#They don't talk about ships but you know this is about

[rcmclachlan]

Reading the comments on this post and you know what? Tommy does have a podcast!

It's called Getting Rom-Commy with Tommy and he breaks down the history, plots, tropes, and cliches made famous by romantic comedies. He recorded the first episode—Tillie's Punctured Romance, the first feature film in the genre—in 2020 during the early days of the pandemic, and has since gained a small but loyal following who love his deep dives, quirky sense of humor, and the random breadcrumbs about his own life that he drops occasionally.

For three and a half years, he's posted an episode every other Thursday without fail, so it's the talk of r/romcommytommy when the promised episode about A New Leaf doesn't materialize. They worry about Tommy being sick or dead—or worse: growing bored with the subject matter—and flood his podcast inbox with well wishes and pleas to continue the series.

Finally, the episode goes up the following Thursday, and he prefaces it by apologizing for the delay. He had gotten tangled up in a work thing and had spent the previous week dealing with the fallout (i.e.: paperwork), but he's in high spirits because he isn't in federal prison and has reconnected with old friends. And made some new ones! Which has nothing to do with Walter Matthau's performance, which in Tommy's opinion is one of his best, and he jumps right into the movie and says no more about what kept him away.

After that, for months, the series takes on a different tone—more buoyant, almost bewilderingly cheerful—and it elevates what was already a great program to something that truly has a happy ending every time. More people start listening. The subreddit hits 10k members, and speculation about what's causing Tommy's audible joy runs rampant, with most agreeing it's because he has someone special in his life.

Then, the 103rd episode goes live. It's an unflinching look at the movie Blue Valentine, which is very much not a romantic comedy, and for the entire episode Tommy vacillates between sounding dead inside and on the verge of tears. "It's just another example of how even the most passionate relationship will erode over time," he murmurs. The episode ends without its usual jaunty outro.

It becomes clear over the next several weeks that something devastating has happened, because Tommy has ditched his beloved rom-coms for the most depressing movies ever made. The subject of the top trending post on the subreddit for a month is 'If I ever listen to the Closer episode again I will need the following: a gun.'

His listeners debate whether or not to jump ship, but the film analyses are still really good. Plus, it feels like abandoning a friend in their time of need.

I don't know if you will ever see this, Tommy, but I think I speak for everyone when I say: we love you, we're here for you, we're not going anywhere, but for the love of GOD please go to therapy, u/marshedmellowout comments on the post for the In The Mood For Love episode.

No one's quite sure if u/marshedmellowout got through to him, but it feels like a turning point when the subject of the next episode is Desert Hearts. Tommy spends almost half the episode runtime analyzing the film's hopeful ending, and even cracks a couple of jokes. While his voice doesn't have that incandescent happiness from before, it's much lighter.

The next few episodes continue that slow, upward trend, and the movies Tommy deconstructs go from having hopeful endings to happy ones. He's back to making terrible puns and laughing at his own jokes, and everyone on the subreddit breathes a collective sigh of relief. He's going to be okay.

None of his listeners are prepared for how he starts the 118th episode.

"You're all in for a treat today, because I'm joined by a very special guest. He's not a big fan of movies, usually, but he's got a mind made for analysis, so making him watch Groundhog Day was kind of a no-brainer. I've been dying to hear him pick this one apart. Evan, say hi."

The joy from all those months ago is clear and present in Tommy's voice, but it's tempered with something new: certainty.

"H-Hi, everyone," Evan says, bashful and a little giggly. "Sorry, I've never done something like this before."

"You literally had a walk-on role in the country's most watched TV show. 22 million people tuned in that night, and that's not including the streaming numbers."

"That was different! I had one line. Plus, I didn't care about making Brad look dumb."

"Brad didn't need your help with that," Tommy says, audibly besotted. "Evan, you can't possibly make me look dumb. They can't see me."

Groaning through laughter, Evan gasps, "Oh my god, I said you get five stupid jokes and you just wasted one. Better make the next four count."

"I'll do my best," Tommy says. "So, overall, what did you think of the movie?"

It's the most listened to episode of the entire podcast, and u/cadburybunnyeggs's post 'Evan needs to be a permanent host and here's why' makes the front page of Reddit.

(A year later, the Four Weddings and a Funeral episode, which goes live two days before Tommy and Evan get married, is nominated for a Webby Award. What happens afterwards in the subreddit breaks containment and winds up in the New York Times.)

[gguk-n]

Hii!! Could you make a Oscar!smau that they are childhood best friends and start dating (smau thoughout the years pleease!!)

I’m sorry!! I’m obsessed with this song since the snippet came out…so the face claim is Tate McRae😅 I hope you like it!!

Sports Car

2015

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 9,203 others Tagged oscarpiastri

y/n.y/l/n #tb to when Oscar was actually cute

oscarpiastri 🤦🤦 user1 they are the cutest!! user2 I want a best friend like them user3 ❤️❤️😭

2017

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 4,390 others Tagged oscarpiastri

y/n.y/l/n You're looking at 2017's P2 at F4!! So proud of you Oscie!!😭😭

oscarpiastri thanks❤️ user4 Congratulations!!❤️❤️ y/friend/user cutie!!😍 y/friend Congrats Oscar!!❤️

2020

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 134,789 others Tagged oscarpiastri

y/n.y/l/n F3 Champion!!! Can't believe it!!😭😭

oscarpiastri Thanks for being there for my win!! user5 I forget you have a career and you aren't just a Oscar fanpage😳😳 user6 user5 What does she do? user5 user6 She's a singer and song writer!! user7 who is this?? user8 user7 her bestfriend but we’re hoping they’ll date

2021

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 256,927 others Tagged oscarpiastri

y/n.y/l/n F3 than F2 back to back and reserve driver for Alpine!! I'm here for it!!

oscarpiastri All because of my lucky charm Liked by Author user9 girl!! Date him already!!🙏🙏 user10 These two couldn't be more obvious!!🤌 user11 I don't even watch races but I did because of you and god that boy's in love with you, end his misery!!🥺🥺

2024

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 450,380 others

y/n.y/l/n 2 hands out now!!

user16 why did we think it was Lando when Oscar existed🤨🤨?? user17 how are people shipping her and Lando🧐🧐?? user18 Oscar's been pining for years😭😭!! user19 I didn't think she'd actually have anyone but the Oscar reveal in the end was hot🥵🥵 user20 they can't be friends, not after that mv😳😳 oscarpiastri loved being in the video🧡 y/n.y/l/n oscarpiastri thank oscie🧡🧡 landonorris good taste😏 y/n.y/l/n landonorris ikr😏 landonorris y/n.y/l/n I was talking about the car😒

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri, oliviarodrigo and 1,289,209 others Tagged oscarpiastri and mclaren

y/l/.y/l/n What a way to end the year😍😍!!

oscarpiastri Congrats on your tour😍😍!! y/n.y/l/n oscarpiastri Congrats on your championship baby boy😭😭 user12 Both of them are winning😍😍 user13 y/n in orange is fucking everything😭😭😭 user14 I love them❤️❤️ user15 y/n calling Oscar baby boy was not on my 2024 bingo😳😳 oliviarodrigo Orange is your colour babe🧡🧡

2025

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 920,370 others

y/n.y/l/n But've got a sports car

user21 OMG!! ITS FINALLY HAPPENEING🤭🤭 user22 I can't be normal about this😔😔 user23 I have no one to talk to about this😭😭 user24 my parents are finally together🥹🥹 user25 what is he doing to her😏😏 user26 banger❤️❤️ user27 I didn't know you had game oscarpiastri🧐

oscarpiastri

Liked by y/n.y/l/n, mclaren and 1,290,345 others Tagged y/n.y/l/n

oscarpiastri I got a sports car

user28 this is fucking crazy🤌 user29 did he just....🫢🫢 user30 I need the season back, this is crazy. First Franco and now him😭😣 user31 They are so cute😫😫 user32 I want what they have😩😩 y/n.y/l/n ik😏Liked by Author lando y/n.y/l/n you two are freaky🤢🤢 y/n.y/l/n lando oh shut up, like you haven't👀 mclaren OKAY you three please 🙏 🙏🙏

[short-honey-badger]

Jealousy won't get you anywhere

SPOILER ALERT for latest chapter of One Piece

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader, One-Sided! Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Warnings! Drinking and Shanks gets jealous

Masterlist for Shamrock-> HERE

Shanks is jealous, and he does not like the feeling one bit. You are supposed to be his woman, his girlfriend. But here you were, paying his snobby, uptight twin all your attention. Shanks had thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to finally meet, but with how the night keeps processing, he regrets ever having the idea in the first place. Sure, you hadn't let go of his hand and was even leaning into his space, but you haven't spoken to him since Shamrock introduced himself.

And he could see that smug, better-than-thou expression on the other redhead's face every time he looked over your head, and it just pissed Shanks off even more. Usually, he wouldn't be above whining to get your attention, but he doesn't want to show the other man any kind of weakness, especially with it being his older brother.

Shanks doesn't even know what the two of you are talking about, but it's obviously something he isn't clued in on because he doesn't understand the quick back and forth going on between the two of you. He can't help but feel like you like Shamrock better right now, and that hurts more than feeling jealous.

He purses his lips and slams back the shot of whiskey that sits in front of him, gesturing with a nod for the bartender to fill it back up when they notice. Fine. If you wanted to pay so much attention to Shamrock, then he would drink and ignore both of you.

By his fourth shot, Shanks is silently lamenting to himself, convinced that you just don't love him anymore. That he just isn't as good as his well-kept, clean, non-alcoholic older twin. Of course, you would prefer Shamrock over him, with his long, silky hair and fancy clothes. Shanks was nothing but a beach bum, someone not worth your attention.

By his seventh shot, Shanks has slumped forward, arm untucked from around your waist as he rests his head in his palm, face angled away from you and his brother. He feels cold without you pressed up against him, but it's like you hadn't even noticed when he withdrew, still too occupied with talking about books of all things with Shamrock. It was just another nail in the coffin that Shanks had built for himself.

Of course, you would have more things in common with his older brother than with him. He didn't read or even write like you enjoyed. He knew that you would spend hours a day sunbathing on the deck of his ship while you leaked through a book, and while Shanks had asked what they were about, the subject either went over his head, or he didn't find them very interesting. Hell, he would usually fall asleep, face tucked into your lap while you told him about your current read. What kind of boyfriend did that make him?

The press of your fingers sliding through his hair brings Shanks out of his stupor, and he raises his face enough to angle it towards you. You are smiling down at him, a gentle look that makes his heart beat wildly in his chest. You were so beautiful, and he didn't deserve any of you.

“I'm sorry I'm not as well-educated as he is,” Shanks slurs without thinking, and watches your eyes widen, brow furrowing at his words, but he plows on ahead, “I would understand if you left me for him.”

Behind you, Shamrock barks a laugh. He had watched the downward spiral this entire time, watching his twin knock back shot after shot the longer he kept your attention away from him. He shrugs when you turn and sends him a sharp glare, not feeling guilt at all over his younger brother's hurt feelings.

“Maybe she should, since you are acting so much like a child right now,” Shamrock sneers and reaches out, one gloved hand falling against your thigh and squeezing.

The sight sends fury through Shanks, his eyes widening as you jerk under the hand on your leg, pulling away with a disapproving frown.

“Don't you dare touch her,” he snarls hotly and slides his arm around your waist, tugging you off your stool and into his side, shielding you from his twin. Any thoughts of you leaving him for Shamrock disappear, and he glares over the top of your head, “She's mine. Not yours.”

His actions just make his brother grin meanly and stand, looming above the two of them with the height his boots give him. You glare at both of them, put off by being treated like some object to be won.

“That's enough,” you snap and shrug out of Shanks’ embrace. He gives you a look of hurt, but you roll your eyes at him, “I'm not leaving you Shanks, but I thought you would know better than to get jealous like this. It's unbecoming of you.”

He feels like a kicked puppy at your words and wilts immediately, lips tugging up into a pout. Shanks knows that you are right, and guilt eats at him for thinking otherwise. He watches you round on his brother, but the other redhead just smirks at you, not affected or shamed by the disappointment you look at him with.

“I'm not even going to bother with you,” you grumble and then snag Shanks by the hand, “It was good to meet you, Shamrock, but I don't think you're very good for my health.”

The god knight just huffs and rolls his eyes, “If you'd prefer someone who doesn't act like a spoiled brat, I'll be a phone call away, my dear.”

Shanks glares at his twin for his comment, but dutifully follows you when you tug him out of the bar. You are silent for a while, all the way until the two of you arrive at the docks before you turn and stare at Shanks. You feel a little bad for snapping at him earlier.

“I can understand not why it took you so long to introduce your brother. He's an acquired taste,” you tell him, and Shanks huffs, lips twisting into a frown.

“He's an asshole.”

His blunt words startle a laugh out of you, but you nod along.

“That he is, love. So you better not think that just cause he looks like you, I would leave you for him. You are the man I love, okay?”

Shanks flushes and nods, chest losing that tight feeling at your assurance, “Okay. I'm sorry, baby. I love you, too.”

You smile and reach for him, drawing the redhead in for a soft kiss that Shanks melts into, “Good. You better for all the shit you put me through.”

@mit-suri @mfreedomstuff

[evelyns-envy]

Hi, I really liked your account <3. Could you make a hc of Daisuke with the reader being Swansea's daughter? But I understand if you don't want to :>

(sorry if the writing is bad, English is not my first language and I used the translator ಥ_ಥ)

YES YES I WILL HAPPILY WRITE THAT (your english is better than mine and english is my first language lmfao.)! this is such a cool idea though and i never even thought of it. this is my first req ever im so excited tysm!!

✎ "but daddy i love him!" (i'm havin' his baby, NO IM NOT but you should see your faces ;)) -taylor swift

warnings! - SMUT HCS + SFW!, vibrator, pegging, reader being swanseas daughter and getting w daisuke, MY FIRST REQ GUYS BE SO PROUD, evelyn is freaky 😼

SFW!!

oh jesus this is certainly a concept

you're there for almost the same reason daisuke is, for in internship.

however... daisuke is there since his parents are rich asf and paid for him to go, you're there because you've been rejected from your dream job and went into a depression due to it.

swansea knew he wouldn't let his daughter suffer, so he asked if you could been an intern on the ship for Anya.

the Pony Express executives were hesitant at first, but caved when Swansea offered for them to renew his contract for longer.

your first day aboard, you make fast friends with Anya and faster friends with Daisuke.

you ended up having to share a room with daisuke, in bunk beds.

a flirty/silly argument about who got top bunk, ending with daisuke going “what if we just share?”

he knew damn well

taking advantage of your stunned face and mind, he jumped up on the top bunk and stuck his tongue out at you.

”i was just joking, mini mechanic.”

100% calls you mini mechanic for the rest of the time on the ship even though technically HES the mini mechanic but wtv let him have his fun

is actually so glad you’re relatively the same age as him, and was really excited to be able to talk w you about younger and occasionally inappropriate stuff

UNTILL he found out you’re his boss’s daughter..!

tries to keep the dirty jokes to a minimum, but fails miserably

it was always pretty obvious that he had a thing for you, even before yall got together

would be asking swansea abt you 24-7 and your hobbies and favorite things only to be met with “stay away from my daughter, juarez.”

is now 10x more scared

and you’re also 10x more attractive to him since he knows he can’t have you

intentionally gets his finger jammed in something while helping your dad so he can go to medbay and see you

once you’re about a month into the trip, you two have regular staying up late and YAPPING sessions in your room

he’ll occasionally come down from his bunk and sit on the floor next to your bed if the topic is deeper, until you notice he looks uncomfortable on the metal floor and tell him to come sit on the bed

anddd thats how babies are made folks! the end!

nah jk anyways you two talk until the early hours of the artificial ‘morning’ on the ship

when yall finally run out of things to talk about, you realize he’s laying next to you and you’re laying on his arm

oh nooo how did that happen (fuck already damn)

“comfy there?”

”shut up.”

”make me, mini mechanic.”

