#deadliest kick

[sokeanshu]

FIGHTING TECHNIQUES 🥋‼️ How To To the DEADLIEST KICK in KEMPO

[bisexualain]

while i do agree that stealth black is def the most sadistic out of the five them (with reiju coming in second place, they both work perfectly in any assassination ploy), he has a huge soft spot for soft animals

[masked-alien-lesbian]

[beesshoulders]

Harry Stonecipher’s name isn’t mentioned nearly enough considering a good chunk of the havoc wreaked upon Boeing’s corporate culture is his doing. Motherfucker called engineers “arrogant” and under his watch the corporate culture became more similar to the financial garbage fire that was McDonnell-Douglas. His own mentor (iirc) regretted putting him in such a position of power. That said, Harry Stonecipher isn’t the only responsible, and everyone who upholds this pathetic excuse for a safety culture has blood on their hands.

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (1)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

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

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

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground. 

No, that’s a branch. 

Or is it a plank? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

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

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. You have one more option. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait with baited breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi. 

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

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

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

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

This was bad. Very bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

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

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

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

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all. 

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause. 

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

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

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

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

If it’s his ship that he wants…

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

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

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

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

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

“I can help you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

“I want you to kill my father.”

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

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

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

Is he about to cut your hands off?

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

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

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

“I’ll protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I led you astray?”

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

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

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

“So I’ve heard.”

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

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

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

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

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost?” he questions.

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

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain! One of the—oh.” 

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

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he’s gone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just saved his life.

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

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

“Not even an inkling?”

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

“But?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you shake him off last time?”

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

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

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

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

“Portwater?” 

“Too far.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something you wanted from him. 

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

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

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

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

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

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

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

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

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

A kid. He was a child. 

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you pulled the trigger. 

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

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

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

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

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

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hasry. Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused. 

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ten coin.”

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

“I’ll do seven!” 

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

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts. 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

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

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

You remain silent. 

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

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

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

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

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

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

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

“You’ve looked into my eyes?” 

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

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

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

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

That could’ve been your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

You just pushed Chan overboard. 

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

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

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

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

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

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

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

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

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

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

Hoshi pushed him into the water. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me what? you grind. 

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

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise. 

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

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

[ohimsummer]

BAD HABIT ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

— minors dni, perverted!+bully! satosugu, uh light fluff? (mostly in the bonus?), mostly satoru x reader, fantasizing about smut (gojo), prob inaccurate college rep idc <3, pet names (princess, darling), explicit language, suggestive comments, some recording/photography, one mention of blackmail

summary; suffering exhaustion beneath a pile of college projects and exams wasn’t enough, now you’re stuck tutoring the most annoying men in the world. couldn’t hurt to take a little nap during it

wc 3.1k ??

The last few weeks have been long, nerve-wracking. It seems all your professors have co-conspired together to drop some kind of test or project, all worth a large portion of the grade and all due in the next month. Your nightly 8 hours of sleep have dwindled to a measly four, and of course, to top it all off, now your Bio Chem teacher has donned you the responsibility of tutoring Gojo and Geto indefinitely.

They had to have something to do with this, you just know it. Call it a wild hunch but there’s no way, of all the people in that class, a lot of which have higher grades than yours, that the professor would ask you to tutor Gojo and Geto. Maybe they slipped a few hundreds in the teacher’s hand or appealed to his emotions. Knowing the theatrics of Gojo, he probably gave the man big, puppy-dog eyes and crocodile tears during his fake pleas of ‘please, sir, we really want to pass this class!’.

A light knock on your door drags you out of your thoughts, followed by the familiar voice of a white-haired pest. “Knock, knock!”

You’ve been dreading 5PM since yesterday, the time they, and reluctantly you, had agreed on. Demanding they come to your dorm was akin to putting acid on your tongue, but going over to theirs like Geto’d offered would be like walking into the lion’s den.

They await you within the hall, and Gojo perks up immediately at the sight of you. He unwraps himself from Geto’s shoulders, and your suspicions that they don’t really need your knowledge only grow when you notice they’re both empty-handed, not a book or worksheet or even a flash card in sight. Though you can’t dwell on it for too long as Gojo’s immediately barging into the room.

“Princess, good to see ya!,” comes his boisterous greeting. “Nice place ya got here.” Entwined in his teasing compliment is a conniving tone; Gojo examines the various pink decor of your bedroom. “Should come by more often.”

“Negative.,” you snap with furrowed brows, terse and patience already wearing thin at Geto’s languid pace through the door.

He nears Gojo to study the photo album adorning your tack board, leaving you to prepare by getting out the needed textbooks. You ignore their childish whispers, giggles, points at the various pictures that contain you and your friends, though it causes a bout of unease to settle in your stomach. Hopping onto the tall bed, you scoot until your back’s to the wall, placing down a recently-made stack of notes and the class’s assigned textbooks. It’s a short hunt for the page you desire, somewhere lost in the middle because this professor jumped from subject to subject so often.

You clear your throat to signal it’s time to begin. “Okay. So–“

Already you’re off to a bad start as the textbook disappears from your grasp, now suspended above Gojo’s head, far out of your reach. “This looks super bo-oring!”

You spring away from the sheets, landing with a soft ‘thud’ and instantly move to crush his feet, or kick his knees in, or have him hunched over with a punch to the stomach, but your movements are halted by Geto’s sudden grasp on your waist. Head jerking to the side, you shoot him your deadliest stare, nails steadily sinking into his unfortunately clothed forearms.

“Let go.,” you bark and he doesn’t move a muscle.

“Pft. Aren’t you adorable?,” he murmurs into your neck, tone bathed in condescension. “Just relax, he’s joking.” Against your wriggling and squirming, Geto backsteps to the shiny wooden desk in your room, still clinging to your waist. “Have a seat, it’d do you some good to calm down a little.”

And before you know it, he’s descending into the cool comfort of your chair, dragging you with him to rest in his lap. Gojo slams the book shut and approaches your restrained, restless form, grinning wildly the whole time. He pushes you back to recline atop his friend, thoroughly amused at your continuous flailing. A round of delighted laughter leaves Gojo’s lips, especially at the childish kick of your legs that don’t reach the floor from your position.

“Would you let fucking go of me?,” you huff between grunts, only to be met with Geto’s thoughtful hum.

“I might when you relax.,” he finally speaks.

You twist around in Geto’s lap to jab an enraged finger at his broad chest, a disdainful scowl painted across your features. “Did you two come here to play, or did you come here to learn?”

Gojo reaches out to ruffle your hair, smirking when you slap his hand away. The book precariously wobbling on his fingertips begins to fall, caught by him at the last minute before it hits the floor. “Can’t we do a little bit of both?”

Your toes brush the rug as you scramble forward in Geto’s lap, promptly ignoring the growing hardness you feel on your behind. “If you two aren’t gonna take this seriously then get out of my room.”

Geto chuckles as Gojo heaves out a loud sigh, and holds the textbook out to you. “Fine, jeez, you’re such a little buzzkill.”

You leap up from Geto’s lap and snatch it back. “Shut the hell up and sit down.”

Tension seeps away as they obey without question. Geto claims your swiveling desk chair as Gojo flops down on the huge, pink carpet covering majority of the floor, and you settle back onto the bed, flip again to the designated page and begin going over your plans for today’s tutoring session. You can feel two pairs of eyes burning into you, but opt to just concentrate on dumbing down the material for them.

Gojo zones out immediately as you dive into the information. Ocean blue eyes catch onto the curves and dips of your body and admire the cute loungewear you have on. Snug, white shorts that hug your skin and ride up the crease of your plush thighs. He studies the curve of your ass long enough to realize he can spot pink panties barely showing through the translucent fabric. With the way you’re sitting, knees midway pulled to your chest, Gojo can see the outline of your pussy, and blood rushes to his dick as his mind goes haywire. Gojo visualizes a different scenario, one where he spikes that stupid textbook into the floor and fucks you senseless. He can imagine perfectly the look on your face as he pins you to a mattress, voice wavering through false bravado as you whine through plump lips at him to move. Complaining even though your rounded thighs are rubbing together to ease the ache of your cunt, a damp spot forming in the crotch of your shorts as Gojo peppers kisses along your neck. The view of your beautiful tits with perked nipples rubbing against his chest and driving Gojo insane until he rips the thin layers off, both the panties and shorts together to leave your glistening pussy bare for him, ready to be ravaged and abused by his cock–

“Gojo.” He hears his name, but it’s like someone calling him underwater. “Gojo.”

A sharp kick in the ribs and he’s at full attention. Geto snickers at him, still swiveling back and forward in the leather chair, and Gojo looks over to meet your sharp dagger of a glare over the textbook.

“It’d be nice if you could focus on me and not waste my time.,” you sigh in utter annoyance.

Gojo grins that boyish smile, one that makes you want slap it off his face but maybe also makes your heart stutter a tad. “Oh-ho, babe, I‘m always focused on you.”

His statement brings a warmth to your cheeks, but you’re an expert at pretending around Satoru Gojo. Rolling your eyes, you huff and backtrack on a couple paragraphs in an effort to catch him up. Less distractions for him to latch on to.

“I think I’d focus more if I wasn’t so lonely down here.,” he interrupts to sulk in your direction.

The look you give is like one a mother gives a disobeying child. “Okay? No one told you to sit down there.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, especially since Gojo perks up at the sentence. “Oh, inviting me to sit on the throne with you, princess?”

Eyes widening in disbelief, you try to sputter out a ‘no!’, but Gojo’s already sprung up and leaping into bed next to you. “No takebacks!”

You frown, brows knitted as he gets a little too comfy, squishing your favorite stuffed animal in his arms and blinking a wide-eyed look at you. Geto eyes you two and continues slow swirls in the chair, getting slightly dizzier with each rotation, but at least he’s actually been taking in the information you’ve explained. Not that he needs your tutoring, he’s up there with you as one of the top students in this particular class. But it’s hard not to read your lips when he’s been shamelessly ogling them the past ten minutes.

Sighing in defeat, you allow Gojo to curl up next to you. It’s easy to feign his attention and he pretends to read over your shoulder, though his mind is anywhere but in this textbook. If anything, this was far worse. Being in such close proximity, your alluring scent threatens to drag him deeper into your space. Instead of focusing on your body or, you know, the material, now all Gojo can concentrate on is pinpointing the ingredients of your shampoo. It’s so familiar, right on the tip of his tongue…vanilla? Maybe, but he can also catch hints of strawberry in there somewhere. Perhaps if he was a little closer…

“Can you back off a little?,” you snap at him. “Damn, you’re almost on top of me.”

Gojo smirks. “I can be actually on top of y-“

“Anyways you two can look over this.,” you ignore his flirtatiousness and stand up to get away from him. “Since you apparently know this more than me. I don’t even get why y’all asked for tutoring if you weren’t gonna listen.”

And before Gojo can object, you teeter towards the edge of the bed, land on the soft rug, and head towards the mini fridge for a much-needed drink of water. It’s bad enough you were asked to tutor them when they clearly don’t care for it, but for them to actually come and then waste your time, too? Egregious. You have half a mind to kick both of them out and tell the professor they don’t need anyone’s damn help, much less yours.

You bend over for a cold water bottle, and in the few seconds it takes you to grab it, you swear you hear the faint sound of a camera click behind you. Quiet noises follow after, almost like they’re trying to have a conversation without you noticing, but it’s silent as you turn around to continue the lesson. They’re so fucking weird. Whatever.

Drawing near the bed, you steady a hand and make ready to hop back into place, only for a strong pair of hands to hoist you up and set you on the edge. You let out a soft ‘oh!’, sincerely taken aback, and turn to look at Gojo, who’s readjusting back into his original spot like nothing has happened.

