#does this count as a pirate AU?
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Iâm a bit late oopsie
tagged by @appalesbian! Post six sentences of a wip and tag six people
âOh câmon Mako, you werenât worried about them, were you?â Bolin poked at the firebenderâs chest with a big grin.
Suddenly defensive, Mako brushed Bolinâs finger away. âNo, no. All I was saying is that itâs good we made it out without a scratch. Is that such a bad thing?â Always with the jokes on this ship, he sighed.
âStand down, Sea Salty,â Opal suddenly called from up in the crowâs nest, and Mako rolled his amber eyes at the nickname while Korra laughed lightly, âBoâs just poking fun. But I wouldnât get too ahead of ourselves. The stern actually did get clipped back there.â
Tagging @shadowlinktheshadow and whoever offers themselves up as tribute (no pressure though! Do what you want you can be lawless)
#Does this count? Yeah I think so#thereâs at least six lines separated with sone form of punctuationâŠ.#Har har pirate au
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sorry if u been asked this b4 but how did u come up with able's markings in Ur desigm?? gq
very intricate n cool(?) lookiing.. n do u have more arts of her
đ±
i dont normally respond to asks because im an anxious bastard sometimes but this ones simple enough not to fuck over iiiii think
anyways, her markings r based on (bridal) mehndi! little side by side
its definitely more obvious here, but yeah! i just wanted it to look more decorative than tribal.
i had a moose design w mehndi too which was the catalyst for this i think? idk i just figured I didn't want her skin to be so bare considering how much of it is exposed,
and errr sorry to disappoint but i dont draw much of her outside of the stuff i sell but here's pirate au cain n able as kids that counts right
!!!! transgender siblings !!!!!!
#asks#is that how this works#iunno#its midnight im tired#mehndi#err#fandom tags hold on#scp fandom#scp foundation#scp#scp fanart#? does that count#scp 076#scp 076-2#pirate au yarrrrr#art#sure y not#btw if theres any obvious wording mistakes forgive me im running on absolutely nothing im going to bed immediately#edited to fix a very obvious typo lol
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the smugglers finding Meouch really be like:
#twrp#twrp origins#twrp au#twrp!origins verse#context: Meouch was the best bass player on Ladyworld#So the pirates got him to join them#Meouch was maybe 15#does this count as angst?#the lion king joke was low hanging fruit#I know
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I've given up on finding it so I'm just gonna describe you know that post that's like 'I wish I had guy who is always hanging out with me and is not my boyfriend he just likes to follow me around everywhere and at the end of the day when I go home he sadly trudges to his house and sits in his window looking out at the moon and sighing'? It was put a lot better and funnier but anyways I can't stop thinking about it lately because that is modern AU Nami and Zoro, to me.
Usopp is her bestie but he has his own life and stuff going on. Zoro does not. And he can't follow Luffy around because he's too all over the place and he keeps getting lost trying. This is partially inspired by those fanarts that put him in a "If Lost Return To Nami" shirts I simply think that is so real.
#nami & zoro#my posts#one piece#zoro#op modern au#i suppose. you see they can't be pirating around on a boat for this. and that's the term for earth aus i guess.#i never picture them as normal people in school or regular jobs though. shrimply does not work. they are all insane.#you have to translate their hyper non-conformity and extreme lives somehow ya know#i think people get stuck on that but i don't think making them members of regular society works at all#but that's definitely influenced by me not being a regular member of society and feeling alienated by those aus#ive. gone off on a tangent. lol#my aus#i guess!! it counts!!
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(2023 vs. 2021)
No longer dealing myself psychic damage with this one. I like to call this "Receive You and Pretend to Assault You" đ Gio can handle it. He's used to it
#my art#art#original characters#ocs#redrawtober#traditional sketch#inktober#enchanted AU#enchanted like the movie enchanted#you know#where the princess ends up in New York City and has to deal with the real world#Gio is a pirate from a fantasy universe#Dixon is a silly gamer#the two meet at a convention and Dixon gives him a coupon for an anime tiddy mousepad as a friendship offering#Gio decides that they're friends now#does this count for a Yakuza or RGG tag?#probably not#it's just an OC cosplaying as Majima#but y'know
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On Shore in Whitby
So in the Summer I went to Whitby with my dad and had the idea of writing a fic combining the things Whitby was known for; Pirates, Alice in Wonderland and Dracula. I swapped the fandom I intended to use for this fic and it's still weird
Summary: Pirate Captain Eddie doesn't like raiding Whitby, but this time it doesn't really need to be a raid at all when someone he'd raided before getting his own ship recognises him.
/\/\
Eddie regarded the coastline they were fast approaching in curiosity and fascination. He knew it was a profitable stop, with plenty of wealthy folks to steal from and profit off, but it was also one of the most unpredictable towns they ever stopped at, and something had clearly been happening recently.
He could see the marks left from where a ship had crashed recently, and was fairly sure he was seeing the actual repairs being done also. To most sailors it would be nothing, just an accident or a new sailor overestimating how he needed to leave the port. To Eddie it was ominous, a reminder that Whitby had more than expected occurring in it than other English towns and the quaintness everyone back home attributed to these ports, here at least, was a thin mask nobody should try to look through.
âPrepare to enter port!â The call came from Gareth just behind him, echoed among the crew.
âAnd remember, when in Whitby what don't we do?â Eddie called as the ship adjusted course for the entrance.
âNever follow animals strange,
No drugs help what they rearrange.
Check the strangers coming near,
If uncertain, escape in fear.
Prepare for gifts to change in time,
Whitby keeps transformations in line.
Flowers can share a pretty tune,
But double check they leave no rune.â
The poem is sung back to him among laughs from his crew. They all thought it was a joke, something to laugh about, all except Gareth and Jeff who'd visited the town with Eddie many times before.
Locals were nodding at the words now they were close enough in to be heard.
Entering in daylight might seem odd for pirates to do but Eddie felt safer ensuring that at least their arrival wouldn't be subject to the bending reality that happened from early afternoon till night. It did however mean they had to follow the regulations and restrictions as well as pay for their ships placement. Eddie had insisted it was worth it for safety when a few of the crew argued it as a waste of their takings.
âGood advice, you going to share that song around the ships you leave floating?â One of the harbour masters calls, catching a rope Eddie tried to throw around a bollard to help pull them in. The man's clothes looked brand new and his hair was styled in a way only the wealthy could manage, but his movements spoke of familiarity with his job. It was an entrancing mix that had Eddie trying to figure out why a noble would be working here until his words registered.
âYou mean the ships we trade with?â Eddie asked cautiously. If this man knew or recognised him or his ship as connecting to pirates he might have just found an excuse to avoid Whitby entirely, no matter how much he wanted to get to know him better.
The harbour master scoffed, shaking his head and calling over his shoulder for someone called Robin to come help him guide the ship in. âNot likely, but I get you wanting to say that. We're not going to say anything. Actually I want you to leave with more of my parents stuff than you did last time. Best thing ever done for me and I was stupid enough to ask why you were there.â
That struck a memory in Eddie's mind, years ago, before he'd taken his own ship, he'd been found in one of the town houses of the wealthy. The man looked gorgeous in the daylight where his features had been obscured by darkness and twisted by flickering candlelight on their first meeting. âDidn't expect there to be anything left in that town house. Most people move their holiday homes to other coastal towns once pirates steal from them.â
âApparently not the Harrington's. They just leave me behind with demands to earn my own way and protect their furniture: Robin and I have checked, apparently they had gold coins sewn into some of it and more paintings hiding safes than any nefarious organisation. Come for tea and we'll start getting stuff moved aboard.â The offer seemed genuine, but Eddie still had the song in his mind, even as they worked together to get the ship tied in and boarding plank secure.
He shook his head. âNice offer, stranger, but harbour master or not, I'm not accepting an offer like that, especially when you clearly recognise me but have given no name except one you don't seem to identify with.â
âI'm Steve, and it's probably better you and your crew do regardless. The Demeter crashed with her Captain dead, tied to the wheel. No one has figured out what happened aboard it except that its cargo was taken for final delivery before the constable could argue it as evidence.â Steve introduced, hopping aboard now and pulling out the paperwork Eddie had expected to have mentioned sooner. âI'll cover your fees whatever, and get it if you all prefer to guard your ship after that news.â
Eddie's back straightened, looking Steve over, before glancing back at his crew. He knew what types of things could do that, and was glad the warnings against strangers was already in the song if one had made it to this cursed town. âYou're in the Harrington house? I'll talk with the crew and walk anyone willing to stay with you over this evening. It's best to stay in groups.â
âI'll be waiting by the door.â Steve laughed, accepting the now filled out paperwork back and waving as he left.
Before Eddie could actually start gathering his crew to share the information, a cheer rang out. On the starboard side most of the crew were hanging over the edge watching something, except the pair used to Whitby, who were closer to the captain and glancing over warily. âIt's nothing to worry over yet, Captain. Just a caucus race.â Jeff muttered.
âAnd a few invites for tea from the mice as they ran off. It's nice that for a while we'll have a rodent free ship.â Gareth added, nodding further along the path where indeed a group of mice was running on only their back legs, grabbing rubbish and holding it up to see if it could become clothing as they went.
Eddie let out a heavy sigh. âWe're definitely back in Whitby again. Apparently a monster of some kind is in town also. The ship you can see signs of crashing apparently crashed with the captain dead but tied to the wheel and no other crew aboard it. Steve offered to let us all stay with him, as well as steal everything from his home too.â
Jeff grinned, reaching out to tap Eddie gently, âIncluding himself?â
âGive over.â
/\/\
Eddie expected it from the moment they decided to raid Whitby. He knew something weird was coming.
He was not expecting to leave his cabin after planning with Gareth whether they should do more of a raid or just accept all the wealth Steve was willing to give them.
Earlier his crew had mostly decided to remain on the ship and Jeff had volunteered to explain more about Whitby as second mate while Gareth and Eddie did their planning. Now, well, now Eddie was pretty certain he wasn't the only one resolute on staying in the Harrington house until they were ready to leave.
Jeff had about half the crew behind him, swords and daggers in everyone's hands and pointed to the boarding plank. Further back on the ship was the rest of the crew, some pointing their weapons behind them, at a floating, grinning cats head, the rest pointing their weapons at the boarding plank.
âCaptain! What do we do?â One of the men called over, moving as if to run over to him but stopped by Jeff moving his blade to block them.
âStay in your groups, and focus on the stranger.â Eddie ordered. âCheshire, are you just here to hang around or is there something you need?â
The cat's grin widened. âWe're keeping an eye on your visitor. It's odd that he's come to you. He's been focusing on a lady visiting until now.â
âHow lucky for us.â Eddie commented with a roll of his eyes. âYou, who are you and why are you here?â
The stranger stepped closer. âI want passage to London from someone who won't ask questions.â Behind him an orange glow moved, a person deciding to carry their own lamp rather than just going about their evening walk by the street lamps.
âWe're the wrong ship for you to chose then.â Eddie laughed, an imitation of the cruel laughter he heard merchants do moments before all their profits were lost to Eddie's crew. âGet off my ship or we'll dice you into mincemeat.â
An echoing laugh met his, the stranger straightening where he stood. âNo I think you will accept me as a passenger for the wealth I can offer you.â
It was then that Eddie noticed two things, first was that this stranger, as dangerous as he seemed hadn't actually come onto his ship yet, and second the person with the lamp was now also on the boarding plank. He wasn't sure if they were friend or foe but the lamp held above the strangers head held threat, especially if the method of attack was burning the stranger. He still decided to say nothing about them.
âGot a pretty big offer for wealth already. Now I've stated my refusal of your passage and you can't change my mind. Leave.â He repeated the refusal, stepping forwards and finally drawing his own sword.
He'd had it blessed in one of the countries they moved between. Eddie had always been one for learning local stories and whether real or not would thank people for them by agreeing to take or buy whatever safety or luck charms were offered.
The blade had the stranger stumbling back so Eddie was inclined to believe the blessing had been legitimate. He was also inclined to rush over and grab Steve in a hug as before the fire from his lamp getting dropped on the stranger's head could reach the boarding plank or the ship he'd shoved them over into the water.
It meant the stranger would almost definitely survive to torment someone else, but at least that someone else wouldn't be Eddie or his crew.
âWhat are you doing here, Steve?â Eddie asked, refusing to let the other go and ignoring that it was probably uncomfortable and definitely a breach of social etiquette for such recent acquaintances.
Steve just laughed, âYou never brought anyone to stay or even to tell me you preferred to stay on the ship. I thought Whitby had gotten to you.â
âCaptain, is this the gentleman who offered for us to stay with him?â Gareth asked, clearing his throat and already knowing the answer. âBecause I think after that situation, we'd all quite like to accept his offer.â
âOf course, come on. If your Captain will let me down, I'll lead you there. Does anyone need to grab anything before we set off?â Steve easily agreed, only tapping Eddie's shoulder but not actually trying to escape his hold.
Eddie shook his head into Steve's shoulder. âIn the stealing from the Harrington's offer, does that include taking you with me when we leave?â He mumbled, not meaning to say it now, but after having Steve inadvertently save them he wasn't going to hold back the offer.
âSure it does, but that's for talking about in a house with fires going if we aren't staying on your ship.â The words were enough Eddie let Steve go, searching his expression for sincerity which was all he saw, until a mischievous grin formed. âAnd kidnapping Robin. She'll come after us with murderous intent if only I'm taken.â
Eddie nodded, but another member of his crew clearing their throat reminded him they were meant to be heading back to the Harrington house. âThen lead the way.â
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#alice in wonderland references#dracula references#pirate au#does this count as#crack fic#steddie
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Observation
(Spade Pirate Sabo AU Masterpost)
Ough it was a tough decision to not color it in this time but I do really enjoy how much the Ace panel stands out without everything else being colored,,, I'm also starting to work on the next comic and sort of finding that when I don't think about coloring I'm a lot less conservative of space and page count and can play around a bit more with composition so I might save color for a few specific important comics and leave it uncolored going forward. Haha. The next comic is shaping up to be 2 parts and at least 10 pages long
This hopefully fleshes out a bit more of the dynamic between Tage and the rest of the Spade Pirates :) Tage calls them lazy asses but it goes both ways lmao I think usually Mihar ends up having to pick up the slack if Sabo is out of commission. What doesn't change between Sabo as a revolutionary and Sabo as a pirate is that even as a second-in-command, he is just as much a force of nature as his brothers and if he wants to go off and do his own thing no one can stop him
That said. He says he's not the ship's mother but he Totally is. He writes the majority of the ship logs and does most of the delegation of duties around the ship. Make no mistake, the Piece of Spadille runs smoothly because he's running it
#spade pirate sabo au#sabo#portgas d ace#spade pirates#the spade pirate designs are so much fun actually
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siren's song
đ starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader
đź preview. âThatâs the funny thing about trust, isnât it, Pirate King?â you ask, stepping closer to him. You look up into Johnnyâs eyes, and heâs blown away by your natural beauty. âYouâll only find out if the trust is solid, when youâre in a moment of need.â A moment of need⊠watching your lips right now, Johnnyâs in a deep moment of need.Â
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, wing kink, multiple reader orgasms, multiple sex positions, dirty talk, praise, worship, pussy eating, slight roughness, size kink, Johnny has a massive cock, inklings of captain kink, etc⊠I pet names: (hers) Princess.Â
đč rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k
đ aus. Pirate au, siren au, Captain!Johnny etcâŠ
âïž mlist + an.  so I did a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon last month, and I'm a huge One Piece fan, and I wanted to tackle a pirate au :) I'm super pleased with how it turned out, and I hope you guys can appreciate this fantasy au too!
Prologue:Â
When Johnny had first become a pirate, heâd been taken under the wing of the most extraordinary man heâd ever known. The Pirate King had seen something in Johnny, who at that time was just a young man of thirteen. This King set out to teach Johnny everything he knew- and despite the fact that he was being groomed for the pirate crown, something in the back of Johnnyâs mind felt as if the old King would ever die.
The two of them sailed for sixteen years, and Johnny watched his brave Captain and King cheat death more times than either of them could count or keep record of in their log book.Â
It feels unreal for Johnny now, as he sits next to his Captainâs bed, watching the most fearsome man he knows dwindle before his very eyes.
One good slice had been all it took to do him in, a slice, and a gruesome infection that followed, taKing a toll on the old pirateâs heart in a way Johnny could never have imagined possible.
âBefore I die, thereâs more I must tell you,â the Pirate King insists, reaching for Johnnyâs wrist, which he holds in an iron grip despite his weakened state.
Johnny doesnât have the heart to argue, heâll hear his adopted fatherâs dying remarks if itâs the last thing he ever does.
âConfidence is key, my boy,â the Pirate King insists, a shiver running through him. Thereâs a sheen of sweat across his prominent brow, a sign of the fever thatâs been killing him for days. He takes in a ragged breath before continuing. âThe secret of the sirens is that they only prey-â he coughs, âonly prey on pirates and sailors who have sins and baggage. This is a secret you too must pass down to your successor one day.â
Johnnyâs not sure what to think as he grabs a cup of water to hold out to the old man, helping him drink. Sure, Johnnyâs heard of sirens and mermaids, but heâs never actually seen any with his own two eyes. These must just be tall tales that his Captainâs exhausted mind is clenching at in the end- looking for something mythical to soothe him before he makes the leap into the great beyond.Â
âRegrets canât have a place in your life, John,â the Pirate King continues, pushing the cup of water away and sending it clanging to the wooden floor of the ship. âYou canât be King if you feel regret, tell me you understand.â
âI understand,â Johnny assures his Captain, reaching for the cup. Thereâs no use wiping the water up, afterall, the wooden decks of the ship are worn and speckled with the signs of years of use. Itâs a ship that has been thoroughly loved, and Johnny is already considering the option of getting one of his own to note the start of his pirate reign.
âYou donât understand,â the Pirate King sighs, relaxing back against his pillows, âbut thatâs alright. Youâll understand soon enough.â He takes a haggard breath, and Johnny watches his old weathered hands clutch at his bedding. âThereâs a rite of passage every new Pirate King must take. Youâll sail to the Forbidden Island Chain, the Selkie Islands, where youâll find the sirens and mermaids from the old tales. Youâll have to prove yourself once youâre there, prove your lack of regrets. Only the one true Pirate King, who is confident in all of his doings, can withstand their deadly songs.â
One:Â
When the old Pirate King had first told Johnny of his task, he hadnât quite believed it. However, after his passing, Doyoung, the scribe/navigator/book keeper had approached Johnny to tell him this was very much a real rite of passage, and that heâd been gifted with explicit coordinates as well as reading materials to use to complete the journey.
Johnny had been an avid reader growing up, and while heâd read the stories of mermaids and sirens with extreme interest as a lad, heâd thought of the contents as more fiction than fact. Itâs interesting now, to be a man of twenty-nine, rereading the books of his youth with a newfound view of reality.
The islands theyâre headed to are a no manâs land. For as long as recorded pirate lore can remember, the Selkie islands have been home to mermaids and sirens. While many donât believe in these mythical beasts, pirates can be a superstitious lot, and any who have risked the voyage, havenât returned to tell their story. Itâs as they always say, dead men tell no tales.Â
Sure, sirens and mermaids have supposedly ventured away from the islands, looking for men and sailors to drown, but the reports of that have been few and far inbetween in these past years, especially since the British Royal Navy has made a larger foothold as far as pirateering is concerned.
In the last leg of their trip, Johnny calls his men to the deck of The Neo. âThis is our maiden voyage,â Johnny calls above the familiar sound of the sea. âWeâre a new crew, and I donât expect to have full loyalty yet, despite my standing as the future Pirate King. Some of you must be wondering about our destination. Iâm sure youâve all heard the tales of mermaids and sirens- and for the safety of everyone, I want to make sure we go into this with a full arsenal, which means, we all must know our enemy.â
Johnny turns his attention to Doyoung, who steps forward carrying a few of Johnnyâs top reading materials.
âThereâs a difference between sirens and mermaids,â Johnny starts, picking the first book up, âtheyâre not the same thing, although, thatâs been lost as common knowledge in the past years. Mermaids are the easy ones, half fish, half woman, and as alluring as anything weâve ever seen. They will draw you to the water, whether that be the edge of the boat, or the edge of land, and when youâre close enough, they grab you and drown you.â
âDo they eat us or fuck us?â one person calls, and Johnny looks up to see Lee Donghyuck blinking up at him. âI just mean, Iâve heard both,â the youngest pirate says, defending himself as a chorus of agreed murmurs erupts through Johnnyâs new crew.Â
âThatâs a good question,â Johnny admits. âOne that is undetermined, as no survivors have ever come back from being dragged under the sea, and all other opinions are just conjecture.â
âPff, conjecture,â someone scoffs.Â
Johnny knows heâs a lot more well read than anyone on his crew. He spent many many voyages as a young man in the old Pirate Kingâs library. The Pirate King had always been grooming him for the top position, and thereâs a certain amount of smarts that have to be shown in order to excel at the role. Johnny is no ordinary pirate, which is what sets him apart from all others.
âSirens, on the other hand,â Johnny continues, âare said to have been ladies in waiting to Persephone, from the Greek myths. When she was snatched away by Hades, her mother, Demeter, gave her ladies in waiting wings to search for her. Sirens are angelic creatures, in beauty, and in voice. They lure not with good looks alone, but with songs that bewitch. If they can, theyâll steal your soul right from your own mouth.â
Johnny knows now that a sirenâs power has to do with the regrets you hold, which is why heâs spend the past two months forgiving himself for any and all misdemeanors.Â
âIn the ancient Greek texts, they tell of beeswax used in The Odyssey, shoved into ears to make you unable to hear the sirenâs song, thatâs what weâll do now as we approach the final day of our journey.â
âWhat?â someone bellows.
âDoyoung will hand out the beeswax, and you will all hopefully be immune to death unless you decide to wander to the shipâs edge and give yourself to the sirens and mermaids.â
âWhat about you, Captain?â Mark Lee speaks up. God, heâs too soft to be a pirate at times, but Johnny had hand picked him for a reason. Heâs more thoughtful than most- in fact, the whole crew was chosen for a variety of reasons, and Johnny wouldnât sail with anyone else.
âPart of my trial is to face the sirenâs song unprotected, to prove that Iâm the one true Pirate King,â Johnny explains.Â
Doyoung has begun to hand out the beeswax, and one look at his unamused face tells Johnny that his faithful scribe doesnât believe in this whole little farce. Itâs more than likely that due to a lack of belief, numerous men will fall under the spell of a mermaid of siren, and thatâs something Johnny had accepted before they set sail.
No, Johnny loves his crew already, but heâd be lying if he said they were anything other than exactly what they are: pirates.Â
Two:Â
Thereâs a flurry of commotion among the palace halls today, whispers of the death of the old Pirate King, and the rise of a new one.Â
This isnât something that happens frequently, and youâre at an age where the arrival of a new Pirate King can impact you directly.
Youâre a Siren Princess, and out of all of your sisters, youâre your fathers favourite. As you walk to the great hall, youâre aware that the likelihood is youâll be chosen to sing a song to the new Pirate King, as your mother had before you.Â
The new ship is approaching with speed, and soon, youâre being whisked off by your ladies in waiting to get dressed the part. A silky white dress is strewn upon your form, hugging all the right curves, and accentuating all that your womanly body has to offer. The sirenâs song is more than sung lyrics, itâs an entire performance, and the jewels that are set to adorn your form are part of it.
âHeâs here!â one of your sisters declares as she barges into your room, a mischievous look on her face.
Everyone erupts into a fit of enthusiasm, and youâre ushered outside, where you join your father in the palaceâs temple courtyard that looks down to the cove.
Itâs true, thereâs a large pirate ship just entering the bay, bearing the skull and crossbones symbol of pirates on itâs proudly waving flag.
Your wings waver at the notion of flight, and you lick your lips in preparation, feeling a flurry of excitement beginning to build within your breast.Â
âBe good, my sweet,â your father encourages you. âTest the man.â
âI will,â you promise, allowing him to squeeze your hand as one last sign of affection before you take flight.Â
This first contact with the new Pirate King is a solitary mission, and you feel naked as your large, strong wings carry you from the mountain top and toward the pirate vessel in the bay.Â
As you approach, your eagle eyes narrow in on a man waiting by the bow of the ship. Heâs leaning on the rail, a grin on his face as he watches you draw near. Heâs handsome, something you canât deny as you hover just a few meters away.
He doesnât look like a typical pirate. Thereâs no beard or missing eye. No, he has chiseled features, and a mischievous smile that almost threatens to take your breath away. His white tunic is open, and you sneak a glance at chiseled abs and skin thatâs beautifully worn and tanned from years spent in the elements.
Despite his good looks, you have a job to do, and the man is patient as you begin your song.Â
Youâve been preparing for this for years, and The Sisterâs Song youâve practiced is one of loss and grief, however, thereâs a haunting beauty to it too, one that even your own people find hard to resist.
You sing your heart out, watching the new Pirate King carefully.
He smiles at your song, however, he doesnât flinch a muscle. When your words die off, he lifts his hands to clap, and with that, you know that heâs fit to be the next pirate ruler. Heâs a man with no regrets, a man who lives by the beat of his own drum, and heâs earned your respect.Â
âThat was a lovely song,â the man calls out to you.
âAnd what is your name, new would-be King?â you retort.