”now is not the time to bring up my father, dai.”

you playing w his hair and growing to understand how much he loves when you do that

eventually falling asleep in each others arms

you cannot tell me this mf isn’t SO comfy to sleep on be so fr

waking up to YOUR DAD 🤗 banging on the door demanding that daisuke get up and come help him fix smth in the storage

getting jump scared and shaking dai awake bc bro is knocked out and snoring

him opening the door and yall having to act like you weren’t wrapped in each others arms, entirely consumed in the other

holy shit that was fuckin poetic

awkwardly waving bye to him, both of you having a knowing smile tugging at your lips

he eventually asks you out, VERY awkwardly and in the middle of one of the routine late night talks

you accept happily (no shit)

doing basically everything together

always bringing dai along when you’re in front of your dad js for funsies and to piss him off a little

even while swansea doesn’t seem like he approves of the relationship, he secretly loves how sweet and gentle daisuke is to you

+ his parents are rich so you’re set!!

always telling Anya you need to go ask your dad something when really you js wanna see your pretty boyfriend

you both love each other so fucking much it’s insane. and getting your dad to approve is next level

NSFW….!! (watch out 😛😼 ‘ya girl evelyn is a wee bit freaky)

if you’re a little bolder, you definitely jerk dai off under the workbench where both he AND YOUR FATHER are working (this hc isn’t mine i saw it somewhere else on tumblr btw i js love it sm)

ok listen. dai is a sub at heart, but a bratty sub.

tries to talk back to you? his ass is getting bent over the nearest surface and fucked stupid by your strap (it’s always close by 😼)

also jacking him off while another crew mate is nearby, one i think would be good is curly’s bday celebration. jacking dai off as he’s trying so hard to focus on making the cake while all you can focus on is his slutty noises spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

going down on him while he’s talking abt his usual unluckiness when trying to find a girl to truly love him, and now js his money. slowly unzipping his jeans while he keeps ranting, breath slightly jagged now.

“they alway-.. (y/n)? uh- what are y- mhmmm. never mind. feels good.”

he says as you gently tug his pants down, letting him fall around his ankles as you look up at him w those fucking eyes. shit. he’s a goner.

leaning back against whatever wall you undoubtedly have him pushed against, head thrown back as his trimmed nails run through you hair, egging you on.

you’re totally in swansea’s office change my fucking mind and he’s sitting on your dad’s desk 😋

“don’t mess up any papers, pretty. don’t want my father finding out you were gettin’ all ruined by his daughter on his desk, now do you?”

“n-no.. don’t mm- don’t want that.”

“then keep quiet and be good.”

he’s so fuckin freaky he’s defo an exhibitionist

you’re a girl- so you obviously brought a vibrator be SO fr w me rn

you definitely press it against his tip while slowly licking up the base

he is SO vocal that you have to tie his hawaiian shirt around his mouth so that he won’t YELL

gets cum on an important paper and yall have to throw it away lmfao

swansea being confused as shit abt where the document went and has been searching the Tulpar and asking all the crewmates if they’ve seen it

oopsies…

[eveningepiphany]

pirates gold, H.S series part 4

series masterlist

my masterlist<3

summary: another day on the ship with your captor turns into him teaching you a thing or two about the pirate life. but as controversy’s of your past come up, somehow the captain and the princess wind up back in his bed- with anything but sleep on their minds.

warnings: mentions of violence, talk of unconsensual past experiences (not descriptive!) swearing, SMUT: f!rec oral and fingering, m!rec oral with slight edging, p in v penetration, dirty talk, lots of sex, anyways oopsie enjoy

a/n: i genuinely can’t believe how long this took to write and publish. thank you all for your patience, i like to think the sex they have makes the three million year wait worth it. can’t wait to hear what you all think<3

———

Nothing can prepare a person for realising they don't know themselves as well as they thought.

There's a mixture of disappointment, shame, dread. But sometimes, deep down—despite not ever admitting it to oneself— there's can be an element of excitement.

Not always, but occasionally. There’s that moment of wonder, who really am i?

It’s a bewildering spiral of good and bad feelings, you hardly know left from right, or up from down.

Rarely did you do things for yourself purely for the sake of it. Back at home there was someone for everything, not only to do things for you, but to make sure you weren't stepping out of line.

You couldn’t experiment. No finding out who you are deep down. There was never the chance for self discovery.

Now, you’ve landed in a situation where somehow you’re supposed to be more trapped. Yet you don’t think you’ve ever been more free.

No more straight posture at the dining tables of the banquet hall, being left to sit with a cautious mouth for hours upon hours. Engage in colourless and dull conversation while you imagined freedom.

Funny to think of it now… the picture in your head. Neatly pulled back hair. A spotless dress without a hunch of what was past the waters you stared out at every night. It was like trying to explain what something tasted like, yet having never tasted it yourself.

You knew nothing of freedom.

Not until you felt the sea nearly swallow you, the wind whip your hair a mess, the heart in your chest pounding as you ran out of Sintir— a place you’d only ever seen on a map.

Indulging in late night caressing with a pirate, something that selfishly bled into early morning, in his own bed. Hands on bare skin, hands in hair, hands wherever they could feasibly touch without crossing some sort of invisible line. Definitely not something that would’ve flown back in Kelna.

Yet that is exactly what you did a few days ago, and your head has been a complete mess since. After you stooped as low as to beg the Captain of this very ship to stay with you, he did just that. For how long, you dont even know. Long enough a crew mate of his was rapping his fist upon the locked door, calling out in bemused annoyance.

“You're either so hungover you cant move or tied up in there by our supposed-to-be prisoner.”

The heave of his chest underneath your head is ingrained into your memory. A strong huff, perhaps annoyed, but something you hope was from sadness. A regret for having to leave at any point, for not being able to stay forever.

"Free of any ties, Tanner. Just... tired." He calls back, tone rather harsh.

You'd moved yourself off him, "I'm embarrassed i didnt think to do such a thing."

The quip lacked all venom it used to, and you scolded yourself internally. You were screwed.

---

The days since were as bipolar as the weather at sea. You craved him, his touch, his voice of silk. It was like a drug. But you knew better for yourself.

After the hangover wore off, and the reality of what you had done set in. You forced distance between the two of you. He saw it coming, even he played along with it.

You two never stopped the game. You just went from a chess piece on his board to being the person opposite him.

Meant to be playing to win.

Up on deck, now the sun has come back out, everyone is saying the good weather is to return from now. Unsure whether to trust it— like many other things on this ship. You keep your gaze trained on the distance, where the waves ripple and swell. There is still a gusty wind, but the sun is hot on your skin.

Slowly, you chew on the fish roll you made in the kitchen with Zayn. He is a gifted cook, you on the other hand, are far from it. Used to it ‘being done for you’ he'd scorned playfully.

He'd shown you a few things this past week, stuff you feel envigored learning about. Knowing how to live independently for yourself is freeing, just as you knew it would be.

Wiping the crumbs off the sides of your lips with the back of your hand, you wonder how you are to go back to living the way you used to.

Before you could spiral into that rabbit hole, someone interrupts.

"Y/N." Harry said, his tone unreadable.

Tearing your gaze from the far horizon, your eyes met his.

The purple silk top covering him today has a typical amount of ruffles for a fashion heavy pirate. He looks tragically good in purple.

"Yes, Captain." You kept your own voice level.

The past week your walls have gone back up, albeit, haphazardly. You still struggled to stay on your side of the bed. And the few brief moments the connection between the two of you has festered in the air, and you’ve allowed it to linger.

Or better said, the moments you didn’t have the strength to resist it.

Like brushing past him in the kitchen yesterday, his hand coming to your waist as you attempt to squeeze through the gap. He wasn’t holding you, but you stopped dead in your tracks.

For but a second you both sucked a breath in. No longer than that, and then you cleared your throat and pushed past him.

Either way, he's noticed it, obviously. Feeling like he should regret the night after taking you into Sintir. But he selfishly cant.

He can’t regret it when the sensation of your skin is burnt into the pads of his fingers. No part of him is strong enough to forget the way your body felt pressed against him, leg thrown over his waist and curled into his chest.

Yet, despite all of that, back to the game you both went, head first. Your bickering was more contained, but his title of mean pirate was attempted to be restored in your mind.

Maybe he couldn’t forget the imprint of your skin against his, but he did love a good game.

Who was he not to feed into that?

A chuckle rumbles in his chest, “Captain, aye? We back to that are we. Two can play at this game Princess.”

The name makes your stomach stir, a small punch of adrenaline tingling in your limbs. How far can you push this before someone gets hurt?

He leans down to you, the blouse is loose on him and falls at the front. He’s eye level with you but your gaze locks onto the view of his chiseled chest between swirls of purple fabric, the tattoos you can vividly remember tracing with your fingers.

His tan skin is glistening between his pecs… a light sweat over him, making your mouth dry.

Suddenly his hand lifts your chin, “my eyes are up here, dove.”

“Don’t be disgusting.” You scoff, despite being caught in the act.

“What is it you want. Why are you pestering me?”

“Such a princess thing t’say, that im bothering you. You’re on my ship, need I remind you.” His fingers tap your cheek with a smirk.

“Need I remind you, that’s not to any choice of my own.” Your voice is indignant, and you pull your chin from his grasp, turning your face away with a scowl.

He’s pressing your buttons, winding you up exactly the way he knows how.

“Well, I haven’t heard much about how deeply y’long to be back home.”

It works a charm, because you’re quick to snap back at him.

“That is none of your business. And frankly I would rather keep that matter to myself than share it with the people who are responsible for kidnapping me.”

He loves hearing your accent when you argue like that, the pompous royal tone returning briefly to you. So stuck up, said always like a challenge.

Letting out a breathy laugh, his hands suddenly coming to under your arms. He hoists you off the floor like you’re but a parcel of feathers, standing you upright.

“Won’t you leave me be!” The raise in your voice causes a few crew to turn their head at the scene.

“‘M trying to make y’useful ‘round here.” He chides, his hand snakes down to one of your wrists, a smirk pulling at his lips.

The feeling takes you back to the first day on the ship merely weeks ago, when that was the only way you got around.

His hand wrapped around the rope tied around them.

You think back to when you threw yourself off the ship, When he swam out to retrieve you, when his hips pinned you to hull of the ship and he cut the ties free.

“Instead of jus’ leeching our supplies,” his voice draws your attention away from the tan hand wrapped around your wrist. “And laying around not carrying y’weight.”

“Maybe you can just starve me then. That way I won’t be taking away from your precious supplies.”

“So much sass on y’today,” The smirk that comes across his face is devilish, walking you over to the bass of a mast, “c’mere”

He pulls you infront of him, his chest to your back. Forcing himself not to take any notice to your figure, the white blouse covering your top half and the black fitted pants that are tight around your bottom.

“See this rope, how it’s worn?”

Your head turns over your shoulder to catch his eyes, and your heart lurches in your chest as you clock how close his face suddenly is to you. The green in his eyes is captivating in sunlight. With his captivating eyes burning into you, his mouth is still holding a smirk.

You give a swift, forced nod, but you’re not even looking. You’re pretty sure you haven’t even blinked.

This causes a laugh to bubble from his chest, suddenly he’s leaning in.

What the fuck?

Your brain is racing as his body leans towards you, and face is inching closer.

There is no way he’s about to kiss you.

Suddenly he’s placing something in your hands, and his body is going back to its original stance.

He was handing you the rope.

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and he’s surely seen the flush that’s spread across it. It’s making you overheat, and your lungs are rising up and down in your chest ten times as fast compared to just five minutes ago.

What is wrong with me?

You snap your gaze down, hoping that your hair falls enough to cover your flaming cheeks.

“It’s…” your voice falters— great— you’re so embarrassed right now.

“Princess, has a cat got your tongue?” He chides with sarcasm.

“It’s frayed, feels weak, yes.” You nod hastily.

“Good girl,” he watches you purse your lips at his silky praise, and focuses on purely the amusement riling you up stirs in him. Not any of the other emotions that arise.

“Y’gonna help me replace it.”

“Like hell i am. Do you want your ship to fall apart?” You scowl, there is no way you can do that without something going terribly wrong.

“That’s why I’m teaching you, y’could do with a bit of hands-on work.”

Your eyes trail up to what the rope connects to, it’s holding down a part of the sail, helping to pull it taut.

“Taking this off won’t do much since we aren’t on too rough of waters, so it’s a good time t’change it.”

He steps a few feet away from you and retrieves a wad of fresh intact rope. A lot of it too, metres upon metres.

Your body remembers the sensation of it wrapped around your hands and your feet with a slight shiver.

“Firstly, we’re gonna untie and remove the old one.”

“Harry, I don’t know what im doing.” You whine, wishing to be anywhere but here, immediately frustrated.

He tuts, dropping the pile of new rope down next you both, “Zayn did tell me y’were bad at this.”

“Excuse you?” You scoff, shocked at his audacity. Slightly offended.

He steps back behind you, ushering you forward so you’re close to the metal bar that the worn tie is wrapped around.

“Told me y’don’t like being bad at things. Don’t like not knowing how to do stuff.” His voice is smug, like that is a fatal flaw.

“I—“ you’re so annoyed right now.

“I am not!”

“Y’defensiveness only proves m’point.”

You don’t even know what to say to him right now. Truthfully— ego aside— you don’t know if that’s how you get. You have gone laps around the sun without knowing this kind of stuff about yourself.

In defiance, you don’t admit this to Harry. But you stay silent as his hands reach for the knot in front of you.

“Now, princess. Look at this.”

“I’m looking.” You huff.

“Where do you think we’re gonna start untying this, what kind of knot do y’think this is?”

“I have half a clue of what kind of knot this is, Captain.”

“This is a water bowline, angel.” The words mean little to you, but your stomach does a weird squeeze at his confident words, the way his accent makes the word angel sound.

“I’m going to guess this loose end here,” Your right hand extends out, tugging at the few inches of rope that extends out the middle of the knot, “has something to do with untying it.”

He smiles at the way you’re starting to soften at the idea of what’s happening. Yes, you’re still standing tense and your tone is still veering on irate. But you’re indulging, playing along at the least.

A small sense of pride bubbles through him, “Smart girl, it does.”

“You’ll see these knots everywhere on the ship, in many different forms. They’re nice and secure, can take a lot of tension but aren’t hard to tie or untie.”

“This here,” his fingers trace a loop in the top of the knot, “is what you’re gonna pull on first.”

You grab it and he brings his hand to your waist. The action makes you flush as you try and focus.

“Fold it forward, this is gonna loosen it against the standin’ end of the rope.”

You don’t know what that means, but you pull the part he’s directing you to towards yourself, applying a bit more pressure when you see it needs it.

He hums in approval, and your lips purse together, “Now that loose end, feed it out of the wrap in the middle there.”

You do that, and he reaches forward to add tension on the upper section of the rope as you now use both hands to untie the rest of the knot— unhooking it.

“Tha’s it. Now we can replace it, and I’ll show you how to tie the knot.” He takes the old rope and figure 8’s it around a metal hold, so it’s still holding the sail.

He sees your curious eyes at his action, and explains, “We could cut it, but just incase it’s better to have it handy until y’know you’re ready to replace it.”

You nod, and he grabs the fresh rope and sets it up for you.

Grabbing your hands, he walks you through the process first himself, then he unties it to make you do it.

You curse for the first few minutes as you try to tie it properly, but once he guides you again, you’re staring at the tied knot.

“There you go, look at that princess. Jus’ tied ya first water bowline.” He comments proudly, and you can’t help but smile.

“Thanks…” you feel good, accomplished.

“I’m gonna secure it in the eyelet up there now, y’stay down here.”

He leaves you down there. All while you watch him bring the sail in, so he can reach it from the mast. Rope tied to his belt loop, he unties the old one and lets it drop.

You’d stepped back so it could fall without nearly taking you out by the head. Staring with hardly enough shame as Harry worked his fingers to create a new knot through the eyelet of the sail.

His brow furrowed in concentration, unbothered by the metres between him and the deck of the ship as he balanced entirely unsuspended.

