changed his lying position.

"... Yeah, you're right.. I should rest.. " the line became silent for a moment. "I love you, always.. Thank you for being with me, honey"

Stephen smiled tiredly. "I love you too, always.. I will always be here for you, love"

You stared at the dark sky. White snow fell heavily on a cold night. A very cold wind blew on you as you lay facing the night sky with your body covered in blood. Big wound in the stomach. Blood flows non-stop from your severe wound. A puddle of blood forming under you. The once lively face that was full of color turned pale, eyes look empty showing that your time here is not long. Life gives you enough time to make the final call. To say goodbye.

You took a shaky breath. Eyes stared at the night sky. Body temperature is decreasing.

"Goodbye, Stephen" the call fell silent.

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor stephen strange #dr stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange imagine #dr stephen strange #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #Spotify

47 notes · View notes

dixonsstinkysock · 1 month ago

Text

"Je t'aime de tout mon cœur."

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader, Daryl Dixon x Daughter, (slight Carol x Reader???)

Era: Daryl Dixon: The Book of Carol

Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Descriptions of the Dead… THIS TAKES PLACE IN EPISODE 1 OF THE BOOK OF CAROL, IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN IT AND WANT NO SPOILERS, DO NOT READ.

Word Count: 3,441

Chapter Summary: Carol, Reader, and Remy start their search for someone who’s been gone far too long.

A/N: This is (sorta) my first x reader fic. I’m super excited and nervous at the same time, I’ve worked very hard on this chapter so I hope it’s readable. Also this entire fic was inspired by @villifix !! They are so creative and are basically the reason I’m writing this 😭😭. Sooo Thank you so much for inspiring me! (and letting me use your character concept muah) I don’t know alot about guns or cars so bear with me here. One more thing, I feel like Carol is very protective over the reader and Remy in this, which is mostly biased because I think she’s hot and I want her to protect me…okay goodbye.

Click–clack..click–clack..click–

“Ow! Damn– ...Sorry.” You adjust the rearview mirror to glance at the 17 year old in the backseat– who should be asleep– instead messing with that stupid butterfly knife.

“What happened? I thought you were sleeping.” You mentioned, slightly annoying at the fact she’s still trying to perfect her knife tricks, over getting some rest. Carol looks back at the hazel-eyed girl, checking if the wound is bad enough to pull-over. “You’ll be okay Rem, it’s just a small knick. Be more careful–Please. We wanna bring you back home in one piece.”

“Right..I’ll be more careful.” Remy agreed, her voice small and soft, as if she’s a little..embarrassed. “Uhm..Mom, could we stop for a minute?” she asks with a slight country accent–an accent she got from being raised by a certain redneck archer. “I kinda have to pee..”

“Sure Angel Face, it can’t hurt us to take a short break.” You smile at her through the rearview and turn to pull onto a dirt patch on the side of the road.

Remy walks a little out into the brush–knife in its sheath–hidden a little under her purple zebra striped dress. You and Carol are leaned up against your car, a white, 2010 Toyota Matrix. “Have you noticed anything off about Remy recently?” You question, turning to face Carol. “It’s like she’s…I don’t know–Distracted?” Carol responds immediately, already having an idea of what the problem was.

“Well..We’ve been looking for Daryl non-stop and we’ve had no luck so far. Not so much as even a clue. She’s worried, I don’t blame her..I am too.”

Remy stands, fixing her dark brown-striped leggings. It’s quiet, the only sounds are the leaves rustling, a squirrel scurrying home with dinner. It’s almost peaceful–if you forget the dead are roaming around. Unfortunately, the smell is too pungent to miss, their throaty growl, the agonizingly slow footsteps or the sound of their decaying body separating as they drag themselves against the ground. Remy knows the feeling, knows the sound, the smell–it’s like being watched..being hunted.

It isn’t hard finding the lone walker, Remy gets closer to “put it out of its misery” as she says. She knows that the dead aren’t people anymore but she still prefers to give them the respect they deserve– for them to finally rest in peace…sometimes pieces.

Carol notices her first, itching to get back on the road and continue their search for their beloved hunter. You all pile back into the car, preparing for the long journey ahead. You look back at Remington–your daughter–she’s grown so much, so fast.

“You okay Rem? No bites?”

“Yeah, No bites.”

Turrrr..turrrr..turrrrrr

“You hear that?’

“Yeah..There!”

Carol frantically points to where the familiar noise is coming from– a motorcycle– specifically Daryl’s motorcycle but…No Daryl.

“Mom, is that–”

“Yes it is, buckle up please.” Of course, Remy is already buckled.. She doesn’t feel safe riding in a vehicle without a seatbelt– especially with her mother driving. You whip the car around, now following behind the bike– matching its speed, determined to find out where this random man got Daryl’s bike from.