“What?,” he asks. Something about the nonchalant upturn of his lips is different than his usual smirk. Something more genuine and less smug.

Doubt clouds your vision, tugs the corners of your lips down as you glance between him and Geto, who’s halted his endless chair twirling to give a curious tilt of his head. They eye eachother, and then you again; Geto has the smallest smile, seemingly unassuming but you’re skeptical of it nonetheless.

“Nothing.,” you decide to dismiss it because you’d only be setting yourself up for failure trying to explain why it was a problem. Besides, addressing it would only serve to fuel Gojo’s numerous efforts to throw everything off track. Maybe he was seriously just trying to help. Fine, no big deal.

You awkwardly flounder backwards, making sure to put a few more inches of space between you and Gojo. All to no avail since the second you settle your laptop upon your bare thighs, he instantly closes the gap. The radiating heat of his body sends warmth throughout your skin, exhaustion catching up to pierce through your bones, and you find yourself wanting to swaddle up within blankets and go to sleep.

“The professor has a few study guides on the website.,” you yawn, keys clicking beneath your fingers until the aforementioned pdf file is loading down the screen. “Hundreds of questions but a lot of this stuff will be on the final, so it’d be helpful to study it all.”

Your eyelids flutter, and next is Gojo’s low voice in your ear. “Tired, princess? I thought you were supposed to be teaching us.”

His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin, and you suddenly notice how cold this room is. “Fuck off.,” you mutter, shortly followed up by both their chuckling.

“Told you to relax.,” Geto voices in the most ‘told ya so’ tone ever. “Get some rest, we can take it from here, and we’ll wake you if we need something.”

It’s a bad idea, you know it’s a bad idea, but…you can’t help succumbing to a little nap. The past several days have worn you thin, and despite not trusting these two to find a drunk in a bar, let alone have unsupervised access to your room, the promise of a little sleep is tempting. You are exhausted so, against your better judgement, you bank on the fact that they have the potential of grown, mature men who won’t get up to something nefarious while you rest your eyes for a little. Surely it couldn’t hurt to put the slightest amount of trust in them, and you allow your vision to fade.

During your catnap, you have the poor luck to dream of school. Studying, finals, projects, classes, anything related to college, you conjured up an even more miserable version of it in your dream state. Though in one dream you cuddle that stuffed animal Satoru grabbed from your bed, so that’s a plus. In the dream it’s warm, snuggly, fuzzy. You smother it in your arms, bury your face into it to inhale the smell of it, a scent you’re infatuated with. You vaguely recognize it in your sleep, it smells so much like…

You awake to the jostling of your shoulders. Someone, two people actually, are talking, maybe to you? What are your whereabouts, actually?

“Ah, there she is!” The familiar voice sounds vague and foggy, loud but far away. “Have a good nap, princess?”

Harsh light beams into your eyes, tampering with the return of your sight. You hover a hand over your forehead to shield your face, peering around in a hope to get your bearings.

“I think she’s still half-asleep.,” another voice whispers, and then says louder, “Take your time, darling.”

Everything is bleary, but you can just make out the details of your room. There’s your fridge over on the opposite wall, the lamp on your desk, speaking of which, who’s in your chair? You start to sit up, wondering in the back of your mind when you laid down to begin with, utterly bewildered when you feel something, a hand, firm and warm on the bare skin of your hip. Pink bedsheets, white dorm walls, your legs, someone else’s legs stretched out beside yours…A chuckle rings somewhere to your right as you gape at these seemingly disembodied legs. Your gaze trails up to see they’re attached to a waist, a chest, a pair of arms, and then your eyes fall on the face.

“G–!”, you hesitate, stumbling backwards away from Gojo who laughs maniacally. “Get off me, Gojo!”

He scoffs, Geto huffs a laugh somewhere in the room. “You were the one laying all up under me, actually.”

“I was not!”

“You so were,” he argues, giddiness in his voice. “You were allll over me, baby. Hugging my arm, rubbing my chest, all of it. Wanna see the video?”

You gasp out, “Vi–? Video?”

Gojo fiddles around on his phone. “Yeah, check it out, sweet cheeks!”

He holds the phone out to you, and a large, empty feeling plummets to the bottom of your stomach. You, spooning him, a betraying smile spread on your lips as you nuzzle Gojo’s chest, completely oblivious to your surroundings. His hand snaked around your waist, fingers occasionally playing with the hem of your shirt or ducking beneath to pinch your hips. You whine when he does so, and in the video you see the stutter of his body, hear traces of his quiet laughter. The phone currently shakes in Gojo’s grasp from his endless giggling.

“Delete it!,” you stammer in complete disbelief. “Pervert!”

“Pervert?,” Gojo repeats your accusation. “You’re the one feeling me up in the video!”

“Get y’all’s asses out of my room!,” you shout at them, leaping to the floor to immediately escort them out. “Both of you, now!”

Gojo glares, huffs, and does his signature pout, all the while Geto chuckles hysterically behind his palm. “How rude of my tutor to kick me out after falling asleep during the session on top of trying to seduce me!”

Geto chimes in before you can tell his friend to shut the fuck up. “Surely you can spare a few minutes to make up for that time?”

“No.,” you say bluntly. “Out.”

You watch in disapproval as they grab their things, foot tapping impatiently the whole time as you hold the door wide open for them to leave through. They take their time, eventually prompting you to just start shoving them out into the hall.

“So, same time tomorrow?,” Geto teases, stumbling through the doorway.

You grimace, giving them both a last push out of your room. “Absolutely not-“

“And get some rest too, while you’re at it.,” Gojo bids you farewell with one last aggravating comment.

“Whatever.,” and you slam the door in their faces, Satoru poking his tongue out at you with a wink.

bonus!

— It’s the early hours of the morning. Geto has long since passed out, but Satoru can’t seem to get a wink of sleep. The video replays in his mind, and he tries desperately to imagine the sensation of your body laying against him. No teasing, no sex, no filthy, perverted thoughts. Just the feeling of your head on his chest again, limbs haphazardly wrapped around him. The even sounds of your breathing, warm breath brushing over his collar. Such an adorable, peaceful look on your face when you’re not glaring at him and spouting insults in a rage. Yeah, he told Geto he was taking pictures and a video as some kind of future blackmail, but, truth be told, Satoru really just wanted them all for himself.

[nawoken]

You gave Leona a sheep onesie for his birthday as a prank (or not) for calling you herbivore. You don't think he will actually wear it. :)))

~~~

Leona: ... Are you messing with me? *Growling*

Y/n: I don't know what are you talking about.

Leona: Don't act stupid, you know what I mean.

Y/n: No, I don't.

Y/n: So... do you like my gift?

Leona: *Give u the deadliest glare*

Y/n: *Looking unfazed with an "innocent" smile*

Leona: No!

Y/n: You are the one who told me that you're happy with anything I gifted you!

Leona: No, I take it back

Y/n: Pleaseeeeee *Puppy eyes*

Leona: No!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Leona: I hate you. (He still wears it)

Y/n: Aw~~~ I love you too.

Y/n: Now... where are we? Ah, yes.

Y/n: Who's herbivore now, sheepie?

Leona: ...

~~~♡♡♡~~~

He kicks you out of his room ~♡

Ruggie: Did you make it?

Y/n: Yes, 12 pics.

Ruggie: Can I have one? I can use it to blackmail him.

Y/n: Ha, no. Those are priceless.

Y/n: Besides, are you sure that if you use this, he won't kill you?

Ruggie: ... You're right, never mind then.

Y/n: ... You know... I bet he hasn't noticed the tail yet.

Ruggie: The what?

______

Leona, after finding out about the fluffy cotton tail: I am going to kill them!!! *Release dark aura*

5.C: Don't know why, but I want to see Leona in sheep outfit. Part of me doesn't like it when he calls me or PC "Herbivore" so I just want to make him become one. But why sheep?...

5.C: Maybe it's just because they look fluffy, and I know Leona won't be happy about it. Not to mention, I love fluffy things!

5.C: I draw Kalim with bunny and now Leona with sheep for their birthday... maybe I will do this for their birthday then.

5.C: Again, I don't have the heart to paint it, maybe one day I will, or I won't.

(Not me speed run drawing for his birthday)

[poeghoul]

hard times

in which harry is grumpy and mean and has a scary job

word count: 3,315 warnings: angst, semi-mafia!harry, a single mention of drugs, semi-gun violence, harassment. do not read if opposed to any of the topics mentioned.  authors note: i haven’t written in years so this may be bad. inspired by "western nights" by ethel cain.

Harry met Niall at a small diner called The Vinyl booth at 9:37pm, an oddly specific time Niall gave to him, Harry thought. Niall had been interested in forming a connection with Harry, seeing as he’s the biggest drug supplier in all of northern California. Niall loved The Vinyl Booth; he loved taking his girls there every other Sunday after church. It was a warm, cozy diner, with checkered flooring and a jukebox that only worked if you kicked it in the right spot. 

“Harry!” Niall exclaimed, excited to finally be meeting with him after hearing about him for so long. Harry gave him a curt nod as Niall put his hand out for him. Harry took his and grunted as Niall brought him in for a weird semi hug that men do. “Good to finally meet ya,” Niall smiled and held the door open for him, a little bell attached to the handle sounded. Harry walked in first as Niall followed behind and stood while they waited for someone to seat them.

“Niall? What are you doing here so late?” A girl approached the two men, smiling at Niall before grabbing two menus. 

“Y/n!” Niall exclaimed, returning an even bigger smile than she had initially sent him, “just needed a little late night treat.” 

“Of course you did, come on,” she led the two to a corner booth, “I’ll be back with some coffee.” She smiled at the two and Harry noticed she hadn’t greeted him or even made eye contact with him once, which infuriated him; he was used to everyone showing him the respect he swears he deserves. 

She walked back with two small gray ceramic mugs in her hands before turning again to get the coffee pot (Harry assumed they hadn’t brewed a fresh batch in some hours, disgusting him even more than he already was with the sticky menu he was holding). She went to pour some into Nialls mug before Harry decided to speak up. 

“When was that brewed?” Y/n looked up as she stopped pouring the coffee.

“Um,” she paused, trying to remember when she last even touched the pot, “maybe around 5,” she shrugged, phrasing it more as a question than a statement. 

Harry scoffed, “and you expect us to be okay with drinking that?” he practically shouted at the girl; she was taken aback, furrowing her brows and cocking her head to the side. “Get him a new mug and brew a fresh batch, we’re not drinking coffee that’s been sitting out for nearly five hours.” he spat. Niall went to speak up and Harry shot him the deadliest glare the man had ever seen, effectively shutting Niall up. 

“I’ll get on it,” she murmured as she bowed her head, picked up Nialls mug and spun on her heel, heading towards the sink to dump out the hour's old coffee. 

“You didn’t have to shout at her, Harry,” Niall scolded the man like he was a four year old. Harry just looked at him and shook his head, going to speak up before deciding against it. 

The bell on the door rang. It was one of his security guards; he had told both (one of them planning on coming in three before 10pm, the time they closed) to observe the interaction between the two men; one to scope out Niall, and two to make sure Harry made it out alive. With what Harry did, not making it out of the diner was an option. The burly man sat down in a booth facing Harry directly. 

Y/n was at the coffee pot, pouring in new coffee grinds and pressing at the brewing options, though there couldn’t have been more than one option with how old the machine was. She looked up as the man sat down, a puzzled look taking over her features; Harry couldn’t stop staring. 