His strong thighs are tensed as he holds himself stable, black pants look good on him.

He cut the excess rope off with a dagger and climbed down with ease. Unbelievable how good he can look doing something like that.

Once he’s back down, he walks over to where you stood and admires the new rope alongside you. You aim to pretend you hadn’t been checking him out the whole time.

Nudging you with his shoulder, “And who said princesses couldn’t learn pirate things.”

“I’ve learnt plenty of pirate things.” You state.

“So, what are you, more princess or pirate then, dove?”

With a frown your eyes slant to him, trying to search in his gaze the motive behind the question. So many tricks are up his sleeve, he never fails to remind you that.

“I’ll leave that up to you.”

His eyes scan your face, flickering over you. A tick of silence, and then he curtly nods, “Well, they say practice makes perfect, so don’t think we’re done yet.”

He intends on spending this afternoon with you, regardless of what other things he should be doing.

“I thought it was my turn to teach you something.”

“What? Like how to manage my table manners?”

You can only roll your eyes.

And to be fair, you did plenty of that as the blue sky bled into sunset.

“No, you dolt. If you picked up that fork first they’d barrate you on the spot.”

“Whatever,” he’d sighed, “I find getting your hands dirty with a good meal is the only way to eat something.”

The evil smirk on his face as he’d said that was all telling.

The two of you did both lots of thinking and lots of talking. Lapsing between periods of comfortable silence and discussion.

A part of you wondered if this was his tactic to pry your guard back down. You hated yourself for letting it work, the fact you somewhat allowed him into the works of your brain again.

After finishing the last rope he wanted to replace, you’d stretched out your shoulders.

"Do y'feel accomplished?" His own arms reaching above his head.

"I feel productive, which is rare that happens.”

He starts walking in the direction towards the communal quarters, in presumption that you'd follow.

You do just that, wasting no time matching his pace.

"Thanks. For showing me." The words are hard to push pass your lips, they're clunky and almost shy. But they pack the same level of meaning.

He stops the few steps in front of you, right next to the wall of the communal quarters. He turns around so his full front is facing you. The sun has dipped below the horizon of the sea, the warm golden hour glow sinking with it.

Now it's lingering in that space of inbetween, where it’s not quite dark, but not light enough to class as sunset still.

You can almost relate.

His green eyes have pinned you to a stop as well, your hands falling to the front of your white blouse. The wind is toying with the loose material, gently, your fingers ring the ruffled bottom that cuts off midway down your ribcage.

He's been forcing himself to hold his eyes strictly to your face, not anywhere near the sweetheart neckline thats dipping to show the swell of your chest.

Can’t believe I bought that for her and thought I’d be able to not stare, he thinks internally.

"You dont have t'thank me." He answers truthfully. Despite the fact he may have mocked your lack of gratitude he wholly believes you did him a favour today.

"You showed me how to do something. Something useful, and practical." You remark cautiously, watching your tone doesn't give away too much sentiment, "I cant tell you the last time i've had that."

"Y'can read right?" he chuckles, stepping forward.

"I went to school Harry."

His eyes rolled playfully, finally breaking off you, making you feel like you can suddenly inhale again.

"What do they even teach you there."

"Table manners, exactly the knowledge I so kindly imparted on you earlier." you dryly joked, despite it being entirely true.

"How to talk, how to act, what to do, what not to do." You sigh as you think back on it, walking to go lean against the wall.

"Ooo” he hums, intrugied, "what not to do?"

You prattle off the first ones that come to mind, "Dont get caught lying, it brings dishonour. Dont curse, it displays immaturity and impurity,” a pause, and you scoff— one drilled into any royal in the court, “dont engage in any premarital relations."

His pupils are the only part of him that reacts at the mention of the third rule you listed, they dilate and almost shake with the intensity he’s staring at you with.

A shrug of your shoulders, "That one gets surpassed all the time though.”

At your words, his brows twitch, he thinks you're talking about yourself. The look that passes over his face is unmissable. You can't pinpoint the exact emotion, and honestly, neither can he.

You are old enough to make your own decisions, he reasons. Old enough to decide if you want to...

His brain crafts a million different scenarios. They flash past faster than he can keep up with. Lingering heavily on whether or not it was consensual.

You had spoken about how men in Kelna acted around you. Whispering disgusting things, touching you. He thinks they’d be people similar to Garret, dirtbags who would’ve forced anything if they wanted it bad enough. The thought makes him livid, to his very bones.

"You look worried." You comment ambiguously, toying dangerously with the curiosity surrounding his reaction.

When he doesn’t reply, you take it a step further,

"Does my value decrease if i cant be labelled as a pure, untouched little angel?" Your tone is sarcastic, but the second the words fall from your mouth, he reacts.

His whole body tenses where he stands, and he steps closer to you.

"Y/N." A stern but bordering protective voice comes from him, a way he’s not spoken before. "Do not ever talk ‘bout yourself like that on this ship, or I swear..."

His throat tightens with anger, voice faltering and eyes fluttering with tension. A hand grabs the wall you're standing near. Knuckles white as his fingers dig into it, "I swear t’god, it makes me want to break something."

"If somethin’ happened to you in that fucking ring of psychotic royals—” He spits it out like the thought disgusted him, “You're a human being, not a slab of meat."

It’s not often he feels the need to genuinely punch something. Someone. But right now anyone that has ever done something to you is on his immediate black list.

In the back of his brain, he recognises that in your eyes he’s equally a bad person for what he’s done to you. He stands here a hypocrite.

Furious at anyone whose ever hurt you, yet being the very person that’s holding you somewhere against your will.

The tension rolls around in your stomach, almost making it ache with the sudden anxiety. You’re so utterly confused with how to feel in this situation you force your mouth to move,

"For the record, i was not talking about myself." The clarification comes out meek despite trying to keep your tone unbothered.

He doesn’t attempt to hide his feelings, face contorted into a sneer, “Wouldn't put it past those pigs."

“No one did that to me.” You amend again, this time, your own tone stern.

“Alright Y/N, what did they fucking do to you then?” His question forces you relive every unwanted advance you’ve had to uncomfortably sit through.

Every ‘accidental’ hand placement, every provocative comment directed to you, every situation that made bile from your stomach rise into your throat.

Somehow, you find it in you to argue back, even though you don’t believe Kelna is even a shred better than a ship of pirates, "Its not like im safe in your world either."

It’s clear this is his tipping point.

The heart in his chest clenches and his body is moving before he can register it.

Because suddenly, the space surrounding you is being entirely filled, he grabs you with his hands. There’s not a sliver of violence in it at all, but it does make you jump.

Regardless, he sinks his hands into your hair. He can’t help it, curling them gently into the soft strands at the nape of your neck.

Despite how pissed he is, his touch is nothing but gentle.

It causes you to shudder, unsure if it’s out of unease or somehow a little bit of pleasure— the feeling his ringed fingers graze across the nerves that typically lay behind your hair untouched.

They ping around in your muddled brain, electromagnetic signals making you light headed. It’s overwhelming, how did this even happen?

Even with the soft touch of his fingers, the look behind his hard gaze makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

“I…” you try to make words, yet nothing comes out. Hands against skin are all you can make sense of.

It’s tangible, they’re there. If your strip everything else away, it’s just someone holding you.

Someone touching you softly. Someone who you—deep down, no matter how hard you try to feel otherwise—are okay with touching you.

You can swallow that pill. If only you could make it that simple, of course.

“Harry.”

One thing he’s learnt since having you around is that he can’t handle the way his name sounds when it comes out of your mouth.

Especially not with that whined tone. When it falls from your lips like a plea.

He can’t seem to find the words either. Your feet are planted between his and your own hands are braced on his hips.

“Dove, y’can’t keep bloody doin’ this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” his hands slide to your face, they cradle your cheeks, “Harry im just standing here. I’m telling you the truth.”

His face feels so close to yours, you swear you can feel the breath that passes through his lips meet your own.

Intimate almost, if you think about it hard enough.

“I don’t care about that, I care about you.”

“You can’t do this to me!” You whine, pushing his hands away, stumbling back. Breaking that connection by force if you have to.

You don’t remember how you ended up like this, with your blood pulsing in your ears and your chest heaving so hard your ribs could break.

Exasperated, “I am fine! I am okay!”

He is at a loss for words. You are so complex, so intricate. His curiosity for you deepens, even when he thinks it can’t anymore.

“I do not need any kind of pity, there is nothing to pity!”

“They made you not trust people.” He says with disgust.

You cant believe he can say that when he literally kidnapped you. And although he’s right to a degree, this experience hasn’t been great for your trust issues either.

“This world made me not trust people.” You gesture out to the ship around you, in sheer disbelief, “I’m standing on a fucking boat in the middle of nowhere because nothing is okay!”

Yelling against the wind, “Because the only thing people care about is themselves, and what they can gain from exploiting others.”

“I am a fucking object to everyone I’ve ever met.”

A part of his heart cracks hearing this, he has to physically restrain himself from stepping closer to you.

Space, give her space, his brain urges him— despite his physical body begging to do the opposite.

“Y/N,” his voice attempts to stay level. He watches your reaction.

Like a timid yet fired up animal, your hair is being thrown by the wind, pupils wild.

“There’s nothin’ i can say that will justify any of this. I know tha’.”

“There’s not.” You snapped, eyes threatening an emotion you can’t imagine letting out around him.

Crying is another thing frowned upon in the court, not unless the circumstance is so dire it warrants it.

You think for a second that you’re going to have the strength to pull yourself together, but suddenly, a wet and salty tear slips past your waterline.

The humiliation inside you that followed the single tear that just slid down your cheek would be enough to crush a grown man.

You knew he’d seen it, your face is flaming with embarrassment.

“This— this conversation is over.” You curtly reply, voice worn as you force out a tone reserved for Kelna.

The way you’re speaking to him like an associate causes him to move, “Y/N, stop—“

But your feet are suddenly moving, “Do not follow me.”

The warning is clear, he hesitates into a stop. Debating what to do.

Give you space or force you to stay in his company?

The conflicting thoughts on his face are clear.

Yet he swallows, and nods.

Then you turn around and walk away.

———

He forced himself to wait an hour. An excruciatingly long one.

After he watched you walk away, he went into where his crewmates were. Predicatably, they were sharing pints and throwing darts. The room was warmly lit, filled with chatter that echoed inside the dark wooden walls. A few of the boys asked where you were as Harry passed them. He could only lie.

“Tired after working.” Was his chosen reply, hoping now was the time more than ever that the crew just took his word for something.

“Probably the hardest she’s ever worked aye?” Tanner drunkenly joked to him, patting his back and throwing another sip of beer back.

Harry had to refrain from shooting him a look. Despite it being something he’d likely say himself, right at that moment, all he felt was worry for you. Even a shred of defensiveness, but that’s a feeling he has to shove down for the moment.

Making way to the cupboards that held their fair share of staple pirate beverages, he pulled a metal flask out and leaned against the bar top.

He forced himself to act as though he was unbothered, and that he was interested in the games of darts unfolding.

However his brain was heavily preoccupied,

Is she okay? Did I do the right thing letting her have time to herself? Is she mad at me?

Questions ran on loop, running a hand through his curls he struggled to reason with himself.

A hand was placed on his back, that interrupted his spiralling thoughts as he sipped at the flask of whiskey. A short sideways glance revealed his blonde haired crew mate.

“Y’seem off.” He quietly remarked.

Niall, often unserious, was surprisingly good at knowing when something was up. And even better at handling it discretely.

Due to that, Harry let out a short sigh through his nose before admitting a shred of truth.

“May have struck a cord with her.”

“Go too far with something, mate?” He asks quietly, curiously.

“No,” he frowns, unsure if he’s insinuating something else, he quickly clarifys, “was talking about the courts, got her upset.”

Niall’s blue eyes dart to meet his captains. Allowing a curt nod before looking back out to their crewmates that are fake tackling eachother over a stolen swig of beer.

“Y’checked on her yet?”

“Givin’ her space. She’s not too happy w’me at the minute.”

He lets out a light snort, “Good choice. Unless she’s thrown ‘erself off the ship, then t’was a bad one.”

“Ha-ha.” He fake laughs and rolls his eyes at Niall, taking a moment to swallow down the anxiety that’s built in his throat.

He can’t avoid stressing about you.

After a few ticks of silence, Niall clears his throat,

“Jus’ careful wit her. For both your sakes.”

He adds on with a pat on the back, “here if you need cap. It’ll be alright.”

Anyone else he would’ve been annoyed for saying that, but Niall is probably wiser than Harry himself. So his advice is taken with gratitude.

“Thanks mate. I’ll be careful.”

After another half hour, he’d had enough of the ill feeling that stirred in his stomach.

He left the room to find himself outside in the now cold but still windy air. It took a second for his gaze to adjust to the darkness, immediately scanning the deck around him for you.

Without any sight of you, he checks all the places he can think you’d be. His room, the cells, the kitchen.

His heart doubles in pace every time you’re not in a place he thought.

Coming out of the kitchen, his quickened pace. Starting to walk along the deck that leads him along the perimeter of the boat.

As he gets closer to the stern of the boat, he feels genuinely sick.

What if you had—

“Y/N!” He gasps without any thought the second his eyes spot your silhouetted frame.

You’re leant against the edge of the boat, staring out into the black water that swirls beneath the ship. He thanks the stars you’re not in it right now, given he was starting to think the worst of the situation at hand.

He doesn’t give you any time to talk before his long strides are invading your personal space. Warm hands coming to your cheeks, turning them to inspect your face for any damage, as though you are some kind of treasure to him.

“Im sorry.” He immediately begins.

“I shouldn’t have pushed m’luck.”

Your eyes scan his, taking in his face as his hands have come to rest in the crook where your neck and shoulders meet.

You still haven’t said anything, which isn’t working in his favour because his words are filling the silence, becoming more risky with each passing second.

“Jus’… the idea of something like that happening to you made me…” his thumbs stroke upwards along the valley of your throat subconsciously, “makes me fuckin’ sick.”

Your lips part as he begins to spill things he probably shouldn’t. Swearing that he can probably feel your pulse in your neck where his fingers lay.

He can’t stop now, “hearing you talk about y’self like that, like y’an object... I know I am no better than any average person in the Kelna courts for what I’ve done to you. But I promise you that I’d take a dagger to my own hands till there was nothing left of them before I ever let something of that nature happen to you…”

A deep breath and he shakes his head, “Not without your permission, darling.”

He doesn’t even care what that’s insinuating. Never does he want you under the impression he has control of you in a sexual regard.

The thought of you even believing that made him sick.

The air around you feels pressurised, and it’s like you’re about to spill even more out to him.

“I am being held captive, yet I’ve never felt more fucking free. How fucked is that?”

He is silent to your admission, shocked into it almost.

“You don’t understand how it feels to go from having to watch your every move, every word, just to stay alive. You are loved with conditions.”

Your voice suddenly heavy with anger again, “People cannot be trusted, everything is always two-sided, no matter what they say to portray otherwise.”

His hands have slipped from you, you’ve started pacing the deck and throwing your own hands out as bouts of sheer outrage wash over you.

“Here, god— you’re atleast half fucking honest with me. I don’t have to conform to any stupid rules to how I speak or sit or dress. I can swear at you, and you only raise the stakes.”

He can’t really fathom that you’re not speaking less of him. That you’re admitting that the life you lead on the ship as a hostage is better than as a princess.

“And I go against every promise I made to myself when I woke up here. I would let you do anything to me, Harry. Do you not understand that? How hard that is to live with everyday?”

“y’implying a lot right now…” he answers.

“You have my permission!” You spit out, pissed off now. At him, for being so charming and handsome that you’ve wound up as the lamb that fell for the lion. And pissed at yourself for being so unable to halt your snowballing emotions for him.

You’re self aware enough to know you’re an idiot, yet you’re still in the same position nonetheless. You’re also going to blame it your lack of education on how to handle sexy pirates that kidnap you for ransom money.

All the same, you’ve come aware that you’d let him do anything to you. You’d do anything to him.

God forbid the day you would do anything for him.

