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gyuswhore · 6 months ago

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Never Shall We Die (3; final)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out

[AN]: final part oh my god if youve read the other parts up till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it, im really proud of this fic and im so happy so many of you have enjoyed it so far. @highvern betaing as always ty for not giving up on me. AS ALWAYS, PLS TELL ME YOUR THOTS IN THE RBS OR THE REPLIES OR SEND ME AN ASK LITERALLY WTV MUAH MUAH HAPPY READING <3

THIS IS THE NICEST PRISON Hoshi has ever been in, which was saying something, because he had been in quite a lot of prisons.

But it was uncomfortable nonetheless, six grown men tied up and shoved into a crouching space to be done with as the men that prowled above pleased.

Hoshi would be lying if he said he hadn’t had to restrain from pushing some of those sorry soldiers into the ice waters beyond the glaciers. He had resisted, the crew had resisted, but just enough to convince them of their unwillingness.

Hoshi had realised early on that there was no possible way of getting aboard Tigress without somehow climbing aboard the King’s boat first. The king wasn’t about to simply hand Hoshi’s ship over, and there was no indication that they'd wait till after nightfall to depart.

Hoshi also knew that the King would refuse to have him die so easily in the waters of the Green Islands, his pride depended on it. He imagines the man drawing up the specifics of the most gruesome execution the Kingdom would ever see. Hoshi was counting on it.

The bounds could’ve been broken out of and the locks somehow picked, but Hoshi also knew that he had to wait. Wait for you to find him first.

“What’s taking her so long?” Jun asks. He’d been the most anxious out of all, the shaking feet and restless moving making it clear.

“The bomb won’t…go off still strapped to her, will it?” Minghao asks and Hoshi isn’t quite sure he wants to know the answer.

“It shouldn’t. Not until she pulls the tab. But…”

“But?” Hoshi whips around. “Why is there a but? You were supposed to make sure there was no but!”

“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!”

“Are you sure we can’t break out and look for her ourselves?” Mingyu grumbles, the most compromised with his longer limbs folded in uncomfortable positions.

“The minute they know we’re loose they’ll swarm her. There won’t be a way to get to her, not without fighting off every last bastard on this ship. They’ve taken our stuff too, we don’t stand a chance.”

They did, actually, stand a chance. But that was only if they were to break away and head straight for Tigress that was empty and standing right beside this very ship. But they couldn’t. Hoshi couldn’t. Not without taking you with him.

Nobody dares to suggest the easier route, and he doubts it’s just because of what he wants.

But panic was beginning to trickle into Hoshi’s veins anyway, the closed off brig refusing to give him any indication of the time of day.

The sun was only beginning to set when they were taken to the ship, and he knew they were near done for if they didn’t finish what they started before nightfall. He can’t tell how long it’s been, and it eats away at his insides.

Please be okay.

And then he hears it, the sound of a body hitting the floors with a loud thud, a chortle of air before it’s knocked out. He finds himself sitting up straighter, pressing his hands to bars of the prison, trying to peer out the narrow walkway that leads to the doors.

And then you appear in the lamplight, haphazard and ruffled up beyond measure.

The knife in your hand drips with blood, your shirt torn at the arms, your hands bloodied and bruised.

When Hoshi sees your face he almost doesn’t recognise you.

There’s angry blooming marks of red and purple all across your neck and collarbone, your eyes bloodshot and red, watering like you’d been swimming in salt water.

“Who did this?” he asks before anything else, watching you drop to your knees in front of the prison, unanswering as you fumbled with a giant ring of keys in your hand.

You jam each key into the lock, twisting it to no avail. Your hands are shaking.

The crew finally twist out of their loose bonds, Minghao lurching forward immediately, swatting your hands away. He picks out a few skinny pins from his boot, picking the rusty lock. Despite the strange angle, the bars creak open within seconds.

“There’s…There’s ropes hooked onto the ship on the main deck.”

Your voice sounds like you’re speaking through sandpaper, talking while struggling to emerge with the bomb you had.

Hoshi doesn’t know what to do when he crawls out of the space.

He’d had it all figured out in his head, what would happen in every possible outcome. You getting hurt wasn’t in any of his universal conclusions; especially not on this ship. They’d kill his crew, they might even kill the King with themselves, but you were meant to remain unscathed.

“Why–why do you look like that? What happened?” Nothing registers in his head, not even when Jun is pushing him out into the hall.

“Get up to the deck and get out across the lines!” Jun gruffs in his ears. “That bomb’s gonna go off with us still on here.”

He sees the canister that lies in the same prison they had just exited, he sees your mouth moving without sound. All he can think of are the distinct fingerprints around your throat and how it looked like somebody tried to kill you before they tried to kill him.

“Soonyoung,” he hears you say in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for him to snap out of it.

His crew is looking at him expectantly. He looks back at the door and sees the crumpled bodies of the prison guards.

So much for leaving quietly.

The minute Hoshi is out the door of the brig, he finds a chest next to the collapsed, bleeding soldiers. Kicking it open, he can only scoff as he finds the entire crew’s weapons in such close vicinity.

He feels better with his dagger at his hip, along with the rest of his knives that he slips into the loops. Even more so with the rest of his crew armed and ready.

“We know where the deck is.” He swallows, eyeing his crew’s weapons in their ready hands. He knew they’d agreed to ensure the clean sinking of the ship, but the fallen bodies on the floor were an ode to a different route they’d have to take. “Don’t hesitate if someone gets in your way.”

Taking cautious steps to the upper decks, he finds more bodies collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and unconscious. He opts to ask you the details later, wondering how you were able to take down all these guards by yourself.

It isn’t until they reach the stairs that lead to the main deck that he comes across a guard.

Before the witness can raise any alarm, Hoshi’s slamming the butt of his dagger into the side of his head, knocking him clean unconscious as he falls off the side of the short railing.

Clambering up the steps as quietly as possible, he raises a hand behind him to signal his crew to halt, peering into the main deck first.

The sun is still out, but low in the sky as it dips in the sky. There’s a few people on the deck, pacing and moving about in preparation for departure. Angling his gaze, he finds ropes suspended over the edge of the railing, parallel to the water.

He can’t see Tigress, but he knows that’s what the ropes are hooked on to.

“Jun,” he beckons. “How long till the bomb on the other ship goes off?”

The bomb Jun had planted in the first ship they had arrived in should be going off any time now, and Hoshi finds himself needing it to go off now.

Jun barely opened his mouth to reply when the ship shuddered.

For a moment, Hoshi thinks the bomb in the brigs had gone off, but when he finds the clambering of boots to one side of the ship, opposite to where the ropes tied to Tigress, he realises their surrogate ship had given its last gift to the crew.

The rest of the ship would be bounding to the main deck to inspect the noise soon, so he shoots a quick, “Hurry!” behind him before stepping onto the main deck.

The entire deck is occupied with the ship that lies a ways away across the expanse of sea, the beginnings that would soon lead the entire ship to be engulfed in flames. It’s tilting at a dangerous angle.

Hoshi stands as he uses the crew straight towards the ropes that lead to Tigress. Glancing, he finds Mingyu and Chan already hanging on the suspended ropes, making their way towards the empty deck of their ship.

Hoshi keeps his eyes on the occupied men on board, still staring at the lightshow that was their old ship. It isn’t until one of them turns, eyes towards the stairs that lead to the lower decks, that his eyes dart to the unfamiliar men on the deck.

“Fuck,” Hoshi curses, before lunging, grabbing the man by the shoulders and covering his mouth, dragging him wordlessly to the edge before throwing him off the ship and into the icy waters below.

“Go!” he hears you rasp brom behind him, ushering him to the ropes.

The crew is gone, Jun making the last jump to land on the deck. They’re running around, pulling ropes and fastening the sails to push the ship off into open waters as soon as possible.

There’s two ropes that tie the two ships together, and Hoshi ushers you onto one of them, pushing you to suspend yourself before he follows.

“There’s not enough time, go to the other one!” you tell him, pushing him to hold onto the other tattered rope.

Soonyoung eyes your state, “Are you sure you can—”

“Yes! I promise I can, please, before they cut both the ropes.”

So he trusts you, eyes straight ahead to the railing of his ship, gripping the rough, frayed rope to push himself towards the deck. His hands burn, but he finds himself moving ever closer to his final destination.

His hand grabs hold of the wooden railing of his Tigress at long last, pulling himself onto the deck of his beloved ship. Immediately whipping his head to his right, he tries to find you reaching the ship with him. The crew is preoccupied in attempting to get the ship ready for departure, he finds your form nowhere.

When he looks back, the rope he had climbed was gone, leaving gaping space in its absence. He trails the second rope, from the hook that had dug into the railing of Tigress’s wood, trailing it to the naval ship’s deck.

What he sees puts his heart in his throat.

You stand on the deck of your father’s ship, swarmed by now alert guards and soldiers who swarm you, yelling profanities and orders as they watch their prisoners get away right in front of them.

Hoshi watches as you lift your dagger, and cut the last rope that ties you together, free to fall and hit against the hull of his ship.

He calls out your name in what could only be described as a guttural scream.

His crew halts whatever it was they were doing, taking the steps to realise what had just happened.

Hoshi’s boot meets the top of the railing, ready to take the plunge into the water. He’d climb back up the ship and get you out. He doesn’t know what you were thinking, what he was thinking when he left you there, but he’d get you out.

Arms pulling him, he’s yanked back and positively thrown onto the deck.

“What is wrong with you?” Minghao yells, pushing his captain back as he springs up.

“She—”

Your father emerges from the crowd of guards and soldiers that run rampant on the deck, approaching you at the railing of the main deck.

Hoshi sees the hand that remains on his shoulder, the blood that covers the still bleeding wound, the effort it takes him to simply walk.

The bruises on your neck, the wound at his shoulder that looks like it was slashed through by a knife.

And then it clicks in Hoshi’s head, what had truly happened in the hours that you were out of his sight. And all he sees is red.

WITH THE WAY THE words on the pages seem to double, you would’ve thought you were going mad.

You’re a child, barely grown into your own body as you sit in the dimly lit library of the palace, utterly exhausted, wishing to be anywhere but sitting at the wooden desk with your name on it. The moon barely shone through the window, your only source of light the fireplace that burned in the corner and your lamplight.

It was a time where you felt like you could prove yourself, that perhaps, the reason your father refused you his approval was because you were simply not working hard enough. And now, at an hour where you should be fast asleep in your four poster bed, you attempt to understand diplomatic structures and everything that made your country what it was.

It was late, and there was nothing you would’ve liked more than to put your head on the table and rest your eyes for a few tantalising seconds, which you do, right over the book you were reading.

You awoke in the same place, shaken awake by a panicked looking servant, the sun shining through the great windows of the palace library.

It seems your disappearance from your bedchambers had put the entire palace in disarray, not realising the princess was fast asleep behind the giant pile of books other servants had already skimmed past thrice.

Not only were you unable to recite the rankings of the constitutions with the vigour your father required, but you were unable to give him a reason as to why you were absent for both breakfast and morning lessons.

He made the servants kneel in the throne room for hours, and did not fail to tell you that it was all your fault.

And now, in the ice cold of the Green Islands, old and wise enough to know that your father simply needed a reason to despise his heir, you accept the hands around your throat as his final act of terror.

Red faced and arms shaking, your father does not speak to you as he presses down on your windpipe with all his might. Your vision is going dark and splotchy, and you decide, for a moment, to let him have this moment.

He’s too preoccupied in applying his pressure to realise that you’ve raised your right foot enough for your hands to fish out your knife from its place, taking positivity in the handle of your knife that fits in your hand.

Before you can lose consciousness, you raise your arm high, and plunge it directly into his neck.

Howling, he releases you from his hold, both of you dropping to the floor of the ship with a resonating thud. You cough, sputter and hack, cold hands finding your now warm neck.

Your father lays clutching his shoulder as he remains in agony on the floor, and you realise you missed the crucial plunge in your own disarray.

It was good enough, rendering the old man incapable of finding his bearings.

You watch as he writhes on the floor of the quarters that almost became your figurative deathbed, the same hands that wrapped around his own daughter’s throat now clutching the shallow wound that renders him useless.

Standing over him, throwing your own shadow on his body, you feel a surge of power, a rush of adrenaline that shoots straight to your head. Perhaps this was your circulation returning from the deprivation, but you let the feeling imprint in your soul, let your father’s broken figure bring you satisfaction.

You leave him there, writhing in pain, digging your knife under the lock of the quarters, pulling back to break it away from the door. The guards stationed outside do nothing as you leave, and it isn’t until you’ve taken to lower decks that you hear the distinct yell of, “Your Majesty!”

Two more guards, who don’t expect an altercation from their princess, simply buffer as you send your knife plunging into them both. You do it deep this time.

Nobody was innocent, you knew these people as your father’s closest men, and knew that all of them were to remain silent as their King murdered his daughter. And when the remorse doesn’t do that thing where it trickles in after doing a bad thing, you decide you weren’t part of the innocents either.

It’s easier than you would’ve expected to get to the crew in the brig, letting out a sigh of relief as you appreciate the familiarity of people on your side.

And when Hoshi took his place to guide everyone out and into the open space of the main deck, you let your racing mind rest and decide to trust the man in whatever decision he made to lead you all out. And he did, he led himself and his crew right into the ship that was theirs, safe and where they would have the upper hand.

Hoshi didn’t know it when he climbed onto the ropes that lead to his boat that he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stayed, hadn’t used your voice of authority to keep the soldiers from attempting to shoot at the escapees, cut the rope while Hoshi remained suspended from it, still only halfway there.

You didn’t look at him when you sliced both ropes before either party could pull back, didn’t register him screaming your name across the void, pretending it wasn’t taking everything out of your strength.

But you couldn’t jump into the water, not now when a dozen of the royal guards remained ready to take the plunge to save their princess as their duty. The same guards that would comply with their king when told the princess was dead for reasons they all knew but were to forget.

The bomb had to go off first, and you had to keep them away from hooking another line to the ship in the meantime. You were operating on a flawed plan and an overenthusiastic crowd of guards that were moments away from shooting a canon straight into the side of the disconnected pirate ship.

The distraction comes in the form of your father parting the crowd of soldiers like the red sea, swatting every soldier that attempts to help his bleeding form for anything it was worth. He approaches you at the railing, and for once, you don’t look at the ground in his presence.

“Bold,” he heaves, the effort in his voice apparent. “Bold of you to think you could slip away.”

“I haven’t tried to slip away, father,” you correct. “I’ve stayed right here, even after you failed to kill me. And I, you.”

“Nobody is going to listen to you, child. Give in. This is the easy way out,” he says.

As if on cue, Jun’s bomb goes off for the second time, but this time the ship shudders with more force. It has your father unbalance and fall, along with multiple other soldier’s stumbling. You grip the railing tight, counting on your father’s need to live.

Despite your horrid throat and the ache in your body, you announce as loud as you can. “The bomb is in the brig, this ship is sinking.”

The fallen king trembles in a rage you had never quite seen before. Any other time of your life, you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole to be the subject of such anger.

Except, in the setting sun, a burning ship in the background, a pirate ship that awaits you, and the ground beneath your feet that was actively sinking into the freezing water; you smile at your doomed King.

“Get to the brig! Secure the lower decks, do not let this ship sink or so help me God!” His voice rings across the deck, spittle blowing from his mouth at the situation.

And just like that, your father gives you the final gift of clearing the main deck out for you, leaving but a few straggling soldiers that are too preoccupied with either the sinking ship or their bleeding sovereign.

Looking back, you find the crew of Tigress standing at the railing, you find Hoshi already half over the edge and send him a slow nod.

Turning back to your father that remains on the floor of the ship that would become his coffin, you utter your next words; for yourself, and the girl that was every second before this, all the way to her first ever memory of sad:

“You’ve taught me to be a ruler fit to be the best for our Kingdom. Consider your death my first act of service for the Crown.”