âIâm Captain John, but you can call me Johnny,â he grins. âAnd you?â
âIâm the Siren Princess, y/n.â
Johnny nods. âI know the past Pirate Kings have come for a song and left, however, I was hoping for more than a blessing today.â
âThatâs presumptuous of you,â you note, feeling a smile work its way onto your face.
âBeing presumptuous is part of being a King, I suppose,â Johnny muses. âI was hoping for a banquet. Weâve brought food and booze.â
âA banquet,â you repeat. Never before has a Pirate King dared come to your shores- this man is something different, and it intrigues you in a way youâll never be able to express. âI accept. You can follow me to the waterâs edge palace.â
âI do have one condition though.â
âAnd what is it that the new Pirate King suggests?â you enquire.
âOnly that my men will be keeping their earplugs in. Many a pirate banquet have ended with blood in the water, but tonight, Iâm hoping to be more civilized.â
âA civilized pirate,â you laugh. âThatâs new.â
Three:Â
Johnny knows that heâs bringing his men deep into danger, but this is something that he feels will be an important stepping stone. While past Pirate Kings have had an understanding with the mermaids and sirens, none had fed the flames to keep the fire going. No, in contrast to his past predecessors, Johnny thinks itâs important to have a better connection with sirens and mermaids, perhaps even diplomatic relations.Â
Sure, it also helps that youâre absolutely stunning, and Johnny would be lying if he said he didnât want to spend more time with you- but his plans for a banquet had been set in stone before heâd laid his eyes on you, so Johnny has no regrets there.
As Johnny is taken to shore and shown into the waterside palace, the new King notes the way sirenâs have different wings.Â
While yours are white an angelic, others have more fairy like protrusions, and Johnny would bet his life that your wings are a sign of royal blood. Theyâre certainly the most durable, the largest, and the strongest, that heâs able to see, and when any others appear with similar wings, youâre quick to introduce them as family.
âIâm interested to meet your father. You said youâre a Siren Princess, so your father must be King,â Johnny notes as he follows you through the palace. Itâs old marble, and while parts of it are eroding, Johnny canât help but marvel at the way the structure straddles the lines of nature. There are all sorts of growing greens, as well as harmony between both earth and water elements- with streams interweaving below white marbled bridges.Â
In these waterways, are mermaids, who look up at him with curiosity, their hair always falling just so- protecting their modesty, if creatures such as they even possess such a thing.
âHeâll come down from the mountain palace,â you tell Johnny. âYou have to understand, no Pirate King has ever dared set foot here. This is not something we are accustomed to.â
âI can see that,â Johnny nods, turning to find Donghyuck leaning over the edge of the bridge, eyes locked with a particularly gorgeous mermaid, whoâs creeping closer and closer from the stream below-
Johnny grabs the younger pirate by the scruff of the neck, tearing him away from a beautifully savage fate. He pushes Donghyuck towards Yuta, and the mermaids giggle. âKeep an eye on him,â Johnny warns the feral looking pirate. âAnd keep an eye on yourself while youâre at it.â
You smile at the interaction, and Johnny sighs.Â
âYou think this is funny, do you?â
âJust a show that we donât need to be heard to be alluring, mermaids never rely on their voices, so your beeswax will do little to ward them off.â
âI guess I thought my men had more control,â Johnny admits, falling into step with you and casting a glance at the crew that follows, âalthough, I guess at the end of the day, theyâre just pirates.â
âAnd youâre not?â you counter.
âIâm a pirate, itâs true,â Johnny confesses. âBut I think we both know, no Pirate King is ever just a pirate.âÂ
âI will agree with you on that,â you nod. Although youâve not met many pirates in your life, itâs clear that this one has a better head on his shoulders than most- in more than just the looks department. âThe great hall is this way,â you continue, showing him through an archway that brings you to the outdoor meeting place.
Itâs a true wonder of water and earth, a courtyard exposed to the night sky above. The moonlight illuminates the space, and littered throughout are pools with glassy water, mermaids perched like poised, picturesque, marble statues along their edges. Eyes that shine in the nightly gleam watch as you draw the Pirate Kingâs crew deeper into the lionâs den, beautiful predators, assessing every movement.
You hope this new Pirate King knows what heâs doing.
Four:Â
By all accounts, the feast is going well. Roaring fires are cooking multiple boar that Johnny had brought specifically for this trip, as well as fish and other provisions theyâd packed. The sirens and mermaids had provided more of the perishable items, and even though there are wooden bowls of salad littered here and there, itâs clear that everyone has a preference for the meat.
The mermaids in particular are quite savage with the way they eat, grabbing leg straight by the bone and tearing in with teeth that hadnât looked as sharp before as they do now.
Johnny is on alert, despite his attempts to exude a calm and happy countenance.Â
He feels as if heâs in a den of angelic looking demons, and heâs already caught numerous crewmates wandering just a little too close to the waterâs edge. Hyuck in particular has been reared back by the scruff of his neck a grand total of five times, and Johnnyâs beginning to think the young man simply has a death wish⊠that, or his brain resides in his cock.
From the way the mermaids giggle with each close call, itâs clear to Johnny that theyâre testing him as the new Pirate King. Theyâre testing his trust in them, his wits, and Johnnyâs not quite sure what to make of it.
âPirate King,â your voice distracts Johnny from his internal musings, and he turns to you. âCome with me,â you bid him, standing and reaching out a hand. âI have something to give you.â
Your words draw not only Johnnyâs attention, but the attention of those around him, and Yuta lets out a loud wolf whistle. Itâs no shock that his crew would have filthy thoughts about why youâre whisking him away, but Johnny gets the suspicion that this interaction isnât just about getting in his pants.
Youâre a Princess after all, and so far, youâve been nothing short of a gracious host. Itâs clear that the two of you share alliance goals, and Johnny had watched you take your father to the side and passionately argue the importance of a connection between pirates and sirens.
âWatch Hyuck,â Johnny warns Jaehyun as he stands, allowing you to gently guide him by the hand away from the festivities.
Mermaids watch curiously as you lead Johnny over a number of small bridges, moving farther and farther from the main courtyard until youâre back at the edge of the sea. Johnny can hardly hear the sound of loud pirate laughter anymore, and he realizes how serene this new location is as he studies your winged form in the moonlight.
âI have two gifts for you,â you tell him, reaching into your dress. Johnny hadnât realized the fine white material had included pockets, but then again, most of the night heâs been staring at your pretty face and your angelic wings. You pull out a conch shell, handing it to Johnny. âThis one is to call for mermaids, and this one,â you place a halloweed reed style whistle next to the shell, âis to call on sirens. Theyâre in case you need help in battle, a way to contact us, to solidify an alliance of sorts, although- I warn you not to use the shell if you have any men in the water, mermaids are not the most discerning of saviours.â
Johnny looks down at the two items. At first, he doesnât know what to say, and his voice cracks when he finally finds the words. âThank you.â He swallows thickly. âI appreciate these, uh⊠tokens.â
You let out a giggle. âNo need to be so formal, Pirate King.â
âSays the woman who just used the word discerning.â
âIâm more educated than you, pirate,â you grin.
âWouldnât be so sure about that, Princess.â
âTouche.â
Johnny enjoys this back and forth, it feels natural, and without the eyes of countless others on the two of you right now, the Pirate King feels comfortable to just be himself. âI guess, as much as I appreciate these gifts, Iâm still wondering if I can trust you, if youâll come when I call.â
âThatâs the funny thing about trust, isnât it, Pirate King?â you ask, stepping closer to him. You look up into Johnnyâs eyes, and heâs blown away by your natural beauty. âYouâll only find out if the trust is solid, when youâre in a moment of need.â
A moment of need⊠watching your lips right now, Johnnyâs in a deep moment of need.Â
From the way your own gaze dips down, Johnnyâs sure you reciprocate the attraction, and with one final âfuck itâ that he sends to the wind, Johnny cups the back of your neck with his large palm. He draws your mouth to his, kissing you gently on the edge of the sea as the moonlight bathes you both in light. The winds carry the smell of salt, a constant reminder of Johnnyâs true commitments.
Heâs a man with no regrets, a Pirate King, and nothing could ever make Johnny regret this shared kiss, this shared confirmation of a newly blossomed union between pirates, mermaids and sirens.Â
Five:Â
Itâs been a full year since the Pirate King arrived at the Selkie Islands, a full year without hearing a whistle or the blow of a conch, and in that time, youâve begun to worry about him.
Sure, heâd been strong, and tall, and handsome- but in your opinion, heâd lacked the savagery that had been so clearly evident in those who had come before him, not to mention excessive facial hair, bad teeth and body odor.
Youâve done your best to distract yourself with your studies, as education is important for a Princess such as yourself, and youâre in your library one afternoon when your ears pick up that distant call.
The reed youâd given the Pirate King is a magic reed, and itâs fine tuned to your ears. Youâre able to hear it from a vast distance, and with your natural bird like homing abilities, thereâs no way youâd miss Johnnyâs location.
Itâs been a year, but finally, youâre being summoned.
Youâre quick to rally a small force of sirens to go with you, your Princessâ guard, which consists of your best female fighters with the strongest wings for flight. Despite your father being the King of the sirens, thatâs only in the stead of your mother, who had died of an illness many moons ago. The sirens, as well as the mermaids, are naturally maternalistic societies, and when you need something done right, you send a band of females.Â
The journey is a long one, but with your wings, youâre able to cover vast distances. You make it to Johnnyâs pirate ship and the cove itâs anchored in just as the evening sun is setting. The Neo is still alive and well, and there are hardly any new marks on it, something that reassures you as you and your small band of sirens touch down on the deck.
Pirates watch you, and your eyes find Johnny as he steps down the stairs from the helm to greet you.
âWasnât sure youâd come,â he admits, stopping just at the bottom step to assess you with a half grin on his face, his Captainâs hat tilted just so.
âTravel takes time, as Iâm sure you know,â you retort. âWhatâs the emergency?â
âIâd like to speak to you, privately.âÂ
With a nod to your companions, you follow Johnny into the Captainâs quarters, curious as to what this call is about if not an attack.
âOn the island, we hold pirate council,â Johnny explains. âSeeing as youâre my new ally, Iâd like for you to speak, as a Princess, as the head of the sirens- and Iâd like you to have a say for the mermaids as well, although, I can call upon the mermaids too if youâd rather they have their own representative.â
âPirate council?â you ask in shock. âI wasnât aware pirates were so democratic.â
âI am King of something, Princess,â Johnny grins.Â
âI suppose thatâs true,â you smile back at him slyly. âI can speak for the sirens, and the mermaids, at this council at least. When I return to the Selkie Islands, I can discuss a mermaid representative for further collaborative efforts.â
Johnny nods. âWorks for me.â
âSo when is this council, exactly?â
âWe were waiting for you.â
Within minutes, youâre following Johnny into the largest beached pirate ship vessel youâve ever seen. Despite itâs outside appearance, the inside is remarkably well kept- and you suppose itâs worn down exterior acts as a camouflage of sorts for the importance of what takes place inside this aged wooden skeleton of the sea.
You feel very important as you walk with Johnny, and he pays you the respect of holding you at his arm, making you equals as you enter the large council chamber.
Whispers erupt at the sight of you, and you suppose many of the pirates present have never seen a siren in the flesh.Â
âI told them Iâd be bringing you,â Johnny whispers in your ear as he takes you to the head of the table, pulling out the seat at his right hand for you to sit in. As you get settled, he leans close, his lips just brushing your ear. âYou could ensnare the souls of every person in this room if you so much as breathed a note of your siren song, donât be scared, and speak from your heart.â
Youâd always thought of yourself as a confident Princess, but walking into this pirateâs den had shaken your foundations. Hearing Johnnyâs praise of you, the facts that heâs pointed out- it helps you calm down, your shoulders falling, body relaxing.Â
âToday, this pirate council has been drawn, because we need to discuss the increasing threat in our waters,â Johnnyâs clear Kingly voice rings out through the room. âThe British Royal Navy. theyâve been imposing their laws, sinking ships, taking prisoners, and killing every man, woman, or child who has ever had anything to do with the likes of us.â
This is all news to you. Youâve heard whispers of a new type of sailor in these seas, of more regimented water crafts- but your kind generally sticks to your own islands these days, youâd had no clue that this âBritish Royal Navyâ had become such an imposing force.
You listen as Johnny continues his speech, and then he opens up the floor for other pirates to speak.
Itâs a heated debate, a debate of which youâre not necessarily inclined to be a part of. Thereâs talk of attacking ports, jail breaking prisoners-
Itâs clear to you that although they view themselves as somewhat democratic for throwing a council such as this, that many of the pirates who are here to represent their crew and fleat, are very much in it only for themselves.
Itâs also evident that Johnny takes his role as Pirate King extremely seriously, and you find yourself most and more enraptured as you watch him take control and keep things peaceful. Not only does he understand what others are saying, but often, heâs able to reword concerns so that others can understand as well. Heâs like a Pirate King translator, and itâs a very attractive quality.Â
Thereâs a bit of infighting between two rough looking bearded men, and when Johnny breaks it up, he sighs, turning to you. âDo you have any opinions, Princess?â
âIâd like to spend the night thinking on it. Iâve taken in a lot of information, and Iâm tired from my travel.â
âThatâs a good point,â Johnny nods. âI think we should all take the night to think things though and consider other perspectives, we can reconvene in the morning.âÂ
The Pirate King stands up, not giving any time for protest, and as you rise to join him, you take a survey of the room. You can see the respect that the others have for him, and everyone stays in their seat as Johnny takes your arm and leads you back outside.
The two of you are quiet as you return to his ship. Itâs clear thereâs a lot on both of your minds, and you kind of enjoy the peaceful quiet that blossoms with the strong man at your side.
âWell,â Johnny says finally, âIâll give you and your companions my cabin, and Iâll find somewhere to sleep below deck.â
âItâs alright,â you tell him. âIâm going to send my companions home, itâs clear theyâre not needed here tonight, and after our council meeting tomorrow, Iâll return to the Selkie Islands as well.â
âAlmost sounds like you trust me to be on my best behaviour, Princess,â Johnny grins.
âAs you said before, one note of song from my lips and your entire crew could be under my spell. I have nothing to fear.â
âNot even from me?â he toys.
âNot even from the Pirate King himself.â
âWell,â Johnny licks his lips, taking in your form, âIâll let you say your goodbyes, and then you can meet me in my quarters.â
âAye, aye, Captain.â
âThatâs King to you, Princess.â
You can only scoff, turning and leaving the Captain to join your ladies on the deck of the ship. You fill them in on the council meeting, and although two of them are reluctant to leave your side, you reassure them that youâll be okay. This new strengthening of the alliance with the pirates is founded on trust, and if anything happens, the sirens alone could take out the entire pirate fleet sans Captain John himself, whoâs impervious to your songs.
Soon, youâre the lone winged creature on the deck of the ship, and you can feel eyes on you as you make your way to Johnnyâs Captainâs quarters.Â
Youâd been in here earlier when Johnny had taken you aside for a private chat, but you hadnât taken the time to fully appreciate his home.
While there are wooden accents everywhere, itâs a very lavish quarters. There are lots of red velvet- royal colours that draw your eyes. Itâs a masculine space, but the full walled library betrays the erudite mind of the new Pirate King. A large table is littered with maps, and itâs clear thatâs where Johnny does most of his work, however, tucked into a wall pocket by his books, is a massive bed, with the same scarlety fabric drapes to make the sleeping section more private and cozy.
Johnnyâs standing by the windows that look out the back of the ship, and while the candle flames lick light at the walls, itâs the reflection of the moon that truly illuminates the space.
âAnd so all the pretty birds fly home for the night,â he says, watching your companions disappear into the inky sky.
âAll but one,â you muse, locking the door behind you.
âAnd the prettiest one at that.â Johnny turns to you. âAre you sure you donât want me to find somewhere else to sleep tonight?â
âIâve been thinking about our last meeting for a year, Captain, I think it would be a disservice to both of us to not indulge further, after all, weâve been good and patient, havenât we?â
âToo patient, even for a Pirate King,â Johnny groans, moving closer.
âEven for a Princess,â you agree, wetting your lips as you stay still, allowing Johnny to be the one to close the gap.
Like that night by the waterâs edge, Johnny doesnât ask permission, you can tell that he reads your need for him as easily as he had a year ago. His large hand cups your cheek, drawing your lips to his own, and itâs such a familiar feeling-
Something about him just feels right. It feels natural. As if youâve done this a hundred times before, even though this is only really your second kiss with the young Pirate King.
Regardless, you allow yourself to get lost in him. Your hands begin to explore him as if by muscle memory, and you push at his long dark jacket, exposing the white unbuttoned tunic below. Fucking pirates and their fashion sense- heâs too much of a slut in this fucking shirt, itâs making you feral.
âSomeone is eager,â Johnny muses, breaking the kiss to look down at you with a grin.
âSomeone is dressed like a whore,â you retort, flicking his hat off his head with one sharp movement.
The Pirate King lets out a whistle. âWow, Princess, didnât expect to hear words like that coming out of such a pretty little mouth.â
âMaybe being around you has some of your piracy rubbing off on me,â you suggest, hooking your finger in his gun holster belt to tug him closer.
âPrincess, if Iâd rubbed one off on you, youâd know it.â
You can only scoff, and Johnnyâs smile widens. He tugs you closer, looking down at you with dark eyes that have suddenly turned serious.
âIâve got a question for you, Princess.â
âYeah, and whatâs that, Captain?â
âI was just thinkingâŠâ he looks past you, and your wings twitch under his inspecting gaze, âare they as sensitive as they look?â
You breathe in a harsh gasp, a shiver running through you at the thought.
Johnny grins again. âIâm going to take that as a yes.â
Siren wings are extremely sensitive, especially ones like yours.Â
âTheyâre just⊠so pretty,â Johnny continues, reaching out. âYouâll let me touch, right?â
âYou can touch,â you whisper, watching him while frozen in place. All your bravado and confidence are gone, and although youâre the siren, it feels as if the Pirate King has put you under a spell of his own now.
Heâs ever so gentle as he brushes his fingers against your wing, looking down at you to watch for a reaction.
You close your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, and you can tell from the way Johnny grabs your hip with his other hand, that he enjoys the effect this is having on you.Â
He traces down your wing to the base, where your human skin becomes feathers, and he toys that spot with a circular motion. It feels so good- you have to bite your tongue to stifle a moan.Â
âItâs okay, Princess, let it out, I wanna hear you,â Johnny encourages.
âYou might, but what about your crew?â you ask, looking at the door just a few meters away. If you moan- even if itâs a moan and not a purposeful siren song - it could still bewitch anyone close enough to hear it, and youâd hate to lose composure, damaging your alliance, because youâre too horny to keep it in your pants and in your mouth.
âThatâs a good point,â Johnny concedes. In one motion, heâs lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips as he carries you toward the bed nook. He gently puts you down, carefully of just flopping you onto the mattress and damaging a wing, then, he draws the curtains closed, clearly hoping to muffle any sounds that come out of you. âNow⊠where were we?â
âI think you were about to get me naked and eat me the way you ate that fucking wild boar last year.â
âI was trying to be somewhat clean that night, you know,â Johnny laughs.
âI donât mind messy, in fact, part of me might prefer it.â
âAre you sure youâre a Princess?â Johnny asks, kissing up your calf as you adjust against the pillows, making sure your wings are in an alright position for him to eat you out.
âIâm as much of a Princess as you are a King,â you point out.
Despite you both having titles, itâs clear thereâs more to you than your respective stations in life. Sure, the fact that heâs a Pirate King and youâre a Siren Princess is making this whole interaction possible, but thereâs a desire to know him on a deeper level- and itâs one of the reasons youâre reluctant to refer to him as King. Youâd rather see him as a Captain, a leader of men in that capacity-
Johnnyâs hands push your dress up your thighs, and you let out a small exhale at the feeling of cool cabin air on your exposed skin.
As a siren, youâre somewhat of a wild being. No matter how civilized you might look, with your long flowy dresses, and monarch system- youâre still not fully human, and you hate restrictive clothing, which is why, the dress is the only piece of fabric covering your body. As Johnny pushes the fabric up, he realizes your nudity under the silk, and you watch his pupils dilate with interest.
Johnny licks his lips, looking up at you one last time, as if asking for permission. You nod to him, a smile working its way onto your face as you realize how soft heâs being with you.
Heâs the big bad Pirate King, but consent is still a must- God, heâs truly an enigma, and youâd be happy to spend years figuring him out.
Johnny dives into your pussy. Two large hands grab your thighs, spreading you open for the tongue that begins to lap at your core.
âShit-â you groan. No oneâs ever eaten you out like this before. Youâre not a virgin per se, but your number of sexual experiences is severely limited. As far as mythical races go, the sirens arenât the horniest of creatures, but thereâs something about this Pirate King that changes everything.
You can feel Johnny grin against your pussy, and it turns you on even more as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking at it repeatedly.
Your hands are grabbing at the lush bedding, trying to keep you grounded on a ship thatâs gently rocking from the sea. There are so many textures, the velvety fabrics, your silky dress pushed up to your waist. The smells of the wood and sea, the sounds of The Neo and the water lapping at her sides-
Youâre overwhelmed in the best possible way as sounds of desperation escape you, spurring on the Pirate King as he works you over with his mouth.
You reach down, threading your fingers through his soft hair. God, some pirates are unhygienic as fuck, but this one seems to know how to take care of himself, and thatâs an attractive quality in a man.
Johnny growls against your pussy, sucking your clit even harder, and your toes curl. You can feel an orgasm rising in the pit of your stomach, and Johnnyâs steady pace is drawing that release closer and closer-
His grip digs into your thighs and you throw your head back gasping-
Your eyes clench shut as your orgasm washes over you, throbbing through your entire body unlike any high youâve ever had, even those youâve given yourself.
You ride out the orgasm, and Johnny continues to worship your core until youâre spent and sweaty. You push him away gently, and he looks up at you. As the Pirate King rises, he licks his lips, and you enjoy the view of him getting every last drop of your taste.
âYou taste as angelic as you look, Princess,â Johnny muses.
âAnd I feel even better,â you say lazily.
âIâll be the judge of that.â Johnny shrugs off his white tunic, baring his washboard abs and broad chest. Heâs got scars, battle wounds most likely, but nothing too gnarly. No, heâs quite beautiful, for a pirate.
Your dress has a low back, the type that you step into so your wings arenât damaged or put in any awkward positions, so as Johnny strips himself, you tug the silky fabric of your own clothing down your body.Â
You love the feeling of the velvety bedding against your exposed skin, and you spread your legs for Johnny, an invite.
He drops his pants to the ground, and his heavy belt acts like as a weight, creating a loud thumping sound against the worn wooden floor.Â
Fuck. The Pirate King is packing. Youâd noticed his affinity for a pistol over a sword, but you suppose thatâs only because he has a sword sized cock inside his breeches.Â
Johnny reads your expression, and he lets out a chuckle. âDonât worry, Princess, Iâll go slow with you.â
âYou better. Being fatally impaled by the Pirate King was not in my nightly plan.â
âJust⊠pleasantly impaled by the Pirate King, right?â Johnny jokes, getting onto the bed with you, his large biceps bulging as he holds his weight overtop of your body.
 God, heâs so handsome, and playful for a Pirate King too. Thereâs something to unique about this Captain John, and it takes your breath away. The familiarity makes you uncomfortable in some form, so instead of responding, you grab the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours.
Johnny immediately kisses you, rolling his hips so his cock can drag against your pussy while you wrap your legs tight around him. His mouth is so distracting, but you simply canât take your mind off of the massive length thatâs toying by your clit with each rut of his hips.
How are you even going to fit this man inside of you?
To your surprise, Johnny is true to his word about not rushing anything. He simply makes out with you, rutting gently, working you up until youâre a gasping mess. You can feel your pussy practically crying onto his cock now, can feel how wet youâve made his length with each pass of it through your pussy lips.Â
âOkay, Iâm ready,â you tell him, adjusting slightly against his pillows, one wing stretching out to steady yourself a little.Â
âYou sure about that?â Johnny taunts, bringing his lips to your throat, where he teases past your skin.
You moan desperately, tightening your grip on his hips, urging him to just fuck you-
Johnnyâs nose grazes up your neck, and he pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, suckling on it gently.
âPlease,â you whimper, all composure lost.Â
Johnny pulls away, looking down at you with an expression very much like concern while you grab at his broad shoulders. âDid you just say⊠please?â
You scoff, rolling your eyes.
The Pirate King grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to his again. âThat actually sounded really cute coming from you, Princess.â
âIf you donât want to fuck me, then donât fuck me,â you snap, getting irritated in your impatient lust fueled state.
âDoes it feel like I donât want to fuck you?â Johnny counters, rutting his hips so you can feel his massive cock, all enlarged and throbbing- âI just donât want to hurt you, Princess. Remember, I have to be a man without regrets, and if I hurt you, then Iâd have something to regret, and I couldnât effectively be King of the pirates.â
Your heart melts for him, and itâs the best explanation he could have possibly given. You smash your lips to his, moaning into the kiss as desperation continues to take over your entire body.Â
Johnny adjusts his cock, pressing just the tip to your aching hole. Heâs as gentle as ever as he slowly pushes it in, waiting patiently as you get used to the stretch.