You’re terrified because whether or not this is some kind of fucked up situation of Stockholm Syndrome, you’re too deep in it to turn back now.

“Fucking Jesus Christ…” he curses to the sky, stepping towards you where you’re pacing.

“I hate you, you know! For putting me in this position.” You point at him, stating with contempt once you lock eyes.

“Y/N. Stop.” His voice has dropped several octaves. The wind has urged the curls that usually sit pushed back to fall over his eyes and forehead. Standing over you, his gaze is pinning you to the spot.

His brows are furrowed in an unreadable expression, but you don’t care. Right now, everything you have is about to go on the line.

“Stop what? Telling you that there’s something going on with me— with us here?” You gesture between the two of you.

“Am I meant to tell you that I—“ His hands come to your waist and urge you backwards against the edge of the ship.

The low of your back is pressed into the wooden beam, something you should be scared about realistically, but his hold around you is tight.

“Don’t fucking say it.” He says, “whatever you’re about to say, keep it to yourself.”

“Can’t handle the truth, Captain?”

He tips your chin with his hand, bringing your head on an angle to look him in the eyes, “You won’t be able to handle what comes after that, Princess.”

You’re unsure when both of your breathing became short and laboured. His panting chest made your head physically spin.

“What? Are you gonna put me down in the cells, hang my by the chains on the walls?”

His exhale stutters out of parted lips, “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Ignoring your problems does nothing, Harry. They keep getting bigger while you hide from them. Out of sight out of mind doesn’t work the way you think it does.”

Your frustration easily spreads to him, pushing him closer to a point neither of you can come back from.

His hands grab yours suddenly, they wrap around your wrists and hold them tight between you both. Like he’s grasping for any element of control he has left before everything spirals.

“There is no problem here, Y/N.” He whispers into your ear, voice stern, “do not make one.”

The tension between you both is absolutely palpable, his body is so close to yours it’s spinning your senses haywire.

“So we what? Go back to your room and act like nothings going on… I go get into your bed, and I let you wrap your hands around me like it’s just— it’s just…”

There’s not even a word for it, your voice trails off. His breath hot against your ear, and his one hand still tight around your two wrists.

Fuck it, fuck this, you think.

You turn your face to his, noses bumping.

It’s like the pull between your lips is so strong it’s easier to give in than put an inch of distance between them.

Your body squirms against his. It’s making him wild, he needs you so bad it’s going to break him.

“Not doing it.” He pants out, voice so deep it sounds like he just woke up.

“Not kissing me?”

“Nope.”

“Im giving you permission.”

“Numbing your problems doesn’t make them go away. Feeding into them only makes them worse.” His eyes fluttered shut, brows in a deep frown as he holds himself back with every part of his being.

“So you admit there’s a problem.” Your voice sounds dignified.

The metaphor of your situation has taken on a nickname clearly, and you’re not sure if it’s helping at all.

You nudge your nose into his again, his head falls into a tilt. His mouth so easy to access…

A dance between you ensues. Your mouth moves forward but his moves back.

“It’s so wrong…” he whispers, tongue jutting out to wet his lips. They’re left parted open, air escaping and fanning onto your own.

“I want to rip your shirt off your body right now, how’s that for wrong?”

“if I kiss you, Y/N,” he begins, breath stuck in his throat, “I’ll never be able to send you back.”

And how wrong is it for you to admit that’s beginning to become exactly what you want.

A stretch of silence, and you finally just lean into him. The second your lips meet his, your whole body melts.

Air empties out of his lungs in sweet relief, he swears for a moment he feels so lightheaded that he’s dreaming this whole moment up.

The hand wrapped around your wrists slides off and finds refuge on your waist. A voice in his subconscious is selfishly begging your own soft fingers to touch him wherever they can.

It appears words are suddenly useless to you both, and all that’s important is the kiss that is finally happening.

The meaning behind it weighs like a tonne of bricks, yet somehow makes it all the better. It shows in the way his mouth moves against yours like velvet, kissing back into your upper lip like he’s desperate for you.

He still recalls the first time he caught himself thinking about kissing you.

You were down in the cells, playing the waiting game after pushing him one step too far. It’d been over a day since he’d pulled you out of the water you’d thrown yourself in.

The sun was hot on his skin as he thought of your fully soaked body that he pressed into the hull of his ship. He remembered looking up to your lips as he untied your bound wrists.

They were glossy with water from the sea.

As he thought about, he only could imagine tasting them. Kissing over the salt water until they no longer shone with ocean drops, but with his saliva instead.

He had to physically shake his head at himself. Blaming it on not having been laid in so long.

Didn’t take long to release that was far from the problem when it came to his unseemly attraction to you.

A deep whine sounds from your chest, drawing him back to the present, and he pushes his body as far into your space as it can. You’re physically pinned against the edge of the ship. Theres not a care in the world at the endlessly deep swell of water thats just past you.

You don’t even remember when tongue started getting involved, nor when exactly you worked up the courage to lick into his mouth.

It’s hot, so hot.

His body feels like it’s on fire, and your hands feel that tangible warmth as they slide underneath the purple silk covering his chest.

That heat isn’t just budding in chests, it’s striking hot between legs. Only growing worse by the minute.

“My fuckin’ god…” he groans into your mouth, hands squeezing the swell of your chest.

“You taste devine, angel…”

His words make you tipsy. You smile and kiss him harder, letting his hands roam your body like you’ve never touched eachother before.

Despite the nights he’s dragged a delicate touch along your back and the skin over your waist, it’s nothing compared to this. It’s like you’ve never felt him before. The way his tongue glides against the roof of your mouth skilfully, and firm yet gentle hands are palming the flesh between your ass and thighs.

He’s wasted no time roaming and squeezing every inch of your skin, even over clothes he’s desperately trying to commit it to memory. Rubbing over the swell of your ass like you’re the only thing in the world he wants this bad.

“Harry.” There it was, his name.

The way it falls from your kiss swollen lips in that same pretty plea that sends him spiraling every single time. Yet it was so, so different in this moment.

Sheer pleasure courses through him, and he pulls your leg up to bracket his hip, letting him push himself closer into you. Imagining what lay between the peak of your thighs.

Wishing to see the state of you, wondering if this situation has worked you up to the same extent as him.

You can feel him, every inch. Every hard slab of muscle is pressed into you, warmth radiating off him like rays of the sun.

“My name.” He murmurs into your lips, “Say it again.”

His kiss trails down your neck, sucking gently over your pulse before licking a stripe back up your throat. His saliva leaving a hot, wet trail behind.

“Harry, please… more.” You don’t even have to try, the words all come from your mouth like it’s your only purpose.

His prick is swollen in the black trousers he’s in, shamelessly being pushed into your thigh. The feeling, it’s like heaven. You don’t have any single other way to explain it.

He’s behind layers of clothing and he’s pretty sure this is better than any sex he’s ever had.

Your little experience with genuine sexual interactions has not stopped you at all. And reflecting on every past experience of a sexual nature, they fall incomparably flat to this.

Despite the majority of them being unwanted advances, even the few you engaged in— mostly with random strangers at ballroom parties— were nothing to this.

They took place in dim hallways and in secluded gardens, the kisses were always slimy, laced with the intention of taking anything from you they feasibly could. You always stopped it when you released you felt no desire to go further.

This, however, was happening because no matter how hard you both attempted to deny it, you both wanted it. Wanted eachother.

And this time, all you felt was desire.

Your hand comes down to suddenly cup the bulge of his cock between you. He moans at the feeling, rocking into your palm shamelessly.

“Fuck— I could come jus’ like this. Against your innocent little hand…” he curses into your neck, making your mind swirl with his lustful and dirty words.

“Tha’s no fun though.” He amends, swollen lips coming up to your ear, “Not when I could take you back to our bed…”

Our bed… your hazy brain notes, trying to commit it to memory as his tongue drags lightly over the shell of your ear.

“I could leave your hands free, so you could lace them into my hair. Pulling on it like I know you would while I lick into you, Angel.”

“Or would you prefer them bound up against the headboard? Just as we’ve always joked, all tied up. At my mercy.”

“Please… Harry.” Your whole body feels like it’s been set alight, the pulsing between your legs so intense it made your knees weak.

“Please what, dove? Or you don’t care? As long as someone is looking after that pretty place down here, hmm…”

His hand meets the fabric between your legs, both of you now rutting into each others palms.

You can’t help but whine, “it hurts… Harry. Fuck…”

He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your lips. He can’t believe you’re so worked up you’re telling him its physically hurting you. He thought it was just him, with his cock so hard he is bordering on being in pain.

“Cmon,” he starts to pull you back, your body leaving the dangerous edge of the boat.

But you hardly can figure out how to walk, almost like a little spring doe. Knees struggling to function.

He picks you up effortlessly by your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. Your arms naturally draping over his broad shoulders, tangling into his messy brown hair.

You whine and push into his chest without any thought. Attempting any kind of friction you can, causing his to laugh. His eyes finding yours, “you’re so needy you’re grinding against my chest…”

His long legs make quick distance across the boat, out of the cool wind and through the winding halls below deck.

Thankfully not running into a soul as he enters his room with you, locking the door swiftly behind him.

The second the latch flicks in place, his lips are back against yours. The kiss is sloppy and desperate, open mouths pushing against eachother like you’ve been apart for weeks.

You’re moaning into his mouth as he squeezes your ass in the dark room. Walking over to his bed, still holding you against him as he climbs atop the mattress.

He lets your back drift down until it meets the plush comforter, but your legs still elevated by his. Ass against his thighs, and his erection tightly pushed against you.

He follows your lips the whole way down, hands rolling up and down your body, lingering against your breasts as he nicks your bottom lip with his teeth.

“This okay?” He breathes out, making sure you’re alright.

“Yes…” You nod, responding without even a second between his question.

He soaks up the feeling that swells in his chest as you consent to him. You said it without an ounce of hesitation. He’s almost feeling honoured.

“This is on your terms, my Princess… you tell me to stop and I stop.”

My. Your brain struggled to compute his possessive words.

My Princess.

You drag your hands up his back, sliding them all the way to his cheekbones.

Your eyes find his.

They lock with intensity. Green gaze piercing into your soul.

Silence ticks over between you, only filled by the panting of your breaths.

Your thumb slips down to his plump lips, pulling down his bottom one. The pad of your finger tracing over its fullness, dipping into the wetness that coats it.

He allows it, eyes fluttering at the gentle yet seductive touch.

He is so gorgeous.

When your thumb is wet with his saliva, you bring it back down to your mouth. He watches you, the action so small yet so utterly filthy as you draw your finger into your mouth. Taking it between your own lips and sucking it clean.

Once you draw it out of your mouth, you keep your big eyes looking at him, “You have my permission, Captain.”

He curses at your words, and they kick him back into gear. His body folds over yours again, meeting your lips with his— fuelled with a fever that makes his head spin.

He tastes like whiskey, and you feel simply drunk off of it. You want to drink him up. He is the warm, tingly feeling in your throat after throwing back a shot of the brown liquor.

His mouth moves down your neck again, kissing and licking as far as your clothes will allow. He gets to the very top of your chest before the fabric gets in the way. Having half the mind to just mouth over your nipple anyway.

But, it’s the satisfaction that’s to come with stripping it off of you. The very clothes he bought.

Fingers shuck the material up over your chest, and your arms lift up instinctively to help him get it off. He’s surprised to see you were without a bra.

There you lay, arms up above your head, back arched against the mattress, and your beautiful chest on display for him.

“Oh, dove… you are a work of art.” He coos, hands immediately coming to run against the soft skin of your breasts.

He stares intently in the dark, suddenly asking, “Can I light a candle?”

His voice is hasty, “I can see you, but not s’well as I would if there was a bit of light.”

“Want t’see your skin coated in that warm light,” he leans down, voice dropping into a whisper, “and so I can watch y’nipples harden when I wrap my mouth ‘round them.”

You nod quickly as you speak a desperate yes, squirming at the idea.

It would be unfair for you also, not to see his chest and tattoos while you two did whatever this was together.

He pecks a chaste kiss over your lips.

“Thank,” kiss.

“…you.” another gentle kiss.

He slides upright, struggling to tear his eyes off of you as he fumbles for a match to light the candle on the sconce mounted to his wall.

You hear the match flick alight, and the room suddenly being cast on a golden glow as he brings the flame to the wick.

Discarding of the match, he wastes no time coming back to where you lay— hair fanned out underneath you. He stands at the edge of the bed, staring breathlessly at you.

He had hummed the second he saw you—properly saw you. Your cheeks are flushed red, beautiful brows upturned into an expression of sheer want.

“Let me take yours off,” you gesture with your eyes to his own shirt, “please?”

“C’mere then.”

You bring yourself up, knees to the edge of his bed. Your hands lift the purple fabric over him, and suddenly the tan, chiseled skin you eye off so often is finally yours to freely touch.

Tattoos and muscles, fine hairs and freckles, he is the embodiment of beauty and sex.

You run soft hands over his abs, the muscles almost rippling as he feels the skin to skin contact. Throwing his head back, he groans into the tension filled air.

Hands wrap around your bare waist, pulling you flush against him, chest to chest.

He follows through with exactly what he’d said moments earlier, kissing a trail down to your breasts before wrapping his soft mouth around the peak of one of them.

Wet and hot, his tongue sucks and swirls until you’re moaning embarrassingly loud. You react like you’ve never felt someone like this before, because truthfully, you hadn’t.

Your spine arches, pushing into his mouth and lacing your hands around his neck.

He pulls away, smirking at the hardened nipple he’s looking after, while you catch your breath.

“My turn.” You whispered, and despite your legs feeling like jelly, you kiss your own way down his chest until you meet his defined pectoral muscle.

Your lack of experience doesn’t show, you’re so eager to please him it makes you only confident. You lick against the warm skin of his chest, lulling your tongue over his own nipple— something a girl has never done to him before.

“Fuck—!” He bites out, teeth clamping down onto his lower lip.

You pay some attention to it before trailing up his shoulder, sucking the skin above his collarbone. Biting against it and making sure to leave a mark.

He slaps lightly at your ass, still covered in tight black pants, just as he is.

“You are so filthy, dove.” His voice lilts, dripping with honey,

“Who would’ve known… to look at you, no one would know you’re the kind of girl that’s going to wrap her hot little mouth on any skin she can.”

“Innocent thing you are, ready to do anything, hm?”

His nose nudges yours so he can get better access to your mouth, kissing into it again.

Merely minutes since he last had his lips on yours, and it feels like the first time all over again. It strikes and stirs hot in your stomach. Making you arch into him again, pressing your chest against his.

“So needy… you must be soaked…” his thoughts spill from his lips out loud.

“Panties that I bought you are probably wet through by now, little cunt all weepy for something it’s never had.”

“D’ya want it, baby?” His sultry voice asks.

“Harry, I want it, I want you.” You plead, and he unbuttons your black pants.

The zipper is pulled down by him, and he slides his hand in between your legs. Cupping over the fabric, it’s almost hot to touch.

“So warm in there, I can feel y’clenching around nothin’.”

He rubs softly over you, and you moan out, rutting into his hand.

His lips kiss you hot and slow as he runs tedious circles over the top of your panties.

Once you’re moaning and arching into him, he slowly retracts his hand out, “get in the middle of the bed.”

You follow his instructions moving to lay in the centre of his mattress as he shucks his pants off.

He’s in nothing but boxers as he climbs above your legs, “No one else has ever made you come, have they?”

His green eyes lock with yours,

“N-no.”

“No one’s ever wrapped their lips around your swollen clit and sucked until you finish against their tongue? Or fucked their fingers into you until you are almost crying?”

You can’t even verbally answer, only able to shake your head side to side.

“Mm, okay,” he hums, lowering down to kiss your belly as he slowly pulls your pants down from your legs.

A smirk rises on his lips as he kisses below your navel, “Then I take it no one’s ever pushed their cock into you?”

Your cheeks were burning as you squeezed your thighs together, only in black lacy panties that he bought you.