And then you jumped into the darkening void of the waters below.

THE COLD FEELS LIKE every nerve in your body ceased to work.

It was nothing at first, the temperature so intense it had your body numb in the face of shock. And then it grew, to a striking cold, and then a feeling that pricked every inch of your skin like a million needles plunging into your body. It was only getting worse with each passing second, before it was so painful it was hot, going from cold to searing and blistering like you’d plunged into the licks of flames.

Nowhere in your body did you find a rational sense of mind, something to tell you to kick, flail or float. The warped sky was an orange through the green, only more vibrant. Like there were two ships actively burning on the surface of this water.

Hoshi’s face appears behind your closing eyelids, like a mirage or a taunt. Like he was there with you when he wasn’t.

Would he come for you? Would he take the plunge for the girl he held in his arms, promising her something to fill the gap of a companion, right before she killed her own?

You’d given him what he wanted; your father, his worst enemy, dying as he sank slowly into the bottom of the ocean. You’d run your course of use, and if he was as smart as people claimed, he’d leave you to suffer the same fate as your father.

He could find his freedom elsewhere.

And you would find your freedom in the close of your eyes, and the sinking feeling of nothingness.

Except, you feel a hardness against your body, stronger even than the current of the waters. Moving impossibly upwards, you remember opening your eyes to find a leather cord suspended in the float of the water, before you remember nothing.

THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.

But as unnatural as it seemed, Hoshi had no inclination to register anything but the way the ship in front of him tilts so far out it's already half submerged in the waters. He’d assumed they might have to ready the cannons, but with the way debris and hollowed wood floats in the waters below, they would not need to.

The King was about to be introduced to Davy Jones’ Locker at the hands of his enemy and successor, but Hoshi could not care enough right now to relish in it.

Right now, he stares at the direct circumference of water your body had made contact with and disappeared into, like the world would explode if he lost his place.

“Should I jump as well?” Mingyu asks, already half taking his boots off. However, when the man turns to find his captain gone, he lurches over the railing to find his captain diving into the water through all the debris.

Hoshi lets the momentum of his dive take him as further down as possible, whipping his head around as soon as his eyes open into the abyss. The water ripples and erupts in showers of bubbles as broken pieces of ship come apart to fall into the water. It blurs his vision immensely, any ripple that could be you in the water coming out to be yet another piece of wasted wood.

The deeper he goes, the more the water presses into his ears. He was a good swimmer, good at holding his breath when needed, but even he had limits.

When he cannot see any sign of you, he begins to feel the churning of something skin to panic brew. Panic was never good, not this deep in the water.

Twisting and turning, flailing about in place, moving dangerously closer to the burning ship that continued to drop flaming bits of killing slabs, he finds no sign of you in the water.

Instead, he watches men in uniform sink deeper and deeper in their failed attempts to stay afloat.

All he can think about is if they were losing the battle for air, then so were you, somewhere deeper in the void than he was. He prays that he’s looking aimlessly, that you’ve already somehow made your way to the surface by yourself, and you were safe on the deck.

The beaded bracelet that remained on his wrist, but belonged to you.

“A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

Even without the encasing on his wrist, you had given him more than enough reason to want to come out of this alive, to want to live beyond just for himself and his duty to the crew he’d taken in.

He chose the life of a pirate because it was his only out, and every member of his crew that he recruited in succession, he acted as the hand he had needed so desperately in that awful brothel where his mother despised him and his father, a faceless man of Port Ash.

Amphitrite was not kind, it was a lesson he learned quickly in his first ventures out at sea. So he too, had to learn to be unkind, to survive in the horrid bellies of ships that weren’t his own. And when Tigress came into his life like a vessel of hope, he found a home in her merciful wood, in the ship that he could call his very own.

Hoshi lived as a free man on his ship, with his crew that had become his brothers in ways beyond what the thick of blood could offer. He did not care if he lived or died after that, as long as it was on his ship, in the waters that held no quarter for anyone, but gave him everything that nothing else could give him.

And so when you approached him with a proposal so bizarre yet so apt for a man like him, he could not refuse. It may have been the way he saw himself in you, terrified of the prospects but thirsting for an escape more than the fear that came with it.

Besides, the king was a nuisance that needed to go, and he found himself agreeing to play the hand too complicated for you.

What he did not expect was to end up here, in the depths of the ocean in the most uninhabitable part of the earth, trying to pull you out of the cold, unrelenting sea.

Hoshi realises in that moment that this might ruin him, the possibility of breaking the surface without you.

He decides that if the heavens do not let him find you, he would simply drown in the same waters that gave him purpose, and find peace with the idea that he would lay rest in the same waters as the person who might have given him something more.

Kwon Soonyoung, the deadliest pirate to cleave the seas, was in love with you. A princess, so undeserving of a man like him; a bastard, a rogue, a good for nothing criminal.

And when he spots the all too familiar build of your form, the linen shirt under the corset he had tied for you just hours ago, the dark brown trousers that signified the change he’d brought into your life, he swore to leave everything he’d ever known to thank the skies and seas for bringing him to you.

His burning lungs, screaming and searing for air, grabbing for your suspended arm that looked as defeated as your closed eyes. Tugging you towards him, he wraps his arm around you to press you to him as tight as he could.

Relief. And with the warm sting in his eyes that he doubted was from the salt in the water, he’s sure of everything he’s felt with the feeling of you in his arms.

With the bruising on your neck, the bleeding wound in your father’s shoulder, he finds it within his breaking body to begin kicking upwards.

Every limb, every cell, every hint of life in his body shrieked with its efforts to make him stop. There was no air in his lungs and he’d lost track of time in his search for you, he doesn’t know how long he has.

But if the blots of nothingness in his eyes were anything to go with, he doesn’t presume he has much. In a last ditch effort, he attempts to kick his boots off to weigh him down a little less, holding your dead weight tighter than anything.

He was so close, he could feel the warmth of the upper levels of the water change in its temperature on his skin. The glow was near blinding as the orange refracted on the disrupted surface of the ocean, so close yet so far.

Inch by inch, kick by kick, memory by memory, he does everything left in his drained power to touch the surface.

And he does, breaking out hand first into the burning air of the world above, taking the longest gasp of air he ever has in his life. Once he’s sure he knows where he is, he pushes you up further on his chest, your head resting against his collarbone, still unconscious.

“Stay with me, princess,” he pants into your ear, hoping you could hear. “I’ve got you.”

Chan and Mingyu are in the water beside him, pushing him towards the pulley that awaited them.

Mingyu makes an attempt to take your weight of his already struggling captain, but Hoshi finds himself holding on to you tighter, simply urging him to help him back on the deck.

The minute your head hits the wood of the deck, he’s checking your pulse. There’s no regard for the chaos that ensues around Tigress, both him and his crew too preoccupied with the way you were not breathing.

“I–I can’t feel anything,” he stutters his words as Seungkwan places a less panicked hand at your neck, under your nose.

“It’s weak, she’s taken in too much water.”

In an instant, he reaches for his knife at his hip, only to realise it was gone, lost somewhere in his rescue.

“Knife,” he rasps before repeating louder. “Someone give me a knife!”

The minute a hilt is in his hands, he’s pushing you over, to reach the back of your constricting corset, pushing his knife into the complicated sailing knot he’d tied it into before, breaking it free. With both hands, he takes hold of the top of the corset and rips it clean in half.

Turning you back over, he presses his hands over your clothed stomach, pushing into it with all his strength in an attempt to get the water out of your system. He keeps his eyes on your face, and when he sees no sign of you coming round, he feels another set of hands pushing him off.

Seungkwan takes over for his weakened captain, pushing into your stomach harder, attempting to get a break out of you.

“Why isn’t she coming around, what’s going on?” He throws the question aimlessly as he takes your unmoving face in his hands, trembling from everything.

Only a moment later, he hears the glorious sound of you sputtering like something was stuck in your throat, promptly spilling out an ungodly amount of water onto the deck as you retch loudly.

Sitting up from the force, your hands clamp onto the deck as you cough and heave, Hoshi’s hand coming behind you to thump your back hard, pushing you to throw up any remaining seawater from your body.

The sight of your back moving up and down, the audible sound of you taking in air; it was enough for Hoshi to simply lay on the deck and pass out.

You rear your head and look up at him, both of you still breathing heavily.

“You’re okay,” he assures, gulping. He takes your face in hands cupping it very gently as he speaks to you. “Go with Seungkwan, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Nodding, you let yourself be helped up by the rest of the crew, watching as you’re led to the lower decks of the ship.

“Open your shirt, let me see the wound,” Mingyu says, and Hoshi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Looking down, he sees his shirt soaked in red, sticking to a wound on the right side of his torso. He didn’t even know where he got it.

It looks like a shallow gash, but enough to leave a scar. He takes it better to have it tended to while he was still high on adrenaline and he couldn’t feel much of the pain.

By the time Mingyu and Minghao are done cleaning him up and Hoshi’s standing upright with wobbly legs, he finds the two burning ships beyond his own mere floating structures of wood that were in slow flame. There’s too much debris, too many bits of everything that bob in the large expanse of water to make out any bodies.

“There’s nobody,” Mingyu tells him. “Most of them were in lower decks when it all went down. Trapped themselves.”

“And…?” he asks in silence.

“He stayed on the deck until it sank,” Minghao informs. “Yelling about how he…about how he should’ve finished her when he had the chance.”

“Horrible king and somehow an even worse father,” Mingyu scoffs. “Made it better to watch him die.”

“He didn’t suffer enough,” Hoshi croaks as the marks on your throat dot his vision.

Just then, floating in the water, illuminated by the final streaks of setting light, Hoshi sees it. A darkened purple cloth right next to the hull.

“That,” he points out. “Get that out of the water.”

The late king’s purple cape laid on the deck of Tigress, darkened with water, but also with his blood.

To the Kingdom, this cape would be the last piece of their King that was gone too soon. But for every person on this ship, it would forever be their spoils of war.

Hoshi makes sure the cape will be dried and stored, ordering his crew to begin their slow journey out of the Green Islands, before he too crumples onto the deck unconscious.

IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element.

Something about how he seemed to beam, like this ship was charging him a different kind of energy. It was infectious, the rest of the ship decreasingly sour as they put on musical performances on the main deck while they cleaned the floors.

As relieved as you felt, the tight ball of anxiety refused to leave the pit of your stomach as you grew closer to the Kingdom. Nothing could prepare you for the shitstorm you’d have to deal with the moment you’d step onto the soil off a pirate ship of all things—let alone as Queen.

The first few days following the ship's exit from the Green Islands were difficult, if that was all you had to describe it. You took to your hammock for most of the day, curled up as you pretended to sleep, only waking up when one of the crew would come down to force feed you and to make sure you hadn’t died.

You knew they were doing all this to make you feel better, and somehow it was working. More than halfway through your journey, you began to feel more like yourself, emerging from your cave to visit the deck on times other than the nights.

Even now, as you sit on the floor of the deck with Seungkwan, who hands you an all too familiar stack of parchment, you feel nothing as you take them into your hands. As you read his handwriting scrawled in ink, you appreciate your past self for having the sense to keep them all.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” he says to you. “Had us worried for a while there.”

“Sorry.” You smile weakly. “But thank you for…everything. I don’t think I could ever express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. All of you.”

“I’d like to think we’ve gone past the status of mere business partners,” Seungkwan chuckles. “Lion befriends the bear? Whatever it is. But know we’d do it again.”

Blinking back the sting of tears and doing your very best to not let the warm feeling in your chest overwhelm you, you place the letters on the floor next to your folded legs. When you look up, Seungkwan's eyes are on your neck.

“They’re taking their time to fade, aren’t they?” you say.

Seungkwan has a hard look in his eye, “I guess you didn’t need your letters to remind you of anything after all.”

Your mind wanders, drifting past how easily this crew could have been forgotten in the unforgiving elements. Perhaps you would have let the man that wrapped his hands around your neck finish his job.

“Was getting captured part of your grand plan?” you ask Seungkwan.

“Hm?” It takes a moment to realise what you may be questioning him about, smiling slightly. “What makes you think we went in with a plan?”

“I thought I asked you to man the wheel?” Hoshi stands above the both of you.

“Not to batten down the hatches,” he side-eyed his captain. “Clear waters ahead, the wheel does not need manning.”

You zone out as they squabble over nothing, not finding the heart to be entertained by their back and forth. Seungkwan either loses or forfeits, because you feel him rise from next to you, only for his captain to take his place.

“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks.

“Everything,” you sigh.

“How come Seungkwan gets a thank you for your service and I don’t? Need I remind you who jumped for you and who didn’t?”

Rolling your eyes, you answer him, “Thank you, Captain Hoshi Kwon, I am forever indebted to your service.”

He chuckles in exaggeration, “Oh please, all in a day's work.”

“I mean it.”

“Hm?”

“I never did say thank you. But you did jump for me when you didn’t have to.”

“Who said I didn’t have to?”

“Our deal was done.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Our deal was to get you out when you jumped. I merely honoured that promise!”

“Merely?” you raise a brow. “Was it all merely a matter of conscience?”

His gaze locks with yours. “Don’t ask questions you know the answers for. I would’ve jumped even if you asked me to rope myself to the mast.”

“Please. I have enough blood on my hands and I haven’t even sat on my throne yet.”

“Blood is only on your hands if you tell a soul of what you’ve done,” Hoshi utters. “You’re the only living soul who knows.”

“And you are…?”

“Pirate. Our word means nothing.” Hoshi smiles.

The thought hangs in the air as you take in the man in front of you. He’s changed an era’s worth, yet all the same. His hair is longer, going from his initial shorter crop to curling around his ears, shielding his eyes. It makes him look younger, like a boy with much to live for.

That, and the multitude of notable scars he’s added to his collection, many of which have somehow been because of you. The wound at his torso is doing better, but far to go in its quest to heal.

Hoshi senses something amiss even after his sermon. Breaking his gaze, he turns to look straight ahead at the raised bow of the ship instead.

“Do you know how I got my splendid reputation for being the filthiest pirate on the seas?”

You can only stare, “I have a few guesses.”

He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”

“Tell me.”

“Unnamed sailors have the odds of a peanut facing its inevitable fate of being crushed under a straggling boot. Pirates don’t see the government as their enemy when they’re own supposed brothers are more likely to jam a cannon in their mouths.”

He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “My mistake wasn’t that I was on the losing side in my early days, but more about how I was leaving nothing behind when I was done.”

“How humble,” you hum.

“Dead men tell no tales. When it’s worth it, it might be better to leave a straggler or two to live to tell the tale. A routine stab in the jugular can turn you into somewhat of a myth.”

“Am I a survivor?” you question.

“You may be sovereign on land, but you’re also an unnamed pirate,” he responds, turning back to lock eyes with you. “And you’ve left nobody to tell the tale.”

No one listens to a pirate, and everyone listens to a Queen.

“This isn’t to say there won’t be a legend that follows you.” He quirks a brow as he speaks. “Shows up and claims her father and his entire ship and crew sank at sea, only to befriend his sworn enemies in the aftermath. And then it evolves; she sent a cannon through her fathers ship, he died at the end of his own daughter's sword, she cursed him to captain a crew of the undead for eternity.”

“Have I planted the seeds for yet another ghost story?” It’s difficult to not giggle at the thought, despite how morbid.

“You’ve given yourself substance,” he says, a little stronger than before. His eyes too, wander to your neck and the bruises that refuse to budge. “Beyond just a royal or even a pirate. You did it for your honour as a human being, and that may be braver than anything I have ever conquered.”

In your anxiety ridden, feeble mind, your thoughts had convinced your conscience that everything would be over the minute your father’s heart stopped beating. That it would bring you peace at last.