Carol rolls the window down, leaning out of it to aim her handgun at him. Only wanting to do enough damage to where he stops– and is still able to be questioned after the crash.

BANG! SCREEEEEK!

Fortunately, the man is almost perfectly intact..besides the bullet wound in his shoulder. Also– lucky for him– You’re able to bring the car to a halt just before running him over. Carol gets out of the car, slowly, the stranger obviously isn’t going anywhere. She walks to the trunk, and pulls out her Weatherby PA-08, already loaded.

Approaching the injured man, aiming her shotgun–

“Where’d you get the bike?” Her voice is flat, but confident.

“W-Wait! Don’t shoot..please..” The man’s voice was shaky and unclear, almost on the verge of tears as he held his wounded shoulder.

“Where did you get the bike?”

You’re still in the car, not bothering to get out, knowing Carol can handle this herself. That crash was loud enough to draw a good amount of walkers– you hope to get out of here before then. Remy’s in the backseat twirling the ends of her short braids, a nervous tic she’s had since she grew hair.

Carol checks the man for any weapons, she finds a small hunting knife and a handgun similar to her own. No bullets. You decide to get out of the car now, wondering what’s taking so damn long.

“He know anything?”

“Yeah a little..Let’s tie him up. Leave him in one of those trunks over there.”

Walking back towards the car, Carol picks up Daryl’s bike, turning it in the direction you all were heading in the first place and walks it to the driver window.

“Follow me, there’s a junkyard a couple miles from here. That’s where he said he got the bike.”

“Alright, right behind you.” Remy climbs in the front seat, her mood lightened, knowing that we are one more step closer to finding the man who raised her.

You stop the car a few miles from– what you assume– is the place you need to be. Carol pulls up beside you as you roll your window down.

“I’m gonna ride up on that hill right there– Take a look at the place. Stay here until I come back.”

Around 5 minutes go by, when you see Carol riding the old death machine back towards you. “So?”

“I only saw a few people, but there might be more inside. Let’s walk straight in there– show that we’re friendly.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You start the car up, putting on your best poker face. “I’ll let you do the talking, people seem to trust you more.” You say, teasing Carol at the fact she’s so good at manipulating people..a little more than she should be. She gets the job done so maybe you shouldn’t complain too much.

“Ha-Ha Fine. I’ll do all the work, again.”

“Oh–Whatever”

You both laugh, and start heading towards the Camp. Carol gets off the bike, while you and Remy get out of the car, staying a few steps behind Carol and ready to move if need be. Her hands are up, and her steps are slow– an “I’m Friendly, Don’t Shoot” gesture. Clearing her throat she starts–

“Ahem…Hello..” The 3 men startle, spinning around and stopping what they’re doing to find out where the new voice is coming from. You notice a familiar crossbow in the hands of an unfamiliar man. He sets the bow down on one of the cars hood and picks up a new tire– walking away from the weapon. It felt like seconds..Carol attacking them after the man walked away. Before you knew it Carol had Daryl’s crossbow back, one of his arrows in someone's foot, and new information.

You decided to leave your old car back there, running low on gas and starting to overheat. You’d gotten lucky to make it that far. Carol decided to take the Mercedes Benz SLS one of the guys had just finished working on, the same guy who had Daryl’s bow.

“Sucks, we had to leave his bike back there…” Remy murmured, her voice back to being soft and small, her lower lip slightly jutted out. She’s always had a problem with letting thing’s go– worthless or not, everything means something to her.

The Boatyard was a waste of time. A couple beached, useless, boats aren’t going to help you in your search for Daryl, especially in getting to Europe somehow. You can tell Carol is getting more and more frustrated by the minute. Everytime you think you’re finally getting somewhere– it’s another dead end.

Getting back on the road with no destination– again– had tensions rising.

Carol was quiet, Remy was jotting down everything we had learned in her old tattered notebook. She’d been writing more, sometimes drawing, You’ve gotten a few peeks here and there when she falls asleep re-reading everything.

“-ey..Helloo? Earth to Y/N.”

“Yeah? Sorry..lost in thought… Did you need something?” You noticed the pair of square sunglasses Carol found in the car, they look good on her.

“Just wanted to see if they had anything good in that glove box, the silence is making me itchy” Opening the glove box, you find a couple audio cassettes inside, different rock bands, pop, etc. You grabbed a random tape and handed it to Carol, still looking at all the other ones. Some lady with a high pitched voice starts singing. Obviously Carol is not into it and throws it out the window.

Another tape. An up-beat instrumental, again not a fan.