Y/n approached him, “Hi,” she smiled at him, “I’m y/n I’ll be taking care of you today, can I start you off with some coffee? I’m brewing some right now so it’ll be the freshest coffee of your life,” she joked with him, purposefully being loud enough for Harry to hear; he just narrowed his eyes at her and, instead of gazing at her, he began glaring. The man just nodded. She gave a half smile before walking back to where the two men were sat, pulling out a small notepad and pen from her apron. “Oki doki, Niall I know what you want already,” she smiled at him, a dimple forming in her cheek. She looked at Harry, “how about you? Have enough time to look the menu over?” He hadn’t even opened it. 

“No,” he said simply. Her smile faded, a puzzled look taking over her features. 

“Oh, well, do you have any questions?” She tucked her pen and notepad into a small pocket on the black apron that was folded and tied around her waist. 

“No,” he replied, a bitter tone, “I would like some fresh coffee though, if you’re capable,” he tried his hardest to contain his smirk. 

If y/n didn’t care about her job, she’d bark at him. If y/n didn’t care about the owners and how close she had gotten to them, she would’ve taken her pen from her apron and jammed it in his hand with all her might. And if y/n had the guts to either of those, she would. She cares, though, far too much to do either of those; so instead, she smiled and prayed that her eye wouldn’t start twitching. 

“Of course, sir,” she turned and rolled her eyes, mimicking him under her breath. Harry heard her, but didn’t say anything. She grabbed another mug and the coffee pot, almost burning her knuckles in the process. She placed Nialls mug before him and poured into his new one, making sure to leave room for creamer. “Room for cream?” She made eye contact with Harry. He shook his head, humming a ‘no’. She tried her best to fill it to where it would spill on him if he picked it up too quickly, and made her way to the only other patron in the small diner. The bell on the door rang again, but it wasn’t who Harry was expecting. 

Y/n looked up at the character who walked into and watched as he walked past her and sat at the counter. Nobody ever came in this late, three of them looked scary and they were all men. She felt her heart skip some beats in the worst way. Thankfully, two of the cooks were here, but they were already upset with her for seating guests twenty something minutes before closing. 

She walked behind the counter, setting the pot down on the heater, and walked to the man at the counter. She noticed his red ringed, dark brown eyes. “Hi, I’m y/n,” she started her script, “I’ll be taking care of you tonight, what can I get ya started with?” She grabbed her notepad and pen, again, hoping he knew what he wanted to eat so she’d have an excuse to go into the back, wanting to be with the men she’d known for some time, rather than three suspicious men and Niall  (who, according to her, was far too gentle to hurt a fly). 

He smiled at her; it made her stomach curl. “Orange juice, please, and a mixed cheese omelette.” She scribbled in her notepad, muttering a ‘got it’ before scrambling to the back to put the order in. 

“So,” Niall began, causing Harry to finally look away from the door the girl had basically run through. “I know you didn’t agree to meeting me here for the chorizo and eggs plate,” he joked at Harry. He gave a curt nod. Niall cleared his throat. “I know you have a busy schedule, so I’ll get right to it,” the bell on the door sounded again. Three minutes before closing, right on time. His other bodyguard walked past the two and sat at another end of the counter. Y/n peaked her head through the swinging door, looking around before setting her eyes on the last patron to walk in. She sighed before walking out and giving him her whole spiel. 

“Coffee, please,” the man smiled at her. She was grateful for someone, other than Niall, to show her some kindness in a non creepy way. She turned to grab another mug and the pot of coffee and made her way back to him.

“Long night?” she asked him while pouring into his mug. He nodded and smiled at her, offering her a thank you. Harry felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. 

Niall continued to speak to him, though Harry tuned him out, granting him responses in the form of grunts. He watched the girl bring out the orange juice for the boy at the counter before going into the back and returning with a bowl of prepackaged creamers. “Sorry, Niall, the creamers completely slipped my mind.”

“Not a big deal, y/n, I knew you’d get around to it,” he reached into the bowl, grabbing a package and ripping it open to pour into his coffee. He did that four more times, turning the near black brown to a light, almost white shade. 

She looked at Harry, his eyes already on her, “finally decided?” he shook his head. She just stared, no emotion on her face. 

“Just get him the same thing as me, please” Niall awkwardly cut in. Y/n’s gaze softened, looking at him and smiled, before nodding and walking off. Harry, still, couldn’t stop staring; watching how she walked and moved and how she reacted to every word said to her. He also noticed how the boy at the counter did the same. Niall continued to talk at him about a deal he was wishing to make. Something about expanding Harry’s territory and getting a small cut. From what Harry heard, it wasn’t a bad proposal. 

+++

“Thanks, again, for meeting with me, Harry” Niall shook his hand, a beaming smile plastered on his face. Harry offered him a pursed smile in return. “Get home safe.” Harry nodded, watching as Niall turned to walk to his car. 

Harry turned to his, getting in the backseat, greeted by his bodyguard, Daniel, who’d entered the restaurant earlier. They sat in silence as they waited for the final of the two men, Jax, to return to the car. Harry had sent him a message halfway through their meal, asking (more like demanding) him to stay in the diner until the skeptical character had left; he left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth and he just wanted to ensure the safety of the girl he was fascinated by. 

He waited. And waited. Bit at his nails, ran his hands through his hair, groaned many times and waited even more. 

Time seemed to go by so slowly. He stared into the window, watching the three of them closely. His left leg was bouncing up and down, an unfamiliar sense of anxiety coursing through him. Huffing through his nose, he ran his hand through his hair. He hated how he was feeling, and judging by her body language, she was feeling similarly. 

Y/n stood with the coffee pot, having had to make another batch as the group of men continued to order more and more cups throughout the night, waiting for the two men to leave so she could crawl into bed. She had been here close to eleven hours now, and was growing anxious being practically trapped in a room with two strange men she had never seen, especially since the two cooks had left for the night (she was too scared to ask them to stay, not wanting to be a bother but she desperately regrets that now).

The bigger man of the two sat glaring at the smaller one, watching his every move. Y/n could tell he was growing uncomfortable with harsh eyes on him at all times; it made her feel safer, though. 

The small one offered her a small smile, asking for the check silently. She felt a wave of relief to soon have him out of her hair. She couldn’t wait to leave; she had already wiped down all the tables, swept, asked the two men if they’d be paying cash or card, and when they both replied with card, she closed out the cash drawer on the register. She was eager, practically vibrating. Nothing planned for the night, she just couldn’t wait to step outside into the fresh air, feeling suffocated in the small space of the diner. 

She handed the small receipt to him and he immediately offered her his card, making sure to graze her hand with his. She noted how cold and pale it was. A small ‘thank you’ before a pursed smile graced her features. She ran his card through the machine, printed a receipt and handed the two over. He smiled at her, leaving a ten on the counter before walking out. 

Outside, Harry noted the movement inside the diner, watching the weird man walk out of the restaurant and around the corner to where, he assumed, was a back alley. Jax walked out shortly after, y/n walking to the door behind him to lock it before heading to the back, but he hesitated to leave, still. The lights shut off shortly after. He couldn’t make out much more. 

The door opened and, though he could barely see her silhouette, he could tell she was locking the door behind her. She stood in front of the diner, typing away at her phone. He groaned at how oblivious she was to her surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a head peeking around a corner. He unlocked his door, prepared to jump to her defense at any given moment. The man who peeked around the corner fully emerged and walked up behind y/n, his hands in the pockets of his oversized jacket. He said something to her, Harry couldn’t hear what, and she practically jumped out of her skin. She turned around with wide eyes and slipped her phone in her back pocket. 

“Oh,” she gasped, “hey, did you leave anything inside?”

He grinned at her, “no, actually was just wondering what you were up to after this.” she gulped. 

“Um,” she tried to think of something, anything, to lie about, but blanked. “I’m just, uh, gonna hang out with my friends,” she rushed out. His grin turned into a smirk. 

“You sure?” She nodded. His smirk vanished. “You’re lying.” she shook her head, a small ‘I’m not’ escaping her lips. “Yes, you are,” he stepped closer to her, “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” she backed up, her breathing picking up. He stepped even closer. 

“Now you’re lying again,” he glared down at her, “must I teach you what happens to liars?” Her eyes began to well with tears. A car door slammed. A gun pressed against the boy's temple. His eyes widened. 

“Touch her and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” Harry snarled, pressing the gun even harder against him. 

“I-I wasn’t, I swear, I swear,” he barely made out. Tears began pouring out of y/n’s eyes. 

“Okay, so then tell me what you were gonna do, hm,” with his free hand, Harry grabbed y/n, pulling her behind him. She hid her face in his back and gripped his shirt in both hands, trying to focus on controlling her breathing. 

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” he cried out.

“You swear, hm?” he let out a breathy laugh, “Why’d you wait for her, hm? Why’d you hide back there?” The boy’s mouth just opened and closed; Harry held back a laugh. “Say something, don’t be shy. You weren’t a minute ago.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I’ll leave right now if you let me, I swear, I promise!” He began to sob.

Harry just pressed harder, “that’s not what I asked, though, is it?” The boy shook his head as best as he could, “then answer my questions.”

“I just, I wanted to see her.”

Harry laughed, “so you wanted to see her, and you couldn't have done it in a normal manner? Couldn’t have asked to hang out rather than hiding in a fucking alley waiting for her when you knew she’d be most vulnerable, fucking scum,” he spat out, inching his face closer to his. 

He sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

Harry moved the gun from his temple, but not before he pressed a little bit harder. “Get in the car,” he muttered, keeping the gun pointed at him and ushering y/n with his back towards the backseat of a black Range Rover. She opened the door and jumped in before Harry did the same. He put the gun in his holster, secured under his jacket. He looked to y/n, who was shaking in the middle seat. “You okay?” She nodded, her face down, staring at her fingers picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “I’m sorry,” Harry apologized to her, anger surged through his veins and he wished he could get out and have the opportunity to pull the trigger pointed to the back of the boy's head. The car started and pulled out of the parking lot. “We’ll take you home, I’ll send someone to stay in the general area for your safety,” she looked up at him with watery eyes. 

“Okay.”

“Can you give me an address, please,” he handed the phone to her, with trembling hands she took it and typed out her address. It was a six minute walk. “How were you planning to get home?” she handed back the phone. 

“I walk.”

“For every shift?” she nodded. “I don’t like that,” he admitted. 

“It’s only, like, five minutes,” she shrugged, still not making eye contact. 

“Still don’t like it,” he ran his hands through his hair, sighing. She picked at her nails, chewing on her bottom lip. 

The drive was short, two right turns and they arrived at her apartment complex. Harry opened the door and helped her out, following her up the stairs, standing close behind her as she unlocked the door. 

“It’s a little messy, sorry,” she opened the door and led him in. He stood in the entryway, taking in the details of the decorations that filled the small space (it was a small studio apartment, big enough for Y/n, but far too small for Harry). Her bed wasn’t made, with halloween sheets and decorative pillows on the floor next to the bed, and the only chair in the apartment was covered in laundry. 

“It’s not bad,” he looked down at her while she gazed at him. Harry loved the way she looked at him and hated that he loved it.  

“Thank you for taking me home and ya know,” she smiled at him. He nodded. 

“I’ll send someone to take you to work and bring you home for the next few days, need to make sure you’re safe,” he took a deep breath in, stepping closer to her, his hand reaching up to graze her cheek, resting it as he caressed the soft skin with the pad of his thumb. He looked down at her, a glint in his eyes she couldn’t make out. His gaze shifted to her lips, his hand stilled and she tilted her head up in the slightest. 

His expression changed, he removed his hand, and he stepped back. “You’ll know when they’re here. Goodnight,” and with that, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Her cheek felt cold. 

She missed his touch. 

And that would be all she thought about for the rest of the night. 

troubles always gonna find you baby, but so will i.

[mangosrar]

call it what you want pt7.