“Alright baby,” he smirks, “look at you then, in this little pair of black underwear I got ya. Did you think about what was going through my head as I picked them out?”

“Never thought I’d be privledged enough to see y’in them.”

The warm candle highlights the goosebumps that have already prickled over your skin, each kiss he’s pressed to your bare body has made them spread like wildfire.

He takes his time to tease you, lips lulling over your lower stomach, tongue tracing the upper band of your underwear.

This continues until you’re begging him for anything, “I can’t— h— fuck… Harry.”

Your speech is slurred like you’re half awake, “Please touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He stated, green eyes flickering up to yours, face with devilish intent.

“More…” was the only word you could sigh out to him, unable to hold eye contact with him for longer than a second.

His hand comes to the back of your knee, pushing it up so your legs spread. He licks a slow, pleasing stripe against the dip between your thigh and where you want him the most.

Your hips jut upwards, and his fingers trace over your centre above the fabric covering it. As you whine wordlessly into the comforter, he tucks his finger into the edge seam of your panties. Pulling the elastic back and letting it snap back against your skin.

Not enough to hurt, but enough for the vibration to ripple through your core.

“Jus’ say the words, dove.” He murmurs, kissing over where your clit is.

“Take them off.” Your own hands start frantically pulling the sides down your thighs.

“Tha’s my girl.” He taps over where he just kissed with his thumb, laughing at your attempt to get them off, helping you get them all the way down. Tossing them over his shoulder, leaving them somewhere behind him to be dealt with later.

His eyes finally lock onto your bare body. Entirely naked.

How badly you want him is evident, and his fingers immediately move to run down your dripping centre.

“You…” he speaks, voice raspy and dripping with desire, “are a fucking angel.”

“Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Fuckin’ hell. The things im going to do to you if you’ll let me.”

The second they glide down you, grazing over your entrance, all conscious thoughts and conscious movement disappear. Almost like a magic trick. Suddenly everything you do is automatic, like your breathing or your heart beating. You have no conscious play in it.

This includes the words coming from your mouth.

“Finger me.” You moan shamelessly, clenching around nothing as he touches you.

He almost groans at your request, “Mm, well I gotta stretch you out, hey?”

Taking a few moments to rub over you slowly, he eventually slides his middle finger into you. It glides in so smoothly. Even just the idea of his hands touching you this way has you completely melted, your back arching off the mattress as he moves in and out gently, the subtle rolling inside you enough to send you insane.

“C’mon dove, let me taste.” He pushes your legs open wider.

No part of you registers what he’s saying until his lips attach to your clit, licking over your arousal that’s spread entirely over your core.

“God!” You cry out as he flicks his tongue and curls his finger, the combination heavenly.

It’s bliss for him just watching you, the way your body reacts to every little touch he administers.

Another finger pushing into you and you’re already a mess around his hand and mouth. At whatever point he thought you couldn’t get any wetter, he was entirely wrong.

“Y’gushing around me, baby. Two fingers and you’re clenching like you could finish jus’ like this— so tight too.” His words are spoken against you, and the vibration just makes you fall deeper and deeper.

“Feel so good, Harry.” You moan out, hands finally finding his soft curls. Wrapping around them and tugging his face into you.

The scene is erotic. Pink lips against you, fingers pushed into you. Same tan arm holding onto your leg that you’ve stared at many times before.

His cock is aching while he does this to you, hearing you whine his name like a broken record as he picks up the intensity. Tongue and fingers forming a rhythm, one that quickly is building an intense heat in the low of your stomach.

Sitting up, he removes his fingers without warning as he repositions himself. You immediately miss the feeling of him inside of you, somewhere in the back of your head wondering how you’re ever going to go without the sensation.

It blips suddenly to wondering what the fuck you’re both going to do after tonight… something that would make you overthink into a deadly spiral usually. But it’s quickly forgotten about again when he rests on his knees between your spread legs, and pulls your ass up onto his thighs.

Your legs are spread open completely, he has a view of you he’s only ever dreamed of. Your wet glistening cunt in front of him, entirely his to please tonight.

You’re still babbling out his name like a mantra, mixed with a few different sighed words. Varying from “please” to “fuck” to “touch me”.

They get lodged in your throat when you watch him dip down and lick along you completely. Spitting onto your clit once he gets to it.

Fucking filthy.

You loved it.

His free hand reaches to touch your chest, rocking his tongue against you. Mixing spit and arousal together over your swollen core.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He moans into you, flicking his tongue over your entrance.

He’s eating you out so damn well you want to suck him off desperately in attempt to thank him.

It doesn’t take long before the same hand that was pressed into your breast, tweaking your sensitive nipples his sliding back down along your waist.

“Three,” he murmurs into you, “reckon you can take that like a good girl?”

“Yea… yea!” You eagerly nod, your own hand coming to squeeze your breast, “need to feel you.”

“You are so fuckin’ dirty… beggin’ t’take more n’ more of me.”

He holds the back of your thigh as he works to push in a third finger. This one burns, you never put more than two of your own fingers inside of you. And compared to his— size wise— they don’t measure up in the slightest.

The pinch you feel is a mixture of pleasure and pain. But your body registers the sensation that feels otherworldly as you stretch around him.

“Harry!” You whine out, hips stuttering as he slowly curls his three fingers inside of you, “Holy shit.”

He moved feverishly, showing clearly how bad he wants you to come. He wants to watch you entirely unravel between his touch.

Everything is starting to build up in your stomach, the pressure twisting and clenching. Your hand comes up to your own hair, fisting through it at the intensity.

He pumps his fingers in fast, quick movements, curling them quickly inside of you as he watches in complete awe at your bodies reaction to him. Your back is arching, lips whining out beautiful sounds, a light dusting of sweat shines between your chest.

“Taking it so well,” he murmurs, leaning down to attach his lips to your clit as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

The second his tongue swirls over you, you realise you’re about to loose it.

“H-harry—“ the sheer desperation in your voice tells him all he needs to know, along with the pulsating of your entrance.

“Don’t stop…” pleading to him, “i— im gonna come.”

He smiles against you, sucking harshly as you start to squirm and pant underneath him.

“Want to watch it,” he presses a kiss above your clit, “want to watch every second of it.”

You nod feverishly, head starting to spin and body starting to feel like it’s floating.

“Are you gonna show me, dove? Show me just how good im making y’feel?” His voice is seductively low.

“Don’t want you holding back, I want to hear you.”

“Harry.” The thrust of his hand is beginning to tip you over the edge, his words only bringing you closer.

He leans his body over yours, mouth coming to kiss over you. Trailing up your chest until his lips meet yours.

The kiss is open-mouthed and desperate as you moan into it.

You want his fingers as deep as they can possibly fit into you, and you suddenly are verbalising this, “harder, deeper, please…”

“Want it rough, baby. I’ll give you rough.” He chuckles against you.

All the sudden, his pace quickens, and he’s pushing them in and out of you at a rate your brain can’t even keep up with.

The feeling of the palm of his hand slapping against your clit makes your whole body seize up, you cry out in pleasure as he talks in your ear.

“Cmon, let it all out baby.” He coos, voice soft compared to his movements.

Your moans are loud and stuttered out at each thrust. Starting to shake as your stomach tightens, “Please, please!”

His movements don’t falter for a second, and suddenly your orgasm hits you like a train. Whole body shaking as you clench around his fingers.

He even moans as he feels you finish, imagining how it would feel to have your cunt squeezing his cock instead.

You cry out his name so loud it echoes through his bedroom, all while he rocks his fingers through your orgasm.

“That’s it angel,” palm hitting your clit to make you clench again, drawing out the pleasure, “fucking gorgeous…”

“So beautiful, letting me watch your face screw up as you came all over my hand.”

“Can’t wait to have my face down there someday.”

The thought makes you writhe against him, “maybe later, hm?”

“I’ll get my tongue inside of you, play with that pretty clit until you do that all again… finish on m’face.”

He’s dirty talking you as you come down, and even when he finally draws his fingers out of you, you can’t help but want more.

Unsure if it’s just him telling you all the stuff he wants to do, or just how badly you want him in general, you realise how worked up you still are.

Not often would you orgasm and still be craving more, but right now you swear you could be doing this all night with him.

His soaked fingers run up between your chest and come to his mouth. His green eyes finding yours as he sucks them clean, humming as he tastes you.

“Fuck me—“ a sudden burst of energy comes to you, hands coming to push yourself to sit up. During it all, you’d slid off his lap and back down onto the mattress.

“Let me suck your cock.”

He’d straightened upright along with you, sitting back on his knees as he had been earlier.

His brows shot up in surprise as you suddenly had this new found energy, “baby— you haven’t even fully come down yet, just have a moment.”

“Harry.” Your gaze snaps to him, “im going to suck you off until you decide you’re going to fuck me, okay?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ.” He curses, throwing his head back. His cock is aching, and he can’t even imagine saying no to that.

“I’m gonna struggle not to finish the second you wrap your lips around me, princess.”

“You can hold it, captain. I want to taste you.”

It doesn’t take you long before you’re pushing him backwards, making his legs stretch out as you kiss him quickly.

He hums into your mouth as you palm at his briefs, squeezing the fabric over his hard cock.

You move to pull his briefs down his thighs, listening to him groan once he is finally out of the tight confines. Pulling away from his warm lips, you look down between you.

Jesus Christ.

Of course the Captain was heavily equipped.

The tip of him was flushed and swollen, you just knew how well it would fill your mouth. He was the embodiment of pure sex. Everything about him.

“Can i?” You glance up, looking at the way his plump bottom lip is taken between his white teeth.

He nods quickly, fluttering his eyes as he pictures the mental image of what you’re about to do to him. How much this is about to fuck him up.

Not having to imagine long. Your body sinks down, knees pushing back on the comforter as you half lay between his legs.

“God—“ he draws out, you haven’t even touched him, but the sight of you is enough to make his head spin.

Your bare ass and the arch of your back is all he can pay attention to as you rest on your elbows between his thighs.

“You look so…” he struggles to find the word, and the thought will never be completed. Your hands wrap gingerly around him, and although you’re unsure how to go about pleasing him, you waste no time licking along the underside of him.

“Fuck!” He spits out immediately, hips flexing upward at the touch.

Lips wrapping over his head, you just go with what feels natural, sucking the tip gently, careful not to nick him with your teeth.

“Y/N.” He sighs out your name, letting you envelop his senses entirely.

He doesn’t know how long he’s going to be able to hold out from finishing in your mouth. He’s already feeling that tightness spread across his abdomen, and you haven’t even been on him for a whole minute.

You hum around him in response to your name, hands sliding up his thighs and meeting the muscles of his chest. Selfishly you palm over the hard slabs, watching his brows furrow in pleasure as you slip further down his length.

Hollowing your cheeks you suck around him, moving up and down gently as his hand laces into your hair.

“You… your mouth is like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Could sit here all night with that thing wrapped around me.”

You revel in the idea, saliva dripping down his cock as you draw back up to having only his tip between your lips. Gently pulling off to talk, “I’d do it.”

He feverishly lets his head fall back, pulling at the hair he’s got between his fingers.

“You’d be a good girl and warm my cock all night with that mouth of yours?”

You nod as he leans down to pull your face up to his, kissing your lips without shame of where they’d just been.

He slides his tongue into your mouth, drawing across your bottom lip, “Another night baby. You wanted me inside of you, so you’ll get that.”

“A little longer on you, please.” You whine, wanting to please him with your mouth just like he had for you.

The briefs hanging onto his thighs get pulled all the way off before your body leans back down, kissing over his length and sucking harshly at certain sides of him.

Who is he to say no to you.

Licking along him, you drag your tongue over his tip before sliding your lips down him again. This time you move faster, and he is trying to keep his thoughts controlled as you fill your mouth with as much of him as you can without gagging.

“Good girl,” he moans, watching your ass rise and fall with each bob of your head.

His prick is practically dripping with your saliva, and he don’t think he’s ever felt a better feeling in his life.

So good that he can only go so long before he’s swearing, and pulling at your hair, “Fuck— Y/N I’m going to come if y’don’t stop.”

You hum around him, having half the mind to just keep going so you can taste him fully. Somehow he finds the strength to hold it off, “No, baby, take your mouth off— please.”

You slide off him with a pop, looking up at him with swollen lips.

The sensation of your mouth trailing up him had him teetering on the edge of his high, “Fuck,” his hips stuttering against nothing as his head is thrown back. Attempting to push down the feeling he was so close to giving into.

Its so hot. Watching his frown get deeper as he screws his eyes shut, all the hard muscles on his body tightening.

His hand comes to his hair as he pulls on it, the orgasm he was so close to was finally receding. You’d just unintentionally edged him.

“Y’so fucking horny.” He pants, “can’t even wait to have me inside you.”

He lifts you up by your arms and pulls you on top of him, chest to chest. You can feel his length curving against your ass as his lips come down to suck on your nipple. Licking over it harshly without mercy.

“Want you to fuck me senseless, Harry.” You moan, back arching into him as you grind down against him, arousal practically dripping down onto his cock.

“Please,” you begin to beg as he works over your breast. You can’t seem to stop the words flowing from your lips, “I want you so bad.”

His mouth moves off your hardened nipple, looking you in the eyes, sighing out a deep breath.

You search his unreadable gaze, and there’s a sudden blanket of silence that falls over you both. Maybe a hint of realisation has set in, in that what you’re about to do is irreversible.

“I jus’ want y’to be sure.” He says, sobering the intense moment.

“Think about it for a moment, okay? Just take a second.” He kisses your cheek, hands rubbing delicately on your back, “I don’t want this to be something y’regret.”

You nod slowly, pursing your lips as you genuinely take the moment to consider everything. You are about to fuck a pirate. Which isn’t even the worst part.

Still, even as you think about the situation, and all the potential repercussions, you can’t find it in yourself to want to stop.

“I know we don’t know where this is going, and we both know we shouldn’t be doing this.” You speak quietly.

He hums in agreement, his pink lips pursed as he lets you talk, “but… no. I still want this.”

“And I rarely ever get to make decisions for myself… so thank you for letting me do that.” You say, voice sounding certain.

“Don’t thank me for that, that should be your right.” He states, brows furrowed.

“Shh, let me thank you anyway.” You nudge his nose to the side, kissing him gently. Lips clicking as you both take a moment to do just that.

“I think i have condoms,” he begins.

A laugh bubbles from your chest at his uncertainty, “You think,”

Shaking his head in a sort of amusement, “I haven’t used them in a long time, dove. I don’t bring girls in here.”

“Yet here I am.”

“Yet here you are.” He hums, hoping you pick up the underlining statement in his words. You are special. Much more than just a girl he’s got in his bed for the night.

“Wanna feel you.” You whispered, implying you don’t want to use anything. And honestly, your whole body ached to feel him for the first time without a condom on. Especially since you knew it wasn’t an issue with it.

“The court mandates us to have a rod…”

He frowns, “what do you mean?”

“So I don’t get pregnant before I’m married. It’s fine it’s reversible… they can take it out. They do it to most girls incase we start fooling around behind their backs.”

“Fuckin’ Hell. I hate them.” He spits, “Always controlling other people bodies.”

“If you’d prefer to—“ the sentence doesn’t even make it out of your mouth before he interrupts,

“No baby, that’s your choice.“ His tone is entirely certain, not wishing to have any influence on your decision.

“As long as you don’t have some kind of pirate STD, i wanna feel you, harry.” You tease, but tone still genuine.

It causes him to laugh, “No STD’s here.”

“Alright, good.” You nod, mouth forming a grin, “I trust you, if you trust me.”

His green gaze searches yours, and you feel the weight of your words for a few seconds until he breaks the silence, “I trust you.”

Nodding, you bring your lips back to his. Giving him a chaste kiss of appreciation that he smiles into.

But now that you’ve committed, that sense of need is rushing back into you. But this time, it’s like the flood gates are open, your movements starting to get quickly eager again.

That gentle kiss quickly turns heated as you grind down over his length, excited he gets to feel you skin against skin.

He mutters into your mouth, “Perfect baby, every inch of you.”