And it did, especially when it felt like you’d gotten rid of this constant monster under the bed that had followed you far into adulthood. But from the bleeding heart of the creature emerged yet another one of its brethren, and then another and then another.

Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless.

Weeks of this, and in one short interaction, Hoshi seemed to have given you the key to turn this monster into a pet.

On instinct, you feel your hand reach up, brushing against the skin of his cheek. It’s an all too familiar setting, seated on the deck of a ship too close for anybody but yours’ comfort. But without the rum and resentment, of course. And how you doubt he’d pull away this time.

Very lightly, you brush your lips against his. It was nothing but to simply feel him again, to feel a semblance of familiarity.

You feel him take your hand that rests on his cheek to place a kiss on your palm, nuzzling his nose into the concave of your hand.

Everything that was to come seemed a little more possible in that very moment.

Even more so when his fingers found the sensitive areas of your coloured throat, when his lips closed against your jaw, only to trail lower and to press into the marks his fingers continue to trail tucked into your neck.

That night, when slipping into your hammock felt like the most unbearable prospect in your near future, it couldn’t possibly be worse than uttering your next question to the man that seems to fix it all.

“Will you stay with me?”

With nothing but the light snores of the rest of the crew and the creaking of the ship, both you and Soonyoung laid in a hammock most definitely not meant for two. Head on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart beats under his scar, it’s bliss.

The feeling of his warm body against yours and the scent of him settling in your lungs, you decide that this was enough. At least for now.

IT WAS DIFFICULT TO give yourself the full list for obvious reasons, but it does seem to help when you tick off all the possible reasons why your patience has run as thin as it has.

Sitting at the decorated seat at the convened court of old men appointed by your father, you briefly wonder if you should finish them off too amidst your flash of anger. The men continue to squabble and babble about the next course of action, slamming their wrinkled hands on the pristine table and sending their own daggers of threats to the other inhabitants of the table.

“If you’d like to send a search party for the King’s body, be my guest,” you finally speak, having had quite enough when the throb in your temple worsens. “But remind me what troops you’ll be sending to the North if your best men will be gone for months attempting to find a body they never will.”

The dispute in the North side of the Kingdom was taking up most of the conversation anyway, and you doubt they’d put customary burial rites over their own glory of victory the North would bring.

“Your Majesty—”

“I would happily jump on the next search ship for my father,” you lie through your teeth. “But I watched him drown in front of my own two eyes, and as the next sovereign I cannot let you waste our resources for something that will both risk our soldier’s lives and have them come back home empty handed.”

Perhaps you had come off slightly more heartless than you intended, so you quickly add, “Please, let my father rest in peace.”

That seems to end the conversation easier than you had expected, but they’re quick to jump to the next issue not long after.

“The court would also like to bring light upon the palace guests.”

Tightening your jaw, you slump against your seat slightly. “What about them?”

They remain silent as their mouthpiece attempts to form the right words for the following question, mostly because you’ve addressed this multiple times beforehand but they continue to sit restless.

“Allow me to help you, Lord Bridge,” you sit up straighter, intending to put this matter to rest. “My guests will remain here for as long as they do, and if you have any more arising issues towards my guests I will only take it as your collective issues towards me.”

In the moment of silence, you continue, “The Kingdom is in a place of instability as we are all well aware. I find it most appalling that you remain fixated on trivial matters of the palace’s domestic code of conduct than you do for the wellbeing of this country!”

Silence yet again as you wait for their forcibly rehearsed chorus of apologies.

“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”

The pain in your temples becomes near unbearable as you dismiss the table after that, screeching your chair as you push it back as loud as you possibly can to do nothing but spite the men.

Turning the corner out of the room, you catch the open gates that lead to the paved gardens outside, the sun seeping into the marble floors indoors. Taking an instinctive step towards the gardens, you find most of the crew sprawled onto the grass as they soak in the sun.

Chan and Seungkwan look like they’re wrestling, their laughter ringing throughout the open court while their captain snaps at them to cut it out, only to get roped under one of their headlocks all the same.

There’s a call of your name and a giant wave from Mingyu, who spots you from beyond the flower beds. Still leaning against the gates, you smile and wave back.

Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit.

Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart.

Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted.

He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company.

“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents.

“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms.

“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”

There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed.

He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him.

“Stay. Please.”

True as he has always been, he does.

THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.

And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life.

Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner.

The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night.

Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion.

Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented.

“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone.

“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile.

“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”

Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”

“Disappointed?”

“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment.

“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.

Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”

“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”

Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”

At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?”

Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”

He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours.

But you don’t.

“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”

With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”

It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”

“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”

Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?

“Are you going to abandon me too?”

His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him.

“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.

“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably.

In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you.

“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”

Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”

“I don’t want someone! I want you!”

He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly.

“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”

He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.

“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”

Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him.

“I—” he stutters. “The court—”

“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”

You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer.

“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”

Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth.

It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”

He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”

For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more.

The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath.

The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back.

“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”

As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face.

“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”

With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight.

BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely.

Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign.

But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own.

Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask.

“Has the Captain approached?”

“No, your Majesty.”

You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.”

Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body.

Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep.

That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss.

Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out.

Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock.

“Your guards mortify me.”

“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”

“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”

Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.

“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”

“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”

It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”

He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”

Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway.

Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it.

If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle.

From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.

He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving.

Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.

With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him.

Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed.

“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”

“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”

Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”

He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much.

Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether.

Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing.

By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed.

He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable.

Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound.

You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound.

On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist.

The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air.

Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up.

“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh.

The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard.

“Soonyoung!”

Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced.

Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs.

Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach.

Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.

“What…What’re you doing?”

Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question.

It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—

Ah.

If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him.

Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know.

The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive.

Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten.

“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?”

Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his.

Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly.

The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white.

With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers.

You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.

Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused.

All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were.

You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue.

He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit.

“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder.

When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt.

It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further.

And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system.

It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree.

“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible.

Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were.

Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”

Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath.

“I need words, my love.”

Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”

The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you.

You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him.

You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence.

Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks.

His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling.

Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth.

Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you.

In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before.

Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up.

And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”

He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?”

It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”

You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”

Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear.

“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”

His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions.

The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth.

“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”

“You weren’t?”

He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”

Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.”

Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.”

You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”

Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you.

And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you.

“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest.

“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again.

Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before.

“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely.

“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud.

Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own.

But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open.

“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely.

Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay.

He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake.

Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern.

It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—

Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you.

“Oh, Soonyoung.”

Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched.

All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed.

He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure.

One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast.

It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.

And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again.

“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”

You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further.

He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop.

“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”

Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you.

It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made.

He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs.

You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed.

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face.

He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could.

You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth.

“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest.

You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping.

He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face.

“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek.

“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.

“I’d let you, but…”

“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine.

He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”

“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark.

Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart.

“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”

BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens.

It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.

The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this.

The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same.

“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”

He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”

“Soonyoung—”

“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”

Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.”

“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name.

“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”

You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.”

It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes.

Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers.

Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers.

He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone.

And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly.

Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”

Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens.

You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow.

You could get used to this. And you will.

THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace.

The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses.

The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer.

And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks.

You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship.

There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow.

His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take.

Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago.

By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern.

“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom.

It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?”

“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”

His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”

By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you.

“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”

Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.”

There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s.

“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands.

You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port.

“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at.

He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace.

“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”

“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light.

One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder.

He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back.

As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon.

There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend.

For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings.

That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you.

Always.

[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 3 months ago

Text

as soft as a misty rain

cw. f!reader (no specified anatomy), recently established relationship, allusions that sanji's past is more complicated than he lets on, reader has a defined devil fruit ability

pairing. vinsmoke sanji x reader

synopsis. it is all typical sanji; there is no deeper meaning to his actions. until it isn't all typical sanji and now there are many meanings to everything he does.

notes. a back to school treat for pookie @hash-slinging-slasher-trash because we both survived the first week of the new semester. title comes from rain by swv, it just felt like it would really the vibes i was going for because established relationships are sweet, but the buzzing honeymoon phase of a recently established relationship can be a bit sweeter

Sanji has always handled you with care.

There is nothing to realize. It’s an objective fact that has been apparent from almost the very moment you met on Charmed Enclave. Aside from children, there are very specific individuals Sanji will always be gentle with. An enthusiastic softness, eager and ready to serve at the drop of a hat.

I’m not special, you had told yourself, clutching Zoro’s previous warnings tightly. He does this for every woman, with or without a pulse.

It didn’t matter how many treats he brought you, reserved solely for you.

There was no deeper meaning to when he held out his hand to help you down a few steps.

Nor did it matter if he’d push Zoro onto a puddle for you to walk across like a coat taking in all the liquid, amusing as it had been.

It’s all typical Sanji.

The question is raised when it isn’t typical Sanji; that is what makes your skin buzz as Sanj’s fingers thrum across your own. What makes your chest warm as you watch as he wraps a cloth around your palms and your fingers, how he touches you as if protecting a thousand treasures.

“I won’t lie and say the Nervy Nervy Fruit isn’t useful,” Sanji murmurs with a sigh. “But if you can’t feel pain, how are you supposed to recognize your limits? Like the other day.”

You chuckle sheepishly and Sanji’s expression is uncharacteristically sharp, unamused at the display. You are sure he will be sour about your turning off your pain receptors to test the heat of the stovetop a while longer. The blond has been fretting over you like a mother hen even since. “I’ll try to be more mindful,” you promise when your chuckles subside, letting your gaze rest on your connected hands. As of now, you’ve only dulled your senses to a light discomfort. Enough to feel everything without wanting to croak from your injuries. “But this time I was distracted, I normally don’t singe myself when I check how hot the stove is.”

That does little to sway Sanji in your favor.

“I’ll be more careful,” you dramatically let your head hang as if you’re being reprimanded by your boss.

“You’ll make Chopper sad otherwise,” despite his words, Sanji sounds satisfied with the conclusion. “Think about Chopper. That’s what you told me, remember?”

Your shoulders shake with hearty laughter, “don’t use my words against me,” you beam brightly with a hint of challenge. “And you should be thanking me. Quitting smoking is going to help you in the long run. What if they started calling you Black Lung Sanji? What would you do then?” Not to mention with how impressionable the young reindeer is, the last thing you want is to see him attempting to take a smoke break between patients.

With how hectic things tend to get for the Straw Hats, it is too easy to envision.

Sanji’s cigarettes and lighter had to go for the greater good.

As your laughter subsides, a comfortable silence settles over you both.

“So,” you feel possessed to break it. Comfortable as it may be, you fear you’ll drown in it. Sink deeper and deeper in it until you do something foolish, whatever foolish thing that may be. It’s easy to drown as a power holder, it is why you are always careful around the water’s edge. What happens when you find a piece of the ocean you aren’t afraid to fall into, however. You’ve never been prepared for that. “Have you always wanted to become a cook? I know that’s what you were doing before you joined the crew.”

At your query, Sanji’s eyes shine like a child’s, “it is.” As if he’s water flowing over a dam, Sanji tells you about his home in the East Blue. The floating restaurant, the Baratie ー a concept you’ve never certainly thought possible ー and the fighting cooks that reside in it.

He tells you about Zeff and the many cooks that joined his ranks over the years. Laughter falls from your lips as easily as the stories leave Sanji’s.

The Baratie sounds more like the Waffle House restaurant chain throughout your home island than anything else. At the tail end of Sanji’s story about how a line cook named Peter got into a fist fight with three drunks and a cranky chicken, you finally ask, “what made you love cooking so much?”

“I’ve always enjoyed it, but I’d say my mom is the one who really encouraged it,” he tells you thoughtfully, his hands moving slower against your own as he recalls the woman. He should have long since finished, you know, but you don’t mind that he’s stalled in his 'wound tending efforts'. It’s nice feeling as if it is only you on the ship when in reality you are just the only ones awake. “I liked making her lunches, not that I was always good at it. But even if it tasted like garbage, she always ate it,” the blond’s dark eyes are miles away from where you sit on the Sunny. “Then she’d ask me to make her something else again.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” you try to imagine what such a gentle person looks like. I think you probably look a lot like her. A good portion of the woman’s character certainly had been imbued in her son. He’s always been gentle and kind, you’ve seen it in how he treats Chopper.

It’s easy to baby the crew’s smallest member, but there is something unique in how everyone does it. Vinsmoke Sanji was meant to be a father. It’s a thought that flusters you, but you know it is true regardless. It’s a bit too soon to think about that though.

“It,” Sanji’s gaze doesn’t meet yours as his thumb brushes over the back of your cloth-covered hand. You aren’t able to dwell long on what exactly your newly minted boyfriend means, however, as he continues on. “will probably be easier meeting Zeff than my mother. He’s a stubborn old fart but he means well. You’ll like him. Just don’t believe anything those jackasses at the Baratie tell you about me. I just know they put up that god awful wanted poster of me where everyone can see it.”

A giggle slips from your lips at Sanji’s distressed expression and you recall how he begged for you to pretend the portrait didn’t exist.

It’s easy to imagine all the cantankerous characters he mentioned growing up with. Zeff, Patty, Carne and you can easily picture the boisterous men hanging Sanji’s wanted poster for all to see like proud parents and uncles. Ones very good at teasing their group’s baby. The men who made Vinsmoke Sanji ‘Vinsmoke Sanji’.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sanji pauses at your words before he lips stretch into a dreamy smile and you let yourself arrogantly assume he’s picturing the same things you are. “I can’t wait to introduce you to them.” With that, his tending to your hand is finished, cloth gently knotted so it can’t move. “I’m no Chopper, so he’ll probably have to redo it once he wakes up.”

You smile at his handiwork, “thanks again.” You think that will be the end of your little moment, but rather than let your hand go Sanji holds your fingers a touch tighter.

“Can I kiss your hand,” the cook asks earnestly, dark eyes reserved yet hopeful.

“You don’t have to ask permission for that,” your chest burns a gold the color of Sanji’s hair. It’s unfair how easily he gets your heart pounding like a drum. In spite of your words, he doesn’t lean forward an inch. “Of course you can,” you grumble, eyes darting to a particularly interesting piece of wood in your embarrassment.

The hair of his chin dances across your skin like raindrops.

#look she's writing #one piece x reader #op x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #i had to make a black lung sanji joke i have no self restraint #chopper is your son it is canon #i wanted to make the homie some back to school fluff i hope you like it #look it's self shipping hours #rose petals & cardamom

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onedeadkitty · 6 months ago

Text

Mizus Gender

He/him they/them she/her pronouns for Mizu

I know the writers of the show wrote blue eye samurai with Mizu as a woman disguised as a man in a way similar ish to Mulan but uh

They accidentally made it deeper than that ??

If you removed like 2 lines of dialogue in episode 5 you could even make an argument for trans masc Mizu. Or at the least gender queer.

Being transgender is not a concept in this time period. But trust. People have always wanted to be other genders, probably for the entirety of human history. And how someone would go about being trans in a world with no true understanding of the concept, might be similar to what Mizu IS DOING RIGHT NOW.

Living as a man. PERMANENTLY. Not temporarily to achieve some near goal like Mulan and the many other stories with this concept. Mizu has lived as a man nearly their entire life and no intention to ever live as a woman in the future.

Mizu admires their freshly binded chest in the mirror as a teen.

When alone Mizu refers to himself as a man.

When alone with Ringo, (someone who knows the secret) Ringo also refers to Mizu as a man.

Mizu threatens to straight kill Ringo at the the very use of the word “girl”.

When, and ONLY when seeing 2 MEN kiss does he think of Taigen.