A third tape. You should’ve been carefully reading the names on the cassettes before giving them to her, but honestly, finding the right song wasn’t important right now. It’s a meditation audio, she hates it. Almost breaks the radio trying to get it out. With no luck, she decides to try and follow the instructions coming from the tape..taking a deep breath in..and then–screaming in frustration.

Kinda awkward but you understand, Remy decides to lay down in the back seat, trusting Carol enough to take her seatbelt off for the first time while the vehicle is still in motion. Carol hears a strange whirring noise, like a plane or a helicopter. She looks through the windshield up at the sky, searching for the object making that noise, not paying attention to the road. You look up right before it happens.

“Carol, Watch out!” SCREEEEEK!

She swerves off the road, after hitting the walker in your way– crashing into a tall Drive-IN sign.

“AHH! What the hell?!” Remy yelps in confusion, now squished in the floor behind the front seats. “Holy shit..Remy?! Are you okay?” You whip around to check your kid for any injuries– she’s fine– might be a bit sore later but thankfully nothing serious.

“Fuck..I’m sorry. Are you two okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good, are you?..”

“Carol, you’re bleeding.” You reach your hand up towards her forehead, there’s a 3-inch gash going from her hairline to right above her right eyebrow. It’s bleeding but not enough to be anything critical; you hope.

“I’ll be fine..Might have a major headache but I’m sure it’s nothing serious..” She takes another look in the sky searching for the plane again.

“What the hell happened? Why weren’t you watching the road?” You’re a little upset at the fact she put your kid in serious danger.

“I- I saw a plane or.. something above us. If we find it..” Carol looks at you as if she doesn’t need to explain anymore. She doesn’t, it’s like you two are connected telepathically, you get it. Remy’s up and in her seat looking at you two, a lost expression on her face.

“Y’know, It would be nice if you guys would finish your sentences once in a while, then maybe I’d be up to speed.” Carol gets out of the car to assess the damage done, while you turn to explain what you two were thinking.

“I think the radiator is fucked. We’re gonna be on foot from here.” You and Remy get out of the car, gathering all of your belongings.

“The plane went that way.” Carol points where she last saw the plane heading.

“Okay..Rem, you got your stuff?”

“Yeah..I’m ready.” She confirms after putting her bag strap over her head.

That noise is back..which means the plane is close. All three of you look up in hopes of seeing it. “There..that’s the direction we need to go.” Carol points at the plane again before it disappears behind the tall trees.

“Alright, we should hurry before it gets too dark. I don’t wanna be out here on unfamiliar grounds with the dead walking.”

You couldn’t make it before dark but it was better than nothing. After a few hours of walking, you three come across a tall metal fence– not knowing if it was electric you ask Remy to keep back a little. Carol moves forward to scope the place out, once she knows it’s relatively safe she gives you two the signal to follow her.

There’s a large trap on the right side of the metal gate, the gate looks stable..and powered, a good thing that whoever lives here has power, a bad thing at the thought of what they had to do to keep this place secure. Carol motions for you to get under the large trap, stepping over the previous attempting the same. Remy’s the smallest out of all of you; no one would expect her to be able to lift something that heavy.

“Okay, Rem get over here and pretend to get us out. Me and your Mom are gonna try and get this guy's attention.”

“Just follow what he says and we’ll be okay.” You reach your hand out through the gaps of the bars to caress her cheek.

“Yeah.. I got it.” She slightly smiles at you, reassuring you she’ll be fine.

“You ready?”

“Always.” You put your arm back into the bars and position it to look lodged under the rusted metal prongs, Carol does the same.

“HELP!..SOMEBODY HELP!” You two shout loud enough to attract the man.

He comes up from behind the cliff, pointing a light–and gun– at you three. “Quiet! You’re gonna draw them..” Carol explains what happened to our car, striking a deal with the man, spewing a bunch of bullshit like “Relying on the kindness of strangers”.

“Is it just you three?” Carol nods. “You swear?”

“Please..We won’t cause you any problems, I promise.” Remy being here made it a little easier for his guard to be let down; Him realizing she’s just a teenager.

“I’ll get you all fixed up..then you leave.” He opens the gate with some kind of remote. “One false move and I’ll shoot you.”

You and Remy are standing in the open barn waiting for Carol to finish cleaning up. Ash, the man who is helping you three, is standing right outside, gun in hand– waiting to shoot if need be. The power goes out unexpectedly, Carol stops what she’s doing and slowly looks over to Ash.

“What’s that?” He looks a little impatient and sighs. “Problems with my generator..happens from time to time.”

He walks away to go and fix the problem, trusting you three a tiny bit more, enough to leave you unguarded. Carol follows him out, still dabbing her forehead with the damp towel. Ash flips some switch on the generator and the power comes back on– a temporary fix.