The Pirate King continues to kiss you, distracting you from the feeling until it becomes pleasurable, then, he pushes deeper into you, repeating the slow build up. He takes his time, and itâs as if he knows your body inside and out, as if heâs reading every little reaction to make it the best possible experience for you.
Johnny is now completely inside of you, and you gasp at how deep it feels. Youâre shocked heâs flush to your body, your chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, lips parted, staring into each others eyes.
God, this connection feels unlike anything else youâve ever experienced.Â
Itâs as if heâs staring into your soul, which is an uncanny feeling given the fact that sirenâ are the soul collectors of the mortal world. You feel so bare for him, so susceptible and weaponless- but thereâs no fear with this knowledge. You trust the young Pirate King, youâre not sure why, but you do. Itâs this deep knowing- one that you canât put into words.
âYou ready?â Johnny asks, swallowing thickly.
You nod, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. âIâm ready.â
Johnny leans down, gently pressing his lips to yours as he begins to move his hips, slowly rutting into you, allowing your body to get used to his size with each motion.
You moan desperately against his mouth, kissing him harder, gripping his strong shoulders desperately as his pace builds-
One shift has your wing caught under you uncomfortably, and you break the kiss. âCan I be on top? My wing-â
Before you can even finish your explanation, Johnny is grabbing the small of your back, keeping you tucked to his chest, and rolling you so youâre now in the dominant position. He looks up at you, and you stretch your wings out. Your hands fall flat on his chest, your head thrown back as you enjoy the feeling of freedom now that youâre on top.
âGod, youâre so pretty,â Johnny breathes.
âYou and your wing kink, mister Pirate King,â you laugh, looking down at him.
âThere are worse kinks to have,â he suggests, stroking your hip.
You donât bother to agree with him, you simply start to move, rubbing back and forth a little, getting used to how deep his cock is inside your core now that youâre in the power position.
âThe way youâre taking me is fucking heaven,â Johnny groans, pressing his thumb to your clit to rub gentle circles that set your skin on fire.
âMaybe we were made for each other,â you offer breathlessly, intending it to be a lighthearted joke of sorts, but the growl Johnny releases at your words tells you he takes them seriously.
âMaybe we were,â Johnny agrees, rubbing your clit even harder. His other hand finds your hip, and he begins to half bounce you up and down on his cock, leveraging the bed so he can make his own shallow thrusts, coming up to meet you with each motion.
The thought of the two of you being weird, two sides of the same coin soulmates has your stomach twisting into knots, or maybe thatâs just the massive cock rearranging your guts, youâre not quite sure.Â
God, he looks so pretty like this too- a thin layer of sweat on his broad chest, his pouty bottom lip caught between his sexy teeth, brow furrowed in concentration. The scars on his tanned skin truly donât bug you, in fact, the intricate lines are almost a type of art all of their own. You could spend hours tracing them-Â
Your toes curl as Johnnyâs thumb works your clit, combining with his cock in your tight hole, working you closer and closer to the edge again.
âCome on, Princess,â Johnny groans, âalmost there, and then I can flip you over and fuck you stupid.âÂ
Youâre pretty sure heâs already fucking you stupid, and youâre not quite sure why heâs encouraging you when heâs doing practically all the work- so you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling thatâs building- getting to the edge in record speed is the one thing you can control right now.
Each breath feels almost like a type of meditation now, your body thrumming with an eclectic energy that you know is almost ready to explode-
âThatâs it, cum on my cock.â
His words are the trigger that has you short circuiting, your body jolting as your orgasm slams into you. You cry out, eyes clenching shut as your pussy clamps down on his cock, your clit pulsing deliciously.
Johnny doesnât let up, he continues to gently rub the sensitive nub, fucking up into you to prolong your high-
Soon, you canât take it anymore, and you collapse down against his chest, breathing deeply.
Johnny cradles you for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. âYouâre gonna let me cum too, right, Princess?â he asks.
âYeah, cum in me-â you whisper, too delirious to even think straight.
Johnny helps you off of him, adjusting you onto your stomach. He gets behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you up into doggy position. âThis view is amazing,â he tells you, gently stroking one of your wings and making a shock of pleasure run through your body. âIf itâs too much, just tell me to stop.âÂ
You can only nod, bracing yourself as he lines his cock up with your soaked hole, pushing into you as easy as ever.
His hands find your hips, and he begins to rail into you. Gone is the gentleness from before, but you donât mind it. No, thereâs an enjoyment in this raw, animalistic savagery- or maybe you should classify it as pirate-like in nature. Regardless of specification, it feels fucking good, and each smack of Johnnyâs hips against your ass has you clawing at his bedding.
Then, one of Johnnyâs hands is smoothing up your back, and you let out a strangled squeal when he grips the base of your wing, using it as a type of leverage as he fucks you.
There are no words to truly describe the feeling of having your wings being touched, and there are even fewer metaphors to encapsulate the ecstasy that comes from having Johnny utilize your wings to fuck you absolutely stupid. All you can do is take what he gives you, muffling your sounds with his pillow as he draws you closer and closer to the edge yet again, as if itâs the easiest thing in the world.
âThese are sensitive, huh, Princess?â Johnny asks, stroking his pointer finger up the section of wing in his grasp. âAlmost feels like youâre gonna cum again.â
âFuck, I am- I will, just- donât stop!â you beg.
âIf thatâs what my Princess commands.â In fact, Johnny fucks you even harder, fingers digging into your hip with each rough motion.
He draws circles on the base of your wing with his thumb, and your body begins to twitch-
âI want us to cum together,â Johnny breathes heavily. âYouâll cum with me, right?â
âYes, yes-â
âAlmost there,â the Pirate King warns you.
Your own high is balancing on the edge of the knife, and as Johnny releases a raw grunt of satisfaction, the sound sends you toppling into the pleasure abyss.
You can feel him filling you up with cum as your pussy milks him for every single drop that the Pirate King is worth. All you can do is lay there, face buried in the pillows while wave upon wave of ecstasy washes over you like an all consuming, destructive, sea tempest.
Despite how powerful and intense it is, thereâs never been anything as good as this before either.
Soon, Johnnyâs slowing down, breathing heavily against your back. Your wings twitch at the feeling of his exhales, and he releases the base of your appendage, stroking his fingers down your spine gently.
âGive me a second, then Iâll get you cleaned up.â
You can only whimper, in a daze from three hard orgasms.
Johnny is true to his word, slipping out of you a minute later and returning with a cloth. He cleans you up, and then, he wraps you in his arms, drawing you under the blankets so you can cuddle even closer.
The two of you fall asleep like this, a Siren Princess, and a Pirate King, two beings without an ounce of regret.
Six:Â
Johnnyâs happy with how things are going with council. Heâd thought long and hard about not incurring an all out war with the navy, while also not leaving a single pirate behind. Prison breaks with the purpose of salvation over bloodshed, that had been his primary goal, and while many of his fellow pirates had seemed a little less than enthusiastic about the idea, heâd gotten them to agree.
He canât govern them at all times, it was clear to him that sooner or later, pirates would begin their own brand of revolutionary vigilantism, but without any specific boundaries prohibiting the excessive use of force and weapons, things would turn into an all out war faster than Johnny would have ever been able to manage.
No, the agreement to tone down the violence is a good one, and as all the pirates begrudgingly agree, Johnny turns his attention to you. âWhat do you think, Princess?â
You release a sigh, one large wing twitching behind you. âUnfortunately, unlike the rest of you, who are a fact of the seas, my kind isnât as well known, especially not to this new British Royal Navy. To be part of this encroaching threat would only put my people in danger. I canât actively condone or participate a war, even on a small scale like this. I think as pirates you should do what youâd like, but my people will keep to our Islands and hopefully remain unnoticed by the Navy.â
Johnny nods. âI understand your concerns,â and with that, he leaves you be. Heâd wanted you to be part of this council, but heâd known there would be times where the topic at hand wasnât something that would affect you. Heâs just happy to have your voice here, to have his alliance with you be glaringly obvious to all those who might oppose him or question his legitimacy as the new Pirate King.Â
The council completes its dues, and soon, Johnny is walking back with you toward his ship.Â
His men get scarce, something that he doubts is a coincidence, and Johnny leads you to the bow of the ship. The Neoâs large winged figurehead looks out at the sea, and the pirate Captain gazes as well, noting the oncoming storm thatâs brewing in the distance.Â
âI guess I should be going home,â you sigh.
âThose clouds donât look very friendly,â Johnny points out. âYou can stay another night if youâd like.â
âStorms donât phase me, Captain,â you tease. âAlthough, before I go, I have something to give you.â
Johnny turns to watch you pull a small reed from your pocket. Itâs like the one youâd given him a year ago, but more dainty in a way.Â
âThis reed is different from the other one,â you explain. âThis one is a frequency just for me, so you can call when you need anything.â
âAnything?â
âAnything,â you confirm with a sly smile. âIf you play these three notes,â you demonstrate, âit will alert me that itâs not a life or death situation.â
âIâll be sure to call for you if youâre needed,â Johnny muses, accepting the reed and playing the three note tune as easily as anything.
âAnd if Iâm not needed, then Iâm not needed,â you shrug.
Johnny likes this. He likes that youâre not trying to control him. No, you have an understanding that he is who he is. Heâs a Pirate King, a man who more than anyone else, belongs to the sea. Youâre not going to hold him down, and heâs pretty sure neither of you would enjoy it if you tried.
The flip side of that, is that youâre your own elusive being. Youâre a Siren Princess, and heâs confident that you have your own things to do. Heâs not sure what your life consists of, but heâs never going to be the man to get in the way of that and endeavor to cage the prettiest bird heâs ever seen.
The two of you have an understanding, and at the end of the day, thatâs the best the young Pirate King could have ever hoped for.Â
âïžÂ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I had so much fun writing this!
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đź preview. There are all sorts of milestones he wants to have with you, but he supposes at the end of the day, the main thing he wants is tangible progress.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, body worship, fingering, grinding against Johnnyâs hand, big dick Johnny, size kink, pussy stretching, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, wing kink, etc⊠ I petnames. (hers) Princess.Â
đč rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 215
đ starring. Johnny x afab!Reader
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When Johnny had first begun to see you, it had been every couple of months. It was a no strings attached, easy sort of connection- but somehow, heâs not sure when, it began to blossom into something more.
Every couple of months became once a month, and now, in the time between seeing you, Johnny struggles. He has your special reed in his hand, and many nights are spent with him fighting the urge to call you to his side.
Itâs not just the sex anymore- although, the sex is great. No, itâs an inner peace that comes when youâre near, a comfort that gives him the best sleep of his life and the clearest mind. You simply make him better, and itâs a fact that is getting harder and harder for the Pirate King to ignore.
As much as he hates to admit it to himself⊠itâs beginning to feel an awful lot like the Pirate King is starting to have regrets.Â
Heâs beginning to regret his commitment to the sea, to the ship, to the crew that follows his every word. Heâs starting to imagine what a life less free would look like-
If there was ever a woman who could tie him down, it would be you, and he knows it.
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Glass Towers
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
Genres: fluff, angst, smut, architect AU
Warnings: Profanities, drinking, angst, sexual content, penetration, mouth stuff (f. receiving), tension, yearning
Word Count: 18.2k
Summary: City lights are beautiful, but they're nothing compared to the spark between a hopelessly optimistic architect and his no-nonsense boss. He hopes.
Mingyu's always had a thing for the city skyline. He stands there, staring up like a tourist in his own city, while the lights blink back at him. He's convinced that the twinkling stars work overtime in the winter to brighten up the world for busy employees, wonderstruck sightseers, and homebound natives alike.Â
And the people? Oh, don't get him started. City folk are like ants with a caffeine addiction, scurrying down streets wide enough to do doughnuts on (he's tempted), all on their own secret missions. Got places to be, people to bump into, lives to live. And every now and then, there's a stray tourist wandering around like they're decoding a map from a century-old pirate treasure hunt, or a food vendor desperately offering free samples and a good, if unique, conversation.
But, most of all, he's got a soft spot for buildings. Those skyscrapers that loom over everyone like friendly giants are his favourite. They're tall, dramatic, stoic - but also weirdly welcoming, like they're saying "Come on in, friend, there's an elevator with your name on it." Each one holds a mini-universe of people with no clue that they're all part of this giant city love affair. And honestly? That's what Mingyu loves most.
That is why he is practically vibrating with excitement as he makes his way to the towering glass-and-steel behemoth that houses his new firm. This building is the pinnacle of urban architecture. It has a shiny, almost reflective facade that makes every other building on the block look like they'd shown up to the party in sweatpants. Windows stretch floor to floor like a series of portals to success.
He's read about this building, of course. Brought it up in the interview for the position. Its architect was apparently a big deal who had once described it as "a dialogue between the earth and the sky." Which, as far as Mingyu is concerned, is just fancy architect-speak for, "Look at how absurdly tall I can make things."
Stepping inside, he is immediately hit with that professional smell - a mix of leather-bound sofas, artisanal coffee, and freshly printed documents. The lobby is decorated with minimalist sculptures that seem like they could either be priceless modern art or just very confusing coat ranks. Either way, Mingyu thinks they look amazing and decides that he'd probably best never trying to lean on one.
He stops at the reception desk, where a sharply dressed woman with an impressively unflappable expression sits.
"Good morning!" He says, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Kim Mingyu. I'm starting as the new project architect, so you'll probably see a lot of confused-looking, lost-guy moments from me."
She raises an eyebrow, a faint smile quirking on the edge of her lips. "Good luck, Mr Kim. This building does tend to eat people up on their first day."
Mingyu lets out a small chuckle, unsure if she's joking or not, but he takes the smile on her face to signify that she is. After getting directions to his new office space, he makes a point of talking to every staff member he sees on the way, hoping to gain a little bit of familiarity with the new space. There's the security guard by the elevator, who gives him a quick nod of approval, the intern rushing by with a stack of blueprints precariously balanced like they are training for Cirque du Soleil, and the coffee cart guy, who looked positively thrilled to tell Mingyu that they're starting a 'Mocha Monday' deal, envisioning half-price mochas flying off the shelf to cure those start-of-week blues.
The elevator itself is sleek, fast, and almost comically over-engineered. Encased in glass and stainless steel, it features a control panel with buttons for every floor and amenities like a mini espresso machine, a retractable tablet and an adjustable lighting system for 'mood optimisation'. He barely has time to catch his breath before the elevator doors ding open, depositing him on the top floor.Â
Waiting for him is Mr Choi, the firm's head partner, a man so put-together than even his cufflinks look like they could close a business deal. Mingyu recognises him instantly - the same piercing gaze from his interview, though today softened by the faintest hint of a smile. Or, well, something that might one day consider becoming a smile.
"Good to see you again, Mingyu," Mr Choi greets, his voice as smooth as marble. He gestures down the hallway, as if guiding him into an architectural wonderland (which, for all intents and purposes, he is). "Shall we?"
They pass through a maze of glass-walled offices and open spaces dotted with architects, designers, and enough blueprint paper to wrap the world's largest birthday present. As they reach Mr Choi's office, Mingyu makes sure to hold the door open for his new boss.
The space is less of an office and more of an architectural shrine, humming with the wisdom of ten thousand blueprints. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, as if the whole skyline had been personally curated just to keep Mr Choi inspired. His desk - a sleek slab of dark walnut with edges so sharp they could probably slice bread - sits precisely in the centre of the room. On the walls sit framed sketches of the firm's most iconic projects, each one hung and lit like a small art gallery. The coffee table at the centre piles high with glossy architecture magazines and books with titles like The Future of Concrete and The Language of Buildings. It is as if every element in the room had been strategically selected to convey that Mr Choi is not just any architect.Â
And, most stunning of all, is you. Tall, poised, and commanding a presence that immediately silences whatever joke Mingyu has mentally queued up to break the ice. You're seated across from Mr Choi's desk, reading through a thick stack of documents with the intensity of someone evaluating world-changing data - or possibly planning the most efficient way to dismantle a skyscraper with your mind. You don't look up when he enters.
"Ms (Y/l/n)," Mr Choi says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "this is Kim Mingyu, our newest project architect. He'll be working under you, as we discussed."
Finally, you look up. There's a flash of something unreadable in your eyes as you meet his, and Mingyu's heart skips a beat. You're beautiful, of course, but not in the approachable way he'd normally charm his way though. There's a quiet sharpness to you, like the edge of a blade hidden under silk. You nod, polite but detached, and extend a hand across the desk. Mingyu's hand is halfway to yours before he realises he's probably grinning too wide.
"Mr Kim," You say, your tone flat and calm. "Welcome to the team."
"Thank you, Ms (Y/l/n)," he replies, fighting the urge to launch into an unnecessarily enthusiastic monologue about how honoured he is to work with someone as formidable as you. Instead, he forces himself to stick with, "It's a pleasure to be here."
Your handshake is brief, controlled, and you retract your hand almost before he's registered the contact. Then you sit back, folding your arms with a measured kind of grace that makes Mingyu feel like he's just been granted an audience with a queen.
"We'll be starting you off on the Langham project," you say, consulting your papers as if double-checking this fact - or maybe just avoiding his eyes. "I'll be overseeing your work and guiding you through our procedures here. We have high standards, and I'll expect you to meet them."
"Of course!" He nods vigorously, attempting his best I-won't-let-you-down smile. "I'm up for any challenge, Ms (Y/l/n). High standards are, uh, my middle name."
You raise an eyebrow, looking slightly perplexed, as though wondering if he might be serious. Mr Choi clears his throat, breaking the silence with a faint smirk that betrays a hint of secondhand amusement.
"Ms (Y/l/n)," he continues, "has been with us for nearly a decade. She's an invaluable asset to the firm. I trust you'll learn a great deal from her."
Mingyu nods earnestly, glancing at you, but you're already back to scanning the documents as if he's drifted into background noise. He's mildly disappointed, though he can't exactly blame you - after all, he is juts the latest recruit with probably a hundred questions, and you seem like the type who doesn't have time for aimless chatter.
"Any questions before we begin?" you ask, in a tone that suggests the answer you're really hoping for is 'no.'
But of course, Mingyu has questions. Too many, probably. He opens his mouth to ask one, but then catches the faintest glint of what he thinks might be impatience in your eyes and quickly changes gears.
"Actually, no," he says, flashing a thumbs-up. "Good to go!"
You donât seem particularly impressed by this, but thereâs a flicker of something â amusement, maybe? â before you turn back to Mr. Choi. "Shall I take him to the Langham briefing room, then?"
Mr Choi waves you off with a nod, and you rise with a brisk elegance that makes Mingyu almost trip over himself in an effort to follow. You walk him through the halls with a calm, businesslike air, giving succinct, precise explanations as you go. Every step you take feels purposeful, every word perfectly chosen. Mingyu feels like an eager puppy trotting beside you, but he's determined to keep up.
As you reach the briefing room, he can't resist trying to break the ice one more time. "You know," he starts, grinning. "I really love the city skyline. It's kind of why I got into architecture."
You pause, giving him a look that manages to be both blank and withering at once. "Is that so?"Yeah!" He barrels on, encouraged by the fact that you responded at all. "It's like ... it's all a big love letter to everyone living here, you know? Every building, every floor, every light in the window - it's all just there, lighting up people's lives."
There's a moment of silence. Mingyu wonders if maybe he overdid it.
Finally, you nod, albeit with an expression he can't quite place. "That's an ... optimistic way of looking at it, Mr Kim."
Optimistic? Not exactly the response he was hoping for, but he'll take it. He smiles, trying to hide his excitement at the fact that you actually acknowledged his point. "I guess thatâs me â hopelessly optimistic."
You glance at him with what he might, just might, dare to interpret as the tiniest hint of a smirk. But just as quickly, itâs gone, replaced by your usual professional demeanour.
"Well," you say crisply, gesturing to the plans spread out on the table. "Letâs see if that optimism translates to effective project execution."
By the time Mingyu finally steps out of the firm's towering glass sanctuary, the city has dipped into that golden hour where the skyline looks like it's been dipped in honey. The streets are packed with people still racing to meetings, or dinners, or late-night escapades, but Mingyu feels like he's in his own little bubble, still buzzing from the whirlwind of his first day.
He's not sure what's more overwhelming - the Langham project itself, which already feels like it's going to stretch every ounce of his architectural prowess and patience, or you. The way you carried yourself like you were born in this building, with all its sharp edges and polished surfaces. He isn't sure how to keep up with that level of composure.
But there was something there, wasn't there? A flicker of something. Maybe you were just humouring him, but there was that slight tilt of your lips when he said something slightly amusing. Or the way your eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary when he spoke. Of course, he could just be imagining it. But Mingyu isn't about to let go of that feeling just yet.
The subway ride home does little to calm his excitement. He thinks about the massive pile of documents he's expected to digest tonight for the briefing tomorrow. As the train rumbles beneath the city, Mingyu cracks open his bag and pulls out the folder that was handed to him this morning - a mess of blueprints, floor plans and complicated notes that look like they were designed to break a person's will to live.Â
But he's not scared, not by this at least. The only thing that kind of scares him is the realisation that you are going to be watching him closely. Judging. Monitoring. And if heâs being honest, heâs not sure if heâs ready for that sort of proximity.
The train screeches to a halt, and Mingyu exits at his stop, shaking off those thoughts. Tonight, heâll just have to forget about all that for now and focus on getting some food in his stomach. Besides, heâs almost home.
Mingyuâs apartment building isnât anything to write home about. Itâs not a shiny, glass-covered marvel like the office, but itâs cozy and warm, with enough character to make him feel like he has a place to call his own. His apartment is on the fourth floor, up a narrow staircase that creaks with every step. As he pulls his key from his pocket and unlocks the door, the familiar smell of instant ramen and coffee hits him. His flatmate, Wonwoo, is already home.
Wonwooâs there in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his laptop on his lap and a half-empty mug of coffee next to him. Heâs the polar opposite of Mingyu in almost every way: quiet, reserved, and extremely not into architecture, but somehow theyâve been rooming together for the past few years without any major conflicts. Mingyuâs loud, chaotic energy and tendency to overshare perfectly balances Wonwooâs brooding, half-mysterious vibe. Itâs a friendship forged in caffeine and mutual understanding that sometimes, you need someone who wonât judge when you blast pop music at 2 AM, or when you eat cereal for dinner because you forgot to go grocery shopping.
"Howâs the first day?" Wonwoo doesnât look up from his screen, his voice cool and unbothered. But Mingyu can tell heâs asking out of a form of polite curiosity, like a scientist observing a very energetic specimen.
Mingyu drops his bag on the counter and flops onto the couch next to him. "It was ... intense," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. "The project I'm gonna be working on is a beast. There's this whole ocean of details to sift through. And then there's Ms (Y/l/n)."
Wonwoo looks up, his brow slightly raised. "Your boss?"
"Yeah," Mingyu says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "She's something else. Like she doesn't seem interested in me at all, and I'm not sure how to deal with that. But she's got this, like, presence. Makes you want to impress her, y'know? Even when she's totally stone-faced - especially when, actually."
Wonwoo hums noncommittally and takes a sip of his coffee, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "So, you're in love with your boss already. Good to know."
Mingyu shoots him a mock glare, his cheeks ringing with a hint of pink. "I'm not in love with her, okay? It's more like ... fascination. She's just really intimidating."
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, the picture of dry amusement. "Uh-huh. Sure. And what's her deal, anyway? Too professional for your flirty smile?"
"She doesn't seem flattered by it." Mingyu dramatically drops his head into his hands, mimicking a tragic melodrama. "I might have to rethink my whole life strategy if I canât get her to crack a smile at my jokes."
"But hey," Wonwoo adds with a smirk, "if you want to survive your first week, I suggest you do not mention the city skyline and your theories about how itâs a love letter to people. Thatâs a hard pass."
Mingyu groans, covering his face in embarrassment. "Iâm never telling you anything ever again."
Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin. "You love me and you know it."
Mingyu snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Iâve got work to do." He picks up the pile of documents, pulling them closer with a resigned sigh. "Gotta impress Ms (Y/l/n) somehow."
Gulping down a quick 'dinner' of left-over stir fry and a couple of eggs for good measure, Mingyu picks back up the Langham project folder, its content still a chaotic swirl of technical specs and words he can't read, and flips open the first few pages. The project itself is a massive undertaking - a luxury hotel and mixed-use complex nestled in the heart of the city, right by the river. The building is going to stretch twenty stories high, with glass facades that'll reflect the river's light like a prism. The design includes state-of-the-art amenities, with the goal of being the ultimate urban getaway - a haven for tourists, business moguls, and the occasional local who just wants to treat themselves to a little luxury.
Mingyu's eyes light up as he scans the proposed design. There's a grand atrium in the centre, stretching all the way up to the top floor, with cascading gardens and open-air terraces. "So fancy," he mutters to himself. His team is clearly trying to push boundaries here, blending modern steel and glass with organic elements - like a giant metallic tree-house hybrid for the city's elite.
He flips to a page filled with notes about sustainability and energy efficiency. Theyâre aiming for a platinum LEED certification â top-tier green building status. Itâs all about using smart, eco-friendly tech to make the building as self-sustaining as possible. Mingyu groans inwardly, wondering if heâs about to become an expert on solar panels and rainwater harvesting.