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

over the years, matt had got into many fights, countless punches thrown at people, and almost an infinite number of run ins with those who simply just pissed him off.

but it always shocked you that he was like this. chris and nick we’re such nice people. sure they had both had fights with people before, but matt was ridiculous.

and this factor was part of the reason you couldn’t stand him. you had never been in a fight before. you’d never hit or punched anyone, never even laid a harmful finger on one single person, so the earth shifted a little when you locked eyes on jessica levri, pushing, and yelling in your fake boyfreinds face, because like a hounds blood, you were drawn to it.

you weren’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline from what just happened with matt, or the pure fact that jessica levri had been on her high fucking horse far too long and she needed a rude awakening, but before you could even register what was happening, you were wedging yourself between her and matt and pushing her shoulders, sending her stumbling back.

she looked at you, scoffing like you were the most vile thing on earth.

you’re gaze on her was intense, like she was about to turn to stone any second, and your whole body was red hot with anger.

by now pretty much the whole team were stood around, waiting in anticipation. matt was behind you, chris to your left, caden to your right, and elijah stood behind jess.

you watched as she swapped her eyes from yours to matts, before smirking and opening her mouth.

“get your dog under control matty, it looks like she bites” she sneered.

there was no reply from matt, but you heard him suck in a breath from behind you.

you bit the inside of your cheek. you had gotten this far, but you hadn’t thought it through. what we’re you even going to say?

she laughed before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning down, getting right in your face.

“what? you gonna hit me?”

great idea.

there was no time for any other person to even get a word in edge ways.

as soon as you pulled your hand back, it was like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion.

the whole school was watching.

caden.

matt was right behind you.

oh god your parents, what would they think.

you were probably going to be expelled.

you were about to rock Jessica levris shit in front of half of your town.

there was no turning back now.

the second your fist landed on her face with a searing crack, the whole crowd gasped.

she dropped to the floor like a bag of bricks. clutching her face, crying like a kicked dog.

“yes bitch” you yelled, bending down slightly.

your chest was heaving up and down, red hot fury surging through your veins like the deadliest poison, and somehow it felt exhilarating, like taking a breath after drowning.

everyone stood completely gobsmacked. matt, elijah, caden, chris. all in complete silence, mouths hanging open at your outburst.

there was a brief moment, and the temptation to jump on her and carry on hitting her stupid bitchy face was through the roof.

but just as you went to make a move, hands came around you from behind your waist, throwing you over their shoulder, and escorting you off of the rink, while you kicked and screamed, yelling whoever it was to put you down.

-

“i mean what we’re you even thinking y/n” chris yelled, pacing up and down the locker room while you sat on the bench, watching him like a disciplined child. he had picked you up and walked you right out, preventing you from causing anymore damage.

about 20 minutes had passed, and still no sign of matt.

“i don’t know” you muttered quietly.

“you know you’re gonna be in trouble right?” he said, coming to a halt and pointing a finger at you.

you simply nodded and looked down.

the both of you just basked in the silence, taking a moment to recollect after the complete shit show that just occurred.

it was now that you were realising, that hitting jessica was the stupidest decision you had ever had. no good would come of it. matt would still probably go back to her, your parents were gonna be furious, ans the school we’re gonna expel you. what a waste of bruised knuckles.

suddenly, the locker room door burst open and matt came rushing through, making both you and chris to snap your heads up in his direction.

“i’ve looked everywhere for you guys” he panted.

“yeah, i had to get this Chihuahua away from the general public, who knows who’s next on her hit list” chris spat. you knew he was angry with you. this was the most out of character thing you’ve ever done.

matt nodded, looking at you, before rubbing a hand over his face and opening his mouth to speak.

“hey uh, would you give us a minute to talk?” he asked, swapping his gaze to his brother.

he just scoffed, not even sparing you a glance, before walking away, slamming the door shut on his way out, making you flinch.

matt watched the door close before padding over to you and sitting down.

you refused to look up at him, too worried to see his expression.

“he’s pissed” matt stated.

you just nodded. keeping your eyes trained to your feet. you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

“you broke her nose” he spoke, his tone flat.

“good that bitch deserved it” you scoffed.

matt just shook his head, letting out a breath, before standing up in-front of you.

“what has gotten into you? last i checked, you wouldn’t even talk shit about someone without feeling bad and now you’re hitting people?” he questioned.

“i don’t know matt! i was pissed at you and then she just-“ you cut yourself off, sighing. “i don’t know” you finished. finally bringing your eyes up to meet his.

“so you wanted to hit me, but you hit her instead?” he raised his eyebrows, eyes boring into yours.

you just shrugged, there was no justification for it at all, apart from the fact that she was a complete bitch, and she was right there.

“you can’t just punch people y/n” he said sternly, folding his arms over his chest, looking down at you like a disappointed parent.

“you do” you exclaimed, looking up at him, raising your voice slightly.

“but you’re not me, you’re not like this, you’re nice and smart, and you’re always gentle with people” he shot back. his words threw you off a little. that was probably the nicest thing matt had ever said about you.

you didn’t reply. you just blinked up at him with furrowed brows.

matt sighed before taking a seat next to you again.

“for what it’s worth, i’d punch your ex for no reason” he said. turning to look at you.

“thanks matt. that means a lot. that doesn’t change the fact that everyone is pissed at me” you yelped, throwing your hands up and letting them fall, and slap against your legs.

“chris will come round, and i’m not pissed at you” he spoke lowly.

you sighed, and turned your head to look at him, and the look that he was giving you made you want to squeeze your thighs together.

there was something written on his face that you couldn’t decipher. his eyes were low and dilated. like he was hungry for something.

there it was again, that moment of silence, both of you just staring at eachother.

matt brought his hand up to brush against your face, then letting it cup your cheek, and in that very moment, you did know better.

your lips were on his in less than a second, pushing and pulling against him.

you felt his tongue prod at your lips. begging for entrance witch you granted, and he was all over you, running his tongue along the roof of your mouth, making you whine and matt smirked against your lips.

his hands came round to pull you up onto his lap and you happily obliged. running your hands up his chest and round to the back of his neck, tugging his hair, pulling a low groan from matts mouth, as his hands ran up your sides, pulling you impossibly closer.

the kiss was hot and sloppy, the both of you, somehow, relishing in the hatred for one another, but basking in the tension.

you felt matts hands travel down to your ass, pushing you back and pulling you forward, making you rock your hips against his, and you damn near dropped to your knees, before a voice snapped you both out of it.

“well this is a sight for sore eyes”.

—————————————-—————————————

also my taglist is not working, so if it says i haven’t tagged you, trust me i tried 💕

this long as fuck taglist: @sturnssan @biplrbtch bitch @valerieburkens @ukyios @eyelessdemon00 @iheart2021chris @hearts4chris @leah-loves-lilies @whicked-hazlatwhore e @lexihowardsgf @1201pm-blog m @chrislover911 @yourmom-123456789 5 @x4nd3rsukz @ilovechrissturnioloposts @mattnchrisworld @leoloveeeee e @jazab3lla @martyniukpl @sturnbaby @knowingnothingnoel @ilovemattstromboli i @obsessedwithyou @dragonstoneshortcake @breeloveschris @biinthisbitch13 @skyteller143 @innocentfsin @mattswifue @thatcrazybitch-69 @ihateeveryone357474 4 @shmophsturniolo o @sturns-posts @mattsturnzzz09 @sturnisposts @jenna0rtegaswife @jeffbuckleylvr27 @katelynmeier14 @sara2233445 @alexb25598 @sturniolos4lifee @st7rnioloss @kasiaslayuje @causeidontlikegolsrush @cosmicmistake42069 9 @xxloveralways14 @24kmar @creamoncreamoncream2 @kennyhop @khloe7233 @sofiasnookiee @sfdfgy @iker-blog1 yn @sleepdeprivedandinsane @quinnroki @lvr444life e @ffhgdxgg @travelintheworld2 @aubreyswift13 @sturniololol @starziick @heartlesssturniolos @nickmillersn1gf @beautyb1ade @tommysaxes

[doorhine]

Here’s how things stand on Tuesday, February 20, 2024:

Fighting and humanitarian crisis

Israel’s assault in Gaza has killed more than 29,000 Palestinians since October 7, the territory’s Ministry of Health said on Monday, marking another grim milestone in one of the deadliest and most destructive military campaigns in recent history.

Footage verified by Al Jazeera shows Palestinian people fleeing to take cover after coming under attack from Israeli forces as they waited for humanitarian aid in northern Gaza.

The Israeli military released a video on Monday showing what is believed to be the youngest captive, his brother and mother being led through the streets of the southern Gaza city of Khan Younis. Al Jazeera could not independently verify the Israeli claims.

Separately, Benny Gantz, a member of Netanyahu’s three-man war cabinet, warned that the offensive would expand to Rafah if the captives were not freed by the start of the holy month of Ramadan, expected around March 10.

Meanwhile, with thousands of Palestinians detained by Israel, an Israeli human rights group reported that Palestinians inside Israeli prisons face daily violence from guards. Physicians for Human Rights said that Israeli guards enter cells and beat inmates with batons, kicks and fists without provocation in abuse it said could amount to torture.

The war has driven around 80 percent of the Palestinians in Gaza from their homes and left a quarter of the population starving, according to UN officials.

Read more

[xioterep-art]

New POV! I got the idea all thanks to this playlist!

POV: you shock Scaramouche with your sudden dominance.. || 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡

Bossy Scaramouche x obedient Subordinate Reader (what he thought)

Trigger warning: suggestive themes, violence, curses, slight nsfw (suggestive), bullying, dom reader.

Disclaimer: the art is not mine, it belongs to たなみ on pixiv!

You were the most obedient subordinate he could ever have, which was annoying him for some unknown reason. He finally got a brainless idiot human at his disposition, yet why was he so unsatisfied? Scaramouche couldn't understand the reason behind this. All he had to do was look at your dumb facial expression, and he would sigh deeply with his usual gloomy frown.

As usual, Scaramouche was sitting in his assigned office, working on some paperwork when you entered with some rapport in your hands, that dumb smile as always was on your face. Avoiding to look at your face, Scaramouche didn't want to get irritated more as he was already, all because of that arrogant bastard, Dottore.

"My lord, here's the rapport you asked for," you said quietly as you walked to his side. Humphing in response, he does not raise his head to look at you, and as his loyal subject, you understand very well what he wants. All he needed was to think, and you would already take action. From an outsider's perspective, it would look as if you two were communicating using telepathy.

Putting the rapport at his side, you stood silently next to him as you waited for an order, which was weird knowing that you were that talkative and annoying type of person who even in front of Lord Scaramouche would not shut up.

Scaramouche kept working without giving the order to leave. As he ignored your presence, you kept your mouth shut as you were strangely in a bad mood. Usually, when you are in his presence you seem to forget all your problems, yet, today, you feel annoyed, and it even surprised you.

Frowning slightly, you kept your posture straight, neither moving at all nor looking at what the sixth was doing. Just when you were minding your own business for the first time, you suddenly heard a sneer escaping his beautiful mouth that made you finally glance his way.

"This bastard! I am going to fucking kill him someday!" The Balladeer roared angrily. He is most likely talking about the second again, you assumed unfazed as you calmly stared at the scene of Scaramouche throwing things to the other side of the room.

You sigh softly with a smile that wasn't a smile, "quell down your anger, my lord..." You said as you walked up to the mess created by the almighty Balladeer and reached to clean it.

As you finished the cleaning, you stood up with the pile of papers in your hands when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your forehead and soon enough you felt the hot red liquid sliding down your cheek. You froze while looking straight into Scaramouche's eyes. The pain became slightly unbearable as you squinted your eyes when the sixth lord stood up and walked up to you angrily.

"Put that shit away and fucking scram, stupid monkey!" He said as he kicked your side, venting his anger on you.