Immensely tired of waiting, your voice whines out a plea, “Fuck me harry, please.”

“M’gonna fuck you, don’t worry.” He whispers, grabbing your hips and flipping you around. Leaving your back pressed into the pillows as he pulls your waist to his.

He looks down at you, hair fanned out and big eyes looking at him with parted lips. His own gaze dips to the supple flesh of your tits, inexplicably excited to watch them bounce as he fucks you.

You can’t help but take the opportunity to commit his stance above you to memory, the muscles of his tan chest and the dark ink of his tattoos. The thought of scratching your nails along his laurel adorning hips…

He can’t take you staring at him like that. He leans down to pepper kisses along your neck— finally grabbing himself, a hiss coming from his teeth as he rubs his tip along you and over your clit.

“Tell me if it’s too much okay?” He says, lining his head up to your soaked entrance.

You sigh out several words of agreement, clutching his shoulders as he slowly starts to push into you.

With how turned on you are, and his early preparation with his fingers, his tip slides into you with some ease. There’s still some tension as he pushes in, “Relax, dove…”

His voice is so deep. He’s still clutching onto every ounce of his control, praying he can hold himself together when he hears you whine as you’re being stretched out by his cock.

“I won’t last long if you keep squirming like tha’.” He screws his eyes shut, holding you still by the hips.

“Fuck—“ it feels so different to anything you’ve ever felt. He curves into you like it was fate, like every inch of him was tailor made to you.

“Deeper, go deeper please…” you beg, nails scratching at the messy curls on his head.

His brain works on overdrive to process the fact he’s the first person to ever do this to you. That you’re experiencing this with him for the very first time.

Virginity is a tacky term for him, in the pirate world it’s regarded as the best thing you can take from a girl. The way it’s treated disgusts him. But the only thing for him that’s important is that your first experience is the best he can give it, and that you feel safe— treasured even. Exactly how you should.

“Takin’ it so well…” He sighs out, finally all the way inside of you.

“Kiss me, Harry.” You say, and he wastes no time leaning down to capture your mouth.

Kissing him with his cock fully pressed into you is an entirely different experience. As your tongue glides against his lower lip, he stutters his hips inside of you. Hand coming to play with your clit as he starts to move gently.

You roll your body against his uncontrollably, wrapping your hands into his hair to pull his lips further into yours.

“Feels so good—“ you groan into the corner of his lips, the stimulation you’re getting feels like it’s coming from all angles. Like you could float away.

“You feel so good. So tight around me, Y/N.” He thrusts a little harder as he speaks, moving back down to kiss you. It’s also harder this time, both your tongues clashing against each other as he starts to build a pace between your legs.

He can feel how coated he is with your arousal, your cunt only growing wetter as he ruts into you.

“Do what you want to me.” You pant out, your body aching for anything he’s willing to give to you.

His green eyes are almost swallowed entirely by his pupils, “Fuck.”

“Can y’take it rough y’think?” He asks, nose bumping yours as you hold eye contact.

You nod feverishly, and it causes his head to throw itself back as he starts to work himself into you harder. Taking the opportunity, you bring your lips to suck against the arch of his throat.

He never wants this to end. He wants to take you like this all night. Change locations, fuck you on the floor, against the wall, bent over his bed, even with you pressed into the counter of the bathroom so you can watch it all in the mirror.

His throat is vibrating as he moans, you can feel it against your lips. You’re licking over his tan skin with your tongue, swearing you can feel the beat of his pulse underneath.

You start to loose yourself in him again, hands drawing down to scratch against the muscles of his chest as you clench around his cock. He is captivating at the best of times, even when you’re 5 feet apart you can get swept up by him.

It’s like a hold down under a wave, you can’t get up above the surface long enough to catch a breath. You don’t know what way is up or down, you’re spinning and all you can feel is him, he is the water glistening with rays of sun that fully surrounds you.

Now amplify that by a hundred and maybe that begins to cover how he feels while he’s inside of you.

Moans start bubbling out of you with each thrust, you feel him hitting that spot inside of you everytime he ruts back into you, balls slapping against your ass as he gives you himself exactly how you’d asked.

He moves his hand off your clit and grabs your hips, angling them up, pulling you flush against him. Entirely rough as he fucks into you at a slightly new angle, this on its own sends you wild.

Your back arches off the bed, crying out as he slams into you, your wet cunt taking him as deep as it allows. Squeezing around him so hard his jaw is going lax, curls on his head sticking to his forehead.

“Good girl,” he groans out, “taking my cock so fuckin’ well.”

“Knew how good this would feel. M’gonna want you all the fucking time.” Slapping your ass, he keeps the filthy words coming from his mouth, “Gonna be bending you over any chance I get, angel.”

“Please…” you nod feverishly, “Need you all the time, need your cock.”

His tattooed arm comes from your hip and runs up along your side, hand cupping your bouncing tits. Squeezing one of them, he then trails up your neck and coming to cradle your jaw. His thumb slides past your lips and presses into your wet mouth.

You don’t need him to even tell you, you just suck on it, letting saliva pool around his warm finger that’s rubbing circles against your tongue. He draws it in and out, rubbing over your plump lips and tracing a line down your chin. Eventually coming to flick his thumb against your nipple— your own spit coating it.

All of this, and you start to feel the pressure build in your stomach, of course you couldn’t last long as he fucked you like this.

“Harry!” His name started to come from your lips over and over again. Legs beginning to shake, heart racing in your chest.

“Gonna come?” he grunts out, “this sweet pussy gonna come around my cock? Drip all over it?”

You cry out as his body pounds against you, his hands guiding your hips into the movement as your eyes physically can’t stay open. You swear stars are beginning to explode behind them.

They squeeze shut as your whole body almost stops working. Your heart and lungs feel like they completely seize as you hang onto the peak of your orgasm for a breathless moment.

“Fuck—“ he hissed out, feeling how tight you’ve gone around him, “I’m gonna finish with you, cmon baby.”

His fingers come to quickly rub over your clit— a few fast, tight circles, and that is all it takes.

Your moan reverberates around the four walls of his room as you come for the second time, bouncing against his cock as your whole body writhes in your climax.

“Harry, I’m coming!” Your voice is pitched so high, half whine half cry as you state the obvious. As if he missed the fast clenching of your entrance around him.

“Fuck— fuck, im—“ He can’t get the sentence out as his cock starts to pulsate, his balls tightening as he realises he’s about to follow along with you.

He gives a final, deep and hard thrust that brings him to his orgasm. You feel the heat of his come inside of you as the movements of his hips become sloppy with each squeeze of his cock.

The strength of his climax is only amplified by you edging him accidentally earlier, he feels this in his bones.

“Yessss—“ The feeling of him emptying out in your cunt is like heaven, “give it all to me, Captain.”

“Want all my come huh, fuckin’ filthy thing?” He rasps, body hunched over at the heat still bursting through his whole body.

You both ride out your highs with eachother. Hands coming to touch eachother all over as your bodies begin to slow down. His palms skate over your breasts, and your own fingers run up and down his tensed arms. The two of you start to stop shaking and squeezing as the high of your orgasms naturally close out.

The sound of panting is all that fills the room. Breaths laboured and exhausted.

“Baby,” he says, sounding entirely out of breath, “took me so good.”

He leans down to kiss you gently, and you whine against his lips, unable to find the words for anything that just happened.

Slowly, you make out with eachother. Tongues licking gently along lips and against one another. An entirely different sort of intimacy from the sex you just had, and a silent form of a thank you as he slides his cock out of you.

He groans into your mouth as he does it, feeling sensitive as he slips out of your warmth. He pulls away to look at the state of you, something he’s not willing to miss.

The sight was something he wish he could capture forever— no matter how filthy it sounds. Your pussy is swollen, all fucked out as his come is starting to drip out of you.

You watch him stare, a prideful smirk on his lips at the mess he’s made of you. Chocolate curls over his forehead, cheeks and lips flushed a warm red, and his tan skin glistening in a sweat.

Looking at him is like looking at a painting.

He longs to lean down and clean you up with his mouth, but it’s clear how exhausted you both are, so he gets up instead— despite you begging him to stay, he kisses your forehead, “Just getting a cloth to clean y’up. I’m coming back.”

Running water over a washcloth in the bathroom, he comes back out to wipe the fresh and damp material over you. You whine at the touch, the area sensitive from two intense orgasms. Despite the dirty nature of it, it makes him smile softly.

Tending to you after he’s fucked you breathless is almost half the treat. Watching you smile back at him, how content you look. Knowing you’re safe in his company.

Once you’re cleaned up, he chucks the dirtied cloth back in the bathroom to be dealt with later, not wasting any more time and coming to lay back down with you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, now that your brain is clearing you’re becoming unsure what to do now. Do you act as normal? He senses your sudden unease like instinct, wrapping a hand around your waist and tugging you into his chest.

“Don’t be shy, y’fine dove.” He kisses you again, hand running over your side comfortingly, “just had m’cock in you, no room left for that.”

You nod into the gentle kiss he’s giving you, pressing your body to his as you feel less anxious now he’s affirming everything is okay.

As you both lay with eachother, softly touching skin, you wonder what this will change. How the after effects of this will alter the future.

You’re hyperaware standing on top of a precipice of change. Despite wishing you could act naive, and attempt to believe that everything can go back as it once was— you know that will never happen. It’s something you’re both excited and terrified of. But in this moment, with the way the captain of this ship is holding you, touching you, kissing you— you can’t help but feel like everything is going to be alright.

———

taglist:

@saturnheartz @slap-me-harry @ilovehsstuff @ameerakane20 @matildasatellite @harrysslut7 @sunflowersey @styleswiftie @anotheryoutubefanpage @straightontilmornin @oknothanks26 @closureesny @angel-upon @brother-lauren @maddie7writes @tenaciousperfectionunknown

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part<3

another a/n:

wow!! so hello

mini catchup on me being absent for literally half of last year!! 2024 I was sooo busy with my studies, but you’d all be proud since I pulled some really good grades last year, so my absence in creative writing field on tumblr did have a reason and at the very least paid off. but I missed posting soo much and I’m so happy to be back. unbelievably grateful for how many messages and inboxes I got about my writing over last year as well, I love you all so much.

i literally can’t believe it’s been so long since part 3 of pirates gold was released. really left yall high and dry😔 hopefully not after this part, I swear this is the longest piece I’ve ever wrote on tumblr, so I hope you all have enjoyed it. I have plenty of plans for part 5 in my notes app so yall keep ur eye out for that.

thank you for not only reading my silly authors note, but for reading this next part. your support means the world, and I am planning on being much more active this year so get excited for heaps of oneshots and other tidbits.

much love to you all, stay safe and hydrated I’ll see you very soon!!

P.S ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS I MISSED💔 I have reread this as much as my brain will allow me the last week, I will be making edits over the next little while to fix those mistakes but hopefully there’s not too many x

[elumish]

I agree with the idea that the content of what someone writes doesn't necessarily reflect their moral stances--but the corollary to that is that what you wrote is what you wrote, regardless of what you believe or intended.

I talked in my recent Substack post about how people mirror (in a positive or at least sympathetic manner) white nationalist/anti-multiculturalist rhetoric sometimes in Draco ship fics. I have no way of knowing whether the authors are white nationalists or broadly oppose multiculturalism in real life--but it doesn't change the fact that they were espousing a version of that rhetoric in their fanfiction.

This is why I talk so much about being conscious of the implications of what you're writing, because it's possible to end up mirroring or espousing rhetoric that you may not mean.

If I write a story where torture is used "successfully" (it results in the person being tortured providing accurate and relevant information a timely manner in a way that prevents or mitigates harm to others), it doesn't matter if I agree with or support the use of torture as an interrogation method or if I'm just reflecting what I've seen in other media or if it happens to be a convenient way to resolve the plot, because I just wrote a story that reinforces existing pro-torture rhetoric.

If you don't want your moral stances to be inferred from what you write, then you don't get to use your moral stances to excuse what you write.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

I really don't know if I'm ever going to feel comfortable here, again, if I'm being honest. I know leaving tumblr entirely means the people making me uncomfortable (/nbh) win, but if even my doctor is advising me to leave it behind, I may have to.

It just ... sucks that I lost three people I considered friends with no explanation. People who claimed to support talking issues out like adults, no less. Out of respect, I'm not going to name them, but it does hurt that people I spent 2-4 years interacting with decided to cut me off with no warning whatsoever.

[starlightkun]

➺ teaser word count: 1421 | full fic: 9.4k ➺ genre & warnings: sci-fi, near future, fluff, falling in love without seeing each other, minor hurt/comfort, coworkers au (but in space), space traffic controllers; brief blood/injury mention ➺ synopsis: in which you go to your job as a space traffic controller every day looking forward to your shifts with one specific coworker who you might be falling head over heels for. and sure, you don't know quebec's real name, nor what he looks like, but you two talk for hours a day between guiding landings and take-offs, and you know him better than anyone else. you’re perfectly happy, until his end of the comms falls silent one day and won’t reconnect ➺ extra info: i highly recommend being aware of the existence of the icao alphabet so ur not thrown for a complete loop by ppl’s nicknames in here lol. u don’t need it memorized but i swear i didn’t pull these words out of thin air ok. also, in american aviation, the number 9 is pronounced niner, ur not going crazy and neither am i ➺ estimated release: saturday, february 1, 2025 3:00 p.m. eastern time

The days all tended to blur together on the space station if you weren’t careful. Time was pretty meaningless in the middle of nowhere with no seasons or daylight to give your body cues. STCs mostly relied on shifts and tower cycles as units of time—the duration of a shift, and how long you were assigned to one tower before you moved to the opposite side of the station.

You were back on shift with Quebec, and so far, it had been a busy one. You’d barely had time to breathe between arrivals and departures, much less chitchat. Finally, during what seemed to be a lull, you pulled out your bag of food from your bag.

“Alright, that’s it,” you huffed. “I’m eating dinner.”

“What do you have tonight?” He asked.

“Didn’t have time to run to the convenience store today so it’s just some snacks and stuff I had in my room. Might have to make a vending machine run, sorry.”

“Look in the minifridge.”

“What? Did you rig it to explode?” You pushed your rolling chair back to grab the edge of the fridge, pulling the door open to peer inside.

“You’ll just have to find out.”

A plastic container greeted you, and you grabbed it, already spotting something green inside. Setting it and your mic back down on your desk, you took the lid off with a pop, eyes bugging out of your head as you looked at the green and white cubes. The color and shine alone told you that these weren’t grown in an ag-bubble, these were imported straight from Earth.

“Quebec…” You breathed out in awe. “You did not.”

“You can’t justify spending that much on something you’re going to digest, but I can,” he replied kindly. “Go ahead, eat. Happy one year at the station.”

“I didn’t even remember that was today,” you admitted.

You grabbed a cube between your fingers, not bothering to find utensils. The best part was licking your fingers after, in your opinion. The fruit was juicy and sweet, no bitterness from the rind at all, and so much more flavor than ag-bubble fruit could ever develop. You felt tears well up in your eyes, embarrassingly.

“God, it’s so good. Thank you,” you mumbled through your half-eaten honeydew. “I wish I could share it with you right now.”

“No, don’t worry about me,” he said, and you heard a faint pop of another plastic lid opening on his end of the line. “They were selling it by weight. I had them send some to your tower and some to mine.”

You smiled at the tower across the landing dock. “We are sharing it right now.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Have you ever been on a picnic, Bec? Like, a real one, outside on a blanket with a picnic basket on the grass with fresh air and food and your friends and family?”

“Once, when I was really little. I don’t remember much about it. My mom showed me a picture,” he mused. “Have you, Zu?”

“No, never. I was born on a mining colony. Never breathed fresh air in my life, or been to Earth. Always been in ships, stations like this, or firmaments.” Firmaments—man-made structures on the surface of planets whose conditions were not naturally habitable for humans. Within the firmaments, the air quality, pressure, temperature, and planet’s surface could be regulated in order to allow for human survival. The actual mining typically happening outside of the firmaments, however, and that was only one reason that it was so dangerous—and lucrative.