As he continues reading, one particular detail catches his eye. The signature design element for the building is a series of âfloatingâ glass bridges between the upper floors â a bold architectural statement meant to make the building appear less like a typical office block and more like something out of a futuristic movie. It sounds incredible, but Mingyu can already picture himself pulling his hair out over the engineering calculations required to make sure the whole thing doesnât come crashing down in a windstorm.
By the time he reaches the end of the folder, his mind is spinning, and a mild panic starts to creep in. Your expectations are clear, and the projectâs scope is enormous. But Mingyu canât help the tiny spark of excitement that flickers in his chest. This is what heâs been working toward â to be a part of something that will change the cityâs landscape, something that will make people stop and look up.
He rubs his eyes and glances at the clock. It's late, but he knows he'll need all the preparation he can get for tomorrow.
With one last long look at the papers, Mingyu closes the folder, shoving it aside with a resigned sigh. "Iâm going to need a lot more coffee," he mutters, flopping back on the couch beside Wonwoo, whoâs already half asleep with his laptop still glowing faintly in his lap.
Wonwoo snorts without opening his eyes. "Youâre going to need more than coffee for this, buddy."
"Tell me about it," Mingyu grins, grabbing his phone to order another coffee, just in case he didnât have enough already. Tonight, it looks like heâs going to be living on caffeine and architectural dreams.
A few weeks into the job, Mingyu has already made a significant number of mistakes. Well, significant is probably an understatement. More like a collection of blunders so impressive that, if anyone were to catalogue them, they might think Mingyu was trying to break some sort of world record in architectural mishaps.
It starts innocently enough, with a small miscalculation on the elevator shaft dimensions that nearly caused a minor freakout in the engineering department. Then there was that time he mixed up the load-bearing capacity for the glass facades and accidentally sent an email to the whole team saying, "We could use stronger glass" when technically, the existing plans were fine. And, of course, who could forget that time he got overzealous and rearranged the project's timeline, shaving an entire month off the construction schedule, only to realise later that it was a little bit too ambitious for anyone's taste?
He still hasn't lived down the elevator incident, which, for the record, wasn't even entirely his fault. But it's hard to explain that when your eyes are drilling into him from across the room, a careful blend of disappointment and 'I'm trying not to send you into an existential crisis right now.'
Today, he's perched at his desk watching the clock tick down the minutes until the inevitable meeting with you. His fingers drum nervously on the edge of his notepad. There's a fresh stack of papers in front of him, each one brimming with red-inked corrections, and he knows what's coming. He's almost perfected the art of nodding in silent shame during your critiques, hoping the earth might swallow him whole.
When the meeting finally comes, you walk into the room, as poised and unbothered as ever. He tries to stand up to greet you, but he stumbles into his chair instead, catching himself just in time.
"You've been busy," you say dryly, as you flip through the stack of appears, your eyes scanning the marked-up blueprints. Your tone is sharp, like an exam proctor giving him one last chance to pass without the lecture.
Mingyu forces a grin, wiping his palms against his pants. "Yep, learning a lot on the fly, you know?"
You don't smile. "You've certainly given us a lot to work with."
Mingyu winces, cracking for the inevitable storm of corrections. He can already feel the weight of your disappointment pressing down on him. He's been trying so hard to make a good impression, but it seems every time he tries, he only ends up making things more complicated.
But then, as if you've suddenly decided that maybe he hasnât completely bungled everything, you pause, tapping your pen against the papers in front of you. âBut thereâs one thing...â
His heart stutters. "What's that?"
You flip to the last page in the folder, revealing a neatly detailed diagram of the building's eco-friendly water filtration system, a proposal Mingyu put together at the last minute after a rather inspiring lunch break (where he might have gotten just a little carried away talking to the environmental consultant). You tap the diagram. "This," you say, your voice softer than he's ever heard it, "This is well done. You identified a potential issue with the system that we hadn't accounted for in the original design. We'll need to revise a few things to integrate it fully, but this is exactly the kind of thinking we need."
Mingyu stares at you, completely caught off guard. His brain is still half-parked in panic mode from the earlier mistakes. and he can't quite process your words. Did you just ... praise him?
"Really?" He blinks, his surprise making his voice higher than usual. "You mean the, uh, water thing? I just thought it might be better if we-"
"I know," you interrupt, your gaze steady on him. "You found a solution we missed. We'll be able to integrate it without a massive redesign. Good work."
Mingyu blinks again, this time in pure disbelief. It's like someone just handed him a bag of cash and told him to keep it. "I - uh, wow. Thanks." He tries to act cool, but he's pretty sure he looks like a kid who's just been handed an extra cookie.
You don't break your composed demeanour, but there's a subtle shift in your expression - a quiet respect that wasn't there before. "You're capable, Mr Kim," you say, your voice calm but with a hint of approval. "Despite your tendency to make things a little more complicated than necessary, you're on the right track."
The words hang in the air for a moment, and Mingyu feels an odd rush of pride â a mix of relief and the kind of warmth you get when you find out you didnât totally mess everything up. For once, heâs not the guy who ruins everything in your eyes.
And, maybe, just maybe, he can keep that âcapableâ label for a while.
âIâll expect the revised plans on my desk by Friday,â you say, your voice steady. âDonât disappoint me.â
âI wonât!â Mingyu promises, his voice more confident than itâs been in weeks. âIâm on it.â
Mingyu throws himself into revising the plans with a fervour that borders on obsession. Heâs got spreadsheets, CAD files, hand-drawn sketches, and a brand new stack of sticky notes covering his desk like a rainbow-coloured fortress of architectural ambition. The water filtration system has turned into his personal magnum opus, and heâs determined to make sure itâs nothing short of revolutionary.
He's started to stay later than usual, his desk lamp becoming a beacon in the dimmed office. At first, he doesn't pay much attention to who else is around, his mind so wrapped up in calculations and potential pitfalls that he barely notices his own hunger or fatigue. But after a few nights, he realises he's not the only one burning the midnight oil.
Your office light is always on. Sometimes he'll glance up, bleary-eyed and half delirious from staring at documents, and he'll catch a glimpse of you through the glass walls - hair pulled back, eyes locked on your laptop screen, fingers tapping briskly on the keys as if your thoughts are sprinting ahead of your hands. You're a constant fixture, as much a part of the office's architecture as the polished marble floors and unbreakable glass doors. And, he realises, you're usually there even later than he is.
One evening, after finally signing off on what feels like the hundredth draft of the plans, Mingyu yawns and stretches, feeling every vertebra pop like bubble wrap. He glances at the clock. It's nearly midnight. As he stands to grab his coat, he sees your office light flick off, and you appear, looking just as composed as you did this morning, as if working fifteen hours straight is just part of your weekly routine.
You both walk to the elevator in silence, the quiet stretch of the office settling around you like an unspoken truce. When the elevator doors close, you glance at him, breaking the silence with a casual, "You're still here, Mr Kim."
He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, still making sure I don't mess up the Langham project. You know how it is."
You don't smile, but your expression softens. "I do."
The elevator ride is quiet, filled with the low hum of machinery and the faintest scent of Mingyu's cologne - a last-ditch attempt this morning to feel professional. When you step out onto the ground floor, you hesitate by the door, glancing out at the street. The city is dark and quiet, the only lights the occasional passing car and the soft glow of streetlamps.
"Do you have a way home?" You ask, your voice so casual it takes him a second to realise you're actually offering him a ride.
Mingyu blinks, caught off guard. "Uh, well, I was going to take the subway. But if you're offering..." He trails off, grinning sheepishly.
You nod, motioning to the car parked just outside. It's as sleek and polished as you are - a dark sedan that looks like it would have absolutely no patience for speed bumps. He slides into the passenger seat, trying not to fumble with his seatbelt, and you start the engine, pulling into the quiet streets with a calm, practised ease.
For a while, you drive in silence. Mingyu glances out the window, his thoughts tangled between the day's work and the surreal feeling of sitting in the same car as you.
"You're ... very driven," you break the quiet, your tone almost contemplative. "I don't often see people put in that kind of effort, especially so early on."
He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I just donât want to let you down. Or, you know, be known as the guy who destroyed the Langham project.â
You finally smile, a small, genuine expression that feels like a rare peek beyond the wall, and leaves Mingyu feeling a little breathless. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?"
Mingyu hesitates, taken aback by the question. Heâs not sure what he expected you to say, but it definitely wasnât that. âI mean, yeah. Iâve always loved buildings. Ever since I was a kid, Iâd spend hours sketching skyscrapers in my notebooks. Itâs kind of a dream come true, being here. Getting to work on something this big.â
You listen, your eyes fixed on the road but your expression soft, focusing now somewhere beyond just his words.
"This job can consume you, if you let it," you say quietly, almost to yourself. "It's a rare thing to see someone bring genuine excitement to it. Most people, they burn out or let it harden them." You glance at him, and for a brief moment, he sees a flicker of something almost vulnerable in your gaze. "It's good that you still ... care."
Your words hang in the air, and Mingyu feels a strange ache in his chest - a sudden realisation that beneath the cool professionalism, you had been through this same path yourself, fighting to keep that spark alive in an industry that seems determined to grind it out of you.
"Thanks," he says softly, the playful tone absent for once. "I mean it. And ... I think I get what you mean." He hesitates, then adds, "But I don't think I'll stop caring anytime soon."
You nod, a faint smile ghosting your lips. You drive on through the city, the lights casting soft, shifting patterns on the glass.
When you finally reach his building, he unbuckles his seatbelt, giving you a small, grateful smile. âThanks for the ride. And, you know⊠for everything else.â
You nod, your expression back to usual, but there's a warmth in your eyes now. "Goodnight, Mr Kim."
"Goodnight," he says, stepping out and closing the door gently. He watches as you drive away, the taillights disappearing down the street, and feels a strange mixture of inspiration and relief, and a hunger to get back in the car and learn anything else he can about you.
It's a week before his presentation, and Mingyu is thrilled about his latest proposal for the Lagham project - a sleek, eco-friendly rooftop space designed to collect rainwater, enhance natural cooling, and serve as a green oasis in the middle of the city for all visitors to access. It's his baby, his architectural piĂšce de rĂ©sistance. Heâs already named the design âGreen Aboveâ in his head, but, apparently, the client is less than convinced.
The hesitation comes during a routine check-in meeting, when Mr. Choi casually drops the news that the client has âconcerns.â The term is as vague as it is ominous, and Mingyuâs heart sinks. Apparently, theyâre worried itâs too âexperimental,â too âriskyâ for the firmâs conservative image. Mingyu tries to hide his disappointment, nodding as Mr. Choi politely recommends that he âpolish up his pitchâ before the big day.
By âpolish,â of course, he means pull a miracle out of thin air.
Enter: you.
Later that afternoon, you call him into your office, the door clicking shut behind him as you gesture for him to sit. He braces himself, ready for another dissection of his work, but instead, you surprise him by pulling out his sketches and nodding. "The client might be wary," you say, your tone clinical and level, "but there's a strong case for this. You just need to learn how to show them the vision." You pause, looking at him. "I'll help you with that."
Mingyu blinks. "You'll help me present?"
"Yes, Mr Kim," you say. "We'll work on this every evening until you're confident enough to convince a room full of sceptics. You'll have to be better than good. Exceptional."
And so, every evening for the next week, Mingyu stays late in the conference room, rehearsing his proposal with you. The first night, he stumbles through the trial run, mumbling about sustainable design, only to have you stop him after two minutes, unimpressed.
"Start over," you say, tapping your pen against the table. "And this time, stop burying the lead. Walk in there and make me believe it's the best thing I've ever heard."
You're relentless but patient, correcting him when he gets too caught up in technical jargon, showing him how to highlight the benefits rather than the process. "This is a story," you tell him one evening. "Show that what it feels like. Make them see the vision before you go into how it works."
Somewhere around the fourth late night, you sit back into your chair after another dry run, watching him with an intensity that makes him nearly forget his lines.
âStop talking like youâre trying to convince them youâre good enough,â you say, "You are. You have to believe it, or no one else will."
Mingyu blinks, the words landing with unexpected weight. You say it like it's a fact - as if there's no question about his abilities, just his confidence. Something in your gaze is softer than he's ever seen, and for the first time, he wonders how many long nights like these you've spent not just perfecting your work, but holding yourself up to impossible standards too.
He nods, taking a breath. âRight. Believe it.â
By the night before the presentation, heâd rehearsed the pitch so many times he could recite it in his sleep. You give him one last nod, a subtle flicker of approval in your eyes. "You're ready."
The day of the meeting dawns, and Mingyu arrives early, the faint taste of nerves tingling in his throat. When he enters the boardroom, the client representatives are all seated, an assortment of tailored suits and sceptical expressions. Mr. Choi offers a nod of encouragement from his place at the head of the table, and you stand nearby, arms folded, watching him with that same quiet intensity.
As he begins his pitch, Mingyu can feel his initial nerves settle, his voice steady as he moves through each point. He doesnât just talk about âGreen Aboveâ like an idea on paper; he paints it as a vision, something meant to make the cityâs skyline greener, bolder, better. He gestures to the architectural mockups, describing the rooftop garden as not just a feature but a destination, an asset that would be both functional and iconic.
He can tell, halfway through, that the room has shifted. The clients sit forward, nodding, leaning into his words, their initial scepticism melting as he lays out the plan. The numbers, the materials, the maintenance â itâs all there, practical but wrapped in the bigger picture heâs been rehearsing for nights on end.
When he finishes, the room is silent for a beat before the clientâs lead representative nods, visibly impressed. âItâs⊠ambitious,â he says, almost smiling. âBut I see what you mean. Letâs move forward.â
Mingyu grins, fighting the urge to fist pump as the clients exchange approving glances. He looks over at you, who gives him the slightest nod of approval. He can almost see a glimmer of pride in your expression, faint but undeniable.
As the room empties and the clients file out, Mingyu's heart is still racing, his whole body humming with triumph. He turns to you, grinning wide. "We did it," he says, his voice barely containing his excitement. "I mean ... I did it. But only because you..."
He trails off, realising just how close you're standing, the quiet of the empty room settling around you. Your gaze meets his, and for a moment, you don't look away. It's a long, lingering look, like you're seeing him not just as an employee or an eager architect but as⊠him. Someone who cares, who tries, whoâs just won his first major victory and feels like heâs on top of the world.
âThank you,â he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. âFor all of it. I donât think I could have pulled it off without you.â
You hesitate, your eyes flickering with something he canât quite place. Your expression softens, your lips parting slightly as if your about to say something else. And in that moment, thereâs a warmth between them, a shared understanding that words alone wouldnât quite capture.
âJust⊠keep going,â you say finally, your voice so quiet it feels like a secret. âYouâre more capable than you realize, Mingyu.â
The way you says his name â with that subtle, unfamiliar warmth â makes his heart skip. He nods, still holding your gaze, feeling the weight of everything youâve shared in the past week in that single, electric second.
And then, as if the moment might disappear if you linger too long, you step back, your usual composure slipping back into place.
For the first time, Mingyu feels that maybe â just maybe â thereâs more between them than late-night work sessions and professional boundaries. And as you walk side by side down the quiet hall, he canât shake the feeling that, for the first time, you might be feeling it too.
Mingyu's gotten good at convincing himself he's not entirely losing it. So what if his boss, who barely blinks at a 15-hour day and thinks "weekends" are a suggestion, is suddenly occupying 90% of his mental bandwidth? That's just ... professional admiration. So when he finds himself thinking about you at odd times - like, mid-bite of his breakfast burrito, or what he's supposed to be learning zoning codes - he brushes it off. After all, it's normal to be totally absorbed by someone you admire.
One evening, after bringing home takeout and trying (again) to casually mention his most recent success, Wonwoo decides to drop a bomb. "I saw an article about your boss the other day, you know. Back when she first joined the firm. People in the comments kept talking about something called the Westbrook Project - ever heard of it?"
"Westbrook Project?" Mingyu repeats, a little too quickly, his brain scrambling. Nothing. Heâs pretty sure heâs never heard the name before, but itâs his boss, so heâs probably supposed to know. After Wonwoo can't provide any more details, Mingyu does what any self-respecting architect does at 2 a.m. when faced with a mysterious professional tidbit: he Googles it. Expecting, like, a vague overview, maybe some old press releases. What he finds, though, are words like "abandoned," "budget issues," and, worst of all, "failure," with your name all over it. Ouch. Big, deep ouch.
The next day at work, Mingyu manages to strike up a casual conversation with the marketing guy who's practically the office encyclopedia. "Oh, the Westbrook Project?" he says with a knowing smirk. "I read the case files. It was supposed to be, like, revolutionary. Eco-forward, huge downtown build. A lot of drama when it got shut down. Man, Ms (Y/l/n) was obsessed with that thing. You've gotta respect someone who fights like that for their work." He laughs a little, but there's something almost pitying in his tone, like he doesn't quite know what to make of someone who has been through such a high-profile professional failure.
Mingyu's stomach drops as he realises that there's a whole side of you - this weight - he never saw before. He feels embarrassed for not knowing. But, maybe, it explains the way you hold yourself together, so careful with your words, so precise in every gesture. Because what happens when you give so much of yourself, and it still isn't enough?
Mingyu can't help but glance at you differently when you walk into the office. You're still the same, all business and poise, but there's a weight to you now that he hadn't noticed before. It's not his place to ask you about Westbrook, and he's not sure he could even bring it up without tripping over his own words.
So, Mingyu brings it up.
Not immediately, because he's not that much of a disaster. It's not the same day, or even the same week. It's one of those late nights when he's deep into pretending he's not panicking over math, and he's only going into your office to ask if you've seen the last-minute email from the client.Â
Except.Â
He sees the bottle of red on your desk.
It's sitting there, a little too casually, with half of it in a glass that's perched too close to your mouse.Â
It's not that Mingyu thought you didn't drink. But seeing it there, on your desk, is like catching a glimpse of a teacher's pet outside of school. His brain starts spiralling. Are you getting drunk? Are you able to get drunk?
Still standing in the doorway like he's caught in some sort of personal disaster movie, Mingyu clears his throat. "Uh," he starts, because his brain is still stuck on you drinking alcohol in the office, "What's the deal with the wine?"
You glance up from your computer, completely unfazed. "Oh, this?" You wave a hand, almost like itâs nothing. âA gift from a client. They thought I needed something to ârelaxâ after all the late nights." You flash a teasing grin. "I didnât think anyone else would be in the office this late, though."
Mingyu freezes again. Seeing a smile on your face is unnerving him. "Uh, well, yeah ... just ... I thought you were busy, y'know? I didn't want to disturb you," he stammers, as if that makes any sense. Of course you know he's here. He's always here. He's practically a fixture at this point.
You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly not fooled. âSure you didnât. Anyway, now that youâre here," you say, looking at him with a glint of curiosity, "whatâs been keeping you up lately? Besides zoning codes and whatever else youâve been trying to memorise, that is."
Mingyu, caught completely off guard by the question, opens his mouth to respond, but his brain, still fighting the urge to melt into the floor, can't form a proper sentence. His gaze flicks back to the wine bottle like it holds all the answers to his life right now. Finally, he blurts out, "Uhh... Iâve been, uh, thinking about the Green Above project. You know, the one weâre working on?"
âRight,â you nod, leaning back in your chair. âBig, green rooftop. Youâve got your hands full with that one.â You take a sip from your glass, and Mingyu swears the way your lips wrap around the rim is completely unfair to his focus. âWhat else?â
Mingyu, not used to people asking him personal questions that arenât about work or how heâs planning on saving the planet with his architectural genius, scratches the back of his neck. âUh... I mean, well, Iâve been wondering about... you. I mean, yourâ" he pauses, shaking his head, "your work, of course. Like, how you got into all this. Youâve clearly been through a lot, right?â
You chuckle softly, eyes softening for a brief moment. "A lot? Yeah, I guess you could say that. But thatâs not what weâre talking about right now, is it?" You lean forward. "What's really going on, Mingyu?"
Mingyuâs mind is officially in crisis mode. He could barely form a sentence when talking about wine, and now youâve flipped the tables. What is he even supposed to say?
âIâuh, well, itâs just... Iâm curious,â he mutters, struggling to sound casual. He bites his lip, then his curiosity gets the best of him. âWait, can I ask about something?â
You lean back again, clearly amused. âGo ahead.â
He takes a breath and gestures to the cabinet rested against the back wall of your office. "That picture there .. of a building, I think? It kind of looks like the Westbrook Project. Was it yours?â He winces as soon as he asks, knowing full well how awkward this must sound. But now he really wants to know, and heâs not sure he can keep pretending he hasnât been thinking about it.
You blink, clearly not expecting him to ask, but then you just sigh and open your desk drawer, revealing an old architectural sketch, detailed and bold, with a city skyline in the background. âYeah,â you say, voice quieter now. âIt was.â
Mingyu swallows hard, his voice dropping to a more respectful tone. âWhat happened to it? The project, I mean... why didnât it go through?â
You donât answer immediately. Instead, you take another slow sip of your wine, letting the moment stretch out. When you finally speak, your voice is calm but laced with something unspoken. âIt was a good idea, just... not the right time. But thatâs how it goes sometimes in this field. Things get started, and then... they donât.â
Mingyu doesnât say anything at first, processing what youâve shared. âI get that,â he says softly. âI think Iâve been there too. You know, not everything works out exactly the way you expect.â
You glance at him, and for a moment, thereâs this quiet weight in your expression, something raw you donât usually let slip. The smile fades, but itâs not replaced with sadnessâmore like... an understanding, an acceptance.
âThe Westbrook Project was supposed to be everything Iâve worked for,â you begin, your voice softer now, like the walls are coming down just a little. âMy goal has always been to help the community, to build things that people can actually enjoy, not just walk by and forget. I wanted something that would be a part of the city, something that people could useâa space that felt like it belonged to everyone.â You stop, looking at the picture in the drawer for a moment as if itâs not just a sketch, but a piece of your heart. "The Westbrook Project was supposed to be the culmination of all that. The perfect mix of green spaces, architecture, and public access. I wanted to create something people would look at and feel like they were part of it, you know? Not just bystanders."
You take another slow breath, running a hand through your hair, looking a bit less put-together than usual, but somehow even more... real. âI think thatâs the hardest part. It wasnât just a project to meâit was everything I believed in. And when it got shut down... it felt like a piece of that belief just... crumbled.â You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. âI know it sounds dramatic, but when you spend so much of your time fighting for something, putting everything into it... and it still isnât enough... it makes you wonder what the point is.â
Mingyu watches you closely with a strange mix of admiration and empathy. For a second, heâs struck with the urge to reach out and say something comforting, but all he can manage is a quiet, "That... sounds incredible. You must have been really proud of it."
You nod, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. âI was. Still am, in a way. But life moves on, right?â You glance back at the bottle of wine, then take another sip, before setting it down and meeting Mingyuâs gaze again, this time with a lighter, almost teasing glint. "You want some?"
âUh... yeah?â he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement, as if he's still trying to make sure this is actually happening.
You pour him a glass, your movements slow and deliberate. Mingyu watches every little gesture, thinking that maybe if he looks at the wine long enough, it might just turn into something less dangerous. It doesn't.
He takes the glass from you, trying to act casual, but honestly? It's a miracle he doesnât spill it everywhere. "Thanks," he mutters.
You smirk at him as if you know exactly whatâs going on in his head, and for a moment, Mingyu wonders if you can hear it, tooâthe way his pulse skips whenever he looks at you. He takes a sip of the wine, hoping it will steady him. It doesnât. It only makes him more aware of you, of the way your eyes glint in the dim light of the office, how close youâre sitting, how warm it feels in here all of a sudden.
âSo,â you say, your voice dropping a little lower than before, âNow that weâve gone through my failed projects, do you feel enlightened?â
Mingyu laughs, but itâs a little too breathless, a little too caught off guard. He leans back, trying to appear cool, but itâs hard to be anything but a mess when youâre so close and everything feels a little off in the best possible way. âEnlightened? Iâm still figuring out if youâre real,â he admits, voice cracking just a bit.
You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. âOh? What does that mean?â
Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment as his thoughts scatter in a dozen different directions. âItâs just ... youâre different than what I expected. I mean, youâre still, like, boss mode, but thereâs this whole other side to you. Like, I don't know ... I think Iâve been seeing you as this untouchable, perfect person, and now Iâm realising maybe Iâm not the only one whoâs human.â
You blink at him for a moment, and thenâbefore he can get too embarrassedâsomething flickers across your face. Maybe itâs recognition. Maybe itâs something else. You lean in just slightly, the air between you thickening, but you don't break the distance just yet.
âI think,â you start slowly, âyou might be onto something there, Mingyu.â
His breath hitches. Heâs not sure if itâs the wine, the late hour, or the way your voice dropped that has him leaning forward a little. Itâs all of it, really. âYeah?â
âYeah,â you reply, lips curling into a knowing smile. âYou might find Iâm not so untouchable, after all. Butââ You pause, the tension rising as your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back to his eyes. âWeâll see if you can handle the reality of that.â
Mingyuâs mind is going full tilt now, brain in overdrive, as his hand involuntarily moves closer to yours on the desk. He's this close to spilling all his thoughts and feelingsïżœïżœabout work, about the project, about the way you make him feelâbut instead, he blurts out, âIâuh, Iâm pretty good with challenges.â
The words hang there, thick in the air between you. And then, before Mingyu can think any more about it, you break the tensionâjust slightlyâby leaning even closer, your voice barely above a whisper. âIâm sure you are.â
The space between you shrinks, just a little. And Mingyu, heart hammering in his chest, finds himself absolutely certain that if things donât shift soon, this office might just catch fire from how hot itâs gotten in the last few minutes. The tension in the air is thick, like static before a storm. Mingyuâs hand hovers just a fraction too close to yours on the desk, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. Heâs this close to losing all control, caught between wanting to say the right thing and just leaning in and kissing you. But what would that even mean? Would it be the worst decision of his life? Or the best?