Not to mention madame Kajis indelicate insinuation of gay sex to Mizu, something I believe wasn’t for no reason. OR Madams iconic line “you are more man than ANY come through my door” (I’m convinced she has an idea of Mizus true sex but doesn’t care to accuse or call them out for it)

They HAD lived as a woman in the past. Only for about a year, and they did it to get married for her mothers sake. To save her from a life of prostitution. She was able to be happy, because it IS POSSIBLE to be happy while not presenting how you like. It’s a strain and some can never be happy doing so but it’s possible and people do it all the time to make their lives easier or to keep the peace with family or for many other reasons.

Episode 5 gave HUGE VIBES of going back into the closet when living with your parents or just visiting. And Mizu looked SO uncomfortable and awkward in woman’s clothing and doing “wife things” (partly cause they have never done that before) and maybe it was my own projecting but I felt so uncomfortable FOR Mizu.

These things don’t necessarily mean being a transgender man specifically. Gender is actually really complicated and has ALOT to do with what society deems it.

Mizu is a masculine person. Being what Japan wants women to be isn’t in line with what Mizu is. A violent, practical, stoic, cold, masculine, confident and capable warrior.

dressing up as a woman with the makeup ONLY to try and make her husband happy. She didn’t WANT to. “To soften her husbands heart, the bride… danced” performed femininity FOR HIM. Only for Mikio to betray her for, in his eyes, being more masculine than him, by beating him in a physical fight.

Mizu is both the ronin and the bride. Mizu will be whatever they need to in order to achieve their owed deaths. They HAVE to be a man to get their revenge but that doesn’t mean Mizu WANTS to be a woman. (To be fair who WOULD in that time but I digress) and it doesn’t mean they WANT to be a man. They WANT their revenge. Everything is secondary to that.

Mizu is so different from other characters…

I grew up in a kinda misogynistic place and my mom really didn’t let me “do boy stuff” or dress masculine in any sense until my late teens. I my self don’t know if I can even call myself Trans. But I’m masculine, I like looking like a man and dressing as one but I don’t WANT to be a man necessarily. But I don’t WANT to be a woman. I feel like we as a society put to much distinction between the two and the people who don’t fit either side get left out at times.

Mizu is such a relatable character to me, like no other characters complicated feelings about their own sex and gender have ever come close.

They are for those who don’t have a strong sense of their own gender. Especially those who are biologically female and hesitant to lean into their sex because of the societal baggage.

Once people realize that how you dress, how you act, and what you do in reality have nothing to do with your bio sex and everything with what society has forced people to do based on factors out of our control is the day we can finally stop having these conversations.

Do what you want, gender is fake.

But Mizu is forever 🫶

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #bes #mizu #mizus gender #there’s so much more I want to say but I’ve already put out a wall of text.#I WILL block if you come in here with a “nuh uh 🤓#i would write more about her as a woman but I just revolves someone else’s big wall of text about that #read it if your interested they were much better worded than I #he/him bisexual lesbian man

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five-bi-five-mind · 2 years ago

Text

The Collapse

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Words: 6.7k+

Genre: Smut & Angst & a touch of a dark fic vibe

Summary: Set right after Civil War, but my own take and no Vis. Wanda picked a random town to hide out in, not expecting to meet you. But when she did she was completely captivated. Except, things keep threatening to take you away and she can’t have that, now can she?

Warning: A little bit of light stalking; toxic!Wanda, like for real this isn’t the healthiest romance; jealous!Wanda; possessive!Wanda; top!Wanda, bottom!reader; strap-on use; magic strap; a lil overstimulation, rough sex. That’s a lot please let me know if I missed anything...

A/N: I really kinda... went all out for this. Like... damn I don’t know where the end of this came from, but damn.

When the building collapsed, Wanda’s whole world froze. Her blood ran cold and her heart was pounding so loudly it drowned out the sounds of everything else around her. The coffee she held in her hands slipped, as if suddenly weighing a ton and spilled on the floor around her, the splash of it ruining her pristine shoes. But Wanda didn’t care, she didn’t even register it. Her eyes were glued to the ruin that showed on the screen.

There she was, in the middle of a coffee shop, watching in horror as the breaking news flashed on the tv. It was your apartment complex, she knew that immediately. A freak accident, is what the reports were saying, something wrong with the foundation of the building maybe. Emergency responders weren’t sure yet. They weren’t concerned about that, what they were concerned about was finding survivors. But as Wanda watched on, the number of deceased kept rising and rising.

People in the shop stopped with her, not nearly as shocked, but more morbidly curious. The people who did notice Wanda’s state of shock seemed to understand immediately what might have been wrong. It was a big building in a not so big college town, there were bound to be a lot of people who knew someone affected by this disaster. Wanda didn’t even register the patrons who already were busy cleaning up her mess, let alone thank them for what she should’ve handled.

No, she couldn’t do any of that. Couldn’t tear her eyes away from the coverage of the wreckage that showed on the screen. Her eyes darted at everything that was shown, hoping to whatever being was out there that she could catch a glimpse of you. She was fairly certain you were there when it happened. After all, she was picking up that coffee to specifically bring to you. If only she had been smarter and asked you to coffee instead. Then she could have ensured your safety. This is what happens when she takes her eyes off you. You’d somehow get into trouble. Although, as she looked at the disaster unfolding on screen, the word “trouble” was an understatement.

You didn’t even realize she was watching you most of the time. You had no idea at all, in fact. Wanda was just that mysterious woman who bumped into you all the time. She seemed to be everywhere, but you didn’t ever question it. You liked her presence, her smile made you blush, and her touch made you shiver. You’d be lying if you said you were only curious about her, you knew there was something more between the two of you. A deep connection you couldn’t exactly explain.

Wanda could though. The moment she met you, something inside her woke up. Whether it was the way you smiled at her when you greeted her, or the way you didn’t seem phased by her usual standoffish attitude, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that there was something different about you, something that broke through all the emptiness she’s felt for so long. On the first day that Wanda met you, she knew without a doubt that she had to have you. No, that you were already hers, whether you realized it or not.

So that’s what started it all. One brief moment of you smiling at her and your fate was sealed. Wanda found herself following your every move. She interjected herself into your life in ways that anyone else would’ve questioned, but yet you didn’t even blink at it. She saw you every day, somehow always greeting you the moment you left your apartment, despite not living in the same building. She ended up bumping into you in other places too. On your way to classes on campus, in the library when you studied for exams, even at your work study job at the university’s museum. You had no idea what Wanda did for a living, you just assumed it had to do with the university and didn’t question it further. Wanda was shocked by how naïve and accepting you were to believe that. Truth is, Wanda had no connection to your school, when she first met you it was a happy accident. She picked your town at random to lay low in. What surprised her more was the fact that you didn’t seem to recognize her at all, which was a good thing for her. She picked your brain for any signs, even when she gave you her name you still didn’t seem surprised. With others she could manipulate them well enough so they wouldn’t go running off and giving away her hiding place, with you she was pleasantly surprised that she wouldn’t have to bother with that.

After picking your brain a few times after that fateful first meeting, the magnetism Wanda felt towards you increased. That’s when the following started, she said it was just so she could figure out why she was so drawn to you. If there was something about you that she missed, something that said you weren’t just another ordinary girl. Over time, she realized, that’s exactly what you were. Wanda’s uncontrollable impulse to be close to you, she figured out, was coming from a primal need to just have you. Something she’d never felt with anyone until you. So then the following became more frequent, it turned into her having her eyes almost always on you. The times that she took them off you something would always happen, she told herself. A person would swoop in and get too close and you’d look uncomfortable. Wanda had to be your knight in shining armors. So, whenever that happened, when a person got too close, too presumptuous about your kind attitude, she would appear. All the while, playing it off that she was in the area and your attention would be so glued to her that the other person had no choice but to walk away.

You weren’t exactly hers yet though. Not in the way she wanted you to be. She told herself you were a fragile thing, she shouldn’t force it. She was to stay close until she was sure you wouldn’t be scared away. That’s why months had gone by and still you were oblivious to the magnitude of Wanda’s affection for you.

Now, here she was, kicking herself for every missed moment, not sure if she’d ever get another chance with you. All Wanda could do was stand there and stare, but her mind felt like it was screaming at her body to act. Go find her! Was all she could think but her feet couldn’t move an inch. She was too terrified to know the truth, to learn if she lost you before she ever really could have you.

But then she felt her phone buzz and by some miracle her hands listened to her brain and she could fish it out of her pocket. The moment she saw your name with the cute little photo she snapped of you when you weren’t looking light up her phone, she felt like she could breathe again. If it’s your name on her phone, who else would be on the other line? It had to be you. There’s no other explanation she could think of. The phone vibrated in her hand for a moment before Wanda realized she desperately needed to hear your voice and should probably answer soon.

Hitting accept she didn’t miss a beat before putting it to her ear and asking “Where are you?” Her voice was stern, even though she was overwhelmed with concern for you. She couldn’t let that show, she didn’t want you to see all sides of her yet.

“I- Wanda?” Your voice sounded distant on the other end of that call. Panicked too and that just made Wanda’s heart rate skyrocket.

“Where are you?” She repeated, her grip clenching around the phone as she impatiently waited for your reply.

“I uh… I’m safe. I wasn’t home yet.” Thank the gods was all Wanda could think as she waited for more of a response. If you weren’t there, then you’re in one piece and that’s all that mattered to her. “I was grabbing coffee with a classmate when it happened.” And then Wanda froze again. Coffee with a classmate? What classmate? You never went anywhere after class with other students. The only time Wanda had seen you interacting with other students was when you had group projects to do. This was new. What student did you even get coffee with?

Wanda shook her head. Shouldn’t she be glad that you changed your routine this once today? That student was very possibly the reason you were still alive. But still Wanda’s blood boiled with jealousy. She was on her way to have coffee with you. She didn’t want you to share that or anything for that matter with someone that wasn’t her.

Wanda’s silence didn’t go unnoticed by you, but with the situation you now faced it was not really something you wanted to address.

“Wanda?” You asked into the phone. “Wanda?” You asked again, trying to get some sort of sign that she was still on the other end. Wanda just hummed a short reply and you knew that was all you were going to get for the moment. “Wanda, I don’t think I have a place to stay. My apartment is… Well…” Destroyed? Lost among the rubble? You weren’t sure of the state it was in, but you weren’t ready to find out what was left. “What should I-“

“You’re staying with me.” Wanda cut you off, finally absorbing what you were saying. She wanted to snatch this opportunity before that mystery classmate got any other ideas. She’d be grateful that this random person distracted you just this once since it resulted in your safety, but that was as lenient as she was going to be with them.

“Just for a few days,” You reassured her.

“We’ll discuss that later.” Wanda failed to hide the finality in her tone. Somehow, you knew that your length of stay in Wanda’s home wasn’t going to be something up to you, but to her. Deep down you had a feeling there was to be no discussion, but for some reason that didn’t bother you at all.

—————————————————————-

When Wanda picked you up she was incredibly displeased to see that you still weren’t alone. You were still with the classmate you had gone out to coffee with. A girl that Wanda definitely hadn’t seen hanging around you before. It annoyed her the way this girl had a hand on your shoulder when she had pulled up to the street corner you were waiting on. But it also gave her a strange sense of pride when she watched you shrug the hand off the moment you saw her coming. Still, it didn’t sit well with her that she didn’t know the girl you were with or why you were with her. She hasn’t been in your thoughts before so you must not take much notice of her, but then why would you agree to go to coffee with a complete stranger? Because you’re too trusting. Of course, that’s what it was. It’s one of things that Wanda took advantage of to get close to you, so of course someone else would think to do the same. Too naive. Wanda didn’t want to change that, but what she did want to change was the fact that everyone around you seemed to think they could get close to you.

The car ride back to Wanda’s place was incredibly silent. On Wanda’s end, it was because she was fuming over the audacity that girl had to hug you right before you got into the car. She didn’t need to read your thoughts to know you were uncomfortable with that move. Good, she thought. If you’re uncomfortable with another person’s touch then Wanda hoped you already knew you belonged to her. Plus, she knew you didn’t mind her touch. She didn’t miss the way you’d even reach for it. Making excuses to be near her, blushing any moment that Wanda made any sort of contact with you, no matter how minor. She knew for a fact, you couldn’t get enough of her touch.

But still, she couldn’t stop herself from being overtaken with her own jealousy and possessiveness of you. Wanda was well aware you weren’t exactly hers yet. Now that you would be in her home, her space, surrounded by all things her, Wanda was going to make sure to change that and she didn’t think it would be too hard.

When you both got to Wanda’s apartment, Wanda was quite pleased that you seemed to be impressed with how pristine and tidy the place was. She was also pleased that when she showed you a few drawers of things you could use and wear, you didn’t question for a second why she already had that. She even checked your thoughts for some sign of skepticism or alarm, but all she found was your appreciation towards her.

Maybe this was it, Wanda thought, maybe this was the chance to finally get even closer to you. Not that she didn’t already know just about everything there was to know about you. Wanda wanted to get closer in a different way, to cross that threshold between friend and something more. You were practically hers already, all she had to do was reach out and touch you.

But no, no. Today was a big day for you, Wanda knew that. You were quiet, downcast, you had potentially just lost all of your belongings. This wasn’t how Wanda wanted to start. She’d wait, just a little bit longer.

Plus she still had to scope out this new mystery classmate of yours. What did this girl want? What were her intentions?

But that could wait another day too. For now, Wanda had a job to do: Comfort you. And comfort you she would. She’d be whatever you needed until you began to bounce back from this horrible accident. Then, once you brighten up, she’d pounce.

It was only a matter of time before you knew you belonged to Wanda… —————————————————————

The days following your arrival at her apartment were uneventful. You had learned quickly your apartment was nearly unlivable, but luckily could retrieve some of your things. It seemed that almost anything important to you survived. Both you and Wanda were thankful for that, but Wanda’s reasoning was quite different than yours.

You had begun to perk up after the tragic destruction of your apartment complex. Better yet, you had begun to make yourself at home with Wanda. You seemed to be getting quite comfortable and Wanda was overjoyed with how well you adapted to living with her.

Of course, it wasn’t quite what Wanda wanted yet. You insisted on sleeping on her sofa since it was a one bedroom and you had a habit of telling Wanda you would get out of her hair as soon as you could. Whenever you said that Wanda would just frown and say the same thing. “We can discuss this later” that’s all you heard on that topic from her and then she’d immediately try to distract you.

On Wanda’s part, she barely took her eyes off you. Even if you didn’t notice it. And when you were aware of it, you didn’t mind her hovering. You knew she was shaken from the accident, not knowing your fate for a good minute until she got your phone call. You just didn’t know to what extent Wanda cared for you and your safety, but you had hints. Call it an inkling, call it hope, you weren’t sure, but you were waiting.

In the short time Wanda had you within reach, she got bolder with her interactions with you. When she passed you by, she’d deliberately brush against you. Sometimes when you two spent time together she would reach for you, brushing hair from your face, wiping an invisible crumb from your lips, resting her hand on yours when you two talked. Wanda acted like it was the most natural thing in the world, but it was driving you crazy.

All the while, of course, Wanda knew. She didn’t have to read your mind to know it left you reeling. Your reaction said it all, the flush of your cheeks, the struggle mid sentence to keep talking, the way your eyes lit up when her hand touched yours. Wanda was eating it up. You were almost ready to be hers. You were so close, Wanda just needed to give you a little harder of a push.

So she had a plan to make stronger moves. Starting with “movie nights” in her bed. Wanda claimed it was for comfort. She had a long day, you had a long day, it was the perfect way to get cozy and wind down. Reluctantly, you agreed.

And that’s where you found yourself, on Wanda’s bed. The minute you sat down she smiled at you. To anyone else it was an innocent smile, but you could see the look in her eyes. It was as if she finally caught you in her trap, and that’s exactly what Wanda was thinking. Finally, she had you closer. One move and you could be all hers if she chose. The look was intense, but you didn’t mind it. The unknown of what might happen just made a shiver run down your spine.