Now, you must admit that this got on your damn nerves. To be his stepstone every time someone messes with him is fucking annoying. Usually, you would take on his wrath gladly, yet this time you didn't feel like it.

What about you? Can't you feel anger or vent it? You don't even know what was wrong with you.

Snapping back to reality, you saw his hand flying towards you. He was about to push you but you grabbed it firmly, unfazed when your eyes met his deadliest glare.

"Fucking let go, now!" He articulates slowly, clearly pissed off. "No," You simply answered, which left him stunned for a moment.

Feeling the air becoming static, you sneered as you pushed him violently onto the desk. A loud noise was heard when he came in contact with the hard material, earning him a loud groan.

This completely took him off guard. His obedient dog was biting back! He couldn't believe that. Gasping slightly, he felt pain in his right side as it dumped into the edge of his desk.

That sure was painful.

Wanting to face you again, he put a hand on the desk for support, and as he was about to turn towards you, he was again being pushed against the flat surface.

Not understanding what was happening to him, he suddenly had to face you as you were looking down at him, sending shivers down his spine.

The way you looked at him left him breathless. This mean version of you was new to him. he had never seen this side of you, nor did he even give it a chance in his imagination.

The sixth Harbinger's stunned expression soon turned into anger, "what the hell you are doing?" he yelled, trying to push you aside, and of course, you were not budging at all.

You were a strong and talented Dendro swordsman recruited by the Fatui a long time ago, and you were assigned to Scaramouche on the first day since then you have taken all his anger and snarky attitude. Sometimes, he would treat you even worse than shit if you commit the slightest mistake, while some other times, he would act as if you did not exist.

If it wasn't for the admiration you held for him, you would have long ago snapped. Just like now.

You were between his legs with him pinned by you on the desk, one of your hands next to his head with your eyes squinted and a frown on your face as you kept looking at him intensely, stealing away his words.

Feeling the energy shift in the air, Scaramouche gasped as he felt something rolling around his wrists. It was your Dendro ability. Trying to fight back, Scaramouche squirmed under you yet the roots violently pinned both his wrists above his head in response.

"You are annoying, my lord," You said softly as you kept looking at him, "let go of me! you fucking dog!" He snaps back.

You chuckle as that free hand of yours caresses his white soft-looking cheek, "My lord is the prettiest, " you compliment him, "what a shame that such a beauty has a sharp and nasty temper..." You ease up the frown on your face as you lean more toward him, a dangerous glint in your eyes.

"W- What is wrong with you? back off!" He yells again, squirming around, his face flustered while looking away.

"You could've used your Electro power to stop me, Lord," you chuckled sarcastically, your breath now mixed with his, "I had enough of this, you see..." You vented as you bit his lower lip.

The frozen Scaramouche widened his eyes. The Balladeer seemed to forget how powerful he was and only used his legs to kick you off of him, his face blushing wildly.

Not letting go of his lower lip, you grabbed one of his flying legs and secured it by putting it over your shoulder.

"I think that lord Scaramouche needs some punishment, right?" You whisper in his ear in a dangerous tone, not caring anymore about the consequences to come.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack: Prologue

Warnings: Angst, Misogyny, Anxiety, Trauma

The taste of metal filled the mouth of Y/N as she fled through the forest, out of Wraithwood. Her heart thumped in her chest as she ran through the woods heading to nowhere. Her bloodied scratched-up feet just kept moving through the woods, not caring about the pain her body was going through. Her dark brown hair stuck to her face because her musky sweat-stained body was over producing pheromones. Her body was in a state of fear and it wasn't regulating well as her fight or flight instincts had kicked in. She was surviving on adrenaline rather than her werewolf instincts. It was never good for any omega werewolf to be in this position. All alone. Away from a werewolf pack. It wasn't good. Omegas were very rare. There weren't many of them left.

Half a century ago werewolf packs terminated omegas because the omegas felt persecuted and victimised due to their status. They were the weakest members of the pack and they were mostly females. Some were male but the majority were females. This led to many omegas revolting and rejecting their main alphas resulting in something sinister. Something new. Something frisson. An omega pack! An omega pack that only consisted of omegas but still had a hierarchy based on the strength and status of parents. This problem leads to wars, crimes, extermination of packs. It was a never-ending cycle. In the end, omegas were forced to die out which led to an even bigger problem for werewolves. Breeding. Werewolves now could not breed. They needed an omega to help with that. Why? Omegas can reproduce a certain type of werewolf, an Apex Alpha. The Alpha of all Alphas. Still, it is a complicated process and such a rare process. This is down to the fact, the omega must be mated to an Alpha. The omega must be the soul mate of the Alpha and bound to the pack. If the omega wasn't a soul mate then they cannot reproduce an Apex. There is another way to force an omega to produce an Apex with an alpha but it is such a horrific process, that even the omega doesn't survive.

An omega is incredibly important to a werewolf pack. They provide security and stability. They have the ability to calm situations when they feel their pack members are unahppy. They are also the most reproductive pack members compared to betas and alphas. Female betas can only produce during their heat which is only twice a year.  Alpha females are even rarer and can only reproduce during a blood moon. This is why werewolf packs need an omega, especially a female omega who can reproduce for that one pack. And that is also why Y/N was running away. She was an omega. The only female omega in her village for miles. There were other omegas but they were male which rialed many packs when they were born. They were so incredibly unlucky and that meant Y/N was ridiculously cursed. Cursed by every werewolf ancestor that ever existed. Not only that, Y/N was ill-starred. She knew that the minute they found her. She knew it again when she heard a howl from the distance.

Y/N had trodden on a werewolf's territory. It was only then she realised she had gone too far east that she landed in Wolfgang territory. The second deadliest werewolf group! Y/N couldn't phase she was far too injured, but she could run. She could try and outrun them. She had to. She couldn't be an omega for them. She knew what they were like. She knew the stories. Y/N knew how ruthless their leader Chris was and she was not being an omega whore for him. Not for any of them, but it was too late. Two of them had found her. They stared right at her in bewilderment as if they couldn't believe their eyes. The slightly taller one crouched down trying to appear less threatening but Y/N refused to trust his stance. She knew what the Straykids pack was like. Still, the two men tried not to intimidate her as they stalked towards her. Y/N couldn't help but bolt to the right, trying to run away from them but one of them caught her, causing them both to stumble. Y/N let out a panicked growl, eyes glowing a bright blueish colour before she took off again. The slightly smaller one ran after her, shouting incoherent words as he tried to get her attention. It wasn't until someone had pounced on top of her, pinning her to the ground to stop her from running. The male smelt like a beta. He was radiating a strong burnt woodsy smell with a hint of frankincense. The beta refused to let her go as he held her down to the ground, cradling her slightly as he tried to soothe her. Y/N thrashed in his arms, growling and trying to kick out but the beta did not budge until she eventually gave up. Sinking to the ground, Y/N cried in his arms knowing her instant fate. A beta had found her and now she would either be brought to their head Alpha or worst-case scenario she would be brought back to her original alpha. Eventually, Y/N stopped crying when she felt a wave of calmness washing over her, along with a calming scent of spiced cinnamon. It was their head alpha. Y/N could feel his dominating presence looming over her, despite not being able to see him. "Chan. Is it really her? Is she ours?"

[thesinglesock]

Combat moments I appreciated in drs2p2:

When Zane lost his fight. I know they later found out the game was rigged, but NOTHING stood in the way of Zane winning that match. Which ig some could argue that's poor writing but it fits perfectly into my own personal headcanons so here's my interpretation:

Zane didn't lose that fight to his opponent, he lost that fight to himself. Bro is off his game. His head's not in it. First of all he's frequently been staying behind from missions: he's still processing the fact that he's lost months, if not years, to being in stasis. Which we still don't know the reason for. Additionally, he's worried about Pixal. He's a little lost in his own head right now.

Second of all: they JUST said this is a battle of elements and it would be unfair to use every fancy technique in their repertoire. So Zane was overthinking how to win this fight with mostly just his powers. Not to mention this was supposed to be a friendly competition. Which is NOT Zane's strong suit. Zane is a precision guy who's used to fighting in life or death situations. He's often thought of as the deadliest ninja of the team for good reason. Even disregarding the brutality he inflicted as the Ice Emperor, his kill count is probably the highest of the team on account of how he's made of METAL and just a punch from him can break bones. His strength is taking down threats in as few strikes as possible.

Zane lost that fight because right now his feelings are taking up like 80% of his RAM, so he didn't have the capacity to figure out how to win without seriously injuring his opponent.

I also liked how Kai got dropped through the portal just ready to fight immediately. He didn't know what was going on he just got here but he's always ready to just rip anyone to shreds. Oh we're fighting? Sick! He had 0 idea that was the winner of the tournament who in that moment harboured every elemental power but his own. He just saw a bully picking on his friends and kicked it into high gear. AND HE HELD HIS GROUND for SO LONG. PROOF they had to stick him in a void or he would have won the whole tournament, rigged or not.

Those 2 moments reminded me of in season 6 when Zane lost to Nadakhan in a game of logic because his feelings got the best of him, and how Kai had to get captured first or else he'd probably throw a wrench in Nadakhan's divide and conquer strategy by being the insanely strong glue that makes the team stick together.

[ttkinnie]

Tokyo Revengers characters as animals 💖 (for no reason)

Kazutora: let's start with the most obvious one, our resident tiger. Which is funny considering he gives 0 tiger vibes. Or maybe rescued declawed tiger from an abusive circus. Wait a sec... Hanma and Kisaki have a circus theme going on... why did I never notice this? This starts well. Saddest tiger pic I could find

Baji: A black gray wolf of course. 'nuff said

Chifuyu: A cat. Kitty kitty meow meow. Not crazy enough to be orange, but he's gotta have green eyes and a kind face. This tuxedo:

Koko: Talking about cats, here he is. Most obvious choice I've ever made. Black cat of course, very fancy, will knock shit off the counter and eats only the most expensive wet food

Inupi: second most obvious one because you've gotta pick the race of the dog too. I say he's the only serious golden retriever you've ever seen.

Takemichi: A mouse. He is squeaky and scared, looks like he eats cheese. Very cute. Big eyes.

Hinata: A doe, beautiful and kind but will ram into you if you touch her loved ones

Naoto: a buck because I am unoriginal. he does give off buck vibes tho

Hanma: I know the official art makes him a caracal but I love being contradictory so maned wolf it is. Plus look at its long legs and creepy demeanor, it's him

Kisaki: Listen, I am not the most partial person when it comes to him. He's my little meow meow, I wanna put either cat or bunny ears on him and squish his cheeks. But! Let's be honest, that boy is a snake. The deadliest snake in the world, the saw scaled viper, not the most venomous but highly aggressive. He eats mouse Takemichi for breakfast. Also look at its scales, they remind me of his adult hair.

Mikey: A honey badger, small and cute but will bite your balls off and kill your family for fun.

Draken: A lion, beautiful mane and a symbol of strength. Lives among a tribe of lionesses (lucky him)

Mitsuya: I do not like spiders. At all. But an animal literally producing silk is the only choice for Mitsuya. However I am not masochistic so i won't put a spider image, just the web

Taiju: Great white shark. Very smooth skin. Anyone who tells you they have sandpaper skin is lying.

Hakkai: A seal, same eyes, same innocence, favorite prey of the great white shark

Yuzuha: An orca, beautiful but deadly. Only predator of the great white shark. Also eats seals but let's not comment on that. I support women's wrongs.

Pah-chin: it's too cliché to put warthog here, so i won't. He's a cane toad, one of the stupidest animal on Earth, one of their most common cause of death is eating shit they shouldn't because they stuff their mouth without thinking. They also hump anything, including dead animals from another species, and lay their eggs anywhere, which leads to a high mortality rate among their offspring. Why did I give so many facts? I don't know. Look at it.