“What about your parents?”

“They weren’t born on Earth either, never saw the big deal about going to visit.” You shrugged, popping another piece of melon in your mouth. “What about you?”

“My parents were born on Earth. They wanted me to be born there too, but I came a little early while they were on a trip to a nearby resort planet. The closest hospital was on its moon…”

“Did you grow up on Earth then?”

“Visited after I was born, went back and forth for a good bit of my childhood, but my parents just liked traveling too much to stay in one place.”

“My family moved around a lot too. Mining pays good, but you have to move with the materials. There’s always some hot new mineral in vogue that’s paying more than the last thing everyone wanted. You never want to stick around until a mine dries up.”

“How long does that take? Like, how much did you move around?”

“Depends. Sometimes we were there for a few weeks or months, sometimes years.”

Quebec was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to eat two more pieces of honeydew. Then, he said, “Zulu?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you take this job? All the way out here?”

“I didn’t want to work in the mines with my parents my whole life. Saw the opening and figured I might as well give it a go,” you answered simply. “What about you?”

“Kind of similar. More desperate, I think,” he admitted. “I was in med school, actually, and I was absolutely miserable. Just at rock fucking bottom. I told my parents I was going to quit and they said I couldn’t unless I either enrolled in law school, or got a job. This was the first one I found.”

You blinked, watching the dark dot in the window across from you. “Wow. I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.”

“Haven’t talked to anybody about it since coming here.”

“Why’d you ask me that then? You had to have figured I would’ve turned the question back on you.”

“I… don’t think I knew I was going to tell you that until I said it.”

“You know you can always talk about whatever with me, Bec.”

“I know,” he replied warmly. “Same for you. I’m all ears.”

“So you quit med school, took the first job you could find and just happened to find something you liked doing?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I did not take to being an STC at all initially. I wanted to quit after my first week. I was on this stupid station in the middle of nowhere starting all over again at a job that paid considerably less than the surgeon I was supposed to be. I was miserable, and lost, and kept thinking that they were right and I should just put my head down and be a doctor or a lawyer or whatever. It felt like I could’ve disappeared from the universe and nobody would notice.” He sighed, and you felt your heart twist in your chest. “Then during my second week, another new STC started, and we ended up on a shift together. And you said—there’s no way you remember this, Zulu, it’s so… but—What do you remember about that shift?”

You rifled through your memories desperately for something, anything specific, but came up empty. “Not much, I mean, it was like my second one, I think. So I was still pretty nervous about doing everything right, and I remember meeting you, but I don’t think we even talked much outside of small talk, right?”

“That’s great. I mean it, I love that you’re just like this, that you weren’t trying to do it,” he laughed with his whole chest, and you smiled fondly, not feeling like he was laughing at you at all. “Anyway, it was pretty dead that shift, and in one of the quiet times, you got on the mic and you told me to look outside. I thought there was a ship or something going on. But then you said, ‘I’ve never seen these stars before.’ Which made me realize I hadn’t even looked at the stars since arriving at the station. At the end of the shift, you said, ‘Talk to you next time, Quebec.’ And I decided ‘sure, I’ll stick around until next time, see what else she’ll say.’” His words made you snicker softly, and he continued, “And then you just kept saying these little, interesting things, or things that made me smile for the first time in years, or you’d ask questions and let me talk about whatever I wanted… I kept putting off quitting until I wasn’t half-bad at being an STC and didn’t hate living at the station anymore.”

“Bec…” You murmured, fidgeting with the wire of your headset. “Do—”

A dot popped up on your monitor then, and Quebec said, “Ah, there’s the ambassador.”

⤷ masterlist

TEASER TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 132 (Solving the Brindletons' Murder)

Though spring had sprung just about everywhere, the snow stuck around in Brindleton Bay. With Ash in the city and Heather in Selvadorada, Hazel spent time with her girlfriend, and Conrad spent time bonding with Lavender.

He had been hard at work on George and June Brindleton's murder case since his return from Sulani, on top of trying to keep his detectives in line with their own cases. With Easter fast approaching, he finally made the breakthrough he'd been searching for.

He entered Brindleton County Prison and greeted the staff. They'd grown accustomed to his visits, but he wasn't here hoping to finally break Ximena. With Hazel watching Lavender at home, Conrad had come this evening to talk to John Brindleton.

The inmate entered the room with a scowl, avoiding a greeting when he recognized his visitor. "Did you need something, Lieutenant Gordon?"

"I'm going to cut right to the chase, John. Why did you hire guys to kill your parents? Did you not think they'd give you up if they were caught?"

John Brindleton scoffed in his orange jumpsuit. "They're lying."

"We found receipts from the money transfer. How did you move it from in here?"

"My mother was generous, and bankers do whatever you want if you have enough money."

"So she shifted the money you used to pay the hitmen, and you killed her for...her generosity?"

"No, I killed her for siding with him, staying with him even though she swore she hated him. She stayed with him and he kept abusing me. So I got rid of both of them."

"But why? You were almost done your sentence."

"It's not so bad in here," he sniffed. "I met someone."

"I'm happy for you." He shook his head with a pitiful glance. "They're in here?"

"They had nothing to do with my decision to rid the world of my parents, so we don't need to talk about them."

The embattled lieutenant shook his head with a frown. "Be careful in there, John. You're going to be behind bars a long time, and there are a lot of snakes in there."

"The Brindletons aren't snakes?" John barked, offended that Conrad clearly saw him as a loser. "Look where I came from. My father wasn't the first Brindleton to wreak havoc in that town, and the name's been a poison for me since I was born. The Brindletons have plundered through the Bay from the moment the first ship from Windenburg landed two hundred fifty years ago."

"I'm not here for a history lesson."

"Why not? The name Francis Gordon means nothing to you?"

Conrad's blank expression made John Brindleton laugh. "He was the real captain of the ship my ancestor, Silas Brindleton, claimed to be sailing when the town was founded. Apparently Francis financed the boat, found the settlers, and would've been the town's first mayor, but he got sick on the way and Silas saw an opportunity. The Gordons were resourceful, and Francis' wife stayed in the town to raise her children, but the Gordons and Brindletons were bitter rivals until most of Francis Gordon's descendants picked up and moved to San Myshuno. The last Gordon living in town was..."

"Ben Gordon..."

John grinned. "I'm surprised you know that, but none of the rest. My ancestors did a great job covering up the truth. They wiped Francis' name from every artefact in the town museum, but the original documents are inside my family's safe deposit box in Windenburg Bank. Made themselves into the prodigal sons, 'saviours of the Bay' and all that crap."

His story unfolded as Conrad listened closely, slightly incredulous to the whole tale. "The funny thing is, Lieutenant Gordon...if not for the Brindletons, your good, honest, kind ancestors would have founded the town, instead. Who knows what sort of paradise the place might've been. But since I'll be stuck in here for decades, you might as well know. If Brindleton Bay has a real 'prodigal son', it's you."

Conrad laughed, but John pressed on. "It's no wonder my father hated you so much. You joined the force and it's like he's been haunted ever since. You threw him off his game. Left him hiding out in Sulani too long, and that made it easier for me to execute my plan. You've already done better for Brindleton Bay than we ever did, which I can say as the snake you just put away for life."

John was taken back to the cells as Conrad reeled. Family history didn't mean more to him than doing the right thing, and he had no interest in wearing his badge as any sort of prodigal son. Though he'd closed the case on the Brindletons' murder, the place was still at risk of crumbling now that George's hands weren't reaching into every corner of the town.

He was even more resolved to keep safe his family and the people of the Bay he'd come to care for.

His thoughts turned to Ximena, who was somewhere inside the large prison counting the days until he'd run out of time to keep her behind bars. He needed something ironclad, and Rafa hadn't reached out since Conrad left him in Sulani.

He needed a distraction and considered calling Heather, but he wanted her to have her fun. Instead, he placed a call to someone he hoped could help him solve a few of his problems.

"Conrad Gordon, my favourite grumpy lieutenant!" Felix Psyded laughed into the phone. "I was just with some new acquaintances, but I'll always have a minute for you, my friend." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF Police Station: Used in this installment and the episode when Conrad saw Ximena behind bars, it's available on the Sims 4 Gallery by MarmeladArt. I've used it exclusively in second saves so it doesn't accidentally become the default police station Conrad goes to work to every day. I would use it for that purpose if I did the detective career again (many, many, many generations from now...)

[stacygetsit]

Yes, girl! Speak on it!! No need to post. Just wanted to say that.

Thanks anon!!! I'm going use your post to reiterate something.

Just friends don't gush about each other like they do. Just friends don't take a good long up and down look at each other when they walk up to each other. Just friends don't hide that they hang out. Just friends don't mention their friends on major magazines. Just friends don't look at each other the way they do. Just friends can mention each other without using work related terms or examples. Meaning they can talk about each other in non professional terms.

I can go on and on.. but Celebrities lie all the time. Nicola is feeling the pressure and she's getting protective. You protect what you cherish. Again we still don't know whom she lived with and everyone like Eamon or Laurie was someone latter found out she was just friends with. Don't you all see a pattern here. JD is another Eamon, Dylan, or Laurie. Who we never see her hang with is still Luke yet we know they have hung out they have said they do. They could've ended this ship a long long long time ago yet didn't. So why not? Is it just because this time she was caught off guard or is she getting nervous. I think it's both.

[ashen-char]

dating anora mikheeva hcs 🔞

ship: anora mikheeva (anora) x gender neutral reader

notes: a mix of nsfw and sfw so 🔞

✦ ani doesn't talk about the club much when she's at home. she wants to just chill with you, have a space where she doesn't have to even think about that

✧ at most, ani complains about the schedule, about how diamond's on her ass about perceived client-poaching. the creeps and weirdos? they don't deserve her attention, not when she's with you

✧ whenever you're curious to visit, she shuts it down fast. she likes that you don't know what her work persona is like. likes that (besides the fucking irresistible clothes she brings home) you haven't seen any of it

✧ with you she's free to be anora. your girlfriend, sometimes clumsy sometimes making ill-advised decisions. always going with her heart rather than needing her guard up

✧ ani doesn't mind doing personal strip teases for you though. but she makes sure to make them nothing like what she does for work. with you, it's foreplay, no money, just to see that desire in your eyes that's all for her

✧ and she feels secure knowing that you don't view her as a piece of meat or a sex object. she can show you her latest choreo idea and you wouldn't escalate things, knowing there's a time and a place for those things

✦ anora is passionate and expressive, wearing her heart on her sleeve and not afraid to show you the depth of her feelings

✧ which is why she fucking hatesss when someone's fake and not upfront with her

✧ whenever you're avoiding questions or are hiding something, she's on you like a hawk, making you spit it out so you can deal with it Together. whatever it is

✦ you catch her humming russian lullabies to herself, and when you ask her what it is, anora gets frustrated with herself because she doesn't remember why she knows it, or the words

✦ anora is a hopeless romantic. love at first sight, soulmates, call her naïve but she sees no issue in dreaming about that once in a lifetime love. she'll never regret striving for it (even if it gets her in situations that she does end up regretting)

✧ as such, your girl is a sucker for romance movies, especially anything to do with disney (pirated of course, fuck big corporations) and will make you watch them with her over and over

✦ ani hoards jewelry, especially whatever you give her. cheap, flashy, whatever. she likes being able to wear them and think of you

✦ BIG reality TV fan. the drama makes her feel like her own life is calmer in comparison plus she loves shitting on the weirdo dudes with the HQ girls

✧ ani swears that if she ever got cast on a reality show, she'd be the fan-favourite or the villain Easily. and she's a-ok with either as long as people have fun watching her

✧ competition shows, talent shows, whatever the ones following one family/cast are called (like bling empire or kardashians), she'll watch anything.

✧ ani gets overly invested into reality TV couples and she especially loves to get you hooked on them. such a sense of pride when you finally admit that yes, you actually were eavesdropping and yes, you wanna know what they're arguing about now

✧ big soft spot for underdog characters (especially if they're old or have a sad backstory) and she gets irrationally angry or even upset for days if they get eliminated

✦ ani gets easily attached to cheap stuffed animals she wins from claw machines and refuses to throw them away even when she's made a pile that makes it hard for you to navigate the bedroom

✧ and let me be clear, she is NOT good at these claw games. she blows way more money than it would've cost to just buy the toy in the first place. but it's about the thrill of the win!

✦ ani has a sharp memory for faces and names, a skill she picked up from working in HQ

✧ and your girl? she holds a grudge. she'll remember she hates someone from an incident years ago and refuse to go back there, even if she forgot what words were actually exchanged

✦ anora always goes to the nail salon and treats herself to a mani-pedi, every two weeks

✧ it makes her feel more like herself, more put-together, more like a person. if she doesn't have at least nail polish on, she'll complain to you that she feels all naked

✧ she tends to go for bright colours or sparkly decals, to lighten up tough days

✦ anora refuses to cry in front of people, but you know she's a softie. she says she doesn't mind you knowing, for whatever reason, because she's alright feeling vulnerable around you. you're a safe space

✧ the first time you ever saw her cry was when her birthday rolled around and her mother sent a very heartfelt and sweet birthday message - basically saying that she wished she could be there, that ani should come visit soon, that she misses her baby girl

✧ she's a big animal softie too. she especially has a soft spot for stray cats and always stops to feed them if she has extra food. if vera wasn't so allergic, ani would sneak all of them home

✧ ani tells you about how as a kid she wanted a pet so badly that she was at her best friend's house 24/7 to play with their dog. and she'd offer every weekend to give him a bath, take him on walks

✦ ani loves amusement parks, not for the rides but for the feeling of being surrounded by excitement and energy

✧ especially a theme park. she's not the type to get embarrassed that it's "for kids", she'd definitely start up conversations with the mascot actors and take heaps of pictures

✦ ani makes playlists for basically everything, every mood, vibe, or situation she's in

✧ the one she puts on all the time is "main character energy"

✧ the habit started because she likes making her own dance mixes, but it creeps into your personal lives as well. she insists on having the AUX cord if you go on a road trip, for example

✧ and you know her sexy times playlist is hot as fuck. whenever she hears any of them on the club on the radio, she thinks of you and sends sexts about how she wishes you were there right now to deal with her sudden arousal

✦ her favourite position used to be riding, either cowgirl or reverse. she liked how it let her control the pace, the angle, and the depth

✧ plus it showed off her dancer's flexibility. she could lean back and arch her spine, roll her hips sensually, using her core strength to grind her clit against your pubic bone in just the right way to drive you both crazy with desire

✧ the power and control of straddling you and riding until you both reached their peak... that's a common fantasy for ani

✧ anora loves the proud feeling that blooms in her chest when she's bouncing on you and she watches your face contort with pleasure. all because of her. the sight is so fulfilling for her

✧ she knows what she likes. her most mind blowing orgasms is when she's setting the pace and making sure you're hitting the spot

✦ but with you, she's grown an appreciation for more intimate positions. the ones that used to make her feel too vulnerable and she thought she disliked. turns out she just needed the right person to try it with

✧ now, ani loves being held close and wrapped up in your arms as you take her from behind, spooning her. it reminds her of lazy mornings where you can't get enough of her, because you just need her that early

✧ plus she loves loves loves the neck kisses you sneak in that way, or how you reach around to mess with her clit

✧ it feels so much more intimate and sensual when you're pulling her body flush against yours. she always gasps so prettily when you slowly rock into her

✦ anora loves overpriced coffee shop drinks, even when she complains about how much they cost. she gets so many vanilla and caramel shots in it because she's got the world's biggest sweet tooth

✧ speaking of her sweet tooth, you learned early on in your relationship that the easiest way to get her to forgive you or to go along with plans is to promise a sweet treat

✧ she's too lazy to go grocery shopping with you? maybe there's a bakery with the best bear claws right across the road. accidentally raised your voice while you two were play-arguing? nothing a slice of cake can't fix

✧ you seriously wonder how she's never had a cavity when half of her diet is sweets and vape smoke

✦ as much as she loves new york city, ani daydreams about running away to a small town but never does because she knows she’d be bored in less than a week

✧ but during pillow talk, she paints such vivid images to you about what it'd be like to live there together, in a little cottage where you two are self-sufficient

✧ solar panels and water tanks, of course. some chickens in your yard to collect eggs for breakfast every morning. a swing hanging from a big tree where you two can push your kid

✧ anora is a dreamer, constantly envisioning your future together

✧ the details and specifics change day to day, but what she does know is that the life she wants to build is one with you by her side

[here-there-be-fics]

There are so many things about Buck and Tommy's relationship and the breakup that constantly have me asking why?