Wanda noticed that, though. She was so in tune with your every move that there was no way she’d miss your smallest reaction. “Here, you’re cold. Come here.” Wanda didn’t even wait for you to answer before pulling your body closer to hers. You were practically leaning on her now and her arm remained looped around your waist.

The warmth and proximity was intoxicating to you, but your reaction wasn’t quite as strong as Wanda’s. She was drowning in delight, having your body pressed to hers. Wanda found your reaction to this so tantalizing. Your face flushed, your eyes glued to the TV facing her bed, too nervous to look back up to her. You were right where she wanted you and it was going fantastically.

That is, until you got a text.

You perked up at the chime of your phone, sitting almost forgotten on the nightstand. Wanda glanced at the clock and frowned. It was quite late for someone to be texting you right now.

Her frown only deepened when you pulled away from her grasp to reach for your phone.

“Who’s texting you so late?” Wanda tried to form that as a question, rather than accusation, but it was a struggle.

“Oh, just a classmate.” You shrugged as you unlocked your phone and began typing away.

Wanda desperately needed to keep her cool if she was going to finally make more progress with you. You had been right there in her arms, she could have that back if she just took a beat. But it was a struggle and her jealousy was a powerful voice in her head. “The one from before?” Wanda couldn’t stop herself from asking. “The girl you went to coffee with?”

“Yeah,” You said it as if it was the most casual thing in the world. To anyone else it would be, but to Wanda it was a threat. A threat that someone else was closing in on what was hers. She couldn’t have that. “She’s checking in. You know, after the accident and stuff. Seeing how I’m doing.”

So this girl is trying to play like she’s kind and concerned for you. If Wanda knew her intentions, she wouldn’t be bothered, but since she didn’t it only made her seeth. She kicked herself for not picking that girl’s brain when she saw her next to you, but then again she was too preoccupied by her close proximity to you. Not to mention, Wanda almost lost you that day. Still she was angry with herself for getting so distracted.

“Just checking in? Okay.” Wanda scoffed before she could repress her reaction.

You stopped. Your fingers freezing on your screen as you looked up at Wanda who now sat straight up on the bed, eyes dark with boiling anger as she watched you. “Yeah, just checking in,” you reiterated. “I haven’t seen her since we got coffee that day, since I had to skip some classes after what happened.”

“Why did you get coffee with her?” Wanda couldn’t stop now. She needed to know what this girl wanted from you. Since she wasn’t here for Wanda to invade her mind, questioning you would have to do.

“Just to chat.” You didn’t like this turn of events. It was irritating you that Wanda was being so… you didn’t exactly know what to call it. Possessive? But how could she be possessive if you two were just friends still.

“Just to chat?” Wanda fired back with skepticism.

“Yeah, believe it or not, Wanda, I can have more than one friend.” Your phone was forgotten. Dropped in your lap, mid reply to this girl. Wanda did take relief in knowing she distracted you, but your words definitely struck a nerve with her. Never had you talked like this with her and she wasn’t a fan.

“Friend.” Wanda spit the word out. “Okay.” Her arms crossed over her chest and the way she was glaring at you would send anyone cowering, but you held your ground. Angry that she was questioning your choice of words, angry that she was angry when she had no right. Not yet at least. You’ve been waiting for her to make a move, but to confirm what you two feel for each other. It was getting exhausting dancing around it. It was more than a crush, more than just a fling. Wanda was everywhere, in your daily life, in your head, in your dreams. She was the air you breathed and she was both questioning your relationship with another woman and refusing to further yours with her. “Is that all it is?”

“Yes!” You hissed. “What else would we be?”

You and Wanda were talking about two different things, you both just didn’t know it. Wanda was fuming at this point, thinking you were denying her the one thing she wanted in this world: you. She knew you felt stronger for her than just friendship. Wanda often gave into the temptation and found your thoughts filled with her. Even then, it didn’t take much to realize you were madly in love with Wanda. So why were you being so damn stubborn? Did you want this girl too? Was she better than Wanda somehow? Wanda knew you inside and out. She provided for you, she protected you. There’s no possible way this girl could be better.

But the more Wanda thought about it, the more her anger got the best of her. Wanda was done tiptoeing, done waiting. If she had to push she would push. You needed to see you were already hers.

With speed you didn’t understand suddenly you found your back hitting the bed with a thud. In one swift move, Wanda was sitting on top of you, eyes burning with rage. You didn’t miss the strange way you swore you saw red swirling in them. Your brow furrowed for a minute, but then Wanda’s hands were on your shoulders, pinning you to the bed and you were focused on something else entirely. She looked beyond pissed at this point.

“I don’t know what you want with this girl, but you won’t deny me anymore.” Wanda’s voice was low, but threatening. She didn’t yell, but she didn’t need to. Her tone sent a chill down your spine. You two had never fought before and you’d be lying if this new side of Wanda didn’t somewhat terrify you.

“What? I don’t want-“

“Yes you do!” Wanda snapped. “I- I’ve seen it! I know.” You didn’t know what Wanda meant by that, but the more she spoke the angrier she got. You could feel her practically trembling in fury on top of her. “Stop denying what we have. Whatever this girl can offer, I will give you more.” Wanda’s jaw was clenched, her firm hold on your shoulders tightened. The growing concern that bubbled inside you was surely showing on the surface at this point.

“Wanda, I don’t want her!” You knew now she misunderstood what you were saying completely and you misunderstood her anger as well. She thought you were saying you two were just friends, you thought she was angry that you had another friend. To some extent she was, but now you were starting to understand why. Still as much as you pleaded with her, the way she looked at you with such malice didn’t change. It had you shaking underneath her.

Wanda on the other hand was so blinded by her anger and jealousy she didn’t know what she was doing. But when it finally clicked her face fell and she realized just how severely she acted.

With panic in her eyes, her grip loosened and she sat back slightly, still on top of you. She blinked and tried to calm her breathing.

Wanda had scared you. She had shown you a side of her she didn’t want you to see. Not only that but she let slip things she was trying to hide, like her abilities. And she was slowly coming to the realization you two were on two totally different pages in this argument. Anxiety hit her hard as she realized just how badly she overreacted. If you wanted her before, maybe after this you could change your mind. She couldn’t have that, she couldn’t live with that. But surely, seeing her lose control would send you running for the hills.

You saw the shift as soon as it happened. You both were breathing hard as you tried to calm down. Then you saw the panic that was coursing through Wanda as she sat on top of you. Yes, she had scared you. If you were smart you’d leave, but you could never do that to Wanda. Not when she was what you wanted with every fiber of your being. Not when you just realized she wanted you so badly that the thought of not having you sent her into a spiral. She wanted you just as much as you wanted her, and despite her alarming way of showing it, you couldn’t help but revel in that. “Wanda, I don’t want her.”

Wanda stared down at you, eyes wide, still shocked by her own actions. “I don’t want her Wanda,” you said with more conviction this time. “I don’t.”

“And what do you want?” Wanda’s voice was a shaky whisper.

“You.” You watched as Wanda visibly broke on top of you from just that one word. She felt so much guilt for her anger. The shame she felt for doubting you, for terrifying the one she loved, was overwhelming.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda pleaded, the all consuming need to claim you now mixed with a staggering need for your forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I just can’t wait anymore. I can’t be without you. You have to understand, I wouldn’t hurt you, I wouldn’t. I’m sorry-.”

“I know,” You interrupted in a hushed voice. “I know, it’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry. I just need to be with you. I need you to be mine. Not hers, not anyone’s. Just mine. I need to have you.” Wanda was unraveling as she spoke. She was disgusted by her reaction to you, but you just made her so crazy. She can’t resist you. You’re all she’s wanted and she’s waited so fucking long for you. One tiny threat that you might be taken from her, whether by a horrible accident like what happened with your apartment, or by some other person who could sweep you off your feet, whatever it may be, just the idea drove Wanda to do drastic things.

You understood though. Maybe this was the breaking point you both needed. Maybe this blow up was a good thing. Finally, you two were ready to be honest. Whatever pull Wanda had over you, whatever connection you two made, you knew it was profoundly deep. There was no more fighting it.

This argument terrified you in the moment, but felt like it had finally led you to what you two should be. It gave you insight into Wanda. It gave you honesty, it gave you a Wanda that wasn’t restrained or calculated. Understanding had washed over you and you embraced whatever was to come next as long as it meant you had Wanda for yourself.

Wanda, on the other hand, felt like you could slip through her fingers at any moment. She heard your words, but still needed more. The cracks in her facade have finally shown and she didn’t know if she could stop it all from flooding out. She let herself slip and lose her resolve and she wasn’t sure she could stop herself from giving in. She had planned to be gentle, had planned to make you hers in a romantic, sweet way that would have you swoon for her. But instead, she couldn’t wait. She desperately needed to make you hers once and for all. She needed to know you meant what you said. Wanda would wait for you to give it willingly, even if she lost her cool and almost took without being given. She didn’t want that for you two. She needed the okay, but the moment she would get it, she knew her restraint would go out the window.

“Take what you need,” you offered. It was like you could read her mind too. But it was the exact words she longed to hear.

She stared at you for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation. You showed none. You never would with her. Whatever she needed, you were eager to give.

“I need you,” she said in a low voice. “I need to feel you close.”

You nodded in response. Wanda’s hands ran down both your arms until they reached your wrists. Her long fingers wrapped tightly around them and brought them up above your head. She still looked unhinged, but this time it didn’t scare you. It was another shift in Wanda, another side you haven’t seen. She was desperate for you. Wanda glared down at you as if you were the first meal she was about to have in months. You truly were her prey and she wasn’t about to let you go.

Then she leaned down. She kissed you with all the might she had. It was almost animalistic and it left you breathless. You couldn’t keep up, but that didn’t stop Wanda from invading your mouth with her tongue and relishing in every small gasp you let out against her lips.

“I need to have you,” Wanda pleaded against your lips. She wanted to take things slow at first, but having you beneath her, Wanda wondered how she ever thought she could have any sense of control.

“You already do,” you whispered back.

“I need to be inside you,” she continued. “Please.” You just nodded, not given much of a chance to speak more with Wanda’s lips locked with yours.

Wanda wasn’t wasting any time. Secrets be damned, she wasn’t thinking when she made her next move. With the flick of her other hand, both your clothes were magicked away.

Your eyes widened in shock, but somehow you weren’t that surprised. Things clicked more in your mind about Wanda and who she was as the night went on. Yet, again you weren’t bothered.

Both of you shuddered when she pressed her naked body to yours. The feeling of her bare skin on yours was overwhelming. When she went back to kissing you just as hard as before, you didn’t think before placing a thigh between hers and feeling her immediately grind on it. And fuck she was so wet already, but you knew you were in the exact same state.

But Wanda needed to find out for herself. With one hand holding her steady, she used the other to slide down your body until she was finally between your legs. When she felt just how wet you were, the sound that came out of her was practically a growl. She knew she couldn’t wait much longer to be inside you.

Without much resistance, she slipped two fingers inside you and took in the way your body tensed for a moment as a whimper fell from your lips. Everything about this was intoxicating to Wanda. She quickly began to work her fingers inside you, pumping in and out in a steady rhythm, all the while moving against your thigh to make herself feel good too.

This wasn’t enough, though. No, Wanda needed more. She needed to fill you completely, she needed to feel your walls stretch and tighten around her. She needed to feel as connected to you as possible.

Without warning she pulled her fingers out of you, earning a huff of frustration. But then she flicked her hand again and through a red haze, a strap-on appeared on her hips.

You looked at Wanda for a moment, trying to understand why she pulled back. Your eyes followed hers down, and then you balked at the sight.

That was big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, bigger than you thought would even fit.

“You can take it,” Wanda watched the reaction on your face. Not needing to read your mind to understand your shock.

Wanda began to move so that she could fully position herself between your legs. “Take it for me,” Wanda’s tone was more demanding than it was reassuring. You still were nervous, tensing as you prepared yourself for her. “Please,” Wanda’s voice softened for a moment, noticing your continued hesitation. You just nodded in response, willing to try to give her what she wanted. And with that, Wanda lined herself up with your entrance.

It took you all of two seconds to realize it wasn’t an ordinary strap-on. When Wanda pushed her faux cock into you, the satisfied groan she let out told you she could feel everything.

And you were right about it being big. She was going slow as she pushed her cock all the way in, but still you could feel it stretch you in a way you haven’t been stretched before. Your head fell back onto the pillow as Wanda finally bottomed out inside of you.

She gave you a moment, trying with everything inside her to hold onto some sort of control for even a moment so you could adjust to her. She was already losing her cool, being able to feel you like this finally was driving her wild.

Wanda couldn’t wait long before she had to move, trying her best to go slow as she pulled out and slid back in. The way you were reacting to her was quickly making the little control she still had slip, though. The small gasps you made with each movement of her hips as her cock slid in and out ever so gently was tantalizing.

You still weren’t used to the size, Wanda could tell. You still felt a twinge of pain with how stretched you were, but you also felt unbelievably good. It was almost overwhelming. Your small gasp turned to quiet moans and that’s when Wanda’s control finally broke.

Her hips snapped hard and your hands flew to the sheets of the bed, grabbing fists full as you cried out. That sound was music to Wanda’s ears and when she pulled out again and snapped her hips to push back inside you, she finally took all she wanted.

Wanda set a brutal pace. You had adjusted somewhat, but it still was overwhelming. Yet, you never wanted her to stop. She was grunting on top of you, lost in her own feelings of pleasure. Her pace was brutal, the room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin and silent cries as she pounded into you with desperate need.

Your head turned to the side of the pillow as tears fell down your cheek. Your body was finally used to the size, but Wanda’s pace, her bruising grip on your hips, and the way she pumped her cock into you with such strength were almost too much to take. Almost. Wanda didn't seem to notice though. She was too focused on her need to have you close to be aware of anything other than the feeling of being inside you at this point.

“I love you,” she whispered against the side of your neck, her body fully pressing you into the mattress as she continued to move her faux cock in and out of you. “Fuck… I love you.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t reciprocate her feelings even if you wanted to. The way she was making your body feel was too overwhelming for you to utter any coherent thought. But Wanda needed this, needed you. She needed to devour you in every sense. That way, she told herself, you couldn’t possibly leave and nothing could ever take you from her.

“Fuck… fuck” She was groaning against you now, pulling your legs over her hips with her hands so she could fuck you deeper. Your eyes rolled back and all you could do was take her, but you loved every minute of it.

Her hips were stuttering and you could tell she was just as close as you were. When her teeth sunk into your neck that’s all it took for you to cum all over her cock, screaming her name. Wanda didn’t stop though, fucking you through your orgasm to chase her own. Your entire body shook and your hands flew to Wanda’s shoulders, nails digging into her bare skin.

Wanda was moaning on top of you, her hips rutting into you at an impossible pace. All you could manage to do was whimper as your body was quickly reaching its peak again.

“I- I think it's too much,” you whined.

“No, no shhh” Wanda pleaded, her voice trembling as she pulled herself from your neck to look at your tear stained face. “One more, you can give me one more. I’m so… fuck I’m so close.”

Her hips slammed into yours with more force as she spoke and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out. She was going to ruin you, but you couldn’t begin to care. Not when you wanted to give her everything she asked for. Not when all you could think of was how badly you’ve wanted this moment for so long.

Wanda’s body shook above you and her movement became erratic. She was getting rougher with each thrust, fucking into you deeper and deeper. And finally, after a minute more you felt her release on top of you with a low groan. Your second orgasm following shortly after.

Her movement slowed, until she lay limp against your shaking form. She remained inside you, but you didn’t mind. You felt closer to her this way. Her hands let go of its grip on your thighs and one pressed against your cheek. Your arms fell from her shoulders to wrap around Wanda’s naked form. Wanda leaned down onto you again, pressing her head to your chest.