“Have you ever hit a walker with your car?” Carol questions, trying to get him to open up a little. “No..” He gives a short response, obviously not wanting to engage in small talk with a stranger he just met, creeping around his walls.

“Hm.. You're lucky, I think I smashed the radiator” He shoulders his gun, not thinking of you all to be too big of a threat.

“You can spend the night here if you want..”

“Really?” Remy gives him a hopeful smile, excited to be sleeping within walls again.

“Yeah. C'mon you three can stay out here in the barn” He leads You, Carol, and Remy out to a quaint, small barn, a little ways from what you assume is his house. Remy walks in first checking the place out, she thinks it's kinda ugly, considering her face is slightly scrunched. You go to walk in after her but realize Carol isn’t following you two. It’s like she’s frozen in time, somewhat shaking, as she starts to tear up.

Ash walks towards her slowly, gently grabbing her arm before you can, snapping her out of whatever trance she was in.

“Hey..You okay?” She looks at you with a dazed expression, blinking away her tears and pulling herself together. “Fine...C’mon let’s get inside.” Ash shuts the barn door behind him, turning the main lights on. You see Remy standing in front of– what you assume– is the plane you all saw earlier. Carol walks up behind her, rubbing her shoulder.

“Alright, you can sleep in there” Ash states, turning on the lights of your room for the night.

“You fly that thing?” He looks at the plane, longingly, as if he misses it.

“The noise attracts the dead but it's worth it, just to get up above everything for a while everyday” Remy looks at him with a genuine smile on her face. “It’s pretty cool, I’ve always wanted to fly in a plane.” He gently smiles back at her.

“Alright.. There you go”. He gestures towards the room, clearly wanting to get this awkward moment over with. You, Carol, and Remy make your way into the small room, getting as comfortable as you can. There's a few heavy blankets in the room as well so, at least you’ll be warm for the night.

“Thank you..for everything.” You turn to give him a lighthearted smile, keeping up this facade. Ash shuts and locks the door behind him, finally you and Carol have a moment to come up with another plan. You need to get him on your side somehow, he knows how to operate a plane, he's useful.

Remy is already dead-asleep, she’s always been a heavy sleeper. Something that will get you killed if you’re not careful but she knows she’s safe, especially with you and Carol.

“So..What are you thinking?” You and Carol sit down on the floor next to Remy, speaking in your normal tones, knowing she wouldn’t wake up if a tornado came through.

“I’m not entirely sure..We need to find out more about him. Somehow we need to stay longer, do some digging.”

“Alright..we can think about it more tomorrow, I don’t know about you but those blankets look really good right now.” Carol smirks at you, but not without looking at the make-shift bed herself. It does look very comfy.

“Goodnight Y/N.” She moves to get under the blankets, and get in her signature sleep postion, you do the same.

“Night Carol..”

You can’t sleep, your mind is racing at the thought that Ash can help you find Daryl, and what you could do to get him on board with flying to Europe. You can’t stop thinking about all the negatives and everything that could go wrong while doing this, the plane won’t make it without a couple stops along the way–who knows what you’ll run into during them–, you could hit a bad storm and die in that death trap, you’d be putting your daughter at even more risk; flying into the unknown.

Is it worth it?.. Of course it is, it’s Daryl. You’ve made it this far you can’t give up now. You could never give up on Daryl, he’s done too much for you..for Remy. He’s family, you’d do anything for family–that’s what you thought when he first started going back outside the walls, looking for Rick after 10 years. Honestly It’d be a miracle if Rick was still alive but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Why would he not come back if he was still living, he knows where Alexandria is..Hilltop...

It feels like a long shot but if that’s what Daryl had to do to sleep at night, who were you to tell him no? You two made a deal, He would search for a little, but no more than a couple weeks at a time. That way he could still have a little peace in his life knowing that he’s trying but also spending time with his family, watching his kids grow.

The first fight you and Daryl had about the entire situation was stupid, the only reason it happened was because you were frustrated that you barely saw him anymore, that Remy barely saw him anymore. Daryl was frustrated because he felt like you didn’t want him looking anymore, that he should just give up, pretend like Rick never existed and move on with his life.

You made up barely an hour later, both realizing you shouldn’t be arguing at a time like this. Tensions were high and it was a spur-of-the-moment argument. Your brain is getting foggy now, thinking of memories with Daryl made your mind calm. You’re falling asleep, now less anxious than you were when you first laid down, eager to wake up tomorrow and continue your search.

Hope you enjoyed! Like I said I spent alot of time on this so super excited!! Chapter 2 coming soon!! 💚💚

(also if you would like to see Remy’s design I had in mind dm me!!!)

Translations:

"Je t'aime de tout mon cœur." -- I love you with all my heart.

31 notes · View notes