His thoughts are a mess, but thenâjust like thatâitâs like youâve made up your mind for him. You close the space between you with a single, deliberate movement, your lips pressing softly against his.
Mingyu freezes for half a second, too stunned to process whatâs happening. And then, without even thinking, he leans into the kiss, his hand moving to cup your jaw. Itâs slow at first, soft, like neither of you can quite believe this is actually happening. Your lips are warm, and the taste of wine lingers on themâsomething sweet and intoxicating that has his head spinning.
You pull back just slightly, your breath brushing against his lips, and he feels his pulse race. You look at him, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're not regretting this, are you?" you murmur, voice low.
âNo,â he breathes out, shaking his head. âDefinitely not regretting this.â
And then youâre kissing him again, deeper this time, your hands moving to his collar as if youâre suddenly both starved for this closeness. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and all he can think about is how right this feels, how every inch of him seems to have been made for this exact moment.
The kiss grows more urgent, more heated. His body presses into yours, the desk suddenly feeling too small, too far away. He wants you closer, needs you closer, and the way you move against him makes him ache with desire. Heâs so lost in you, in this kiss, that everything else fades awayâthe Westbrook Project, work deadlines, the office. Thereâs only you, only this.
You're mumbling something and Mingyu's not sure he has the brain capacity to listen when he can feel your hands on his chest and your body pressed against his.
"... couldn't believe it when I saw you. I mean, who looks like this?"
His brain practically short-circuits at that.Â
Youâre grinning now, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. But before he can manage a reply, you reach up, your hand grazing the back of his neck as you lean in again. His breath catches in his throat, and suddenly his brain clearsâjust long enough for him to close the remaining distance between you two.
The kiss this time is less hesitant, filled with a kind of urgency that makes the room feel smaller, more intense. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him, and he feels your fingers twisting in his hair as if you canât get enough either. Every brush of your lips sends another jolt through him, and heâs quickly losing any sense of professionalism or reason. Heâs just Mingyu, in this moment, in this office, completely undone by you.
Youâre mumbling again, half-laughing as he trails his lips down to the corner of your mouth and just slightly to your jawline. âI mean, really,â you manage between kisses, breathy but amused. âDid you even realise the effect you have?â
He lets out a breath of laughter against your skin, half a smirk forming. âIâI mean, maybe,â he says, but the words come out more as a gasp because youâve got your hands back on him, your fingers trailing along his jaw in a way that has him melting. âI might have... kinda hoped, at least?â
âOh?â Your voice is soft, teasing, and he catches a flash of that mischievous smile just before you lean in again, catching him in another kiss thatâs more intense, more consuming than before.
Mingyuâs senses are a blur, but he manages to break away for just a second, eyes dark, a grin of his own tugging at his lips. âI think,â he says, his voice low, âIâd like to show you just how much I can handle.â His tone is playful but edged with a confidence he didnât know he had until this very moment.
The moment is thick, like honey, everything moving slower and faster at once. Mingyuâs hands slip around your waist, and youâre tugging him closer, a little breathless, a little reckless. Youâre both lost in the feeling of it, the thrill and warmth that seemed impossible just minutes ago.
But thenâa sharp vibration echoes against the desk. The hum of your phone springs to life, startling you both. The screen lights up with an urgent notification, reminding you exactly where you are and what youâre doing.
You pull back, your lips just a whisper away from his, and a flicker of reality cuts through the haze of the moment. âOhââ Your hands drop from his collar, fingertips brushing his chest as if the memory of the touch will fade otherwise. âMingyu, I...â
His eyes meet yours, still dark and soft, a little dazed, a little too hopeful. But he pulls himself together, straightening and running a hand through his hair, somehow flustered and grinning at the same time. âUh, right. Sorry,â he says, though itâs not clear who heâs apologising to.
You swallow, nodding as you try to steady yourself. âIâneed to go,â you manage. âWe both do, actually. Itâs...late.â
Mingyu blinks, nodding, though he can't help the hint of disappointment beneath his expression. âRight. Of course. We probably... shouldnât even be here right now.â He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as if that could somehow erase the last few minutes. âGuess I should close up?â
You nod, and he watches your hand move to your chest, as if to catch your pulse before it runs off. âYeah, letâs...do that.â
As you step out of the office, you glance back one last time, catching his eye in the dim light. âGoodnight, Mingyu.â
His gaze is steady, his voice warm. âGoodnight.â
The door clicks shut behind you, and Mingyu stands there, staring at it as if it might magically swing back open. For a moment, he doesnât move, too stunned to process the fact that you were just here, inches away, closer than he ever thought possible, and thenâgone. The warmth of you, the softness of your touch, is still buzzing on his skin, and itâs taking everything in him to not replay every single second in his mind.
He lets out a shaky breath and rubs his face, laughing softly to himself. âWow,â he mutters, barely believing it. Did that really just happen? His bossâthe woman heâs spent months trying not to have a full-on crisis over every time she looks at himâjust kissed him. And it wasnât just a peck; it was real, and his head is still spinning.
He paces the office, catching his reflection in the dark window. His hairâs a mess, his shirt collar a little crumpled, and the look on his face is somewhere between ecstatic and completely lost. He feels like heâs standing on the edge of a cliffâexcited but terrified, staring down into something he canât quite see.
âOkay, pull it together, man,â he whispers, clutching the edge of his desk like it might hold him steady. But he canât shake the lingering feeling of your hands against him, the way your voice softened as you spoke to him about your dreams, how for a moment, he felt like heâd glimpsed something real and vulnerable and human in you. Itâs like heâs been handed the answer to a riddle he didnât even know he was solving.
He glances back at the empty doorway and smiles, a little helplessly. Because he knowsâthereâs no going back from this.
On Monday, Mingyu is ready. He's had days to replay every single second of that kiss, dissecting the tiniest details: the way you'd smiled before leaning in, the way you'd pulled back just a bit only to close the gap even tighter the next time. Heâs convinced thereâs no way you could look at him the same after that. Heâs barely looked at himself the same.
So when he walks into the office Monday morning, there's this nervous excitement buzzing in his chest. He expects maybe a shared look or even a subtle nod, something that says 'yeah, we're definitely not forgetting that happened'. But he doesn't get that. In fact, he doesn't get much of anything.
âUh, good morning,â he finally says, attempting a smile, hoping to break whatever tension heâs imagining.
âMorning,â you say briskly, barely looking up. âDid you get the updated renderings for the Green Above project?â
Mingyu blinks, caught off guard by how quickly youâve brushed him off. âYeah, Iâum, they should be in your inbox. I, uh, made some adjustments you might want to look at.â
âGreat. Iâll check later,â you say, curtly, already turning back to your computer. Itâs not even like youâre being rude, exactly; just⊠distant. Professional. Totally not how youâd looked at him last week when heâd practically melted into you against this very desk.
The day drags on with more of the same. Every time he tries to catch your eye, youâre looking somewhere else. Every attempt at a lighthearted comment, something to bridge the gap, lands with a dull thud. By mid-afternoon, Mingyuâs just staring at his computer screen, feeling completely lost. Did he imagine everything? Because suddenly, it feels like heâs reading way too much into every little thing, wondering if the smile youâd given him that night was all in his head.
By the end of the day, he canât take it anymore. He decides to be subtleâor something like thatâand casually leans into your office as youâre gathering your things.
âHey, um⊠are we good?â He tries to keep his voice light, but thereâs an edge of worry there that he canât quite hide. âIt feels likeâwell, last week wasââ
You glance up sharply, your expression guarded. âWeâre fine, Mingyu,â you say, with a tone thatâs just a little too even. âYouâre doing great on the project. Keep up the good work.â
Thereâs that polished professional mask again, and this time it feels like a wall. Mingyuâs stomach twists, and he canât help but feel a sting in his chest. He nods, trying to ignore the disappointment sinking in. "Right. Yeah, Iâll, uh⊠keep that up.â
And just like that, you walk past him, your footsteps echoing down the hallway as you head out for the night, leaving him standing there, staring after you, wondering what just went wrong.
Itâs Thursday, and Mingyuâs still thinking about every clipped interaction youâve had all week. Heâs convinced heâs somehow messed everything up, but heâs not sure how. By lunchtime, heâs already halfway through a takeout sandwich in the break room when some of the other junior architects drift in, plates and coffees in hand. Heâs only half-listening to their conversation, until, like a magnet, he hears your name.
âDid you see how she restructured the timeline?â One of themâHyun, a friend from Mingyuâs first weekâsays, rolling his eyes. âFeels like sheâs trying to prove something to everyone.â
Another snorts. âYeah, sheâs always like that. Like she has to make everything harder just to remind us sheâs the boss.â
Mingyu freezes mid-bite, a flicker of irritation flaring in his chest. Heâd learned more from working with you in the past few months than he couldâve in years of grad school. You didnât ask anyone to work harder than you did yourself, and Mingyuâs certain no one stays later or puts in more effort than you do.
âMaybe she just actually cares about the projects,â Mingyu snaps, dropping his sandwich. The room goes a bit quiet, a few heads turning his way in surprise. âI mean, do you guys know how much time sheâs spent on this? Sheâs doing half of our jobs for us so we donât mess it up.â
Hyun raises an eyebrow. "Calm down, Mingyu. Everyone knows she's intense."
ââIntenseâ doesnât mean you have to talk about her like that,â Mingyu says, his voice a bit sharper than he means it to be. âMaybe if people here actually appreciated all the work she does, she wouldnât have to be so âintenseâ to get things done.â
Thereâs a beat of awkward silence, everyone looking at him like heâs suddenly sprouted a second head. Hyun mutters, "That's easy to say when you're the one getting special favours from her."
Mingyu's jaw clenches, the insinuation making his blood boil. Special favours? He opens his mouth to snap back, but then catches himself. Getting defensive will only make things worse, and he doesnât owe anyone an explanation for the late nights or the extra hours youâve spent on his work. The truth is, heâs learned more from those âextraâ moments than he could ever explain to Hyun and the others.
âLook,â he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. âIf you guys actually put in half the effort she does, youâd see itâs not about favourites. Itâs about getting things right. Maybe if you tried it sometime, youâd get the same attention.â
Hyun snorts, clearly unconvinced. âRight. Must be nice, though, always getting her undivided attention. Pretty convenient, huh?â
The others chuckle, and Mingyu feels his face flush. He glances down, jaw set tight as he clenches his fists under the table. He can feel the weight of their stares and half-smirks, their words pressing in on him like a slow burn he canât shake off.
The door swings open just then, and he catches sight of you standing there, eyes narrowed, a faint frown on your face. His heart drops, and suddenly he realizes you must have heardâpossibly all of it.
âCan I talk to you for a second, Mingyu?â Your tone is measured, calm, but he can tell thereâs something icy underneath. The others exchange looks, clearly ready to gossip the second you both leave.
Mingyu follows you out of the room, feeling a sense of dread settle in his stomach. As soon as youâre out of earshot, you turn to him, arms crossed.
âSo is that how youâre spending your lunch breaks now?â you ask, a cool edge to your voice. âDefending me in the office cafeteria?â
Mingyu swallows, unsure how to respond. âI just⊠didnât think they should be talking about you like that,â he says, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he can feel the intensity of your gaze. âIt wasnât right.â
You sigh, pressing your lips together, something almost unreadable flickering across your face. âI donât need you to defend me, Mingyu,â you say, your tone firm. âIâve been doing this job long enough to handle what people say behind my back. Youâre here to do your job, not to play protector.â
Mingyuâs jaw clenches. He wants to argue, to tell you that maybe you donât need anyoneâs help, but that doesnât mean you deserve to be dragged through the mud behind your back. But something in your expression stops him. He nods, swallowing back whatever words were fighting their way to the surface. âGot it,â he says, keeping his voice as even as possible. âIt wonât happen again.â
You hold his gaze for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to say more, but then you just shake your head, walking away with a tense set to your shoulders. He watches you go, the frustration and confusion still churning inside him, wondering just how much further away you both seem to get with every step.
Later that evening, Mingyu slumps into the apartment, looking so defeated that Wonwooâs expression goes from mildly bored to instantly entertained. âLet me guess. Itâs about your boss?â Wonwoo doesnât even wait for confirmation before tossing him a soda. âYouâre like a walking rom-com.â
Mingyu sighs, collapsing on the couch. âWonwoo, I think she hates me. I mean, really hates me.â
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. âAnd here I thought you two were practically having candlelit takeout dinners in her office.â
Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, deflating. âYeah, well, that was before I kissed her.â
Wonwooâs phone slides out of his hand, falling onto the couch like a lead balloon. âYou what?â
Mingyu nods slowly, a rueful look on his face. âWe were working late. It justâhappened, okay? And now sheâs all distant. Like, avoid me at all costs distant.â
âYou kissed your boss?â Wonwoo repeats, still processing. Heâs looking at Mingyu like heâs a particularly unsolvable math problem. âAs in, the one you worship and whose entire life story youâve googled?â
âYes, that one,â Mingyu mutters, covering his face with his hands. âAnd it was incredible. Like, the kind of kiss that makes you think about life and all your choices and, you know⊠stuff.â He trails off, his voice a bit dreamy despite himself. âBut then, after that, she started acting all cold, like it didnât mean anything.â
Wonwoo stares at him, baffled. âDid you, uh, talk to her about it? You know, use words and stuff?â
Mingyu gives him a look. âOf course I tried talking to her. But sheâs been all serious and professional andâugh.â He sinks deeper into the couch. âAnd today, I may or may not have defended her in front of everyone. Like, really aggressively.â
Wonwoo groans. âYou really know how to complicate things, donât you?â
âLook, it just came out! They were acting like sheâs some kind of boss robot or something. I just couldnât listen to it.â Mingyu shakes his head. âAnd of course, she overheard it and was not happy. Told me she doesnât need someone to protect her.â
Wonwoo considers this, eyebrows furrowed. âSo basically, you kissed her, defended her honour, and now you think you ruined everything because sheâs distant?â
âExactly,â Mingyu sighs. âI feel like I messed it all up, and now she thinks Iâm just some junior architect with a crush or something.â
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. âI mean, to be fair, you kind of are a junior architect with a crush.â
âThanks, Wonwoo. Really needed that.â Mingyu glares at him, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Wonwoo nudges him, his tone a little lighter now. âLook, man, maybe she just needs to know it was more than a one-time, late-night thing for you. Like, a serious talk. But not at the office, where everythingâs so formal. Just the two of you.â
Mingyuâs eyes light up. âA serious talk⊠outside of work. Like, maybe over coffee?â
âOr dinner. Or anything where you can show her that youâre interested in more than work. Just, you know, donât do that thing where you panic and say something weird.â
Mingyu sighs dramatically. âSo, no pressure.â
Wonwoo grins, giving him a slap on the back. âYouâve got this, Romeo. Go win her over.â
Mingyu stands in front of your office door, hands nervously tugging at his sleeves like he's preparing for a public execution. Heâs been rehearsing this moment for the last twenty minutesâwhile staring at his desk like it could offer him some sort of guidanceâand he still has no idea what heâs doing. He only knows that if he doesn't get his foot in the door right now, he's going to spend the rest of the day overthinking this until his brain short circuits.
So, he knocks.
And of course, you donât answer immediately. He stands there like a complete idiot, holding his breath for about five seconds before taking the most awkward step inside. Your eyes flick up to him, and for a second, heâs sure his heart is going to stop.
âOh. Mingyu.â You sound surprised. Great. Thatâs just what he needed. "What do you need?"
He smiles, too big, too eager. This is fine. âHey! So, um, I was thinkingââ
âUh oh,â you mutter, narrowing your eyes as if you already know where this is going.
âNo, no, donât worry, itâs nothing bad,â he says quickly, forcing himself to sound more convincing than he feels. âI just, you know⊠youâve been working super hard, and I was thinking, you deserve a break. So, what do you say? Dinner? You and me, tonight.â
You blink at him like he just asked if you wanted to run through the streets naked.
âDinner? With you?â You tilt your head, looking him up and down, clearly trying to figure out if heâs joking or if his brainâs just melted from exhaustion.
"Yup!" Mingyu says, definitely a little too loud and way too enthusiastic. âYeah, just dinner. No work talk, no presentations, just a chance to unwind, you know?â He grins like he's already won, but thereâs something in your gaze that makes him freeze up.
You raise an eyebrow, studying him carefully. The air between you two is thick with that awkward tension, like youâre both trying to figure out if this is a professional gesture or something else entirely. Mingyu can feel the temperature in the room rise, and his stomach does a somersault as he waits for you to respond.
âAre you⊠serious right now?â You finally ask, your tone a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity.
Mingyuâs heart stutters in his chest. âOf course, Iâm serious,â he says quickly, voice cracking slightly as his nerves get the best of him. âI mean, itâs not likeâuh, itâs not like I want anything weird to happen. Itâs just dinner. With two people who both happen to work in the same office. Completely normal, right?â He laughs a little too loudly, and it sounds forced, like someone desperately trying to convince themselves of something they donât believe.
Youâre silent for a moment, and Mingyuâs brain spins with overthinking. Should he apologise? Should he leave before this gets even more awkward? Why did he even think this was a good idea? His palms are sweating, his throat dry, and he feels like he might pass out from sheer mortification.
You lean back in your chair, still watching him, and for a second, Mingyu is sure youâre about to shut him down completely. But then, something shifts in your expressionâjust the faintest flicker of amusement, like youâre trying not to let it show.
âDinner,â you repeat, almost like youâre testing the word, as though itâs foreign or absurd coming from him. âNo work talk?â
âNo work talk,â Mingyu confirms, nodding so hard he might give himself whiplash. âI promise. Just good food and maybe a chance to, you know, talk about literally anything else.â
Your lips curve into the smallest of smirks, and Mingyu swears the room feels a little less tense. âYouâre persistent, Iâll give you that.â
He grins, a spark of hope lighting up his chest. âI like to think of it as... enthusiastic.â
You shake your head, clearly amused now, though youâre doing your best to hide it. âFine,â you say, leaning forward to jot something on a sticky note. âDinner."
Mingyuâs heart leaps, and he barely resists the urge to fist pump right there in your office. âDeal!â he says, grinning so wide itâs a wonder his face doesnât hurt. âSeven oâclock?â
âSeven,â you agree, handing him the sticky note with an address scribbled on it. âDonât be late, Mingyu.â
He takes the note like itâs a golden ticket, clutching it in his hand as if it might disappear. âI wonât. Iâll see you there.â
As he walks out of your office, he canât help the goofy smile plastered across his face.
By the time the evening rolls around, Mingyu is pacing outside the restaurant like a man on the edge. Heâs checked his watch twice, his phone four times, and stared at the sidewalk so long heâs convinced itâs going to start judging him soon. Late. You're late. Or maybe heâs just early. Impossible to say when your nerves feel like theyâre hosting a small rave in your chest.
After all, thereâs something about you that makes him want to try harder. Maybe too hard, but heâs finally learned that no one gets anywhere by waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. So, here he is, standing outside the restaurant, pacing like a nervous wreck while waiting for you to arrive.
Heâs tried to stay calm, really. Spent the entire afternoon mentally drafting this⊠whatever this dinner is supposed to be. Not a date (probably). Not a work meeting (definitely). Just dinner. Dinner with the one person whoâs managed to turn him into a bundle of energy and chaos masquerading as a fully functional adult.
And then, right as heâs about to dial his mom and ask for advice (because thatâs clearly what any reasonable person would do), he sees you.
You walk up with that confident stride, the one that always makes his heart skip a beat, and Mingyu feels himself freeze for a moment, completely forgetting everything heâs planned to say. You've changed and you look good. Too good for a casual dinner, but thatâs a problem for another time.
âHey,â you greet him with a smile, your eyes soft, but not quite soft enough for him to completely relax. âI didnât expect you to actually show up on time.â
Mingyu laughs, awkwardly tugging at his shirt. âI like to be punctual. Itâs kind of a thing.â
You raise an eyebrow but donât comment on the obvious lie, allowing the small banter to settle between you like a cushion. Instead, you let him open the restaurant door for you, falling into that casual rhythm that somehow feels more natural than the air heâs been breathing all day.
The dinner itself is nice. Too nice. No weird silences, no work talk, just good food and easy conversation. And yet, thereâs a weight in the room that Mingyu canât shake. Itâs been lingering ever since the kissâthe kissâand he knows he canât keep tiptoeing around it forever. So as the plates are cleared and the server drops off the check, he reaches into his bag, pulling out the rolled-up plans heâs been carrying like a talisman.
He sets them on the table, his hands a little too careful, his heart racing like itâs bracing for impact.
âOkay, now youâre being mysterious,â you say, the smallest hint of amusement curling your lips.
Mingyuâs throat goes dry, but he pushes forward, unrolling the designs and smoothing them out between the two of you. âI know I said no work talk,â he starts, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest, âbut⊠Iâve been working on this. And I thought you should see it.â
Your eyes drop to the papers, and he watches as your expression shifts. At first, thereâs curiosity, then recognition, and finally⊠something deeper. Something he canât quite name but feels in the way your fingers tremble slightly as they trace the edges of the designs with a reverence he didnât know he could envy. Your fingers are delicate but deliberate, the way you touch the plans like they might vanish under too much pressure. Mingyuâs heart is pounding so loudly he's surprised you canât hear it across the table.
âWhere did you get these?â Your voice comes out hoarse, more vulnerable than you mean it to be.
âIâve been working on them for a while,â Mingyu admits, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. âAfter you talked about the Westbrook Project that night, I couldnât stop thinking about it. About how much it mattered to you. I wanted to do something with it. Something for you.â
You blink, unsure how to process this. âBut how did you know?â
âI justââ Mingyu hesitates, then shrugs. âI listened. I saw it. The way you talked about it that night, the passion you put into your projects. I wanted to give it the respect it deserves. I couldnât let it just end with a ânoâ.â
You stare at the designs again, looking like you've been hit by a wave of nostalgia and shock. "You really... did this for me?â
âI did,â he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours. âAnd I think it could be something we could do together. If youâre interested.â
You pause, the space between you thick with emotion, something unspoken hanging in the air. Finally, you swallow and look at him, searching his face as if trying to make sure this is real.
âI... I donât know what to say, Mingyu.â Your voice cracks, and you canât quite hide the emotion thatâs flooding through you. âYouâveâthis is everything Iâve been trying to do. But I didnât think anyone else could see it.â
He sits up straighter, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he tries to keep his voice steady. "I just didn't want you to let go of something so important," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It deserves another chance. You deserve another chance."
He doesn't know where he finds the courage to say those words. They sound so earnest. Almost embarrassingly so. But, it's the truth, and if there's one thing he's learned from you, it's that honesty - no matter how uncomfortable - is the foundation of anything worth building.
Your breath catches, and for a moment, the restaurant fades awayâthe low hum of conversation, the soft clink of silverware, all of it. It's just you and Mingyu, sitting across from each other, separated by a stack of papers and an ocean of unspoken feelings.
"Mingyu..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat.
You look down, the faintest hint of a tremble in your hands. And Mingyu, who had been prepared for you to shut him down, to dismiss this moment as anything but professional, has to fight the urge to reach across the table and take your hand. He doesn't, of course. He can't. Not yet.
He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He's not used to this - seeing you so vulnerable - and he just wants to take some of that pressure off your back. "Look, I know Iâm not perfect. I mess up, I talk too much, and I probably drive you crazy most of the time. But I see you, (Y/n). I see how much you care, how much you put into everything you do. And I donât just admire thatâI... I want to be part of it. To be there for you."
Your lips part in surprise. "I donât know how to do this," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "Iâve spent so long trying to keep everything together. To keep people at a distance. And nowâ"
"You donât have to figure it all out right now," Mingyu says softly, sensing the spiral of doubt you appear to be descending into. "We can take it slow. One step at a time. I just... I needed you to know how I feel."
For a long moment, you donât move. But then, slowly, you let your hand inch toward his, your fingertips brushing against his palm.
Itâs small. Tentative. But itâs enough.
Mingyu barely breathes as your fingers brush his. Itâs such a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt straight through him, grounding him in this moment that feels impossibly fragile. He wraps his hand gently around yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. Itâs all he can do to keep himself steady when every nerve in his body is screaming at him to close the distance completely.
You donât pull away, and that feels like a victory in itself. But when you look up at him again, your eyes are brimming with something he canât quite nameâfear, maybe, or hesitationâbut also something softer, warmer, that gives him just enough hope to hold on.
âMingyu,â you start, your voice barely above a whisper. You glance down at your joined hands, your brows furrowing slightly as though youâre gathering the courage to say something thatâs been weighing on you. âAfter the kiss... I didn't know what to do.â
His heart skips a beat at the mention of it, the memory still fresh in his mindâthe way your lips had felt against his, the way the world had seemed to tilt on its axis for just a moment. He doesnât say anything, though, afraid that if he interrupts, youâll stop.