Why only Tommy calling him Evan exclusively?

Why have them be so domestic and attentive, Tommy especially, caring for Buck when he's injured, turning up for Chris's birthday, turning up at the hospital for the wedding, having Buck talk about Tommy to nearly everyone he knows, where previously it was only really Bobby he spoke to..etc etc, no other love interest has been included 'just because' quite like Tommy.

Why bring back a character so connected to the team, already so integrated in Buck's life and family? That fits so well into future storytelling both on a work front and in the team's personal lives.

One thought I recently had in more depth was why the hospital scene when Denny was injured? Why make such a show of having Tommy there at the hospital, comment on how amazing it is to have a group of people always be there for you, saying it in such a way that makes it clear he's never really had it himself...this scene wasn't about Buck and his journey but about Tommy's. Then Buck affirms Tommy's comment and includes Tommy in that group, bringing him into Buck's journey of finding where he belongs and seemingly sets Tommy up to do the same. Something that Buck has done previously when he talked about Tommy throwing in with them during the ship rescue. Especially considering that you had nearly the entire main cast in that hospital scene surrounding them to show the similarities with Bucktommy and Banthea and Tommy's connection with Chim, Eddie and Hen(who they are all there to support). A costly and time-consuming task for a production that moves very quickly and shoots down to the wire, they could have easily removed that scene or tommy from that scene but instead they almost entirely focused on him instead.

Having all that happen and then back it up again in the cemetery scene just to end it all with a sudde breakup in very next episode is insane....and such a waste.

The breakup would have been effective without all that because it was a significant storyline for Buck last season that proved incredibly popular among the general audience and fans alike - it could have been a really lovely positive end to that story, both of them going their separate ways with Buck learning something new about himself and a new friend in his back pocket, a character they could be brought back for nearly any of the mains if the story required. But instead they made it really hurt, continue to hurt episodes later and leaving a gaping 'what if?/what now?' hole in the story.

It seems negligent to waste so many good storytelling moments to indicate to the audience that this one, this relationship, this character in particular is special. And none of those moments were because he was the first man Buck has been with but about Tommy in particular. It's hard to find time for side characters in a rather full ensemble cast, the audience rely on these indicators about side characters to understand their purpose and place in the story and impact on the main characters. If Tommy isn't coming back they have wasted some really fantastic endgame LI material that can't be replicated. It will be hard to top those moments for any future love interest and it'll fall flat if the writers don't find a way to out do those scenes with Tommy.

[sdmnpact]

Hey I heard u like writhing fan fics based of songs well I have a idea for George Clarke the song sports car by Tate McRae

Sports Car.

George Clarke x Reader fic, smut

♪ Now Playing: Sports Car by Tate McRae ♪

**This contains a bit of smut, so please read at your discretion. These parts will be labeled with asterisks(*) **

~~~

You and George were driving around trying to find something fun to do. It was a cold Friday night and you two were bored out of your minds. Going to a pub was the plan but you just know it was going to be rowdy and it made you lose interest in the idea. You looked over to George who was driving. He was concentrated on the road, so you stared at him taking in his features, his curly brown mullet covered by a baseball cap, his jacket which resembled that of a letterman, his bluish eyes as they scanned the road in front. No doubt that you thought he was handsome, but it was never like that.

Friends was all you were, neither of you had a partner so you mostly spent your free time together. Unbeknownst to you, he loved spending time with you. Everyone knew he didn't have a missus but they always suspected you based on the way he would talk about you. You didn't make many appearances in his videos but when you did, the comment section would go wild shipping you two together, begging for it to be a real relationship.

You wanted it as well but you knew it would just complicate things. You'd rather just spend time with him, like this, as friends.

"Bowling?" He questioned turning to look at you causing you to quickly look away. "Um, nah, not feeling very athletic tonight." You turned to look out the windows feeling the blood rush to your cheeks slightly embarrassed he had caught you staring. He continued driving aimlessly. He didn't mind it at all, just being here with you was enough to satisfy him. After a few more minutes he pulled over on an empty road as most people were either at home or at the pub. You looked up towards the blue tinted streetlight that illuminated the vehicle.

"So… what now?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips, and you suddenly felt warmer despite the cold night. He unbuckled his seat belt , then leaned over to undo yours. "Why don't we just hang out here for a bit?" His warm breath hitting your face as he turned towards you, scooting as close as he could. "Okay..." You said with a slight laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Usually there was never an awkward moment between you two. The silence always felt easygoing or comforting, but right now, it felt different. It didn't feel like it was between two friends but instead two people, both with feelings for each other, feelings that needed to be released. A sort of tension was building up as he stared into your eyes, a sense of lust filling his. "Maybe it'd be more comfortable if we sat in the backseat?" He suggested as you just nodded your head. The two of you shifted towards the backseat, one seat with nothing separating you.

He sat close to you, both of you feeling comfortable enough to interlock your legs or grab each others arms. Your legs rested on top of his lap as he pulled you closer by your waist. In his mind, he was trying to warm you up in this already heated car. You didn't mind as you wrapped your arm around his waist under his jacket, feeling the warmth that was harboring underneath. Not a single word was spoken as you stared longingly into each others eyes.

You saw his gaze move towards your lips, you slightly tugged on his shirt as a way to let him know, it was fine. He leaned forward and planted his lips on yours. You felt you heart begin to flutter as you leaned into the kiss moving against his lips. His grip on your waist getting tighter as he pulled you closer. Your hands moving out from under his jacket moving towards his face, cupping his cheeks. You went from resting on him to fully straddling him.

**

The small space only pushing you two closer together. The heater on full blast and the grinding of your bodies together creating a sauna in there causing both of you to get very hot, very fast. He quickly pulled off his jacket, pulling yours off in the process. You were both hungry for more, he pulled off your shirt leaving you in only your bra and pants. He moved his kisses from your lips, down your neck making sure to plant gentle kisses down to your collarbone. You slightly moaned as he continued his way down, lowering a strap of your bra, kissing your shoulder, looking up at you for a second wanting to see the pleasure he was causing you. His hand reached for the back of your bra undoing the clips, one by one, he removed it leaving you fully revealed to him.

He kissed you again starting from your shoulders down to your breast making sure to give equal attention to both. You let out a louder moan as he caressed them. His tongue doing wonders on you. You desperately wanted him pulling on his pants as he looked up and grinned at you. You reached, unzipping and pulling them down revealing his member. You reached for it, stroking it gently, slowly increasing your pace with each moan that escaped his lips.

He grabbed your face, kissing you rougher than last time as you continued to please him. You enjoyed hearing his precious moans and loving the way you're making him feel. Shortly after, you felt him twitch as you let go of him making him unable to finish.

**

You smiled slyly as you grabbed your bra off the floor. He was breathing heavily, sweat droplets on his forehead as his front hairs were now drenched. He sat back, watching you put your clothes on, licking his lips. You wanted more of him but you wanted him to wait for it.

"Done already?" He said pulling his pants back up. You looked at him as he was grinning sheepishly. You rolled your eyes as he pulled you back towards him wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Wanna take this back to my place?"

~~~

A/n

I assumed based on the lyrics that it would be okay to write a bit of smut but if not, feel free to lmk and I'll write another one! Thank you so much for the suggestion!! I hope you enjoyed!!

[awinterrosesstuff]

Kinda funny that people claim Kishimoto can't write romance... And then, when he has the occasion to write/draw about Minato, he does a whole love story. Both Minato and Kushina are the protagonists of that story. And honestly, it's quite good.

I've seen SS and NH fans desperatly trying to compare their ship to Minakushi, trying to find parallels between Kushina & Sakura and Kushina & Hinata, between Minato and Sasuke, and Minato & Hinata... and so on ! I understand the need to do it. What those ships lack, Minakushi has. But the truth is... I don't think Kishimoto bothered to develop those ships. Gaiden doesn't show SS in good light. The Last isn't his original idea/work and it's not good anyway.

So now Minakushi, I'm going to state the obvious. But it shows they both have mutual feelings for one another. It's not one sided. Kushina expressed the want to be alone with Minato, and Minato created a very powerful jutsu to protect Kushina.

So what we learn there :

- They train together for some times now. They have an appointment and Kushina teaches Minato's sealings techniques. From the Naruto's manga, we know it's one of his specialities. They like to see one another and Kushina is very exciting to see him.

- Minato wants to perfect his new jutsu so badly that he even cancelled their appointment. He takes the time to come and tells her about it. So he also likes to spend time with her. It's important to him. But what it's even more important to him is to protect her. He's creating his signature move and most powerful technique especially for her.

And look at that :

Yeah ! A love confession. And it doesn't get ignored. Kushina is touched by his words and starts crying. I can't add more than ten pictures. But just right after, Kushina remembers Mito, starts fighting back and remembers (again) Mito's words. The whole thing is a bit long, but I added the panel that matters the most in my opinion.

It's plain and simple. Kushina loves Minato. When he's fighting Kurama to protect her, she specifically remembers Mito's words about finding love. Plus, Minato is able to enter Kushina's mind. It's actually not a easy thing. And it was very special to Naruto & Sasuke's bond, the most important bond from the Naruto's manga. Minakushi is paralleling Sasunaru if anything...

They're connected on a deep level. Their feelings are mutual. And they are each other's strength.

There are more actually, because that's a real love story. So here we go :

Minato being moved by Kushina hugging him.

Kushina naming Minato's new technique and Minato agreeing with it (his original idea was terrible, Jiraiya already told him, but it's Kushina who he listens to).

And that's cute "parallel" (if we can call it like that).

So let's me list everything we get from the spin off :

- Minato and Kushina spend time together and like to see one another.

- Kushina teaches Minato's sealings techniques

- They both express their feelings for one another in different ways

- Minato created his signature move to protect Kushina

- The love confession doesn't get ignored and goes directly to Kushina's heart

- Minato can enter Kushina's mind

- Minato's fighting for her brings her strength and inspires her to fight against Kurama

- Minato is actually allowed by the narrative to witness and understand Kushina's struggles as a jinchuriki

- There are some symbols that make the ship work : the butterfly at the beginning and the end, the spiral, Minato's face next to the other's kages faces (it was already stated, in the Naruto's manga, that Kushina was his strength and his support in his path to become Hokage).

+

- Kushina goes to see Minato despite orders from the hokage, starts watching him, but doesn't stay hidden and talks to him with no problem at all when he notices her (yeah Hinata I'm looking at you)

- It stated why Minato likes Kushina.

- Kurama is very much aware of Kushina's feelings for Minato. When Minato starts telling her why he's creating his jutsu and touches Kushina's heart, Kurama tries to manipulate her.

- Minato is successful in saving Kushina (that's important, believe me).

Please just read the Minato's spin off. The whole thing is very cute.

[sroloc--elbisivni]

i've been reminded of my old 'Transformers No War AU, Lord High Protector Megatron mentors punk bodyguard Hot Rod' AU that I don't think I'll get around to ever actually writing in fic form, so please enjoy this bullet point outline:

standard setup of a no-war prime and protector au. megop married and gross about it especially because megatron spends most of his time in space beating up quints doing the liberation thing.

well, not personally beating up quints, that's the problem, he has bodyguards now who won't let him do things like 'beat the shit out of a 50 foot alien monster'

because it would be a 'political crisis' or something if he died. whatever. cowards. faithless cowards, every one of them. as if he'd get killed.

but over time he has finally managed to shoo off, scare away, bribe with better positions, or otherwise resort to shameless matchmaking to get rid of most of them and now deadlock, his last remaining bodyguard, is married off and bothering his husband about personal safety instead of megatron

so he sets off thinking it's going to be a great trip except there's a teenager by his chair on the bridge. there's a teenager making fun of him. the teenager has flames painted on him and he's calling megatron an old man. wait what--

what do you mean you're the new bodyguard. what kind of a name for a bodyguard is hot rod

so of course megatron calls optimus to complain, immediately, to go 'i KNOW you're up to something, WHAT is this, why do I have a child, you CANNOT trick me into this I WILL not fall for it' and optimus just goes 'please i can't tell you why yet i just need you to trust me that he has to go with you'

megatron, because he is whipped, goes '....fine'

Mentoring, Reluctantly, Ensues. neither party is happy about this.

(megatron at one point calls up deadlock to complain and deadlock goes 'oh yeah hot rod i wrote him a recommendation letter for the job :D')

blah blah plot happens they bond eventually they are in a tight spot and hot rod sets himself on fire to get them out of it

it takes a lot out of him and he's woozy and giggly and megatron has to carry him back to the ship and he goes 'you're a terrible bodyguard. i bet you've never even killed anybody' hot rod, loopy: untrue! i killed zeta megatron: megatron: you fucking What.

turns out that back during the revolution, during one of those crazy months right after nyon got blown up (hot rod also killed all those people but he Doesn't want to think about that), when then-orion pax vanished for a while and came back with the matrix and was like 'yeah it's fine zeta's dead it's not important'. it was kind of important

sequence of events from op's perspective: when hot rod blew up nyon OP went 'oh my god you are a Youth' and took him under his wing to keep an eye on him and also to have someone else to do paperwork

op and hot rod both got kidnapped by zeta because it turns out that carrying the matrix means you can sense who else is a viable candidate for the matrix so zeta, now kind of insane, went off ranting about how orion was trying to build a dynasty to replace him and he and hot rod both went 'what the fuck are you talking about'

stuff happened. hot rod maybe burned him from alive to Very Dead and op retrieved the matrix and hot rod went 'i don't want anyone to know about this ever' and op went 'you know what that's fair you didn't sign up for this'

so OP has kept it on lockdown ever since and hot rod went off and joined the wreckers and jaunted around the galaxy for a bit and then wound up back on cybertron

and the priesthood took an interest in him. because there are Signs. and hot rod went from just a dude going to temple because he likes the music and has thoughts about theology and sometimes talks about it with OP to 'hm these sure are people in authority paying attention to me what a bad sign'

OP saw that hot rod needed to get off cybertron and decided to kill two birds with one stone

back on cybertron: priesthood: where is...the young bearer....(translation: can we talk to the kid instead of you, he seems impressionable and like less of an asshole) OP, an asshole : oh I sent him to go stay with the Lord Protector :) (translation: if you think you can get through megatron be my fucking guest)

megatron, after having dragged this story out of optimus over the long-distance call: i know you said no last time I suggested this, but I really think you should let me murder the priesthood optimus: megatron they do all of the IT work

this story has no real ending which is the main reason it probably won't exist, but it amuses me very much to subject these idiots to each other, and i hope it will amuse some of you.

[hickeysgodcomplex]

But can we talk about, Fitzy telling Ned he has to take Lady Silence back with him, because she's upsetting the crew, says "you'll see." and then the scene plays out like something from a horror movie.

Edward walking all slow, the music is tense, you can hear voices but not clearly. And then he rounds the corner and it's just.... Lady Silence and Goodsir talking, sitting on the floor like kids.

She's teaching him her language, literally just how to say the word "foot". And there's some trinkets she's collected or made. Sitting on a shelf. And Edward is like ... ... ... okayyyyy

Like bro... she's not doing anything upsetting y'all are just superstitious and racist. Girl is literally trapped in a room, in a ship full of men who don't want her there, if anyone should be upset it's HER.

But y'all are upset by some trinkets and a language you don't know. Fuckin ridiculous.

Fitzy is like, oh you'll see what i mean when you get down there man, it's SPOOKY! and it's literally just Goodsir and Silna playing show and tell and learning things. It's language class. And they are FREAKING OUT.