Peh-yan: A tarsier. it's the eyes.

Sanzu: Arctic hare, crazy eyes and a gift for divination if you can understand his language

Senju: a cutie baby. Bunny x2, will kick you.

Takeomi: a rat. I am not a hater, rats can be cute, but this guy definitely gives off rat vibes

Wakasa: So very pretty. White leopard of course.

Benkei: A bull. I always thought his tattoos were a bull, but I was wrong I just looked it up. Still a bull.

Shinichiro: This one was though, but I'd say a koala. I'm partial about it, but I feel like he would give his children poop to eat, and their reproductive habits are also not a good look on them.

Emma: Japanese dwarf flying squirrel because I play favorites and that's the cutest little furball ever. it looks like it's wearing eyeliner

Izana: Another small but deadly thing, the Australian box jellyfish, found notably along the coast of Malaysia (I feel so clever right now)

Kakucho: Fiercely loyal dog, he's a Rottweiler. Don't tell me Izana and him don't have some kind of puppy play going on.

Ran: Secretary bird. Canonically hates Kisaki which explains why he stomps snakes to death. Wears killer eyeshadow and looks like they hate your fashion style

Rindou: Did you know a group of male Pacific tree frogs is called a chorus? me neither, which is why Rindou is a Pacific tree frog. Peace of music, yeah

Mucho: Polar bear, cold and aggressive. Plus arctic hare and polar bear, there's a theme

[insidetheravensmind]

𝐌𝐲 𝐉𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐥𝐝

18+ | For Mature Audiences Only

Pairing: Siren Hyunjin X AFAB Reader Genre: smut, pirate/siren AU, slight yandere themes !!WARNINGS!! yandere themes, cream pie, making out, doing it from the back, facefucking/intense blowjobs, fingering, cunnilingus, degradation/slight dumbifcation, DOM HYUNJIN, SUB READER, reader gets super fucked out. I think that's all, but I'm bad at warnings. Also, there is slight control over the mind, but everything is consensual! Word Count: 7,222 Requested: Yes! Author's Note: I used several references while writing this including Pirates of the Caribbean, H2O Just Add Water (literally only the moonpool/grotto area, that's what the scene is based on), and the faces I envision the sirens having is basically the vampire faces in "The Vampire Diaries." I also watched One Piece while writing this. Avatar (James Cameron) also inspired the mermaid/siren sex biology. (When they use their hair to touch and that's sex, yeah I did something like that). Reader is a pirate that basically only uses pirate slang around her crew, besides that she talks normal. I figured the pirate slang would get annoying to y'all, so I kept it own. I hope you like it! I'll be transparent, this fic is the only one I've ever questioned and been tempted to re-write a few times. I'd love to write something like this again, but I do need to practice. Synopsis: You're a pirate captain that's looking for sirens and mermaids, but what happens when you attack the enemies, and a beautiful siren takes you away for himself? Check out my Stray Kids Masterlist Support me by buying me a coffee ☕️

EDIT AFTER POSTING: Y'all be making me blush and shit with your feedback. I'm giggling and kicking my feet <3<3<3

For hundreds of years people have roamed the oceans. From sailors on ships to the deadliest pirates of the seven seas, the treacherous waters have taken many lives, not only to the water itself, but the unknown dangers of what lies beneath its surface.    

Stories of many kinds have stumbled their way out of survivors and drunken deadbeats. What they saw at sea or what they heard from someone else, anything was plausible in this kind of world. If it came from someone’s mouth, it was bound to be true in one or another. No one can ever be careful enough, so it was better to take everything as truth. Even the most ridiculous sounding claims shouldn’t have been taken lightly. 

You were the captain of a large pirate ship named The Corruption. You weren’t the most feared pirate known to man, but you were certainly amongst them. You were the only pirate willing to tread where others never came back from. You had faced the Kraken, not killing it, for your adventure only called to find where it rested to avoid crossing near the area at all costs. You faced several other sea monsters, whether they were larger than three ships or nearly as small as a minnow. In this place, the unknown were considered monsters until proven friendly. You and your crew were one of the reasons the unknown creatures were given names in the first place. 

People often wondered about the name of your ship, The Corruption. As far as anyone knew, you weren’t one looking for a good or quick fuck like anyone else when drunk, stressed, or just plain horny. Anyone who would have ever heard your name knew you were one of the bravest captains in the known lands, but they also knew you weren’t one to hurt. 

You were known for finding creatures but never hurting them. You never forced your crew to walk the plank or make a sacrifice. You were feared for confidence and bravery, not unjust corruption like other pirates. The name of the ship didn’t make sense. How could you, a captain so understanding, sail a ship with an unfit name? Everyone wondered. But you knew. Only you. Only you had the actual mindset to understand why it would be given such a name, and it was simple: Those who sail on it are corrupted by the wonders, those who sail on it live to tell the tales, and thus are corrupted by the truthfulness filled in the sea. They were not killed, they survived intentionally, as long as the captain had any say in it. 

Though there was no reason to fear you, people were still terrified because you were willing to explore what others wouldn’t dare go near. You didn’t take shit from anyone. Your very presence, the kind that was filled with confidence, your willingness to look anyone in the eye, and you could get anyone to tell the truth. You could read a lie from nautical miles away. 

This next voyage of yours was not the most dangerous, but somehow it scared the crew and anyone new willing to sign up. You were on the search for something that was only legend. Nothing proven, no one alive to tell the tale, and it was strictly based on sightings, no real interactions. For years there had been narratives of half fish, half humans swimming by ships quickly, like they were doing their best to not be seen. Oftentimes the quick glimpses made were described as beautiful women, long hair flowing down their backs and breasts out with no cover. The Englishmen called them “mermaids.” 

You wanted to see them for yourself. It was what you did: searched for the tales, or in this case tails, to prove they were real, and if they’re dangerous and how to avoid them. But you questioned why they were so afraid of beautiful maidens that swam along beside them. 

Annoyed by everyone’s lack of commitment, you rounded up your crew and anyone else interested in the voyage. 

“What the hell is wrong with this lily-livered crew? You wanna sail, especially on my ship, you’re gonna get the hell on and go. What happened to me swashbucklers?! You have faced the kraken and you’re all scared to go hunt for half fish half humans? Now, all hands hoay!” 

Your crew didn’t move, barely budged actually, they just blinked at you. Until one man stepped forward and spoke up. 

“Captain, we don’t mean to seem like landlubbers, but rumor has it these mermaids ain’t that friendly. Says they sing with perfect pitch and harmony to lure anyone to their deaths, then snack on them like we’re a hearty meal. We ain’t wanna die to the hands of lust, ya hear?”

In disbelief by such words and rumors you had to understand it was important to be cautious. This wasn’t the type of journey you could just set sail for, it seemed there were more obstacles. You had to come up with more of a plan than a simple aboard ship and sail off. 

“If these ‘maids are so dangerous then why is it they swim by our ships without going in for a snack, aye?”

Another mate spoke up to answer your question. 

“Captain, it’s been said that they could be related but they ain’t the same creature, savvy? Rumors been calling the ones who sing ‘Sirens’ instead of mermaids. They look the same, but they await on shores singing to lure them whereas mermaids are friendly, helpful fellows.”

“Ya sound like you’re three sheets to the wind. Where’d you hear this scuttlebutt?”

“Came from an old seadog, Captain Rattles, Captain.” 

You thought for a moment. Captain Rattles was one hell of a source, to be honest. He sailed the seas for decades, every warning he ever came about ended up to be true. Never once had he lied to crews and captains. He was a pirate to behold, really. 

“Fine. I’m gonna have a meeting with Rattles to figure out a plan. Then all of you are boarding my ship, or else you’re gonna find yourselves lovers with the hempen halter. Savvy?” 

“Aye aye, Captain!”

And the mates scurried off while you made your way to the old tavern where Rattles always seemed to be. It was time to figure out what you were gonna do with the ole hearties. It was annoying to you though. They were willing to die by a giant octopus and not a pretty girl. Typical pirates looking down on women. 

Later that night you found yourself seated next to Rattles with a notebook to take notes on anything he had to say. 

“I remember encountering them for the first time. We heard a beloved voice and heard it coming from a distance. We saw a mermaid. She turned on her back and swam while her mouth opened. The song came from her. We were all entranced. We followed through a fog until her song became a screech. Her face contorted, and her teeth became sharp fangs. The fog dissipated. Then there was a colony of them. They looked so peaceful in the water, until they all did the same thing. They began to attack. It didn’t help that the ship was smaller. I barely escaped. Only me and two others got out. Everyone else was ripped apart in front of us or dragged into the water where the carnage was hidden. We aren’t sure if there were survivors. We aren’t sure if sirens and mermaids are different or if one makes the other. There are so many things we don’t know, but no one should trust a half fish, half human. It’s not safe. We need someone to figure it out. We need you to figure it out.” 

“I know. I want to. My crew is scared.”

“Come on, Captain. Let’s figure this out.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

That night over drinks the both of you came up with a plan. You and the crew needed to wear cloth in your ears to prevent the sound of songs from working. You needed to stack on weapons, ready to attack back. You all needed to pretend that the song was working. The plan was to sail east off the island. That’s where they accidentally found the cove they named “Libido’s Lounge.” It was noted that there weren’t just women, there were men as well. Even those who didn’t fancy men still fell under the spell, and vice versa.  

A few weeks passed by while you gathered the supplies you all needed for the voyage. It was dangerous, and those who began to board knew that. Even you, the bravest of adventurers, were slightly trembling as you boarded last. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but you had a gut feeling this was not going to end well. You wanted to cancel it because you’ve never had a gut feeling like this before, but it was too late. You had to go through with it. 

“Anchors aweigh! Better get your sea legs in quick because we’re in for a ride!”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

The escapade took a few weeks. The bad feeling in your stomach grew worse. Some days you could barely walk, the anxiety crumbling you. Your head had shooting pains that grew worse the closer The Corruption got to Libido’s Lounge. The crew noticed, but they refused to say anything. It's never good to doubt the captain, especially when they’re in this position of danger with no one else to lead them out. 

Dark grew over the horizon as the sun hid itself. The ship continued to sail onwards until a crew member looked over the deck and saw a beautiful face emerge from the water. She smiled at him, and he smiled at her fondly. The way her face was beautifully carved made him feel butterflies, and it wasn’t just the fact that he’d been living off of rum for a while. A crew member next to him noticed his gaze followed towards the girl. He quickly ran towards you to alert you that you’d reached the cove. 

“Alert the crew to get the cloth in their ears, now. Get Barbins over there out of that trance or he’s gonna be feeding the fishes.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Without a second to lose he began to round up the crew one by one to let them know the plan needed to go into full effect now. They plugged their ears with cloth. 

“Hey, Barbins.” The man whispered. 

Irritated, he turned to face him. 

“What is it?”

“Cloth, now. Captain said so. Or you’re gonna be dinner for them.” 

“Gyah, whatever!”

He stuffed his ears quickly before facing the pretty girl again. She smiled, and he smiled back. You noticed this. She began to swim away, and you quickly alerted the crew to follow her. You grabbed a hold of the wheel and spun it to change direction. Through the mist you blindly followed the girl. 

“Oi! Be ready for anything. The second her face turns ugly, start attacking!”

The mist cleared and water grew shallower. There was a clearing filled with the most beautiful faces ever seen. You glared at them as they opened their mouths and began to sing. Through the cloth, all of you could hear the song, but you were hoping it stopped the hypnotic way it enchanted the ears. They all stared at the ship while they harmonized their song. But you couldn’t see any men. Your father had told you there would be men, but there were none here. They were all beautiful girls, you could admit to that. You saw the attraction, and you understood the danger of their beauty. 