âI started acting cold because...â You take a shaky breath, your fingers tightening slightly around his. âBecause I didnât know how to handle it. How to handle you.â
Mingyu blinks, his chest tightening at your words. âMe?â His voice is soft, cautious. He doesnât want to push too hard, but he needs to understand.
You nod, your gaze flickering back to his, vulnerable but resolute. âYou scare me, Mingyu. Not in a bad way, but... in a way Iâve never felt before. Youâre so open, so sincere. You make everything seem so easy, like itâs natural to justâfeel. And for me, thatâs... terrifying.â
He watches you, his heart breaking a little with every word. He wants to say something, to tell you that you donât have to be scared, but he knows this isnât the time. He needs to let you finish.
âIâve spent so long keeping people at armâs length,â you admit, your voice trembling. âItâs just easier that way. I donât get hurt, and I donât hurt anyone else. But then you came along, with your ridiculous optimism and your... your kindness, and suddenly I didnât know how to keep you out. And that kissâit made me realise I canât.â
Mingyu doesnât know what to say. Doesnât know if thereâs anything he can say to match the weight of what youâre giving him. So he squeezes your hand, letting his touch say what his words canât.
âI didnât mean to push you away,â you continue, your voice soft but unsteady. âBut I thought if I could convince myself it didnât matter, that you didnât matter, then maybe it wouldnât hurt so much if it all fell apart.â
Mingyu shakes his head slowly, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. âYou donât have to protect yourself from me,â he says, his voice low but steady. âIâm not going anywhere."
You look at him, your eyes searching his for somethingâreassurance, maybe, or proof that heâs not just saying what he thinks you want to hear. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because your shoulders relax just a fraction, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of your lips.
âI donât know how to do this,â you repeat, your voice barely audible. âBut I think... I think I want to try.â
And thatâs it. Thatâs all Mingyu needs. His chest swells with something that feels suspiciously like hope, and he leans in just enough. "I don't need perfect. I just need you, the way you are, right here, right now."
For a moment, thereâs silence. Not the awkward kindâthe kind where the world feels like itâs holding its breath just for you. Mingyuâs words hang in the air, his thumb still brushing over your knuckles, as if heâs afraid you might vanish if he stops. His heart is doing that thing again, where it feels way too big for his chest, and honestly, heâs not sure if thatâs romantic or just a pending medical emergency.
You glance down, exhaling softly, and then look back up at him with that small, tentative smile that could single-handedly knock him off his chair. âDo you...â You pause, biting your lip like youâre still deciding if this is a terrible idea or just a regular bad one. âDo you want to come back to my apartment?â
Mingyuâs brain short-circuits.
Like, fully shuts down. Thereâs no reboot happening here. Just static, a faint buzzing sound, and a very unfortunate replay of every romantic comedy scene heâs ever watched where the male lead trips over his own words and ruins everything.
His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Great. Perfect. Ideal response.
âMingyu?â you ask, your tone softer now, like youâre worried you mightâve just set his brain on fire.
âIâuhâyes? I mean, yes!â He blurts it out, too loud, and the couple at the next table glance over like theyâre wondering if heâs okay. Heâs not, but thatâs beside the point.
You laugh, and the sound feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. âYouâre sure?â you ask, your tone teasing but warm.
âAbsolutely,â he says, sitting up straighter, like heâs about to sign an unbreakable contract. âI am very sure. Extremely sure. Couldnât be more sure.â
You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his spiral. âOkay, then.â
You stand, and Mingyu scrambles to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. Smooth. So smooth. He rushes to grab his coat, fumbling with the sleeve as he tries to put it on without dislocating a shoulder. When he finally gets it together and turns back to you, youâre just standing there, watching him with an amused smile.
âYou good?â you ask, tilting your head.
âGood?â Mingyu repeats, laughing nervously. âYeah, Iâm great. Amazing. Letâs, uh, go.â
He follows you out of the restaurant, trying to act like a normal, functional human being. Except his palms are sweating, his heart is racing, and heâs pretty sure he almost tripped on absolutely nothing as you walked to the curb. When you glance back at him, your expression softens, and suddenly, it feels like the worldâs gone quiet again.
âHey,â you say, your voice cutting through the chaos in his head. âYou donât have to be nervous, you know.â
âIâm not nervous,â Mingyu lies, his grin wide and unconvincing. âThis is just how I always look when Iâmâuhâhappy.â
You laugh again, shaking your head, and link your arm with his, pulling him gently along. âCome on, letâs go before you combust.â
The walk to your apartment is a blur for Mingyu. His brain is bouncing between, Wow, I can't believe this is happening and What am I supposed to do when we get there? Sit? Stand? Compliment her interior design choices? He's overthinking so hard he barely notices when you nudge him gently and gesture toward the building in front of you.
âThis is me,â you say, your voice calm, but thereâs a small smile tugging at your lips like you know exactly how fried his brain is right now.
âCool,â Mingyu replies, because apparently thatâs the only word left in his vocabulary. Cool. Not ânice placeâ or âwow, it suits you,â just cool. He could punch himself, but then youâre already unlocking the door, and the reality of the moment hits him like a freight train.
The inside of your apartment is warm. Not literally warmâthough the temperature is pleasantâbut warm in the way it feels lived-in and completely, unmistakably you. Itâs smaller than he imagined, but cozy, like every piece of furniture and every object has been chosen for a reason. Thereâs a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of your couch, a mug on the coffee table with a faint ring from earlier that day, and a half-finished book on the shelf that he knows heâs seen you reading during breaks.
Mingyu steps inside, toeing off his shoes at the door because it feels like the kind of place where shoes on indoors would be a crime. âYour apartment is really nice,â he says, his voice a little too high-pitched because heâs still desperately trying not to think about why heâs here.
âIt suits you,â Mingyu says before he can stop himself, the words slipping out too soft, too sincere. When you glance at him, your cheeks warm, he knows heâs said the right thing.
âThanks,â you murmur, ducking your head slightly. âMake yourself comfortable. Iâll grab us something to drink.â
You disappear into the kitchen, and Mingyu is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying not to spiral. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two people hanging out in a perfectly platonic and definitely not emotionally loaded way. Except itâs not fine, and his brain is racing faster than he can catch up.
He sits down on the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he looks around again. Itâs impossible not to take everything in, to let the space tell him little things about you he didnât know before. Like how thereâs a stack of notebooks on the side table, their covers worn like theyâve been flipped through a thousand times. Or how thereâs a candle sitting on the shelf labelled something ridiculous like âCinnamon Forest Dreams,â and now all he can think about is you lighting it during one of your late-night brainstorming sessions.
When you come back, two glasses of water in hand (because youâre practical like that, of course), Mingyu straightens up, his heart pounding in his chest. You sit down beside him, closer than he expected but not close enough to touch, and heâs suddenly very aware of how small the couch feels.
âSo,â you say, handing him a glass, your voice light but your eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness. âWhat do you think?â
âOf the apartment?â Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water because itâs something to do with his hands. âI think itâs great. Like... really great. Itâs very... you.â
You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips. âIs that a compliment?â
âItâs the compliment,â he replies, his grin a little sheepish. âItâs perfect. Just likeââ He cuts himself off, his cheeks flushing as he looks down at his glass. Donât say it. Donât overdo it.
But youâre looking at him now, your expression softening. âJust like what?â
Mingyu swallows hard, his brain screaming at him to play it cool. âJust like I imagined,â he finally says, his voice quiet but steady. âLike... a space that feels like you.â
Thereâs a pause, and for a moment, he wonders if heâs completely ruined everything. But then you smileâreally smileâand his chest feels like it might explode.
âThanks, Mingyu,â you say, your voice soft, almost shy. âThat means a lot.â
He smiles back, trying to ignore the way his heart is doing somersaults. This is fine. Totally fine. Nothing to freak out about. But then your knee bumps against his, and suddenly, heâs not so sure.
Mingyu swallows. A cough almost escapes his throat, but he manages to catch it, instead clearing his throat like he's trying to shake off the sudden, very real butterflies in his stomach.
You, on the other hand, seem perfectly at ease, sipping your water, your eyes not quite meeting his, but still playful, still warm. Your knee stays lightly resting against his.
He looks at you, his mind racing, and wonders if maybe this is one of those moments where he should just say it. Say whatâs been sitting heavy on his mind, almost screaming to come out ever since that nightâthe kiss, the awkwardness, the moments of quiet when he almost wished he could reach out and grab the truth like it was some kind of lifeline.
âY'know," he begins, his voice coming out a little more nervously than he meant, "Iâve spent most of my life messing up in the most spectacular ways possible. I donât exactly have a good track record when it comes to making things right."
You tilt your head at him, a playful smile on your lips, but your gaze is intense in a way that makes his breath catch. âYouâre being too hard on yourself, Mingyu,â you say, your tone teasing, but thereâs something beneath itâa quiet, steady assurance that has him clinging to every word.
âNo, Iâm serious,â he insists, his hand tightening slightly around his glass. âLike, when it comes to thisâ" He gestures vaguely between the two of you, "Iâm completely out of my depth. I donât really know what Iâm doing.â He bites his lip, willing himself not to spill everything at once. âBut, I think⊠I think I really want to try. With you.â
The silence that follows is thick. Mingyu mentally runs through every scenario, and none of them seem to be as perfectly awkward and fragile as this one. He starts to second-guess himself, but before he can say something stupid to cover it all up, you do something that catches him completely off-guard.
You shift closer, your knee brushing against his again, but this time, thereâs no hesitation in the way you move. Your hand reaches out, fingers gently resting on his forearm, warm and soft. He can feel your pulse, steady and strong, as if somehow in this small gesture, youâre grounding him.
âMingyu,â you say quietly, and heâs not sure if itâs his name or the way you say it that knocks all the air out of him. âIâm not asking for perfection. I donât even know what that looks like.â
Mingyuâs breath hitches as he watches you, his heart skipping a beat at the honesty in your eyes. It feels like you're both on the edge of something, teetering between what is and what could be, and yet all Mingyu can think about in this moment is how simple it is to be here with youâhow uncomplicated it feels to just let go.
âI donât know what Iâm doing either,â you continue, your voice soft but clear. âBut I want to find out. With you."
Itâs then that Mingyu realizes how quiet itâs gotten, how still the air is around the two of you. The world outside your apartment could be spinning at a hundred miles per hour, and in this small space, with your hand on his arm, time feels like itâs standing still.
Youâre sitting so close now. The space between you is smaller than the gap in his thoughts. His hand, which had been fidgeting with the glass of water, starts to move on its own. He places it gently on the cushion beside you, just a few inches from your own. His palm is open, but he waits.
And thenâhe takes a breath.
"Can I?" he asks, voice low, almost a whisper, as though he's afraid you'll pull away, as though he's asking permission for something he should have done a hundred times before.
Your eyes lock with his. They're soft, vulnerable, like you're weighing his words against everything that's happened before. For a moment, the world feels like itâs paused, like thereâs no room for doubts or what-ifs. Thereâs just you and him, and something thatâs undeniable between you.
You donât answer with words. Instead, you let your gaze drift to his lips, and then, almost imperceptibly, you lean in.
Mingyu doesnât wait for a second invitation. His hand slides from the couch to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek as he moves closer. He feels the heat radiating off you, and his breath catches when your lips are just a breath away.
And then, before he can even think, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours.
Itâs nothing like the first kiss. Thereâs no hesitation, no uncertaintyâjust the sensation of everything falling into place. The kiss is slow, tender, almost like heâs savouring it, wanting to memorise the moment because, for once, it feels like everything is exactly how it should be.
Your lips move against his in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, and he feels the tension that had been building between the two of you melt away. Heâs no longer nervous, no longer afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. He just wants to be here with youânow, in this perfect moment.
When you pull away, itâs not with distance, but with the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips, your eyes full of something that makes Mingyu's chest tighten. Your breath is still coming fast, like youâre just as shaken as he is.
He doesnât say anything at first. Thereâs no need. His heart is still racing, but now, heâs not afraid of what comes next. He feels like heâs finally stepped into something real, something that might not be easy but is worth every bit of effort.
"I think..." he starts, his voice a little hushed, "I really wanted to do that again."
You laugh softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you tilt your head just enough for your forehead to rest against his. "Yeah?" you murmur, your fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "Well, I'm glad you did."
Mingyu can't help but smile, his hand, still resting gently on your waist, pulls you just a little closer, as if to remind himself that this is real. That you're really here, and this is really happening. You donât pull away. Instead, your hand moves from his jaw to his collar, gently tugging at the fabric like itâs an invitation he canât refuse.
And Mingyu? He doesnât need any more encouragement. He leans in again, his lips finding yours with more urgency this time. His free hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. Itâs like his bodyâs on autopilot, all his self-control falling away the moment youâre close enough to feel.
You gasp softly against his lips as his hand slides down to your waist, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, and he feels you shiver. His pulse is racing in his ears, but it's the warmth of your body against his that completely consumes him. He can't stop. Can't pull away. You taste like the promise of something more, and the way your fingers grip his collar tightens the knot in his stomach until itâs a full-on spiral of heat.
Your mouth moves with his now, more desperate, more demanding, and Mingyuâs heart does that weird, annoying thing againâwhere it leaps in his chest, and all his thoughts vanish like mist under the sun. He kisses you harder, taking a moment to pull away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting as if youâve run miles, even though youâve hardly moved.
âMingyu...â you whisper, voice breathless, a little unsteady. He feels the sound vibrating through him as much as he hears it.
"Yeah?" he responds, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth despite how utterly wrecked he feels in the best possible way. "Youâre not gonna suddenly tell me this is all a huge mistake, right?"
You laughâa low, playful sound that makes his chest tighten, and then you kiss him again. This time, it's slow, deliberate, like youâre savouring each second, each touch. And Mingyuâs mind short-circuits all over again, as if he's trying to figure out how it's possible for something so simple to make him feel soâsoâalive.
Your hands are everywhere nowâon his chest, around his neck, tugging him closer until thereâs not an inch of space between you. And thatâs when he feels it, that surge of want, a physical ache deep in his chest that spreads out to his limbs, making him burn.
He presses you back gently against the armrest of the couch, his lips trailing down to your neck, his breath hitching when you arch into him. The way you melt under his touch is everything heâs ever wantedâmore than he even realised he craved. The warmth of your skin, the way your fingers dig into his back, all of it pulls him in, deeper, until heâs lost in the sensation of just being with you.
âMingyu, weââ you start, but the words cut off when his lips meet the curve of your neck, and the way you shudder against him makes his pulse stutter in his veins. You canât even finish the sentence, and heâs so close to being past the point of caring.
He pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. âWe what?â he asks, his voice rough. "I won't let you talk if you're going to tell me you changed your mind."
Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes, a playful challenge in your expression. "Iâm just saying," you murmur, your hands shifting down to his shirt as you slowly begin to unbutton it. "You're going to have to transfer to a different team after Langham is done."
Mingyu grins, a breathless huff of laughter leaving his lips. "As long as I still get to see you every day."
"I'd say you're probably going to get to see a lot more of me." Your words are said innocently enough, but the implication mixed with the feeling of your heaving chest against his is making his head spin again.
And just like that, you have him, every inch of him. Mingyu canât keep his hands from wandering, canât keep his lips from pressing harder against yours, canât keep from falling deeper into this beautiful mess of passion and want. The last shred of his self-control slips away, leaving only youâright here, right now.
Your clothes go quickly, his quicker, until you're both laid bare before the other, entirely vulnerable and at peace at the same time. He's drowning in you, his head nested between your legs, feeling as eager to please as he did the first day he met you. You're gasping his name, hands curling into his hair, head falling back onto your couch in utter bliss.Â
And then your fingers are wrapping around his shoulders, digging into the muscles and pulling him back up towards you. He almost falls off the couch he moves so fast, but you don't seem to notice. You're too busy looking positively angelic in front of him, with those large, sparkling eyes staring at him and dirty words pouring out of your mouth.
Mingyu has to hold himself together as you tell him, point blank, to "hurry up, and make love to me."
This isn't Mingyu's first rollercoaster. He's a good-looking guy, and he knows it. He's been with others before, but when you speak to him like that, he feels like he's eighteen again and a girl's just sat on his lap for the first time.Â
And it feels so good, you feel so good around him. You might not have to worry about transferring teams, because he's not sure he's going to make it. The noises you're making, the warmth of your body, the scraping of your nails against his chest - it's enough to finish him off (or at least allow him to ignore the ungodly sounds pouring out of his own mouth).
He makes sure you've finished as well before pulling out (because he wants to, not because he feels embarrassed that he came first). A blissful look falls over your face and Mingyu has to mentally take a photo of the image to make sure he never forgets it. He's staring at you; he knows it and you know it, and you're giggling a little and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.
"Wait here," he whispers, not wanting to break the moment by speaking too loudly. He leans down to peck your lips, before running into your bathroom to dispose of the condom and get some towels and blankets.Â
The night fades softly into a comfortable quiet as you and Mingyu lay there, nestled on your couch, your bodies half-melted into the cushions, the air between you warm and thick with the lingering feeling of everything now spoken.Â
Mingyu is still processing it all. This. This feeling of being here, with you. Heâs supposed to be good at thisâthe whole dating thing, at least. But everything about tonight has been different. And, if heâs being honest with himself, much better than he expected. He expected the awkwardness, the second-guessing, the inevitable when do I leave? moment, but none of that happened. Instead, all thatâs left is you. And him. And the soft rhythm of your breathing in the stillness of your apartment.
He stares at the ceiling, trying to act casual, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. This is fine, he thinks, despite the tiny voice in the back of his head screaming that nothing this nice is ever fine. But the voice is quieter now. A lot quieter.
âYouâre thinking too loud,â you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt, your head resting on his chest. Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt absently, as though youâre trying to figure out the material, the way it fits him, the way it feels beneath your touch.
Mingyu chuckles softly, a little embarrassed. âSorry,â he murmurs, his chest vibrating with the sound. âI guess Iâm just... trying to make sure Iâm not dreaming.â
âWell,â you reply, shifting just enough to lift your head, your eyes soft but amused, âif this is a dream, Iâm okay with it. I think Iâll stick around.â
Mingyu's heart skips a beat at the words, but he keeps his voice steady, even if the teasing smile he wears is bordering on ridiculous. âGood, because if this is a dream, Iâm not waking up."
As the night deepens and the city lights paint soft patterns on the walls of your apartment, Mingyu finds himself drawn to your window. The skyline stretches before him, a tapestry of glowing spires and shimmering reflections, alive with the energy of the place he loves most. He smiles, realising for the first time how much this view has changed for him. It isn't just buildings and lights anymore - it's connection, collaboration, and the quiet promise of something new. A reminder of what you are going to build together, layer by layer, one light at a time.
Divider credit: @cafekitsune
#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt scenarios#svt x reader#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen smut#mingyu#kim mingyu#seventeen mingyu#mingyu x reader#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu fic#mingyu smut#kim mingyu smut
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âšShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 16/10âš
Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then youâll have to check the whole post if itâs answered here, if itâs not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~
Anonimo ha chiesto: i absolutely adore your shadowpeach bio-parents au comics they flow really nicely from post to post, and i looove the balance between angst & fluff i feel as if with shadowpeach, its always either angst or fluff- no inbetween, but somehow you've found a really nice mixture of both thanks for singlehandedly keeping me in the LMK fandom haha
Thank you! Fluff and angst keep going around each other like a microwave ahah
Anonimo ha chiesto: So like with mks monkey form does he have to deal with shedding during summer I think it would be funny if macaque and Mk got fluffier during winter. Wukong wouldn't complain about a fluffy macaque though probably like sleeping with the best plushy.
Oh man I think they do indeed haha. Pigsy would scold MK bc he keeps finding fur hair everywhere in the house
Anonimo ha chiesto: You seem like someone who knows a lot about the LMK fandom, so I must ask where does the idea of Princess Iron Fan and Macaque being sworn siblings come from? Like, is it from JTTW, and im just not aware of it, I'm still trying to learn as much as I can, and I need to actually read the book. The fact that people assume I know a lot about the fandom is so hilarious (not in a mocking way, I'm just very surprised) bc like- I watched the whole show in 1 day, speedwatched Overly sarcastic production recap of JTTW and read half of the book in a week. All of this in July. That's everything that I know from the fandom.
I think it's an headcanon. in JTTW Wukong, Macaque and DBK are all part of the brotherhood so.
Anonimo ha chiesto: First off I LOVE your comic but I have the animal autism and wanted to share some Monkey facts: monkeys don't sweat like humans do they mostly sweat on the palms and feet, areas they have no fur. For overheating monkeys mainly seek shade staying under trees , increase respiration (panting), seeking water sources. Also some species might shed for a thinner coat during summer. Sweating is an exclusively human thing and why humans have been so successful humans are persistent hunters. We would often follow herds for miles waiting for them to tire and overheat while sweating keeps us perfectly cool. Humans are also the only animal to blush. Lol Again no hate love the comic I love me some Flustered blushing gay monkeys. I just have the animal autism and wanted to info dump.
Thank you for the animal fact dump! Those were actually super interesting facts!
@draxeanlxia ha chiesto: Hey question that I have no idea if you already answered but how old is MK in your BIO Parents AU? I know people (usually) believe him to at least 18 due to Chinaâs minimum driving age but others believe him to in his early 20s. Also Mac in your AU said was âgrown ass manâ during the baby arc. So in your AU, how old is MK?
So. in the AU he's 21 y/o. Meaning that when he arrived to Pigsy door they saw him and went "yeah, he looks around 2/3" and from then they counted on. Buut there's also the thing that he looks a little younger than that age. I wont say anything else.
Anonimo ha chiesto: Who your Favorite Lmk character??
mmmmmmm... MK bc he's monkey now. Before season 4 probably Macaque or Wukong. But I have a "thing" for characters discovering they are actually a different species and slowly gaining new/different body features bc of that, so when I saw him flickering at the end of s4 I flew to a different universe. Literally the whole reason this AU exist is because I would die for this trope
Anonimo ha chiesto: What inspired your Human Wukong & Mac designs? Mostly because my brain looks at Macaque and thinks âCranky middle aged pirateâ meanwhile Wukongâs is âThat chill gay uncleâ (this is based off of purely looks by the way)
Macaque is drama queen so of course he would wear a trenchvoat during fall. plus he's old inside and outside bc of all Wukong bullshit. Wukong is your friendly neighbour who lives in a sketchy house and survives on peach sodas and chips (oh wait that's just canon Wukong.)
ainnur ha chiesto: You know I like how Wukong in your comic just compare something hot with Laozi's furnace. Like with spicy food and time he help MK created the weapon. Mk: You know Wukong you mention Laozi's furnace a lot. Must really tough 49 days for you... Wukong:Yeah worst 49 years *eating peach* Mk: Can tell- wait- years..? Wukong: Yeah a day at heaven is like one year here or so..Do the math, bud *continue to eat the peach* Mk:.... what..? Wukong just casually and accidently recall his trauma because he thought it never effect him like his other trauma. Also the brotherhood have 49 years to help him but they didn't do anything. "Yeah because normally you would rush into my rescue"
Thank you for giving me this traumatic info I didn't know about. Now I will never look at Wukong the same (why did my boy have to suffer so much)
Anonimo ha chiesto: Macaque: I think I'm in love with Wukong . . . Any thoughts. Chiyou: and prayers you're going to need them.
me too bitch, the fuck
@mirror-queen226Â ha chiesto: I agree about the last ask you posted (about Wukong surely wearing a dress on a date), and I just couldn't help but say my own headcanon too (with a little bit of knowledge about the ancient times that Wukong was just a child on the jttw and lmk): I dunno if you agree but okay. Honestly, both Wukong and Mac/Mihou (like i usually call him) does not care about clothes, if they feel comfortable with them, be it for woman or man, they'll wear it, especially Wukong though, I feel like he'd act like a famous diva in a on a runway showcasing new high-class clothes from Victoria Secret, Channel, or something, whilst Mac is much more discreet but not too far from that too. And considering Wukong was wearing WOMAN clothes when he was in the brotherhood in the season 4 lmk flashback, it just made me believe in that headcanon even more :) Also, I am really loving your au, it's just so perfect the way you develop every character slow and patiently, keeping their personalities untouched, not changing but instead expanding and showing them a bit more, how they are really trying to improve (Wukong and Mihou in this case) and how satisfying it is to see. I always rush to see the new updates you post about the Biodads au every time i see too, and honestly, one of the 5 best au's ever, you draw so good too, it's adorable! That's all I wanted to say, have a nice day, drink water and take care of your health! đ„°đ„°đ„°
Yeah true! Like they are shapeshifter, they wouldn't care what species they are, even less the perceived gender norms
Anonimo ha chiesto: Little question, while the monkeys where at Chiyou's forge, shadowpeach where still sleeping together or not?
They were all sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor (but they all were close to each other.
Anonimo ha chiesto: Generally curious what you think would have happened if MK had not been woken up and the stone wasn't broken what do you think would have happen. would he had grown up on FFM?
Aww he probably would have been raised by Wukong. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.
@wolfsonic ha chiesto: I have question! Does Rumble and Sabage have sentience in your stories? Like, do they have their own personalities like MK clones do? If yes, what do they think of WuKong and MK? Also, will we see more of them? Cause I'd love Mk to meet them when he wasn't stuck as a cub and not remember.