She laid perfectly still there, listening to your heart beating. The sound of it rang through her entire being, bringing a wave of comfort and security she’s missed for so long. Laying underneath her was her love, her soulmate, the woman she had waited to have since the moment you two met. You were hers now, undoubtedly. You gave willingly to her and she took from you all she could, claiming you entirely.

She wasn’t ever going to let anything threaten to take you. She made the silent vow to herself that night as she watched you sleep tangled in her arms. Whether you knew it or not, you were hers for all eternity now.

Taglist: @desperate-gay @zoomdeathknight @storiesofsvu

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#wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel fic #top!wanda #wanda x f!reader #wanda x y/n #five-bi-five-mind #wlw fic

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spacelazarwolf · 1 year ago

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I think maybe the example given is whats confusing/upsetting people?

I mean yes visibly gnc and trans have very different and often more dangerous experiences! I agree with all of your points and I think its something that needs to be talked about.

But I also can see why people aren't vibing with it? I had to read a few times to get it. The example kind of implies that there are no reasons that a cis-passing afab nonbinary person would want to go to a trans-friendly place besides them feeling more oppressed than they actually are. But like maybe they just want to help support those places, or be around inclusive people, or maybe they're wanting a more gnc haircut and they think that place would be good to get it (to use the haircut example). It just comes off a bit like they're saying the only valid reason to go to trans-friendly business is if you're in danger of violence? And idk like the other person said how do you know just from a photo what that person is thinking/feeling?

Though again this is something that should be discussed and people are ignoring the overall message bc their focusing on the one part which is another issue.

I know the op was frustrated and maybe the wording just isnt the best for what they actually mean, and ik that like they're talking abt a very specific type of person/situation. And also i dont think imperfect language should automatically discount a topic from conversation. Just wanted to share why I think people are getting upset, but I dont wanna like derail the post bc maybe im just overthinking it

nah i get it. i was hesitant to reblog the post at first as well, but i think they bring up a very good point about like. less visibly marginalized demographics of white trans people trying to center themselves in discussions about transphobia that they don’t have experience with. it’s hard to talk abt bc some ppl are so quick to go “and therefore fuck theyfabs they aren’t really oppressed!!!!!!!” bc that’s bullshit. but it grinds my gears every time a thin white femme presenting nonbinary person who lives in like seattle tells me i’m privileged for being a man and couldn’t possibly understand the pain of *checks notes* being misgendered and having people assume you’re a woman when you’re not. (as if that isn’t something i literally still deal with????)

#ask avishai

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nerves-nebula · 1 year ago

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hi there, i want to ask about your usage of it/its pronouns, sorry if this might make you uncomfortable or if its weird or confusing

are your it/its pronouns any different from it/its pronouns for an object? I don't know how to word it sorry, I'm just trying to understand more about other types of pronouns

It’s fine. They aren’t different from an objects it/its to me, because objects & animals & concepts aren’t inherently inferior to humans, so I wouldn’t really mind being in the same group as them conceptually.

It’s a mindset I haven’t fully gotten into but I’m trying to rework the way I see the world, inspired partially by the things I’ve heard native Americans say. Like, I am not better than the food I eat because I’m human. A bear isn’t better than me because they can eat me & kill me. Humans are a part of the earth and would do best to work inside of it and with it than to try to control it or put ourselves on a higher level than it’s other creatures.

I mean clearly we can’t be all that much smarter & more important, what with what we’ve got going on.

But anyway, my pronoun change was at first honestly just the most logical conclusion.

Here’s my train of thought: I didn’t like he or she, Im not a man or a woman. and they/them don’t tell you anything about my gender. If you hear someone call me they/them you aren’t even gonna know I have a weird gender!

Similar to how man and woman are genders, but Non-binary isn’t. Non-binary just describes what you aren’t, its an umbrella term not (inherently) a specific gender. it’s very broad and most nonbinary people I’ve seen & met still identify in parts with man and woman. They/them is so vague that no one would bat an eye if you slipped in a they while describing a cis person who clearly reads as their assigned gender.

And I’m too forgetful & lazy to use neopronouns so, it/it’s was the natural choice. It’s easier to integrate because people already use it/it’s for stuff all the time.

And see, here’s the thing: I have a gender, I’m not vague or in between or a mix. And it’s much closer to like, the idea of a Third Gender. This was something that frustrated me a lot in high school because I would go looking for labels and most of them were about proximity to manhood & womanhood. Or about being agender or neutral. Or about concepts I fully did not relate to. I am not one of those things.

Another issue I had was that a lot of these gender labels had “-gender” at the end which doesn’t make sense to me at all. It’s not mangender and womangender so I didn’t vibe with this naming scheme.

I was also hesitant to use a label a white person made because I’d noticed that white people kind of have a different experience with nonbinary gender than people like me.

Luckily I found the perfect label! Maverique! It had no weird -gender suffix and it was made by a black person who created it online after realizing neutral/agender didn’t fit right.

And yea so it/its is a signifier of me as a third thing. not male, not female, not neutral or in between or lacking gender- just a different kind of person.

And this isn’t even getting into all the ways that I related to monsters in media, which were frequently called by it/it’s pronouns. Or how being abused factors into seeing myself as a non human THING and how embracing that makes me feel much more alive & like a person.

So yea, that’s the run down :)

#nnstuff #ask #it pronouns #trans #nonbinary #transgender #queer

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junowritings · 6 months ago

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Hi! I heard your requests are open and I know you don’t know me very well but I thought I’d send an ask 💛 my first ever 🤭

I’m a 24 year old woman, 5’3, brown hair to my shoulders, brown eyes and glasses. I can be a little introverted at times but when I’m comfortable with someone I tend to come out of my shell. I’m an only child 😔 I love all things creative and I have a love for all things supernatural and nerdy (80s vibes)

For my ideal partner I’m not very specific really I’ve got a vague idea.

My first ideal partner would be someone who’s always willing to challenge me and humour my constant ramblings, taking in even the smallest detail and adding their own spin on what I have to say. An animal lover for sure who can do their own thing but would come home at the end of the day and just sit together and exist. Someone I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with even if he isn’t over his crusty dusty musty ex who’s got something in common with drake (and it’s not rap)

My other ideal partner is a little vague so please forgive me.

Male, 6’1 Half-Elf paladin who has a tumultuous relationship with being alive. Grey hair, beard, fuelled by grief - possible dead family. Slight homicidal tendencies (I can fix him) previous dalliances in governance. Girth 15cm, length 16cm, Tip #c88d94

Thank you can’t wait to hear your thoughts your stuff is amazing!! 🥰🤭💛

The way I immediately knew who this is I SWEAR-

I had to go a lot off my own knowledge for this one (also I need to brush up on BG3 a bit bc I think I need a better grasp on the characters.) so hopefully this is a fun to read as it was to write lmao

You know what ask and ye shall receive you joked about him but y'know who I'm gonna match you with...

Let’s just start this off with the obvious. It’s a miracle in itself that you’re still alive after an initial interaction with Ketheric. Anyone who remains in the tower are either prisoners, loyal worshippers of the absolute, or whatever poor souls have somehow managed to survive the shadow lands just to get here. And then there’s you, who exists as what is essentially the weird third party in this whole scenario.

It’s not as though you intended to be here (or maybe you had who knows), but here you are, Perhaps those first hours of quiet was what kept you out of sight, keeping to yourself and merely watching as each of the cogs in this plan moved and shifted as though little more than puppets. But once Ketheric takes notice of you he watches. You stand out like a sore thumb afterwards, if only because of how noticeably alive you are compared to everyone around you. Yes there are many there who are alive in a sense (unlike him), but you’ve got a gung-ho way about you that feels like you’d be better suited to be literally anywhere else than here.

Ketheric is heavily involved, as the general of the absolute’s army it is an unspoken must. When he’s not at Moonrise’s peak he is working across every inch of the tower, ever present as the time to strike grows ever closer. Because of this there are plenty of times where you cross paths, with you always throwing an over dramatic abbreviation of his name in greeting as you dart off to hells knows where before he can decide if today is the day he’s had enough.

You always somehow manage to toe the line of the wrong word at the wrong time, but if that line exists none of the out of pocket commentary have pushed past it yet. Were it anyone else, it’s unlikely that Ketheric would have humored them long enough to finish a joke before making an example of them for anyone foolish enough to get the same idea. And yet you seem to walk away unscathed all the time, whether it’s rattling off a niche fun fact about something so out of the blue, or being straight up sat on his desk or on the floor beside his throne picking apart his war strategies with an eyeroll worthy pun at the end of each one.

You’re a walking anomaly - no one at the tower knows how you showed up or when, and any attempts that his followers have made to ascertain your origins only returns little to nothing that gives a definitive answer. Not to mention the few times that followers wishing to prove themselves have make an example of you somehow seem to always end up the fool.

In regards to your penchant for any and all things supernatural, it’s safe to say that an undead general, dwelling within the shadowlands where a single wrong misstep out of the tower’s perimeter could lead to your unfortunate end, counts as something that’s right up your alley. There’s not a single inch that he hasn’t caught you hemming or hawing at. With undead creatures roaming the halls, anyone within their right mind would feel but a shred of terror; and yet all he sees upon your face is awe, watching you trail after ghouls where others would deign to keep fair distance.

That fascination extends to Ketheric. He’s already aware that you know of his undead disposition - the tales themselves paint a pretty picture of the dead man walking before you every day - but the true invincibility is new to you. The first time you experienced it firsthand, Ketheric had taken an arrow or two to the jugular from fools wasting what little remained of their lives. Where others' faces were grim at the sight and others horrified, Kethric still remembers the distinctive “HOLY SHIT!” you so eloquently shouted as he’d plucked the arrows from his throat like splinters. After that it’s a miracle if he doesn’t hear you ask about it. Ketheric waves off any attempts of concern for these injuries - they’re but mottles on dead flesh that will knit back together with time. But if you express fascination? That’s…new, and he won’t outright refuse to indulge your curiosity. Feel free to rattle off questions about the limits of his invincibility - just don’t ask how he does it, for your own safety and sanity.

Your habit to lurk and wander doesn’t go unnoticed - not even locked doors can stop that curious nature from getting the better of you and more than once Ketheric has caught wind of his followers’ latest gossip of your whereabouts. He sees it for himself firsthand, even when you haven’t actively been caught red handed. He’s seen you slide through corridors with armfuls of books and blood still dripping from your clothes after an unfortunate slip in Balthazar’s room; has seen the occasional ball roll out from the doorway to his old chambers from your attempts to coax squire into a game of fetch. And he has seen how you worm your way out of trouble you’ve caused - whether it’s being chased from the kitchens for trying to pet the gnolls or somehow convincing the traders for freebies whenever new wares come in. All the while laughing as you do so, grinning as though these foolish little acts mean such a great deal to you.

When had Ketheric last heard the ring of such laughter in the tower’s halls? A century at least. It almost feels out of place here, within the old bones of a place that holds so many memories for such a vengeful man. It should be nipped in the bud; should not be tolerated from a man who’s every waking moment is consumed by his loyalty for the one thing able to bring the only things he had cared for back from death itself. And yet he never stops you, never once cuts that laughter and smile short. Instead he pauses, for but a moment, and listens to you as you disappear into the safety of the chaos on the lower floors for a place to hide away and savor your spoils. It’s only until you’re from sight that he continues on as though nothing occurred, but even after your laughter has died down it persists, nagging in the corner of his mind at fond memories.

For whatever reason you seem content to exist within this abysmal place, and should you prove yourself competent enough to not hinder the big three’s goal with the netherbrain, Ketheric decides that having you here around him till that time comes isn’t the worst thing in the world.

#baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #ketheric thorm #bg3 ketheric #ketheric x reader #technically i feel like this doesnt count #bg3 match up #baldurs gate match up #match ups #juno art #'know you dont know me well'#coming from my TWIN #im mad this made me burst out laughing dfgh #i feel like i should be tagging this for that bit at the end of the ask lemme know if i should

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officialgleamstar · 1 year ago

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Yeah yeah yeah I'd love to hear your thoughts on the dynamics!!!

OKAY. SO. To restate myself: I THINK (almost) EVERY OAK AND CLOSE/FOSTER SHIP IS SO INTERESTING. They always have something fun going on … and also they’re always bi4bi which is deeply important to me. Sorry if any of this is hard to understand I am so so tired XD

Meryl and Hildy are the only two where I’ve not really dedicated thought to them. However, I could absolutely see them as like… you know that trope of a Casanova desperately chasing after the only woman who isn’t interested in him? THAT. THEY ARE THAT TO ME. Hildy is too focused on her career for men and it drives Meryl crazy

My thoughts on Barry and Bill should not be said in a public setting but I will provide this

Barry is gray and bill is blue. He should fuck that old man (purposefully ambiguous on who I mean). Anyways

My feelings on Glennry are. Well explored LMAO They’re my favorite ship! I know they can be super toxic as a ship, but I do really love them, most of all, as a ship where both parties fight tooth and nail to get better for the other. Because they understand each other and care for one another and the other person is just so so so fucking worth it to them. It makes me happy :]

Henry/Jodie is like, a sleeper agent in my mind. I think they have the capacity to be so fuckin compelling but I’m usually dedicating too much time to Glennry and Rodie to think about it. I LOVE these two though. I’m not usually a huge fan of Jodie struggling with his sexuality (it’s just funnier to me if he dated Scam with no hesitation.) but I’m in love with it specifically for Henry/Jodie contexts. Something about Henry being so loose and free with his sexuality contrasted with Jodie being so buttoned up about everything makes me so fhdksgajdhskdh!!! And of course, it is canon in that one AU-of-an-AU for MnMoms LMAO

Nark <3 one of my original ships and one I’ve been thinking about a lot this weekend. The PEAK of adhd boyfriend/autism boyfriend in my mind. As I said the other day - I love them as established but ambiguous. No one knows what their relationship is, least of all them, but it has been going on for years. I find them really interesting but I don’t tend to agree with some of the like, I dunno, trademark features of popular Nark dynamics? I think Nicky is the type to do anything to get approval from those who cares about, way more so than I’ve seen some people give him credit for (more, maybe they give him too much credit? Wording LOL), and I think Lark feels intense guilt for the mere act of existing, and I think these two characteristics are SO fun to throw up against each other. Also I know Nicky is a cool alt demon boy when they’re teens, but he’s still a cop’s son and I LOOOVE that in contrast to Lark’s hot-to-those-in-his-age-group brooding and general delinquency vibes (ie (our only real example) swapping places with his twin so he can risk his life LMAO). GOD SORRY IM RAMBLING ABOUT NARK NOW I like them. A lot

In contrast to Nark, I think the general consensus on Lovesong is awesome. Sparrow and Nicky liked each other so much as teenagers, they were an adorable T4T couple, they’re adhd boyfriend/autism girlfriend, and now they’re the worlds messiest exes ever and it’s everyone’s problem <3 ohhh sword to throat scene, you will ALWAYS be famous. I also love them with a dynamic of like… Sparrow being much more confident around Nicky, but struggling a lot in general social interactions. Something about her blossoming and opening up when around Nicky in particular, and maybe neither of them even notice at first… but then one day it clicks. They’re just SO comfortable around each other and I love thinking about like. The details of how that relationship dissolves, and how much worse it must have made the betrayal. Their current antagonism is made so so so interesting, especially when Sparrow is such a pushover to everyone BUT Nicky… OUGH. LOVE THEM!!!! (do you guys like how I automatically trans fem Sparrow in Lovesong settings specifically LMAO)

Oakworthy is another one I’ve talked about at length. They are two bugs I am raising in captivity together and they keep trying to each other, so I have to separate them, but I put them back together anyways. Because thIS IS HOW OAKWORTHY CAN STILL WIN-!! I love these two, fully immersed in the fantasy that they’re going to fix things and get together in the end. I think the fact that they both have such strong identity issues but in different ways - Hermie has no idea who he truly is and tries on a million masks to compensate, while Normal tries so desperately to be someone else but his true identity always shows in the end - makes for a REEEALLY interesting dynamic. They both try so hard to be who the other person wants, and fail to realize that what the other wants is for them to be themselves. Makes me crazy

AND FINALLY. NORMAL/TAYLOR. Tayloak <3 only something I’ve started thinking about, like… in the past few weeks XD but I think they’re REALLY FUN. Obviously there’s this massive aspect of Normals jealousy of (and over) Taylor, which can be fun to play with in a “do I want him or do I want to be him” way! I think those types of crushes are SO funny in fiction. And also. Once again. They fit the autism x adhd dynamic except this time, they’re both high energy. Tackling as a love language. To me.