You looked to see Barbins jumping off the ship. You were stunned. What was he doing? 

“Man overboard! Start the attack, now!” 

WIth a yell the men began to shoot at the water, and the creatures became angry. Soon they lunged at the ship, managing to grab hold of the crew and dragging them down to the depths. There were way more of them than you had crew, and you knew there’d be more to come. 

Honestly, you lost your depth. Your stomach grew more knots as you watched the bloodshed. There was going to be no survivors by the look of it. Your head felt full and heavy. Your vision became blurry. Your legs felt weak. The epitome of this dreadful feeling somehow worsened when you got to the clearing, and it hurts even more now, like the source of it is getting closer. 

You began to back away from the wheel when you felt yourself hit the back of someone’s chest. You wanted to turn around, but you couldn’t move. Two arms arose to your ears on both sides of your head and pulled the cloth out of them. Then one arm wrapped around your throat and put you in a chokehold while lips quietly sung in your ear. 

“Dead men tell no tales.

Ugly men raid our seas

So we tear their sails

And hear their begging pleas.” 

A mate saw you in danger, so he began to run towards you. The figure who grasped you hissed at him while his eyes shriveled, veins protruded, and fangs threatened. The mate didn’t back down, so the stranger put you down and lunged at him. He quickly sank his fangs into his shoulder and tore a bite right through him. The mate cried before he was pushed overboard. 

You tried to flee in the distraction, but you weren’t fast enough. Furious at your attempt to escape he continued to sing as he stalked towards you. 

“Dead men tell no tales,

But you my sweet 

Are beautiful as my scales

You’ll stick around as my treat.”

He grabbed you by your arm and pulled you toward the ship’s main deck. You were confused by the man’s ability to walk if he seemed to be the same creature as the ones in the water. Your head hurt too much to fully wrap the idea in your brain. Another mate tried to go for the enemy, but he was knocked to the ground. 

“W-what is g-g-going on?” You tried to speak, but you only stuttered the words. 

“My name is Hyunjin, and you attacked my kind. That does not go without punishment.”

He pushed you overboard into the water before diving in right behind you. You swam to the surface as best as you could until you were pulled underwater by Hyunjin. His legs were gone, and they were replaced with an abstract tail. It was a warm brown color with hints of crimson red and golden yellow. Though he was a being that belonged to the sea, his tale resembled fire with its colors and extension fins like that of a betta fish. The colors felt inviting. 

He placed a kiss on your lips which then gave you the ability to breathe without worry. You tried to fight against him, but once he began to sing with his beautiful voice you were lost again. You stared blankly at him as he took your hand and swam away with you, leaving the war to finish itself without guidance. 

Hyunjin swam towards a vacant grotto where he laid your body on a rocky surface. The grotto was his secret hideaway. The only life around it were the fishes and the plants that danced in the water. Hyunjin kept his tail in the water while he laid his arms on the rock staring at your unconscious body. He couldn’t help himself. There was something about you that captivated his attention. Your breathing was calm, you felt lost. You couldn’t think proper thoughts, and you were lost in a void where there was everything and nothing at the same time. 

He wasn’t sure what it was. There was something about the way you lead your ship through the mist, thinking you were being strategic, but he stalked behind the ship the entire time. He grabbed onto the side of the ship, beginning to climb his way onto it and watching the scenes unfold. He noticed you were teetering while you ordered your crew around. He could tell you weren’t entirely there. There was a feeling in his stomach that made him want to help. He felt compelled to aid you. He wasn’t sure if it was your bravery for willingly going where every man fears or if it was because you were the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Even though he was and lived amongst a species that matched the beauty of gods on earth, no one looked as beautiful as you. 

He was supposed to be the one who lured people into his trap. That was what being a siren was about. He wouldn’t sing so beautifully if it wasn’t for that. Even before he was trapped in this cursed body, women would swoon over his artwork. Every woman would look at him lustfully, some of them were quite attractive, but no one was ever able to catch his eye. So, why are you, some pirate trying to kill off his kind, making him feel ways he has never felt before? That wasn’t fair. That defeated the point of all of this! 

He found himself caressing your head softly, staring at the way the water soaked clothes clung to your body accentuating every nook and cranny of it. His body tingled in ways it hadn’t in awhile. Excitement filled his face while he watched you breathe steadily. There was something about the way you were under his spell, under his control, that turned his brain to goo. His mouth began to water, his face felt hot, and his head started to ache at the uncontrollable feeling of wanting to touch you and make you scream his name, but instead of begging for mercy to live you’re begging to have him touch you more and more. The thought alone made him groan. 

You began to wake up from your hypnotic state, stirring slightly, eyes blurry, blinking back to reality only to be met with the high ceilings of a cave and an uncomfortable pain in your back from lying on dirt. Human nature made you want to bolt upright and run, but your pirate nature wanted you to remain calm, find a plan, and escape danger without causing a disaster. You laid there, eyes open, trying to avoid the small sounds of splashing water and the glaring gaze of your captor’s eyes digging into the side of your head attempting to read your thoughts. 

“I know you’re awake, Captain.” He taunts you with your title. “For the Captain of a ship, you’re certainly pretty inferior and weak right now.”

You grunt at his comment, starting to haul yourself up to find a way out of this mess. As you stand, you’re immediately stopped when a blissful tone reaches your ears, and once again, you don’t have control over your own body. You can feel it. You can feel yourself wanting to resist but being unable. Hyunjin speaks.

“Ah ah ah, darling. Lay back down. We are not finished here. I told you that you’d be punished.”

His words made chills sprint across your spine. Your cold, goosebumped covered body felt warm from nothing, and you felt yourself melt back to the ground. You turned your head towards his, and he lifted himself out of the water and hovered over you when his tail became two long, clothed legs. He looked at you too, and you daringly stared into his eyes. Within them you saw lust and desire, nothing more and nothing less. Well, there was something more, but you couldn’t decipher it. 

Hyunjin bent down and crouched next to you, cupping your cheek and gently caressing his thumb over reddening skin. He stared into your eyes, reading them, finding your scrambled thoughts. 

“You need to be good and listen to me. I can’t keep making you listen to me by using my voice, but if you make me, then I will. Am I understood, Captain? Nod your head if you understand, pretty girl.” 

You nodded your head. You did understand, but the nodding of your head was not on your own free will. His touch made you burn more. There was something about his over looming presence that made you feel small. One thing you always hated was the belittling you dealt with when it came to being a woman in a pirate’s life. Always trying to act above you when you know damn well it’s for their own ego. However, Hyunjin was alluring to you, equally as much as you were to him. There was something about his confidence and dominance that made you horny instead of angry. Maybe it was because it wasn’t his ego talking, it was just who he was. He knew he was in control here, and that’s why he didn’t feel nervous around you. The other men who made comments towards you always ended up being the weakest. Not Hyunjin though, nothing about him seemed submissive. 

The horrible feeling in your stomach never subsided. It grew even more in the position you laid in, and you started to wonder if the wetness in your panties is more than the wetted undergarments from being dragged through the sea like a monster’s prey. Maybe the horrible feeling in your stomach was just your gut feeling telling you to get dicked, and there was something about the nearing presence that made the feeling grow. 

Sirens, you think to yourself, are lust filled devils that overwhelm one’s desires when they approach them. Their songs do not force falsified love into someone, but overpowers their primal desires more than they can bear, weakening them, and taking them as food. But why do they want to hurt us, and the sighted mermaids want to help us?

Hyunjin sang another tune, but it made the hypnotic effect wear off, almost like an anecdote. You didn’t move, too afraid for your body to not be your own anymore. 

“Tell me, Captain, do you want me?” He asked boldly. 

You looked him deep in his eyes. You wanted to deny it, you really did, but just as they claimed, he was as beautiful as they came, more than likely the most perfect one, even beating the gods’ beauty. You wanted him in many ways, and he wanted you all the same. Like the bold pirate you were, you spoke up. 

“Yes, I do. Do you want me?”

“Yes, surprisingly I do.” He wasn’t lying. You knew it, you could read lies, and even if it was in his powers to be able to lie without getting caught, this seemed too desiring to him. His breathing was barely steady at the start. He was struggling to hold back. 

He moved to plant himself between your legs and then moved his hand to your neck and applied pressure to the sides of it carefully, taking away some air, but not a lot. You gasped, trying to take back all the air he cut off but failed. 

“It actually pisses me off how much I want you. Do you know what I’m supposed to do with invasive pests like you?” He leans in closer. 

“I’m supposed to rip you apart, limb from limb, and drag you down in the deep to eat you…”

He comes closer, grip tightening, his mouth right to yours, hovering above it just barely. 

“But something in me, something about you, makes me want to rip you apart for my own sake, and I want to hear you cry my name while I do.”

He releases your neck and puts his lips to yours. As he makes contact, you kiss back. He isn’t sweet with it, you aren’t either. His kiss is rough, teeth hooking onto your bottom lip and tongue prodding its way into your mouth while he uses one hand to hold himself up and the other to roughly massage your breast while he rolls his hips between your legs to give your clit the smallest bit of tension. He rolls over with a rhythm, enough to make you let out small, pleading whimpers. He smiled, hearing you fall apart on nothing when he’s just begun. 

He moves, and he begins to peel off the damp clothes from your body. You want to shiver, you want to be cold when your entire naked body is exposed to the elements, but it only burns. You can barely think, and it’s no longer the lack of air’s fault or Hyunjin’s songs. It’s just how horny you are for this angelically handsome devil. He takes off the rags that hide him as well. The sight of his slightly toned chest and thin stomach fills you with more desire than before. Then he removes his pants, and that makes your pussy throb the most. 

He leans back down to you, except he faces your core, and leans in for a meal. The spit from his tongue meeting your untouched folds makes you shudder, and you grab his hair and pull him closer on instinct. His tongue licks in and out of your vagina and messily makes his way to your clit where he sucks on it and nips on it slightly. Your sensitivity is so intense that you feel yourself leak a bit more over his face. He continues his assault on your clit while his hand makes his way to tease around your hole before entering one finger, and a few thrusts later adding a second. 

“Hyunjin, fuck-” You moan while he continues his actions. He takes his mouth off of your clit for a moment to say, “Good girl.” You gush at the nickname and turn your head to the side to hide from how excitedly the praise made you feel. 

The knot in your stomach was ready to be untied. Your quiet whimpers and moans got louder and increased, which signaled him to pick up the pace a little faster. 

“Whenever you’re ready. Just sail with the wind, Captain.” 

As soon as he said that, you released onto him and rode out your high as he calmed his movements before pulling away. Your eyes felt heavy, your body felt relaxed, but you didn’t want to stop there. Hyunjin didn’t either. You fell limply onto your back when Hyunjin moved himself from you. 

“Hey, there, pirate, we aren’t done with this voyage of ours yet.”

Looking down at you, he bent down and picked you up by your hips, moving you to sit in front of a rock on your knees. The rock was at your eye level. Hyunjin sat on top of the rock. He slightly flinched at the coolness of the rock against his ass, but he warmed up to it quickly. He spread his legs, leaving his dick out, and the perfect space for you to crawl in and suck him off. You stared at his long, hard dick while it waited for attention. 

“Hey, princess,” Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Get to it.”

You crawled to him on your knees, head bowing down in embarrassment, but Hyunjin grabbed the roots of your head and pulled you close to his dick. “Open.” And you did. You opened your mouth wide and took him in while he kept his hold on your roots for physical control. You bobbed your head up and down, moving your hand up to grab what you couldn’t reach, but Hyunjin stopped you. 