Yeah I think they have a littel bit of personalities. They like both MK and Wukong, but would also do prank on him.
Anonimo ha chiesto: I think I won't say I'm in love from Hercules fits macaque very well
The little monkeys are the muse doing backup choir
Anonimo ha chiesto: Can we see what a courtnapping room typically looks like?
Courtnapping rooms are made specifically for the courted one, so they are all different. Basically, the room should include everything the courted person would need to live comfortable and also a collection of things they like / to pass the time /love.
It must show that the person courtnapping them is able to provide, care and protect for them. And also knows what makes them happy.
So it can be a huge castle full of jewerly and elegant clothes/ornaments or just a cozy room with some chips and video games.
Anonimo ha chiesto: Is LBD going to be a topic in your au again ?
maybe
@wolfasketch ha chiesto: We need MK interacting with his new found Auntie and Uncle please(we also new to see Red being flustered by MK while his parents are around and PIF being like "Ooohhhh")
We are VERY luky Red Son and MK didn't grew up together or we would have thier parents playing love-matching with them while they are toodlers
Anonimo ha chiesto: could we possibly get a traffic light trio and shadopeach grooming train at some point, i would love to see some bonding time between them all <3 and i would love to see mk grooming redsons hair since there's so much of it
Wait who would be the second person to be groomed? I assume RedSon hair are too hot to touch. (when he's flustered, at least)
Anonimo ha chiesto: So like how does Redsons hair/ fire work. Does it just feel warm to MK and Mei. Will it only burn/ hurt you if he doesn't trust you. Another note it must be nice having two fire demon friends during winter.
I think when he's relaxed, the hair is just- a little bit warm, then with his feelings and emotion it can go up to a bigillion degrees, so it's not harmful as long as he can control it.
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Never Shall We Die (1)
«« Nothing is too outlandish when itâs a life of liberty on the line. »»Â
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 âšselectively moralâšbut 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
HOSHIâS BOOT IS STUCK in the ground.Â
No, thatâs a branch.Â
Or is it a plank?Â
He doesnât 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
Hoshi stares into the horizon, watching the died down waves drift onto the shore, moving closer by the minute.Â
Hoshi thinks, which he canât say is something that he does very often. Perhaps thatâs 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
âCaptain, itâs done! We can rustle up those fish we caught, have supper sorted.âÂ
âHm.â
The bustle of the entire crew lasts until night has fallen and theyâve gotten food in their stomachs. Hoshi hasnât 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.Â
It isnât 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.Â
His voice isnât loud, nor is it commanding, nor does it have his usual edge of jestâin fact, it sounds nothing like Hoshi at all.Â
Or does it?
âWho wants to steal a ship?â
YOU'RE AWOKEN BY THE sound of yelling. Which is never a good sign in any case, but especially not when itâs pitch black outside and youâre on a ship in the middle of the ocean.
The grogginess is quick to fade as you try to understand whatâs going on outside your quarters. Your room isnât 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.Â
There is only one other answer in your head that would cause this much commotionâespecially on a boat where the admiral resides (and a princess).Â
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. Youâre 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.Â
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.Â
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. Thereâs sounds of men outside, loud and rambunctious, momentarily halting the grievances.Â
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.Â
You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door.Â
âLieutenant,â you voice in recognition. âWhatâs going on?â
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.Â
âPirates, your Highness,â he breathes out. âWe must get you to lower deckââ
âWhere is the Admiral? The Captain?â you ask as you take a couple steps forward.Â
âTheyâre handling the situation, your HighââÂ
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 wouldâve gasped if your voice hadnât 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 itâs going to help you as the culprit finally steps over something to appear in your doorframe.Â
His clothes are in a disarray; slashed, torn and covered in grime. Thereâs 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.Â
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.Â
âHoshi!â he yells loudly. âHowâs this for bait?âÂ
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
For the first time in your life, you wish youâd listened to your father.Â
âJun, you savvy motherfucker,â the grinning man explodes, slapping the man who found you on the back.Â
Another voice speaks from behind him, âShips cleared, captain.âÂ
âPerfect. Bring a spring upon âer. Get as far away from those cleans as you can, let them fend for themselves in a tiny boat for once.âÂ
Captain. The grinning, stupid looking one is their captain.Â
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.Â
He stops a few feet away from you, looking directly at you past the makeshift knife you hold.Â
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.
âNo weapons on me. I merely wish to talk.âÂ
The look on his face is not ordinary, some strange combination of mock innocence and jest. You donât answer him.
He continues, âYou can keep your⊠scalpel⊠if you so wish.âÂ
âWhat did you do to the soldiers?â you finally rasp out.
âTheyâre not dead, if that's what youâre asking.â
âYet?â you ask with a slight tremble to your voice.Â
âTheyâve been shoved into a boat with a map and a compass to fend for themselves. Iâm not entirely ruthless,â he adds with raised brows and a hint of a smile. âAdmiral, were they calling him? You must be his wife.â
âW-what?â
âOh, guess not. Daughter? Captainâs wife, Captainâs daughter?â
Your previously stagnant brain is now running a derby with all the thoughts galloping across your mind. He doesnât know who you are. Yet, anyway.
Heâs scanning the room now, nodding at the trinkets and trophies scattered across the place. âCanât imagine giving a lieutenantâs anybody quarters like this.â He circles back on you, eyes sharp. âWho are you, darling?â
You donât 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. Youâre not sure if heâs 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 thereâs an entire crew of pirates pacing the deck. Perhaps the soldiers havenât gotten that far; they know youâre still on board, they know itâs their heads on a pike if they leave you here.Â
Heâs reached your desk during your thinking, inspecting your stationary, picking at the bejewelled quills and paper weights as he mutters nonsense to himself.Â
âOh!â he announces, a little too enthusiastic. âWhatâs this?âÂ
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.
âHow on Earth did you read this, the writing is illegible.â He flips the paper over, double taking when he sees the royal seal on the back. He looks into the letter closer now.Â
You wait with baited breath.Â
âThe kingdom needs their princessâŠyour fatherâŠah.âÂ
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.Â
Itâs mortifying, especially when you donât 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.
âW-whatâs so funny?â you try to sound brave.
âIt seems, miss princess, that weâve gotten more than we bargained for,â he says, looking straight at you as he sobers up. âYouâre the Kingâs 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.âÂ
And then he starts walking, towards you, for that matter. Imperative because you know for sure that this is how it all ends.Â
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 youâd rather drown than die at the hands of a pirateâor go through whatever it was thatâs curling the minds of all the men on this ship.Â
He takes another step forward, hands on his hips. âHeâs not going to like this, is he? His dear daughter in the hands of the Kingdomâs favourite degenerate captain.âÂ
What?
He then adds in a whisper to himself mostly, âOr least favourite with all the wanted posters off the churches and brothels.âÂ
Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi.Â
The man who had found you had called him Hoshi. Hoshi the pirate. Hoshi the pirate thatâs been giving the Kingdom and its court absolute hell for as long as you can remember.Â
The man that you are now trapped alone with on a ship is the most feared pirate the Kingdom has ever seen.Â
You donât doubt your face has gone grey, feeling your breathing turn near erratic. âOh God.â
He smiles wryly as the life is sucked out of your very soul.Â
This was bad. Very bad.
âNow, fear not, you will soon be returned to daddy dearest,â he places a mildly dramatic hand over his heart. âPirateâs honour.â
He paces back to pluck the letter off the table, pocketing it. âAll you need to do is relax and tell me a few things so we can part ways as soonââ
âNo.â 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.Â
âNo?â Hoshi looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He laughs a little incredulously, âOh, I see, canât tell all the delicate details to a scary olâ pirate.â
He smiles a little bit, âWorry 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.â
He stares at you almost expectantly, and you wonder if you look as confused as you feel.Â
âWell, Iâll be bidding you goodnight now, Iâm sure weâve interrupted your beauty sleep enough. Rest assured we wonât be bothering you for the rest of the morning.â
Hoshi begins to make his way to the door, picking up his pile of weapons off the floor before wrenching the door open. Heâs calm as ever, but your mind is in a disarray.
A ransom, but whatever for? Gold couldâve been retrieved by raiding any ship, and it sounded like heâd 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 donât remember a case where heâs directly meddled with the Kingdom. All of this canât just be for gold.Â
Steeling yourself, you bet your odds against your voice and asked him, âWhat do you want from my father?âÂ
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.Â
âYour father has something of mine. And I intend to take it back,â he says, before finally slamming the door shut. You hear a shuffle and a thud, and you do not doubt that heâs locked you in.Â
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 heâd said before he left, moreso the look on his face as he did.Â
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 wouldnât hurt you, that they intended to return you.Â
The thought leads to a faraway memory, yet one thatâs 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.Â
THE SUN IS HIGH in the sky by the time you put your limbs to work.Â
The first hours after the pirate locked you in your quarters were spent trying to reign yourself to earth. You canât 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.Â
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 donât 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.Â
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 donât think twice when the lamp makes hard contact, a loud thud erupting as a result, but no damage when you pull away.Â
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.Â
A hand wraps around your elbow and youâre yanked backwards, landing on the floor. Thereâs a kick at your hand thatâs flown into the air, the one that holds the bludgeoned lamp. It goes flying across the room as you retract your hand into yourself.Â
You donât register a thing as youâre suddenly being pulled back up to your feet. Face to face with the pirate captain, your soul finally clicking back into place.Â
âDidnât think I scared you this bad.â Heâs made a joke, but all you can see is his face thatâs 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.Â
Itâs only then that you realise that thereâs 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 donât get to note more as youâre pulled into the narrow hallway, begging the saints he doesnât take the turn towards the lower decks. Instead you find he leads you upstairs to where the main deck is.Â
Walk the plank? Did navy ships have planks to walk on? Not that youâd mind too much, you were trying to drown yourself and this ship in any case. But then thereâs a settle of dread in the pit of your stomach, realising death may be the most merciful thing this man could give you.Â
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.Â
âKeep the ropes tight, sheâs got less wit than Iâd thought,â 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.Â
The person who ties the cords around your hands whispers slowly, âStop moving.â
But you canât, 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.Â
âWhy wonât you let me die?â you ask to the back thatâs turned.
He turns around, not even bothering hiding the exasperation that paints his face, mouth opening furiously before closing again. âWhy wonâtâBecause you were trying to take us all with you!â
âKill me!â you all but scream. âThey wonât know till youâve gotten what you want, Iâd rather be dead than let you try whateverâs brewing in all your sick heads!âÂ
Heâs 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, âListen, princess. Weâre pirates alright, but me and my crew, we keep to ourselves. If your daddy the king hadnât decided to meddle and steal my fucking ship, you wouldâve been home in your pretty palace, asleep in your bed of gold by now.âÂ
The pirate captainâs face is closer than youâd ever be comfortable with, seething in a way that has you pressing further into the mast. âWe may be degenerates but we keep our own morals, as twisted as your people heed them to be.âÂ
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.Â
âIâm not pushing you overboard. Iâve duped your people once, theyâll be more prepared next time. We need you alive while youâre in our hands.âÂ
âHow are you going to summon a ransom? You sent away your only messengers,â you ask, a sad attempt at a mock, but also because you wanted to know what his plan was.Â
âYour useless Admiralâs taken up that job.â
âBy lifeboat? Youâve left them all for dead, how do you expect this genius plan to work?âÂ
âThey couldâve swam to shore if it came to it, we were close enough.â
âHow are you so sure?â you spit.
âDo I need to gag you too?â he gives you one last irritated look before stalking off towards the lower deck. Youâre left alone in the cooling afternoon heat, the sound of the sea keeping your ears company along with your own slowing breaths.Â
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 pirateâs wordâthe worst pirateâs word.Â
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.Â
This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all.Â
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.Â
Thereâs murmurs below deck, the only semblance of life youâve heard in the past few hours after the stupid pirate captain stormed off. It seems to be on the stairs, a heated argument.Â
âObviously this wasnât part of the plan, the chances were supposed to be zero to absolutely none. We landed with that scumbagâs successor, thatâs just our piss luck and nothing more.âÂ
âYou wanted a woman for bait, this should work the same.â
âHao, 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 Iâm not betting on the latter.â
Thereâs a pause.Â
âIf only sheâd cut it with the random hysterics and creepy-staring-at-the-sky we could actually get something useful out of her.âÂ
âPray that window holds up or any chance of a miracle is gone to the wind.â
Itâs like youâve 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 âifâs 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 lifeâif you make it that far anyway.Â
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 wouldnât be for you, but for the crown thatâs destined to fall upon your cursed head.Â
If itâs his ship that he wantsâŠ
The next time you see one of the pirate captainâs goons on the deck, you ask for an audience.Â
âDID YOUR STUPID FATHER drop you on your head as a baby?âÂ
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.Â
You ignore him from your position on the floor, âI know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.â
He scratches his chin, âCanât be that incompetent if he hates us so much.â
âI can help you.â
âYou were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. Whatâs changed?â
âPerspective,â you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant.Â
âAre you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?âÂ
God, this was going to be the hardest thing youâve ever had to do.Â
âYou want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But youâre stuck with me and you know itâs not going to end well for you. You need my help.âÂ
âWhy so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your fatherâs side?âÂ
You gulp as discreetly as possible.
âI want something in exchange.â
He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.Â
âI want you to kill my father.â
If his eyebrows were raised before, theyâve 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, âWhat?âÂ
âI want you to kill my father.â
âNo, I got that bit,â he snaps. âYour father as in, the King?â
âYes, as youâve pointed out far more times than anyone ever has.â You canât help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest.Â
He stares at you in an expression you canât quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if youâve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast youâre tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit.Â
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 didnât hurt.Â
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.Â
âYou can jump into the water if youâd like, I wonât stop you.â He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level.Â
âWhat?â
âYouâve clearly gone mad, Iâll find another way to get my ship back.â
âIâm being serious.â
âOf course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdomâs worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while weâre at it? Carry out a fucking waltz with Jack Ketch?â
âWhy are you acting like youâre above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?âÂ
âNo, 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 theyâd leave me be after I put a bullet between the Kingâs eyes.â
âIâll protect you.â
He looks at you for a moment, âQuite reassuring.âÂ
You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. âMy father isnât a good man.â
The pirate captain snorts, âOh, Iâm well aware.â
You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard.Â
âMy father doesnât 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 heâs gone.â You try not to grind your teeth too hard but itâs difficult when your fatherâs face burns behind your eyelids. âI want control over the throne, full control.â
âAnd your conclusion is to eliminate him.â
âI donât have another choice.â
âThen what? Youâll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?â he asks, eyes wide in mock hope.Â
âYes. 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.â
âYouâre asking me to become your personal lackey?â
âHaving a queenâs favour is no small feat I hope youâre aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops youâve been jumping through during my fatherâs reign.âÂ
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.Â
âYou want your ship and freedom of land and sea,â you continue when itâs silent for a beat too long. âI only ask for a small favour in return.â
âIâd argue the miniscule nature of what youâre asking from me,â he scoffs.
âNothing is too outlandish when itâs a life of liberty on the line.âÂ
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.Â
âWeâll have to see to that,â 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.Â
âWhere are you going?â you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour.Â
Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. âI have a crew to consult.â
So he was considering it.Â
âBut youâre the captain.â
âAnd?âÂ
THE SKY IS A lighter sheen of blue, leaning towards the premature hours of the morning. Heâd 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 youâd 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.Â
Youâve been alone for a while, little indication that there was other life on this ship at all with the lack of human activity. There wasnât 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 theyâd thought youâd be equipped to handle any hiccups, theyâd 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.Â
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 arenât 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. Itâs only then that you realise itâs been more than 24 hours since the ship was hijacked. Somehow, you could have believed it was a lifetime.Â
Heâs 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.Â
âAre you going to push me off the rails?â you ask, half genuine, half trying to fill the silence as you face one another.Â
âNo.â He said it plainly, the single word reply leaving you even more uncomfortable.Â
âHave you thought about what I saidâŠwith your crew?â you ask, hand coming up to grab the railing for support.Â
âI did.âÂ
âDo I sense an objection?â you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat
âNot exactly,â he says. âWe want to hear your master plan for this heist before we agree to anything.âÂ
Heâs asking for a plan, a plan that you do not have.
You arenât 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, âYou donât have a clue, do you?â
âYouâve done this before, youâd know better.â
âAnd if I led you astray?â
You look at him, this time right into his dark eyes, âThen you lead me astray.âÂ
âYour contentment with death is wildly unsettling.â Thereâs a ghost of a sneer at his lip.Â
âIâd rather be lounging in the bottom of the ocean than live with a prospective future with my father.âÂ
âSo Iâve heard.â
Thereâs a huff that leaves you as you steel your voice. âIâm not trying to set you up if thatâs what youâre afraid of.â
âI doubt youâd have that capability,â he says as he leans his forearms over the railing. You briefly consider pushing him over but think better of it.Â
As much as you wanted to be a sneaky link, you simply didnât have that trait. You blame all the dependency your fatherâs fostered into you, ensuring that you couldnât rule without his influence.Â
âAre you willing to brew a plan or not? I need to time my dip in the ocean accordingly,â you say, sounding almost disgruntled.
He lets out a big sigh, âFollow me.â
Heâs 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.Â
âStay here, and donât do anything stupid,â he tells you as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin.Â
You only exhale in response as you turn away from the door, towards the large table in the centre. Itâs slightly cluttered, studying the scrawled notes as you realise theyâre 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.Â
It was an exact replica of the tactile map in the war room back home, and youâre suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. Not that youâd 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.Â
You feel yourself breathing in the lingering scent of mildew, a strange comfort in the warm quarters.
Thereâs 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.Â
âYour throne, miss princess.â He gestures exaggeratedly towards the lone cushioned chair across from him. Youâre hyper aware of all the eyes that are trailed on you, and you feel almost embarrassed to take the only seat.Â
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.Â
He sighs, âI think introductions are in order.â
âMingyu, Minghao,â he points to the two men that had inspected your window right after you tried breaking it open.Â
âJun,â he gestures to the one who had found you in your quarters the night it all went wrong.Â
âSeungkwan and Chan,â you recognize the latter as the one whoâd tied you to the mast at his captainâs command.Â
âTheyâll be helping kill your dear father.âÂ
Itâs silent for a moment as you attempt to moisten your mouth. Youâre reminded you havenât 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.Â
âI know I may not be the most admissible person to trust, or vice versaââ You hear someone snort but choose to ignore it. âBut Iâm willing to make myself useful to you if it means you would help me too.â
âWould it not be easier to lock him up instead?â someone asks, and you turn to find Seungkwan asking the question from next to the tactile map.Â
âHe 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 heâs alive and well.â
âAnd how do you expect his loyal court mongers to let you bid favour to the people who killed their king?â the pirate captain asks with a raised brow.Â
âWhich is why it needs to look like an accident.âÂ
âHow do you reckon we go about that?â
âWhat message have you given the Admiral?â
âYou donât answer a question with another questionââ
âWe need to be transparent with each other if either of us wants to make it out relatively unscathed.â
He doesnât look too happy but he answers anyway, âMy ship and five hundred thousand for all our trouble. Two months from now at the Green Islands up north.â
The Green Islands were anything but green, the glaciers being near uninhabitable owed to the ruthless weather. It was smart enough, itâd be near impossible to bring as much violent power that far north, no matter how influential anyone is. Â
âIs five hundred thousand all Iâm worth?â you feel the beginnings of a sneer rise up your mouth. You arenât sure what prompted it but you donât want to fight it either.Â
âDidnât know I was bartering for a fucking princessâ case, did I?â he snaps. âNow tell us how you want us to commit the undetected homicide of a King.â
âWe need to blow up his ship.â 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.Â
Thereâs a flare of defiance within you, âDo you have any better ideas then?âÂ
âNo, no. Go on,â he says with his head hung. Youâre surprised he has the character to shield his smile.Â
âHe doesnât frequent the seas but Iâm almost sure heâd be present at the exchange.â
âAlmost?â 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.
âHeâll be there. Iâm sure of it.âÂ
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.Â
He swallows before looking away, addressing one of the crew members. âHow big are we talking?â
Jun looks up like heâs only just begun to pay attention, fumbling over the revolver in his hands as it thuds to the ground like a theatrical mistake, âWhat?â
His captain sighs before replying, âExplosion. How big does it need to be to blow up a naval ship with a King on it?â
The man brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his nape. âIf itâs anything like this one, weâre gonna need a lot of ammo.âÂ
âJust enough to sink it,â you speak before you could decide not to. âEven better if they donât realise itâs happening.â
He thinks for a moment. âWe could plant it in the bilge somehow.â
âBut how do we get on that ship? When theyâre giving us a tour of the lower decks?â The man you recall as Seungkwan scoffs.Â
âThrow a grenade on board somehow?â you hear one of them suggest.Â
âReal subtle, Chan,â you hear another mock.Â
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.Â
âEnough!â The pirate captain has spoken and you have the urge to ask what took him so long.Â
Tranquility once again and you almost thank the man. Before anyone can say another word, nausea begins to build in your stomach.Â
It takes you a minute to realise the room was spinning and that you werenât 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.
âBatten down the hatches,â the pirate captain says to no one in particular.
Chan is the only one who moves to the door to leave before heâs interrupted.Â
âAll of you. Those clouds werenât looking too nice up there, weâve got a storm on our hands.â
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, youâre left alone with the captain. Yet again.
Itâs becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady, and you wonder how heâs able to remain balanced while on his feet. It isnât 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.Â
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.Â
âShouldnât you be up there?â Thereâs 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.Â
âHuh? They can figure it out themselves, theyâre big boys,â he grunts.
âYour big boys were at each otherâs throats a moment ago,â you grunt back, stumbling at a particularly forceful lurch.Â
âIf you werenât so ill prepared they wouldnât need to use their brains, thatâs always dangerous,â he shoots back. Heâs on the other end of the room, pushing the unbolted cabinet back in its placeÂ
âI gave you a job and it's up to you to see it done, Iâm notâahâ Iâm not supposed to be planning at all!âÂ
âAre you?â Heâs turned to look at you know, mouth hitched in a snarl as his forehead reflects a light sheen. âBecause trying to murder aââ
âTrying to murder a King isnât a normal task,â you finish for him in a hiss. âYes, as youâve reiterated a million times.â
âGreat, so you know!â 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. âNow do you mind telling us about a plan that actually has better odds?â
Your white knuckles have relented, the hands that gripped the table coming loose as you stare back at the pirate in defiance. âI should just hand you over.â
âItâs sweet you think youâre in charge here,â the grit in his voice is evident. âThis isnât your turf anymore, miss princess.â
âYou donât trust me, and you donât give me reason to trust youâugh.â
The waves seemed to have decided she hadnât 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 youâd landed sideways with the gravity thatâs lost its way beneath your feet.Â
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 captainâs gotten hold of his bearings before you have.Â
âWhat happened to being transparent with one another?â he huffs, breathless and wide eyed as he attempts to pull himself to his feet.Â
Thereâs another lurch that sends you both skidding towards the table, just short of grabbing on before youâre 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!
âFine. 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,â 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. âAnd if I riddled the chances of you letting me drown with my father? Where does that leave me?â
âOn the bottom of the seabed,â he deadpans. âBut that also leaves me without my freedom.â
You find the opportunity to look at him for a moment, and heâs 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.Â
Thereâs a cushion to your blow this time as you find yourself landing right into the pirate captainâs 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.Â
Your eyes barely register the nasty scar across his left pec, instead moving upwards to lock eyes with him. Itâs insanity, how you instinctively dart your eyes towards his half open mouth.Â
âIf you wanted me that bad, miss princess, you couldâve just asked.â
Whatever airborne drug thatâd 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.Â
âI donât ask for things. They come to me.â
Thereâs a crash above you and you realise the oil lamp that was suspended above has shattered, raining glass over your forms.Â
Expect you donât feel it, because heâs ducked over you and suspended his arms in the air to catch the crystalline.Â
Before you can decide whether it was instinct or not, you hear a yell at the door.
âCaptain! One of theâoh.âÂ
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.Â
Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards.Â
âGet back up,â 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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
For now you board up the door of your cabin (because you havenât completely lost it), and burrow under the covers for some much needed shut eye.Â
You arenât sure how long the universe lets you rest, because unless youâve 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 itâs hard enough to push an entire drawer against a door, the bleariness paired with whoever the fuck was outside the door isnât making it easier to push it away from the entrance either.Â
By the time youâve wrenched the door open, youâre thoroughly annoyed, and met with a very alarmed Seungkwan.Â
âOh thank goodness, I was about to try opening it,â he says, looking genuinely relieved. âI thought you mightâveâŠ.anyway.â
âYou werenât trying to break in before?â you ask.
He only thrusts a tray of rations and water towards you, âCaptain said to give this to you.â
Accepting the tray, you try to balance it in one hand with furrowed brows, âOh.â
âUm. Thatâs it, sorry for waking you up.â He makes a move like heâs about to turn around and leave but falters. âIfâŠif you need anything a bunch of us are on the main deck.â
And then heâs gone.Â
You take it as your cue to shut the door, kicking one of the heftier pieces of furniture against it before moving back inside.Â
When you peer up your tiny window, itâs 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.Â
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.Â
Itâs 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 Southernerâs 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.Â
This was one of his tamer letters, less insults attached to his criticisms but a pain to read anyway. You donât brush away the crumbs that fall onto the parchment.Â
There is not a diplomatic bone in your body. Perhaps move on from drinks and dessert and into more important territories besides the Dukeâs son. Our kingdom needs a ruler thatâs 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.Â
You wonder how good of a mood he was in when he wrote this.Â
Sifting through the rest of the papers you take a mental note of every reason heâs given you to believe that youâd 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 arenât about to let this chance from the universe drown in these waters.