Obviously, all of this is just my personal opinion!!! I do not pretend to know these characters better than anybody else (except Jodie.) and this is just my interpretation of these ships :] if people have wildly different opinions I’d love to hear em as well, just be nice LOL

#I can’t tag these ships because putting either of the twin/nicky ships in the opposite tag? sacrilege #dndads #ask #babacontainsmultitudes #I WAS GONNA ANSWER THIS IN THE MORNING but my body pains are keeping me up. L #I almost talked about Morgan/Mercedes as well but restrained myself

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whatiwillsay · 1 year ago

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The way this Karlie vs Taylor convo is going I expect that one of your anons or even you will say next that modeling isn’t a real job or career. Then you guys will say her entrepreneurial work doesn’t matter because it’s her hubby’s money or something like that. And you guys will specifically say hubby not husband. Smh you know how to spot fake feminists - mention a woman they dislike and see how they talk about her. That’s the vibe I get whenever Karlie is mentioned on this blog. It’s either she’s not pretty enough or she’s only pretty and that’s it. She’s too dumb to code or just dumb in general. Everything good an anon mentions about her is succinctly discredited because of the actions of the men in her life. Which is especially interesting considering Taylor gets to keep her accolades despite also having a long history with sleazeballs professionally and personally. Same as Karlie. I like this blog but I hate when Karlie topics come up. The vibe gets nasty. Your anons go too far and you co-sign.

first of all and most importantly i've never said the word hubby in my life.

genuinely tho please don't read this blog. i'm serious if someone criticizing that traitorous Trump-adjacent billionairess kushner bride triggers you that much you are not cut out for reading this blog. like... do you really not know how scummy and disgusting the kushners are?

no one called her dumb, no one said her work didn't matter, no one said she wasn't pretty. you're literally making things up to piss your pants over and it's so dumb and annoying.

HER actions are what leave a bad taste in my mouth. SHE betrayed taylor, not the skeezy sleaze balls she chooses to surround herself.

not every place in the world has to be catered to your sensitivities. karlie is not some perfect sunshine angel. she's okay and sometimes entertaining and interesting from a gaylor perspective. but a good person or a good friend to taylor she is not. she also kaylorbaits for attention, clout, and engagement which is disgusting and pathetic.

taylor has her own problems and we criticize her all the time too. this isn't a taylor vs karlie blog. taylor sucks too. they both suck. BUT AS I SAID EARLIER taylor is extraordinarily talented in a way TO ME PERSONALLY (because this is my blog and my personal tastes are the thing that affects what is said on this blog) that makes up for a lot of her shortcomings. AS I SAID EARLIER karlie is extraordinarily talented at modeling but i don't care about that.

furthermore, taylor's talent and the way she writes about her life in her music is the focus of this blog- as in who are her songs about. not "taylor can do no wrong". taylor does wrong all the time but i'm not the pop star police so a lot of the time i don't really care. i'm not here to pass down moral judgements on rich blondes i'm here to dicuss taylor swift's work and muses. but realizing karlie sucked and was awful to taylor in the end is a part of that. sorry that's what the data supports.

does it make you a fake feminist to criticize me? if not then we're not fake feminists for critisizing karlie. get over yourself.

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angelsdean · 2 years ago

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To be fair, people don’t think Dean was this raging misogynist in the earlier seasons just because he slept around. It was because he tried to fuck anyone with boobs and the minute a woman did something he didn’t like he turned around and called them a bitch. Like that word was used by Dean sooo much in the earlier seasons. I remember feeling so uncomfortable by the time I finished watching season 1 for the first time. Hell, I almost stopped watching the show because of that single fact. And this isn’t even like my personal opinion because I remember there were even articles criticizing spn’s misogyny lol. I assume the writers were told to tone it down because that word was used less and less as the show progressed.

hmm i'm not saying you're wrong bc i'm only 7 eps into my rewatch and i don't remember specifics of stuff like that from when i watched the whole series in 2020 however i will say these are things i've been paying a lot of attention to in the eps i have watched so far and while yes dean will make an exaggerated show of checking women out in what imo reads as over-the-top and caricature-like, which in my personal reading i interpret as overcompensating, and he'll my the occasional "she's hot" comment or an appreciating face, none of his scenes with women so far have shown him actively trying to sleep with anyone. And, this was a post i was going to make after finishing 1x07, but by the 7th episode, dean's only been kissed on the check and a lip peck, both leaving him flustered and borderline shy, while in 1x07 we see sam get a longer more involved kiss from the girl of the week before he stops it because of his grief over jess. So, like i'm not saying dean doesn't display some sexist behavior later. Because forreal this show is a product of its time and it does have that sexist 2000s tv vibe a lot, but even when I watched the first time I remembered feeling a distinct disconnect between what we were being told about dean versus what we were actually seeing. Like we don't actually see him have sex with anyone until Cassie, his first love.

I'm going to be very fair throughout my rewatch like I've already noted some just "meh" things dean's said in 1x07. Like he tells sam to "stay out of her panty drawer" when sam has to go search the girl's house. And sam makes a face like wtf? And I was also like, wtf. But again for me and the way I read dean, esp in the early season, is through that lens of, okay this is what he's saying but what he's saying a lot of the times is part of an act. And Sam is our POV character too and he also sees Dean a certain way because that's his big brother and he has this idea of who Dean is supposed to be in relation to him, the charismatic ladies man to his "nerd." Idk this is getting long and there's really so much i want to say about Dean and all of this but, bottom line is, I don't doubt there are questionable moments from Dean in a show that started in the early 2000s. So far I haven't seen many of those moments, nor him aggressively trying to sleep with anyone. However, these are things I do plan to look out for because my "studies" i guess and focus rn is looking at the facade of Dean Winchester vs the subtext. And also looking at comparisons between Dean and Sam and their early seasons dynamics in general.

#replies #dean studies #vics spn rewatch #mymeta

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thatringboy · 11 months ago

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It is so refreshing to read a story (even a fanfic!) like Flowers, Sounds & Stones. Honestly, and I mean this in the best way possible, I was surprised to find out you were a man because of how well written the women are in this fic. I think anons have said it before but I’m repeating it after the two most recent chapters about Ume and Mitsuri

I don’t think I have words for the emotions those chapters left me with. Ume’s story made me sad because we already saw how it ended, but Mitsuri’s made me sad because quite literally NOTHING that happened to her was her fault even REMOTELY. And the duality between Ume and Ubuyashiki? That Ume acknowledged where she did wrong and showed remorse while Ubuyashiki literally tells people to get over it and think of him as a natural disaster?? FUCK dude that’s why you keep losing to her and her legacy!! And why all these other women keep beating your ass!! Nezuko, Makomo, Shinobu, and Mitsuri won’t be victims. Shizu, Rei Kibutsuji, and Koinatsu won’t be martyrs. Ume, and Tsutako, and Mrs. Agatsuma won’t Rest In Peace. And the women Ubuyashiki directly controlled and manipulated? His wife and daughter? His wife wasn’t strong enough to break free and it never once felt like it was her fault. Susamaru went out cussing and homosexual. She won’t be a martyr either

And I know it’s not a lot but it’s so nice to see women that are just people. Messy, broken, ugly people. Nezuko has a boob staring problem and cusses like a sailor! Nezuko Kamado! And she has a crush on Makomo, who regularly makes Kakushi members like Murata take on demons as a way to force them to train! And let’s not get started on whatever the fuck Shinobu’s got going on with Kaigaku! (This paragraph is completely illegible to people who don’t know anything about this fic, I know)

But like, they’re all still clearly women though. Other anons talk about Nezuko admiring her reflection and beating people up who call her ugly, and I think about Shizu Shinazugawa’s mental spiral being much more heavily criticized by the Demon Slayer Corps than Michikatsu’s. I think about how Mitsuri wears her revealing uniform but covers her mouth so that she can have autonomy over who looks at specific parts of her body that have been violated. I think about 13 year old Kiriena Kibutsuji being forced to find a husband before her birthday or die horribly because the family curse said that’s just what happens to the daughters. How Ume had to have an excuse for traveling with her friend the samurai, that they were related or that she literally had to marry him to continue traveling with him. How Obanai - who isn’t a woman but used to live as one - was beaten down into the mud on his wedding day in his wedding dress after he was left at the altar because the word of his future father in law trumped his own. How Kotoha Hashibira had her face disfigured and torn apart by someone she considered closed family because she did not return his obsessive and creepy advances AFTER she had already had to run away from her abusive husband and raise her baby on her own. How the first thing Shinobu ever says to Nezuko when she literally has a poisoned sword pointed at Tanjiro’s heart was to never plead for mercy because that’s how women get killed.

It’s the little things that I’m obsessed with here and I can’t believe this is just a fanfic of a manga that is basically “what if we shifted every character slightly to the left” so I need you to understand that I call BULLSHIT on your claim that most of the character swaps were at random!! I’m so sorry for the rant but I’m experiencing EMOTIONS.

Anon my love I am also experiencing the emotions 😭

It’s 2 in the morning so I’m half awake atm, but thank you so much for your kind words. I’m really happy my silly little fanfiction has touched so many people in so many ways and I’m happy my storytelling is up to snuff. And I really mean it when I say these swaps were random! I based the character swaps on general vibes, not stories, so it’s by pure coincidence and a lot of outlining that the story I wanted to tell about grief and womanhood is coming together like it is. FS&S didn’t originally start out as a narrative about the struggles of womanhood, I just wanted to write about demon slayer characters but Different, but the way that the character list fell had women in the majority of the main roles and I just rolled with it to the best of my abilities. Some of the writing is based off of my own experiences as a trans man (mostly Obanai’s life, but I draw inspiration/reference in other places) but the majority is me just writing out the canon events but with women in the main roles and that’s how we got here. I added some nuance here and there, and adapted the plot to incorporate as much real-world opinions/experiences the characters would have at the time (the time being early 20th century Japan), but other than that Gotouge did all the hard work for me

I’m really happy that my late nights and overwhelmed Microsoft word account managed to string together a narrative coherent enough to earn such praise. Mentally I’m giving you a sloppy kiss on the lips, thank you. I hope you, your family, your friends, and everyone you know have a happy holiday week and have a happy new year

#flowers sounds & stones #asks #love mist & demons #serpents thunder & infinity #sun wind & ice

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watching-pictures-move · 1 year ago

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Put On Your Raincoats | G-Strings (Pachard, 1984)

Given the premise, about a fashion designer played by George Payne who may or may not be a woman, or at least think they are one, and the fact that the dynamic is presented with a slight veneer of psychological horror, one can read this movie as transphobic, but I think there’s a bit more complexity here. First, if I can offer a few words in Henri Pachard’s defense, in Viva Vanessa, he presents a scene between Vanessa Del Rio and trans performer Angelique Ricard, and treats it no differently from the other sex scenes, presenting both participants as desirable and the activity as enjoyable without any twists or gimmickry in the presentation. There is a scene with a trans performer here (somebody named Marilyn, who bears a slight resemblance to Marilu Henner that might explain the name but doesn’t seem to have any other credits). She is presented as desirable, although Payne is clearly getting off on her having a cock. But I dunno, the scene doesn’t play as ill-intentioned at least to my cishet eyes, certainly less than more recent trans porn can be. (I should concede that aside from some Kim Christy productions and a handful of scenes in other movies, I don’t have a good sense of what trans porn was like in the Golden Age.)

But I think this movie isn’t just treating this material as an easy gimmick, and is interested in gender and playing with a range of male archetypes. Jerry Butler is presented as the closest thing to an alpha male here, but doesn’t get any sex scenes. You get Robert Kerman is an exploitative management type, getting taken to task by Sue Nero. You get Alan Adrian, looking like Martin Short from Clifford, getting bossed around by Sharon Kane. And there’s Payne presenting as both man and woman, and being accepted and even seen as desirable as both. Payne’s casting brings a level of instability thanks to his talent for playing frightening characters, and the fact that the movie doesn’t reconcile his identity with our modern understanding of gender certainly adds to this, as do all the creepy mannequins, which give this an unsettling Maniac vibe, while Kelly Nichols’ desire for him and her struggle to grasp his identity give the movie something of a heart. I’m not saying there isn’t anything potentially objectionable here, but I find the movie’s handling of the subject too complex and thorny to dismiss.

And as a porno, once again, I must concede that Pachard knows what he’s doing, and like his other movies, he’s able to pull off scenes that are raunchy and high energy and specific without being demeaning. I think a lot of credit here goes to not just the cast, all of whom are in fine form, but also the screenplay co-written by Elissa Christine, which is full of dialogue that’s simultaneously filthy and florid, and just really pops. Let me leave you with some choice lines:

"Like a swimmer he dived straight through my skull. Molded his body into mine. So there were no thoughts, only layers upon layers of feeling."

"Stain her with your lips."

"It takes balls to sell the ass."

"You know I’m always looking out for America's full chested ladies."

"I never whine. I just complain in a soft voice."

"You like my pussy? 'Cause I'm soaking your precious panties that retail for twelve dollars."

#film #movie review #put on your raincoats #g-strings #henri pachard

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voidingintotheshout · 1 year ago

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I have a really complicated relationship with Gertrude Stein. I’m mystified that she always seems to get a pass for her support of fascism in ww2, so when I went to read an article that goes into her wartime years in support of fascists (Franco and Vichy France specifically) I wanted a Jewish perspective and this article from tablet didn’t disappoint.

A great quote from a separate article:

“Stein was a narcissistic woman. She wasn’t a very nice woman, but no, not anti-Semitic.”

The general vibe I get is that she felt like she had transcended her Jewishness by being a genius and so I don’t know if she really identified or felt that connection to her people anymore. Unfortunately, she was very good at controlling the narrative so I don’t really know how much her words can see to be reliable. She’s kind of like Hemingway in that regard, inasmuch as they weren’t very reliable narrators of their own stories.

I guess in conclusion, I want to slightly compensate for my own autism by saying that it’s entirely possible that Gertrude Stein is just a prominent member of the leopards eating peoples faces party. She wouldn’t be the first and she isn’t the last.

And just to state the obvious that since I am a gay Muslim, I am very aware that I, by converting to a religion with such an abysmal view of gay rights. might have inadvertently also joined the leopards eating peoples faces party. I mean, I’m no fool, and would I want to support Muslims adding more Islamic values to American government? Hell no. I like my civil rights. Thank you very much. Would I be happy as an out gay man in most Muslim countries? No. Absolutely not. So I guess I’m fascinated by this question because I feel a kinship with her. It’s entirely possible that we are both members of the leopards eating people’s faces party.

#gertrude stein #lgbt #tablet magazine #jumblr #vichy france #the leopards eating people’s faces party #The common refrain is probably the truest:#Who are we to condemn her living through what she lived through during that time?

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acourtofquestions · 4 months ago

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ANOTHER!