“You’re a Captain, aren’t you? Using your mouth to bark orders all day? Not to mention how much you unhinged your jaw to take me. If your pretty mouth can do those things, then you can suck my whole cock without taking a shortcut with your hands.” He pushed your head all the way on his cock, making you gag, but he ignored it. He kept this up, barely letting you breathe. All he did was assault your throat with each thrust making him groan at your warm, wet walls that felt like heaven’s touch. You could feel your throat become sore, but you honestly didn’t want to stop him. There was something about the way he sounded and his control over you that made you want to please him forever. 

Not long later, his groaning increased and became louder. He was going to cum soon, and you could tell when he pushed your head into cock faster. 

“Fuck!” He moaned when he felt cum spurt from his tip. He calmed his pushing, but he made you keep your mouth around his cock until he was fully finished, then he withdrew himself and forced you to swallow all of it. 

Drool was falling down your chin, your jaw and throat hurt, your scalp was slightly burning, but your eyes were glazed over, wanting even more of him. You felt like you were floating, the pain in your body making your pussy wetter. Even though you felt like Hyunjin was controlling your body with the way he used you like a toy, a new melody filled in your ears making the ache in your body reside. Each tune he sang seemed to do a different thing, but each of them were helpful in the situation you found yourself in. This tune didn’t put you in his control, but it rather settled you to be comfortable for what he was going to do next. 

Hyunjin stood up and looked down at you while you remained on your knees. He brought his hand underneath your chin and forced you to look into his eyes. 

“Tell me your name.” He spoke. His tone was stern. It wasn’t like the way he spoke before, this was a hard command. You weren’t sure why he was so stern about your name and not the intense oral sex you performed on him moments ago.  

“It’s Syrena.” You lie. 

Hyunjin grips your chin tighter and glares daggers at you. 

“You’re lying. Tell me your name.” 

“Ariel.” 

Hyunjin pushed your head to the side harshly before bending down and grabbing you by the base of your neck and forcing you to look at him again. This time he’s much closer. He’s more intimidating this way, and you feel your stomach jump. 

“Lie to me again, and see what happens. Tell me your name or I will leave you here to die.”

“My name is Y/N. Captain Y/N.” 

“Now was that so hard, Y/N?” You glared at him, tempted to rip out of his grasp and kill him on the spot, but you didn't. You stayed put because your sinful temptations were getting the best of you. 

“Captain, Y/N.” You corrected him. Even though he’s been calling you pet names since you got there, now you were starting to grow tired of his taunting and teasing. You let him have his fun, but now you wanted your respect back. However, you were basically willing to do anything for him to fuck you at this point, but you didn’t want to admit that. 

“No, no, no,” He paused, lifting you by your hips again and sitting himself back on the rock. “You are no captain to me.” He sat you slightly on his lap, grabbing his dick and teasing your clit. Your arms were wrapped around his neck to keep you up. The feeling made you whine loudly. He smirked, slowly pushing his head into your soaked cunt until his long length was fully inside you. Your head fell back, and your mouth opened without control as you let out of the loudest moan you could muster. He used his hand to bring you back to face him and look into his piercing gaze again. Your mouth stayed open, moaning with each small thrust he gave as he pushed himself into you, but keeping most of his dick inside you. 

“You are just a pathetic, cock-hungry, submissive, girl.” He said between his small thrusts. 

“H-h-hyunjin, please.” You plead. He gives an evil smile and lets go of your neck making it fall back again. He stood up, holding onto you, bringing you off of his cock almost entirely before harshly thrusting himself back inside. You couldn’t control your reaction, even if you tried. You screamed in pleasure, the noises echoing off the grotto’s walls. He continued to plow into you, but it was enough to ensure it was pleasurable for the both of you and not just his own selfishness. 

“Hyunjin! I can’t- Fuck!” You moaned. 

“Yes, you can. Fucking take it.” He growled, fucking into you harder. 

“Ah- I can’t, please!” The pleasure was insane, impossible to describe. Then, again, there was another new melody that rang through your brain, and you felt like you were floating. You were able to take whatever he gave you without worry, but the pleasure somehow doubled. Your eyes were oceans with the way the tears spilled from them each moment he didn’t stop. But everything was bliss. Everything was perfect. You felt more relaxed and calm than you ever had before. 

Hyunjin switched the positions you were in, lying your stomach against the rock, and your ass in the hair where he entered you from behind and held onto you by your head fucking into you even deeper. 

“My little pirate taking the cock of her enemy.” You wanted to correct him, tell him that your intention was to learn about them, not to hurt them, but that thought left your mind as soon as you had it. You couldn’t think. You were almost brain dead, only being able to feel everything he was giving you and more. 

“I’m gonna cum soon!” You managed to choke out. 

“Fuck, baby, me too.” He groaned back. 

“Ah, Hyunjin, please, I can’t hold it.” 

“Just a little bit. I’ll tell you when you can cum.” His stern voice was back, there was no choice whether you did or didn’t on your own terms. 

He moved out of you for a brief moment and turned you around to face him. Quickly and carefully he picked you up and thrusted his cock into you. You shoved your face into his neck, kissing and sucking and biting him to bare the orgasm building inside you. 

“Can I please-”

“Yes.”

As soon as you released, Hyunjin did too, fucking his cum into you while you moaned. He found your lips and kissed you while slowly walking towards the moonpool of water and allowed himself to fall in with you while you kissed him lustfully and passionately, and he did the same. 

In the water, you were lost, eyes open, but not having control. Hyunjin’s presence was not absent from you, but you still felt sexual pleasure. You weren’t sure how. 

Hyunjin was in front of you, facing you, and smirking. You looked at him, confused as to how you weren’t sinking without him holding you and without swimming. Then you realized you couldn’t feel your legs. You looked down, and your legs were replaced with a shining mermaid’s tale and extensions of a betta fish, just like Hyunjin’s, right in front of you. You noticed one betta fin of yours and his were connected. That was where the pleasure was located. 

You wanted to scream and cry. Hyunjin could tell, so he came closer to you. He held your face in his hands again, stroked your cheeks gently, and leaned in to kiss you. You happily kissed back. Within the midst of your kiss, your tails intertwined with the other, and you felt like you were floating again, but this time it wasn’t Hyunjin’s range of melodies, it was a tone that felt like love. You felt whole and safe. You didn’t freak out about the mermaid tale that now lined your body. 

Hyunjin moved away from your lips, grabbed your hand, and swam you towards the surface of the water. After breaking the surface, you began to speak, but he stopped you. “Don’t freak out. You will be fine.” 

The second his tail was entirely out of the water, he had legs again, and he helped you out of the water where the same thing happened to you. Hyunjin grabbed you again, and held you into his lap bridal style while leaning against a rock. He looked at you, and you looked at him. 

“Humans can’t have sex with mermaids or sirens without turning into one of us. It was a curse put on both humans and merfolk such as ourselves years ago when a human and a mermaid fell in love. However, a jealous sea witch grew envious of their relationship, and put a curse on mermaids that they’d become lust filled demons that killed humans that came near, and anytime a human had sex with one, their curse was to become them too.”

You looked at him dumbfounded. 

“What the fuck?” is the only thing you can muster. 

Hyunjin laughed and explained more in depth. 

“I wasn’t always like this. I was a human too. In fact I was a painter whom all the ladies fell in love over. I adored it. I adored their attention. One day, while I painted by the seaside, I heard a beautiful noise come from the water. I discovered a boy peeking out of the water. He extended his arm to me, I gave him my hand, and he pulled me in. Then, things escalated, and now I’m like this.”

“But I still don’t understand the mermaids and sirens thing. And why’d you have to do this to me? What the hell.” You felt a lot of emotions, but you weren’t as mad at being a siren than you thought you’d be. Depending on the conditions, being part fish could help yourself as a pirate captain.

“I barely understand myself, but I’ll try to explain more. It used to only be mermaids. That was it. Mermaids are beautiful creatures that swim in the sea and have beautiful voices that can do all sorts of things like lure people in and make them feel better. However, mermaids were never inherently evil. Their songs were meant to lure people in for good things, like steering life away from dangerous areas. However, the sea witch’s jealousy got the best of her. She wanted to be the one the human fell in love with, but instead it was someone else. Blinded by rage, she cursed any mermaid who dared fall into the lust trap. Oftentimes mermaids are used to resemble purity because of this, and they distract themselves from carelessly falling into anything that can change that. The sirens curse, it wasn’t just motivated sex, it was killing anyone who tried because the lust was so strong. When the mermaid was first turned into this monster, she kissed his neck, but began to rip it apart. The sexual desires began to settle after the fact, like killing someone brought down the hunger. No one has been able to find an alternative. As for me turning you… I couldn’t help myself. Ever since I saw you there was something about you I needed. It ached, in ways I couldn’t explain, and I knew you felt it too.”

You stared blankly at him in disbelief. Then you spoke up. 

“We weren’t coming to hurt you. My pirate ship is more of a learning experience. We discover things in the sea and tell others about it. We don’t harm anything, we just teach ourselves. Granted we know how to defend ourselves in an attack, but we came to study the mermaids, and we ended up in a killing trap. Now all of my men are dead.” Your voice turned cold by the end, just remembering the bloodshed of the battle you were ripped from for no reason. 

“But you began to attack, don’t deny that.” 

“It was self defense. We knew you were going to do something.” 

“I don’t doubt that. Even though I haven’t always been a siren, I can’t sit back and watch my newkind get slaughtered. I will defend them, and now you will too. You’ll learn to.” 

“Hyunjin, I didn’t want any of this.”

“But you were so beautiful, I had to have you. You’re mine; you belong to me. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so off balance when I’m around, just like a bit ago when you lost everything the second I was completely near you. I hadn’t even started singing.”

He was right. You knew it too. He was the reason you felt off. He was the reason you were off balance and off guard and off everything. Now he’s the reason you’re part fish. 

“You can go back to being a pirate captain, if you so please, but I am so deeply infatuated with you, I couldn’t bear you to go. I don’t ever want you to leave me, Y/N.”

It was the way he stared deeply into your eyes that made you melt. There was no convincing melody of his to convince you to stay, though you must’ve had that too now if you were one of them. But his eyes, his pleading, and the slight fear you had of him kept you put on his lap. 

“Come, my treasure, explore the ocean with me.” He said, standing you up, and bringing you to the water, jumping in with you, grabbing your hand, and swimming off. 

Your tail made you swim as a pace that was hard to comprehend. You were out of the grotto and near the island you sailed off of in minutes rather than the days of voyage you spent. Hyunjin showed you all about the water, pointing out friends and foe, things to eat, ways to improve your life as a merfolk. 

Down in the water, the two of you faced the other where your betta fins touched, bringing you closer into a kiss. The two of you chased each other around, creating tiny waves in the water as you playfully messed around. 

Resurfacing from the water and staring at Hyunjin, he sang, 

“My heart is pierced by Cupid.

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing can console me,

But my jolly sailor bold.” 

You smiled, happy to hear this song that he sang often. He sang it about you.

But little did you know, that song is the only reason you stayed with him.

Hyunjin found you perfect, so beautiful that he couldn’t let you go. He knew you would've left the second you had the chance, but he can’t let someone he’s besotted by go, so he’ll do what he can to keep you around a little longer. I mean, he did tell you that bullshit story about sirens and mermaids. Had he been turned into a siren by a boy with a freckled covered face? Yes. Was that witchy nonsense true? Of course not. But if you believed him, who cared? He turned you into a siren on his own, so he could keep you around forever. He was going to have you no matter what.

You are his treasure, not any of the pirates, his.

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

I’ve had fifteen for maybe fifteen minutes and he’s already so iconic

plays the deadliest game of catch in his underwear gives his past self a hug and a kiss and a kick out the door because he loves him but also god get your act together there’s a jukebox in his TARDIS he meets his next companion at the club tearing up the dance floor he wears a kilt he calls you honey he made a brand new TARDIS by bashing it with a looney tunes hammer he is the moment