A lil bored & mostly sleep deprived (but gotta stay awake for da bb’s (trying to channel Auntie/god-mother Taylor Swift vibes; because that woman never sleeps & practically runs the universe)… but alas my weakness; I have no books available😭 & since I’m still thinking about Throne of Glass 24/7 because how could I not in a post-EoS world) I’m answering them myself😂 … so you’ve been warned; this weekend of sleep deprivation, auntie duties, and travel shall lead to some weird posts probably😅😂 or perhaps new genius *she said humbly* … though less of a “genius” fashion & more of a mad scientist throwing spaghetti at a wall🤣 … here’s a more bar for the sake of “the feed”😂🤣

Rowan likes frosted mini wheats. Aelin mocks him for it relentlessly calling him grandpa or snowman.

Aelin is always storing a kick-ass dress in the back closet… and it probably is quite literally able to kick-ass as it is loaded with daggered corsets.

A library for Aelin, anywhere with Aelin for Rowan… or maybe a beach🤣

Aelin has a legit “get ready” routine, oils, perfumes, skincare, you name it (in an AU she would even own THE headband). Rowan just uses whatever she tells him to (or not to) though she still lets him use the lavender soap😭

Rowan and Aelin are both big on physical touch; they need proof the other is alive & well, close enough to hold their hand & remind them, or at least be protected if they need to jump in front of a bullet. They often show love the same way; in the little things they can do amid chaos. Rowan gently rubbing Aelin’s back, Aelin kissing his cheek, or brushing his hand on her way out. They like to be close, always sitting next to each other, or going so far as to share a seat if there isn’t room (though Aelin is kinda like a cat & has a habit of turning anything into a seat, whether it be a table, wall, or person). Rowan has also learned to sit beside her & never stand while a meeting has free chairs unless he wants relentless mocking for “perching” or being ready to fight, flee, or jump in front of a bullet for her at any given moment… including breakfast. As far as differences go; Aelin is also big on quality time (or more so any amount of time) just being in the same vicinity each doing/reading their own thing. Really, any moment they have (even solving murders😅) she wants and needs to spend it with him as well as feel like he wants to spend time with her (reminder: she has major abandonment issues). And she can be surprisingly sentimental for someone who’s never had anything, the things she does she struggles not to keep forever, while Rowan is the opposite. Mostly though it’s just noticing her and doing something specific for her. Words of affirmation melt her into a puddle of heartsick puppy love (Rowan is surpsingly good at them) and it’s one of the main ways he does show affection. She shows Rowan in little things (or big little things) like setting up a surprise (gift-ish), or washing his hair (physical touch/acts of serve), doing something so he doesn’t have to like finishing paperwork, or dishes, something little to make it easier to rest when he gets home (even going so far as to try & make dinner… though she’s been banned from cooking after almost setting the castle on fire & simultaneously giving everyone food poisoning). Final note: Acts of service are dearly noted by both, but honestly overall terrifying as they’ve lost too many people (and are both far too ready to die for the other) so it’s kinda off limits😅🖤.

Aelin has always loved pretty things, as an only princess she had everything she could have wanted, except the one thing she really ever wanted most; normalcy. Then she lost everything, every pretty trinket, every person, any sense of “normal” or the world. And while she got many gifts, Arobynn’s “love” came & went with bribes, rewards, punishments, and tests; a taste of freedom, pretty dresses or new weapons, creepy perfumes, than nothing. And once again, all she craved was normalcy. A family. & nothing ever filled that gap, or became more than just “things”; things she loved, things she held onto, but never quite “everything”. As far as gifts that meant something though: the amulet of course as the last gift from her mother & surviving family heirloom. The candies from Dorian, the ring from Chaol (for a time), the books… so many books… perhaps most of all the moment Rowan brought her chocolates (back when they were still “just friends” — but even then)… however the greatest will always be Fleetfoot; it is beyond a gift, IT’S FLEETFOOT. Sorry future Rowan/everyone, I don’t think much could top that. For Rowan, let’s say he wanted a sword from the moment he could wield one (more than the sticks his cousins & him would use as kids) most of all he wanted to be a knight, a warrior, dreamed of a greater purpose; ever the practical yet fire-hearted baby fae🥹.

Rowan did not write any, except for Lyria, he did everything he could to win her, to love her, back when he was a “young immortal”. And though he will deny this at all costs, he can be quite the poet… and still will leave little notes for Aelin; indecipherable inside jokes in their secret little love language. And Aelin was a sparkly, neon, gel pen with heart dotted eyes kinda cover my notebook in “Mrs. so - and - so’s name”.

They both have trouble unwinding and need to learn to rest, so often it’s less routine & more so a non-stop marathon of work & wars & training & something/anything to do or distract free time; until they are so tired they fall asleep the second they hit the pillow. When they decide to try & “learn to rest” it normally looks something like Rowan hunched over his desk toying with some project, a new drawing (he doesn’t get much time for it but he does love it when he can). While Aelin takes a fancy bath with all the candles, bubbles, & bath bombs, she can cram into a single pampering. By the time it’s actually time for bed they’ve both normally managed to wind themselves back up from the free-time to think, falling into work or some old “busy” habit, so they try to trade books & keep their minds busy. (Especially since Aelin has exited the bath to find him practically tying red thread; marking maps, learning new war strategies, & reading she describes as “depressing manifestos of mind numbing nothingness” that she must read aloud as dramatically as she possibly can to “show him the light of never reading such things again”… or at least make him laugh till the lines ease from his face again). Though book trading has also proved to be a very chaos ensuing activity, after Aelin decided to start giving him the worst, romance novels she could find (she hasn’t even made it through half of them herself… she just likes seeing what shade of pink she can make his ears turn) while it has proved to give him some new inventive ways to get back at her😂 (he tried a mathematics book once… it ended with her nearly chucking it through the window😂. Otherwise Rowan always grab Aelin an extra blanket (mostly because she hogs them all; despite the fact she’s the one with the fire powers😂 she once went so far as to ask him to cool down the room because it was too hot all the while she was piled under four blankets she simply could not move as it was too soft).

Her last birthday, the last she can remember; when the kingdom was full of life and so was her family as they celebrated their little princess, the streets had flowers and fires and she felt free as the wind as she danced and ran with Aedion the entire night. … Rowan bringing her chocolates in Mistward was the first birthday since that last one that was worthy of being remembered. Rowan stopped celebrating birthdays long ago, it seemed pointless as an immortal (especially one who’s “mate” was gone) and since she was the only one who would still put in effort to make it special; no one even knew his birthdate for a long time after… until (like most things) until Aelin; she spent days baking a cake (that turned out far more crisp than cake), but her laugh; the utterly lovely chaos of her covered in flour, alarms going off & smoke in the air, yet streamers & all this celebration had been set just for him made him feel more thankful then any wish come true ever had. She made every birthday since worth celebrating with him.

Anything the other does (there’s a reason Rowan eat the whole horrid cake, and Aelin cried when Rowan spoke those beautiful words). They are fire & ice, they literally never stop melting. … for Aelin it’s the little details; how well he knows her (even the parts she hates or tries to hide), the scars he kisses, the way he holds her hand a little tighter because he just knows when something (even the littlest of comments) hit where it hurt, the way he makes sure she feels safe with him & is as safe as possible even in the terrors of their world, the way he remembers things; the dates that make her want to run, the shirts that lived in that bottom drawer for months; he never cared, never got jealous, never gave her grief for anything she was or felt. For Rowan it’s the moments he realizes he is loved wholly & he has finally found her; this magical, other worldly, miracle for him. It’s her teasing him like anyone else (not a dangerous general, or widower, ancient hero, or cursed villain), it’s her laugh, it’s the way her eyes glimmer for him, or seek him in a heavy room. It’s the moments she looks up and smiles because it’s him she saw, or comes running to jump into a hug even if she saw him mere hours ago. It’s the days he wakes with her asleep on his chest, peaceful, safe, simply being and breathing. It’s smoke & alarms, her making breakfast & burning everything to chars. It’s the fire breathing, promising heart, of life; of living life, wherever it may be, or go.

Aelin will spin the teacups until she is sick… and she often is because she happily stuffs her face with everything she can find; including the non-existent fruit, neon colored, pure sugar (that the court has considered banning her from after a sugar crash once nearly caused a little more than a “sunburn” for half of Epcot). Rowan likes the giant turkey legs… or liked… until he found out it was a bird… one that he claims cannot possibly occur in nature… after a few trips without them & seagull dive bombs he gave up on caring and went back to his “meat on a stick” favorites😂.

Aelin tried to learn to knit once… let’s just say everyone got a lot of tangled web like half singed baby blankets that year that Rowan may or may not have death-glared them into liking. Rowan likes woodworking & building bird houses, and Aelin makes the wood burning process much faster … minus her MANY bird puns. Rowan once considered keeping a nice one nearby for the next pun he hears😂 or argument he loses sent off to the “dog house” or in his case ⬆️🤣.

Primarily, Answered in love languages. Rowan is a beautifully true “perfect” words of affirmation person (fae) primarily but also gentle physical touch; a hand squeeze, a back rub, a forehead kiss, a shoulder to lean on. Aelin is also a physical touch; hold your hand, kiss your cheek, hug, etc. she is also a “little details” acts of service; like let me put this away so it’s one less thing for you to do. Or let me leave a tiny “gift-ish” thing around for you. Or let me spend & make the time to do something special and make a memory for us. Kinda gal.

Back before game night was cancelled after a “Settlers of Catan” game left Yrene to quite literally stitch everyone back together with the pieces😅 (banning; Aelin, (Lorcan if Aelin is anywhere near by) Aedion, Manon, & by compliant association & too smart counting Dorian😂). Mario Kart remains undecided despite it being just as lethal (however they all enjoy it too much to suggest another ban😂). Before this Aelin used to pick Monopoly (despite the fact everyone & she hates it) precisely why, as she liked her own new rules, & determined to win chaos. Rowan likes chess, and battleship (one he & Aelin can agree upon); Though he also secretly enjoys the video games he’s “begrudingly forced to play”. And they both get far too much enjoyment out of clue, minus the “inaccuracies” according to Aelin😅😂.

Aelin loves sitcoms, she’s seem most of them 10 times over. She however writes for romance novels… which Rowan would die from if he ever knew was her (& vice-verse anyone ever found his accounts ;-) & he likes watching HGTV?😂

Rowan loves helping out around the house anyway he can, especially if he can with Aelin; he just appreciates being able to take care of her. Aelin loves doing the dishes (she likes to try and practice her water magic… and if Rowan happens to get soaked in the process or the soap bubbles up to cover the kitchen… who’s to say if she meant it or not ;-)😂

Fireheart & Buzzard🥹 (the fact this is canon — my gods I love them). Pretty much any nickname from Aelin is going to be teasing and sarcastic & possibly drive you nuts at first (uncle kitty) and any from Rowan are going to make you cry (not even a “nickname” but every time he calls Aedion brother, and Lysandra his sister, my heart pulls a grinch and grows even more🥹😍😭)

They love to travel. Especially when they can find somewhere Rowan hasn’t been (it’s rare in his 200 years but they’ve found a few) thankfully in contrast it’s easy for Aelin (as she hasn’t been most places) and she loves getting to see the world she dreamed about but was always bound away from. Rowan makes for a great tour guide because he knows where the non tourists hundred year old ruins are to visit ;-) & they often run off to their own secret adventures, or trying to find the best hole-in-the-wall cafe/mom&pop shops. She does enjoy going “full tourist” mode some days (the I heart New York tee & everything… partially because the glare from Rowan as she says “smile” and flashes cameras is priceless🤣) or in the complete opposite mode she tries to be a local (Lysandra taught her well) & she’s got some convincing accents… but on occasion it goes horribly hilariously wrong & becomes far too much fun for them. Same with shopping districts (Aelin will get samples until she’s practically had a meal… & then change costumes for more after a ban). Lysandra however is far better at this & a preferable companion for such mischief; and they do love traveling with their family too. They miss them when they’re away too long.

Aelin loves flowers, Rowan loves the woods; it makes a good combo of him finding them & leaving them for her as a surprise, or on a bedside table with a note when she wakes up. Every-time her heart gets so sappy over it she wants to keep them forever (and often does; drying them into bookmarks… their shelves are full🥹). Aelin also loves spices for cooking, or lavender for soaps and perfumes, so he often brings her new things; loving how much she loves the little “moments of luxury”. He was the first one to ever bring her flowers (he is 200 years old after all he had to retain some sort of classic chivalry) and the way her eyes sparkled that first time made it impossible for him to ever pass something beautiful without stealing a piece for her. She did try to braid them into his hair once😂. Or make him wish on every dandelion they pass, & he does because her crinkling nose as she grins at him is enough to make him smile until they both laugh.

Aelin can make a fire, or a heating blanket of a shield; however despite the many ways THE “Fire-Bringer” could, her preferred method of warmth is getting as close to Rowan as possible. He is in agreement with this method.😂

Rowan is incredibly proud of Aelin. It is his honor to be hers, to serve a Queen who is so good, to love a woman who has a heart of wildfire. And she is incredibly proud of them all; this court of dreamers, her family. — It’s the only thing she undoubtably knows somehow went right… Lysandra especially; every-time she sees Evangeline she is so thankful; they were able to spare someone where they were not so lucky, they are fighting to stop the cycle. And she is proud to be the friend & sister of such a woman, & the lucky aunt of such a niece.

Rowan & Aelin have a real Luke & Laurelai vibe when it comes to coffee; Rowan thinks it’s a death trap, despite Aelin’s affliction/affecrion for it. Though Rowan & Aedion did have to set a rule for how much espresso is allowed within a 10 mile radius of her after a venti & 2 days of no sleep nearly has her burning the palace down.😂 He’ll drink whatever’s around & doesn’t mind when Aelin mixes some cinnamon or something in, otherwise he’s a 1 black coffee kinda guy. Aelin likes anything with sugar and spice and espresso… but often sticks to tea for sanity’s sake.😂

Aelin loves the finer things in life; including her secret drawer full of chocolate. & Rowan has Aelin.😂

Aelin unabashedly loves rom coms & chick-flicks, though musicals are her favorite (even the ones she can’t stand, or are not at all happy & instead tragedies); she likes plays the most though). Rowan “hates them” but always cries at the notebook; he will deny this & do it everytime.

Each other period. Fleetfoot running with Evangeline in a meadow, filled with their family of friends, give everyone a book to read & good music; that’s their “happiest place” haven.

Happy Headcanons Asks!

Send me a character and a number and I’ll answer:

Which type of cereal is their favorite?

What outfit do they wear when they need to feel confident?

Describe their dream date

What is their bath or shower routine?

What is their love language?

What was on the TOP of their Haukkah/Christmas/Birthday/etc list as a kid?

What did their high school love letters look like?

What is their bedtime routine?

Describe their happiest birthday.

What makes them melt romantically?

What is their favorite ride at Disneyland? Favorite food?

What craft do they learn to make for a gift? Who do they give it to?

How do they like to provide for others?

What game do they always select for game night?

What fandom do they write fanfic for? Give us a small sample.

Which household chore do they privately love?

What sappy nickname do they give their loved one(s)?

What is their favorite touristy thing to do when traveling?

Do they like to receive flowers? Give flowers? What kinds?

How do they warm up when it’s cold outside?

What makes them feel proud?

What is their usual Starbucks order?

How does this character indulge themselves?

Which sappy romantic movie is their favorite? Do they admit to it?

What brings them the most unmitigated joy in all the world?

#TOG HC #Throne of Glass head canons #Maasverse HC #ask game #HC game #headcanon #rowaelin hc #Maasverse #TOG #Throne of Glass series #Throne of Glass #Rowan Whitethorn #Aelin Galathynius #rowaelin #is this a meme?😂#TOG humor #fangirl rambling nonsense #random stuff cause I’m bored so here’s some fangirl rambling nonsense I’m trying out for funsies

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