HOSHI ISN'T IN TROUBLE. No, he isnât. 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 isnât in his hands.Â
Itâs 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 heâs going to be doing after this is all over.Â
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 wasnât quite sure if he was tipsy, hungry or just plain exhausted when he made that decision, because heâd forgotten just how stupid some of these simpleton sailors could get.Â
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.Â
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.Â
Chan and Seungkwan swang their mops right into the necks of a couple, sending them into the ocean without waiting for a splash.Â
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.Â
New guys, ones that were clearly still learning the ropes.Â
Hoshiâs 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.Â
âWhere the fuck did these guys come from?â he asks no one in particular, mostly just annoyed that they were disturbed.Â
Minghao, whoâs peeking over the railing replies, âItâs a tiny thing. They either lost their actual boat or didnât have one at all.â
He vaguely registers him making a jerking arm movement over the exterior before he hears a wail and a splash. âDisgusting.â Minghao holds his hands away from his body like he didnât want it anymore.Â
Hoshiâs 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 sleeveâs 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.Â
âNot a move.â He sounds like a boy more than anything, but his grip indicates a harsher life. âEverybody into that fishing boat. Iâll throw this one in when youâre done.âÂ
He sounds unstable, but that only makes him more dangerous. Hoshi canât try to wiggle his way out of this one, one wrong move and itâs the end. His crew canât do anything as they stand with broken mops and empty buckets as their weapons.Â
It was stupid of him to even allow himself to be cornered like this, not when heâs weaselled his way out of more dangerous situations with more ease than this.Â
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 thatâve 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.Â
Chan follows, then Seungkwan as Jun double checks the integrity of the ropes. Heâs stalling.Â
âHurry!â It was supposed to come out as a threat, but it sounded more like a plea from the boy.Â
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.Â
No, he wasnât looking at him, he was looking behind him. Before he can register, thereâs 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.Â
Thereâs smoke in the air when Hoshi looks back and it takes him a moment to realise who just basically saved his life.Â
You stand in your nightgown, shawl over your shoulders, and a revolver, Junâs 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.Â
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 captorâs skull, blood pooling the deck.Â
He looks back at you shoving the revolver back into Junâs hands eagerly, like you didnât want to feel the warmth of the metal any more than you wanted to make that shot.Â
He looks back at the cooling body, and then back at you, an undeniable warmth overcoming his chest.Â
You just saved his life.
âAre you alright?â he hears Chan ask you. You nod slowly, and then quickly.Â
âWhere did you find this?â Jun asks.Â
âUh, in one of the quarters. Downstairs. I went down because I thought itâd be safer, you were handling it and I didnât want to get in the way. But thenâŠall your weapons were there.âÂ
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.Â
âIâm sorry, I just thought it was getting out of hand andââÂ
âItâs alright,â Seungkwan says. He watches as you let him lead you back down the stairs below decks.Â
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.Â
Hoshi doesnât say a word as you disappear, the smell of gunpowder from the singular shot wafting through the deck. He doesnât realise heâs staring into space until Mingyu interrupts.Â
âShould weââ
âThrow them overboard,â Hoshi says, voice flat.Â
âBut, this one seems like heâll come around. We could question him and drop him off wherever nextââ
âHeâs a shit seaman, if even a pirate, heâs got what came for him. Throw. Him. Overboard.â Hoshi is out of breath, yet grits the words out through clenched teeth. âAll of them.â
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 couldnât do it himself.Â
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. Mingyuâs 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.Â
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.Â
They go back to cleaning, except itâs a lot more silent.Â
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.Â
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 manâs life seemed to hold no weight to him, not that you expected it but a âthank youâ would have sufficed.Â
âKeep the grenade til the last minute if it makes you feel better, so youâll know Iâm not trying to sink the wrong ship,â you sigh as you clarify. Minghao doesnât reply as he scribbles the details. Jun rolls his eyes at his meticulous nature.Â
âWe need to port in the next couple days if Iâm gonna finish this grenade in time,â he says, looking at his captain pointedly.Â
âWe can stop at Port Ash,â Hoshi says.Â
Port Ash was no manâs land, which also meant it was every manâs land.Â
Being mostly occupied by pirates and other thieves and criminals it was considered dangerous territory for anyone who didnât speak in lies, deceit and fists. This crew would fit right in, but you worry for yourself.Â
âThatâs not gonna be till a week and a half,â Mingyu interjects.Â
Jun frowns as he looks at Mingyu and then back at his captain, âI canât wait that long.â
âWeâll pick up what we can at Hasry when we stop for rations,â Hoshi replies.Â
âButââ
âDeal with it. Thereâs nothing we can do about it.â
Jun looks like he wants to say something, and Mingyu has the good sense to interject again to ask more questions about the plan.Â
âHow much manpower do you think the kingâll have?â he asks.
You sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. âI have no idea. Could be five, could be fifty.â
âNot even an inkling?â
âConsidering how he wants the lot of you gone, itâs probably on the larger side. ButâŠâ you pause.Â
âBut?â
âHeâs smart. Always seemingly one step ahead. I wouldnât be surprised if he catches us blind.âÂ
âI know enough about that,â Hoshi snorts. Thereâs a glint in his eye that suggests something, but you donât press.
âI was wonderingïżœïżœïżœwe should probably change course even if it takes us longer. My father might interceptââ
âDid that. Didnât take the obvious alternative route either,â Mingyu replies, and you note that he looks proud of himself. âWe can take our time too, the ransom note suggested we took the way past Scarsfield.â
âWe should be careful of other boats anyway,â you say, gulping down a lump in your throat before continuing. âThose other sailors couldâve been my fatherâs men too, for all we know.â
âThey were on a smaller boat too,â Hoshi adds, he looks like heâs making connections in his brain. âWhatâre the odds they were dropped farther back into a smaller boat?â
Thereâs a pause as you absorb what heâs implying. âAre you saying theyâre on our tail?â
âI wouldnât doubt it,â he says, exhaling heavily through his nose. âHeâs done it before. It was a sorry attempt then and it was a sorry attempt now.â
âHow did you shake him off last time?â
The panic in your chest is barely there, but as you register the possibility, you find yourself breathing increasingly heavy.Â
âCircling farther out before going the opposite way so we wouldnât cross paths.â He shakes his head. âBut we canât do that now, not when we canât afford detouring. The port stops are as late as Iâm willing to go.â
âWhat if we skip Hasry? Itâs our more obvious stop, weâll just stop at Ash later,â Minghao suggests.Â
âWeâll starve, weâve got no food,â Hoshi gruffs.
âPortwater?âÂ
âToo far.â
Itâs silent yet again as everyone racks their brains. You feel very useless all of a sudden, you didnât know the names of harbours or ports this far out.
âWeâll just port at Hasry and be extra careful, thereâs nothing we can do.â Hoshi sighs at his own ultimatum.Â
He gets up and walks around the table to the door, âIâll update the others.â
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.Â
The memory of the storm floods your mind, and suddenly your cheeks are burning. Snapping your head back, you're thankful theyâre all absorbed in the papers and plans on the table, oblivious to the memory thatâs flashed before your eyes. Mingyu was the one who saw you in your compromising position, and you didnât know him well enough to decide whether heâd do something as dumb as dish out his captainâs âaffairsâ.Â
You file out the room with them. They donât escort you to your rooms, make sure you stay in one place, restrict your wandering anymore. Perhaps theyâd realised you werenât actively attempting to sink the ship anymore, or that if you jumped off the edge it didnât matter to them that much, but you appreciated the space anyway.Â
Briefly catching Seungkwan filling Mingyu in on the past couple hours theyâd been below deck, you turn over to catch his eye. He waves, and you wave back. You donât 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.Â
There was something you wanted from him.Â
Thereâs 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 crowâs nest, arms crossed, visible hand occupied with a brass telescope that glints in the sunlight.Â
He isnât 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 youâre 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.Â
Briefly wondering how heâs 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 arenât quite sure how he got there, but he stands next to you, hands on his hips, a pleasant expression on his face.Â
âIs there anything you want when we dock? Weâre trying to make a list,â 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?
âI donât think so, no,â you reply and then juggle whether you should push it with another measly formality. âThank you for asking.â
âThat was your first kill, wasnât it?â
âWhat?â You knew what he was talking about, but you werenât expecting him to bring it up in the moment when heâs asking you about restocking supplies. And especially not with a smile on his face.Â
âThat day, when you used Junâs revolver to shoot the lad.âÂ
A kid. He was a child.Â
âIâŠyeah Iâd never done it before.â
âWhat made you do it?â he asks, remaining as nonchalant as ever.Â
âIâI donât know, it looked like there wasnât another option,â you say, not quite sure of yourself either.Â
Why did you shoot him? Youâd 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.Â
Youâd heard of what people tended to do in pressuring situations, and with the way the aftermath unfolded, it didnât seem like you made the wrong decision to pick up that revolver anyway.Â
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 couldnât quite make sense of in your head.Â
So you pulled the trigger.Â
âIn any case, weâre glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.â
You donât know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. âThatâs a lot for a pirate to say.â
âI know.â
BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi itâs already the next day, and youâre only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry.Â
Itâs an anxious ordeal, the crowâs nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway.Â
âI want to learn to use a knife.â
He was piling coiled ropes when youâd 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.Â
âWhy? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?â he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. Heâs too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly.Â
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.Â
âWeâve discussed what we might be up against, I donât want to be useless when the time comes.â
âSeemed pretty alright with that revolver.â
âAnyone can shoot a gun,â 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. âI want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.âÂ
He doesnât 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.Â
The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back.Â
The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water thatâs somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldnât make out.Â
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.Â
âFine,â he says nonchalantly. âWeâll get you a knife at Hasry.â
Hasry. Right.Â
The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. Thereâs 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 couldnât quite decipher.Â
You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed youâd be joining them.Â
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.Â
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.Â
âStop walking like you're important,â he had said.Â
âIâm a princess,â you snapped back, but he wasnât listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebodyâs attention.Â
The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that youâd run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than youâd 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.Â
When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall thatâs selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop.Â
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 âbig naval shipâ at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.
âThey said there was a blacksmith up this alleyâ Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. âWe can get your knife there.â
âKnife?â Chan asks, confused.Â
âMiss princess wants to learn to fightââ
âDonât!â Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows.Â
âItâs fine, theyâre too far,â Hoshi says. âLetâs get this over with.â
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.Â
Thereâs another seller a ways away, and sheâs laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. Itâs 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.Â
The curtain sheâs laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you canât make out any of it from where you stand.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
âThat oneâs new,â the woman says. âPractical too.â
The small brass letter opener thatâs looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size.Â
âItâs quite popular among the busy merchants,â the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. âEasier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers andâand in their cabinets.â
She lets out a laugh, âQuite pretty too.â
You stare at it for a moment, âHow much?â
âTen coin.â
You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again.Â
âIâll do seven!âÂ
You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt youâd be recognized just by the sound of your voice.
"I donât have coin,â you rasp.Â
âHow about that pretty thing on your finger then?â she asks.Â
The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your fatherâs 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.Â
By the time you return to the blacksmithâs 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.Â
âWhy are you standing so far away?â Chan asks. âCome closer.â
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.Â
âThe crates have probably been loaded too,â Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume heâs pocketed the knife somewhere. âLetâs hurry and leave beforeââ
âPrincess?â
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.Â
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.Â
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.Â
âPrincess!â Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you arenât running yet.Â
Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard itâs deafening any other sound in your ears, you still donât 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.Â
The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. Thereâs 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.Â
Thereâs a good chance youâre 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.Â
The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. Itâs only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and youâre suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.
Itâs immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. Youâre led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall.Â
âAre you alright?âÂ
Snapping your head up, youâre met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze.Â
âOh, erm.â Your voice soundsâŠnot like your own.Â
âItâs okay, breathe.â It helps, because it really did feel like youâd forgotten to breathe.Â
âWeâre leaving in just a few, everythingâs been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, donât worry.â
Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas.Â
The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless.Â
When youâve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean.Â
âCaptain said they couldnât run because it just wouldâve been more suspicious,â Seungkwan informs you as you nod. âDid youâŠdid you recognise him? The man at the market.âÂ
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.Â
âHeâs a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my fatherâs. If he even has any friends.âÂ
You pause as you think about the near blackout youâd had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality.Â
âI thinkâŠâ you trail off. âI 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, feltâŠit felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.â
Seungkwan doesnât 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.Â
âDo you feel better now?â
âA little,â you answer.Â
âMaybe a weapon can help.â
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.Â
You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known.Â
âHeâs right,â Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. âBlades have a way of calming you in any case.â
You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwanâs sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshiâs own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to.Â
Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, âCan we start now?â
He smirks.Â
ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air.Â
âYour opponentâs baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,â he comments, continuously unhelpful. âSwing faster.â
Itâs 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.Â
âIâm done,â 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.Â
Itâs 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 youâd have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway.Â
The following day, heâs tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that youâre finally swinging at something tangible; him.Â
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.
âDonât look where you want to strike, youâre giving yourself away.â
Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. Heâs 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.Â
âCome on, find a pace,â he grunts.Â
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.Â
He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when youâre ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand.Â
Thereâs a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away.Â
Thereâs an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You donât get to say anything because he beats you to it.Â
âDeep enough,â he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. âKeep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.â
Oh.Â
âAlright,â he says again, moving back into position.
âAre you gonna wrap that?â you ask, referring to the bloody hand.Â
âItâs fine, Iâve fought with worse,â he says.Â
You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck.Â
âYouâre getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourselfâJESUS!â
Youâve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasnât 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 couldâve been another scar for him to remember if youâd made it.Â
You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.
âNice try,â he says. âReally nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.â
âI lost my footing,â you defend, but even you knew that wasnât an excuse.Â
âAnd I just stabbed you in the back. And now Iâll have to present your corpse to your father and hope heâll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.âÂ
The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right.Â
âYouâd just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,â you say. âYouâre a slippery thing.â
He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. Itâs a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. Thereâs a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands.Â
âI keep going because I live without regret.â
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.
âI donât regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.â
You remain silent.Â
âCome on,â he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. Heâs washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.
Sighing, you ask him, âWhy?â
âBecause I donât ever do things Iâd regret.â
âThat insinuates you think before you act.â
âRight-O,â he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.
âFunny,â you answer. âBecause I dont think Iâve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.â
He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.
âYouâve looked into my eyes?âÂ
The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face mightâve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck.Â
âIâll send Jun up, practise with him.â
You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form.Â
Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass.Â
But you donât, mostly because heâd 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.Â
Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things youâd already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. Itâs quite pretty, youâll have to admit. Itâs plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. Youâd 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.Â
Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck.Â
âShouldâve picked a plain old gun,â he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. âJobâs done and you donât need to get within ten feet.â
âDonât have to reload a knife, do I?â you comment, taking the first swing.Â
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.Â
That couldâve been your throat.
âNo, but by now I couldâve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,â he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again.Â
That couldâve 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.Â
Itâs 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.Â
Chanâs 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.Â
You donât 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 werenât, you couldnât deny your growing comfortability with it all.Â
Itâd been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. Youâre determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what youâve been doing for the past week or so.Â
Thereâs a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing.Â
One deep breath, a slow exhale.
Itâs all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. Youâre succeeding, pushing the man further and further back.Â
âYouâre getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,â Chan seethes through his teeth.Â
âIâm trying,â you grunt through the effort.Â
Youâre 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 succeedâkind of.Â
Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute youâve got eyes on Chanâs hands and his blade, and the next heâs gone. Thereâs a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what youâve done.Â
You just pushed Chan overboard.Â
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.Â
âWhat? Whereâs Chan, he was supposed to be with you,â Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck.Â
Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know.Â
By the time Chanâs pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, youâve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle.Â
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 Chanâs unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense.Â
You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly.Â
âSorry about that, got carried away.â
Heâs sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position.Â
âItâs fine, happens.â He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well.Â
âNow, Chan,â Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. âWhatâs the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?âÂ
Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, âBe aware of your surroundingâARGH.â
Hoshi pushed him into the water.Â
You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chanâs head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean.Â
Just as youâre about to say something to Hoshi, heâs stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice.Â
âOne time was a mistake, twice is a problem!â
To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. Heâs also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours.Â
The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding youâve done enough damage to your body, you announce that youâd be retiring for the day.Â
âThank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, Iâve been hearing clanging in my sleep,â Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck.Â
In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat.Â
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.Â
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.Â
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 theyâve managed to survive for so long like this.Â
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.Â
Youâre almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones youâd 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.
Itâs nostalgic, and you hate it.Â
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. Itâs too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes.Â
The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt hitting your nose. Youâre 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.Â
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.
âYou realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?âÂ
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, âCan you just get me a fresh bucket?â
âHm, I donât know, can I?â He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun.Â
Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding youâd 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 bucketâs snatched away.Â
At first you think heâs being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. âYouââ
Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. âTry not to paint the deck with it this time, Iâve already mopped twice.â
The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you canât 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.Â
Heâs already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time youâre 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.Â
The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshiâs grumbling form as he mops up all the water youâve spilled.Â
âYou know, I should really be making youââ 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.Â
âMake me what? you grind.Â
You canât 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.Â
âNothing,â he says, to your surprise.Â
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
#svthub#hoshi fluff#hoshi smut#hoshi angst#hoshi fic#hoshi imagines#hoshi x reader#hoshi#soonyoung smut#soonyoung fluff#soonyoung scenarios#soonyoung imagines#soonyoung x reader#seventeen#soonyoung#seventeen flluff#seventeen smut#seventeen angst#seventeen fic recs#svt#svt smut#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt x reader#em.writes
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the house of snow (1) ⧠coriolanus snow
the house of snow ⧠a royal coryo au | pinterest board | ao3
pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader
series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, youâre sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.
chapter summary: your parents are convinced that you will marry the king by the end of the social season. and so, too, it seems does coriolanus snow. Â
word count: 2,764Â
series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added laterÂ
chapter warnings?: no use of y/n, you cannot stand coryo, not proofread
Coriolanus Snowâs rise to the throne was something you never expected to come to fruition. When you were younger, you remembered your peers talking about how Snow wanted to one day rule Panem. At the time, you thought it was just another wild dream of a child. Something a child would say when an adult asks what they wish to be when they grow up. âA pirate!â one might exclaim. Or, perhaps, âA painter!â The sort of thing that a sensible parent would shrug off and not dedicate anymore thought to. The Snow family, as it turned out, was not particularly sensible.Â
When the Former King Ravinstill died without warning, the throne was left vacant. Everyone knew that the old man had little life left in him. Yet, despite his age, he had a tendency to power through. No one thought he would have lived as long as he did, but he had. So, the Electors had not yet begun considering his replacement. No one had been prepared enough to seek candidacy. No one, except Coriolanus Snow. A few other eligible persons put forth their names, but no one garnered support quite like the young man. From a prominent family, the son of a general, had served briefly himself, intelligent, and had the financial backing of the Plinth family? There was no version of history where Snow could lose.Â
Within weeks of Ravinstillâs death, Snow was crowned King.Â
You did not care for politics, so you knew little of his reign. But your father seemed pleased, talking often and loudly about how the young Snow would restore Panem to its former glory. You werenât so sure of that. Though you did not interact with him often in your younger years, you remembered Snow as someone who was self-serving. Who would pretend to care if only it could further his own interests. He very well might let all of Panem burn if it meant he could gain from it. But your father was quite pleased with Snow as King and, when word began to spread that Snow would be seeking a bride this next social season, your father pushed hard for you to woo the King.Â
âIf you wish to serve your family well, my little dove, you will convince the King to marry you,â your father told you the moment he heard the news.Â
You all but scoffed. âI hardly think I am the sort of woman he wishes to marry. A man like him would want someone meek, someone who would not challenge his authority. We hardly ever agreed on the schoolyard, and for that reason, he never considered me a friend. How could he ever see me as a wife?â
Your fatherâs eyes narrowed at you. âIt is your responsibility, then, to make yourself small so that he may choose you.â
âI would rather die than sacrifice my ideals, Papa,â you said. âWhy can I not vie for any otherâs attention? I know Lord Plinth quite well. Iâve always enjoyed his company. It would be easy to win his heart and have our family set for life. Certainly easier than winning over the King.â
He sneered, âThe only thing the Plinth family is good for is their money. I want to be respected. We would be little more than social pariahs if you wed the Plinth boy.â
âI shall not marry the Kingââ
Your mother stepped in before you could say something you might come to regret. She placed a hand on your arm, directing your attention to her. âNever mind that now. There is still time before the season begins for minds to be changed.â
âI shall not change my mind, Mama.â
She looked over at your father, who was the perfect picture of irate. She looked back to you. âPerhaps, but perhaps not. Let us go clear our minds, yes? We should go order new gowns at the modiste before everyone else floods her with demands.â
âYou cannot distract me with fashion.â
âBut you would do well to pretend that I have.â
Your efforts to convince your parents that you would not, under any circumstance whatsoever, marry Coriolanus Snow did not do anything for you. Despite your best efforts, you now stood in the palace for the Kingâs Ball, wearing the most beautiful powder blue gown fresh from the modiste, trying and failing to hide from your mother, so that you might delay her forcing you onto Snow. For now, though, she had been distracted by a conversation with Lady Dovecote aboutâŠwhatever mothers talked about. Surely some scheme that would end with either you or Clemensia as Snowâs betrothed. You rolled your eyes at the thought.Â
A familiar voice said your name. When you turned, you were greeted by the sight of Sejanus Plinth, holding two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to you, remarking, âI never knew you to be one to hide from the crowd.â
âI shall hide from the crowd when my mama is convinced I shall become Queen by the end of the season.â
âAh.â Sejanus took a drink and laughed. âStrange, isnât it? Seeing everyone we grew up with vying for Coryoâs attention.â
Coryo? Oh, yes. That was the nickname those close to Snow would call him. You had forgotten that the two were friends. Hmm, perhaps you could use that information the next time your parents try to force a connection with Snow. Something about how getting close to his friend might make him interested in you. âThat it is. It seems as though everyone has lost their minds just for a glimpse of the crown.â
Sejanus laughed again. Then he looked at you a little more seriously, and said, âIf I am honest, I am surprised you are not among those fighting for Coryoâs attention.â
Your brows pinched together. âYou think I am interested in climbing the social ladder? Lord Plinth, you should know me well enough that I care more for a love match than gaining a title.â
âNo, no. That is not what I meant. I remember in school that you and Coryo always had a sort of connection. Truthfully, I thought one of you might have acted on it sooner when you entered society.â
âThe only connection we had was that of hatred. We despised each other.â
Sejanus shook his head, his curls bouncing. âI do not think that was true for Coryo. He liked that you challenged him. He has never been the sort of person who liked people who switch their position when the tide seems to turn. He likes people who are firm in their convictions.â
You laughed. âHeâs told you this?â
âNot in so many words. But you have to wonder why he always sought you out.â
âPerhaps. Or perhaps he is crueler than we all think.â
Sejanus moved to protest, but another beat him to it. âOr perhaps you judge without truly knowing.â
You froze. Oh, how you had hoped that you could have avoided him tonight! Damn Sejanus and his friendship with Snow. So much for him being your safe haven during these balls. You might as well have lit a beacon leading straight to you. Alas, you did not want Snow to see the hatred you had brewing for him. Even if you did not like the man, you would be a social pariah if you made such feelings known to him. So, you painted on a smile as you turned to look at Snow. âOr perhaps I made an educated guess supported by the evidence of past interactions.â
Snow snorted, turning his gaze to Sejanus. âAlways so quick with a response, she is.â
Sejanus glanced at you, a knowing look in his eyes. If you were a mindreader, you could imagine him gloating in his mind about how he was right, that this was a sign that Snow cared for you in some way. But you only knew it to be yet another indicator that you and Snow could never, ever, get along. âHer wit has never dulled.â
âShould we see, then, if her dance skills are still equally sharp?â
Sejanus looked at you again, a brilliant smile on his face. Oh, how you wished to wipe that look off. This was not proof of anything. This did not prove his point. âI could not think of anything better.â
Damn you, Sejanus Plinth. Damn you.Â
Snow held his arm out for you to take. You stared at it, not moving. âIn order to dance with a lady, you must ask her. I do not recall you asking me anything.â
Snow glanced just beyond you. When you turned your head to follow his gaze, you saw your mother and Lady Dovecote watching the interaction carefully. As you looked back at Snow, he said, âYour mother would be disappointed if you did not dance with me.â
âIt is amazing you became King when you are so lacking in manners.â But you knew your motherâthe entirety of the ton, perhapsâwould consider you insane to turn the King down so openly. So you took his arm and let him lead you onto the dance floor.Â
He snorted. âYou are the only person who speaks so freely to me.â
âAh, so this is one last dance before my execution? How kind. Perhaps I was wrong about your cruelty.â
âThere is much you are wrong about,â Snow said. You had reached the dance floor. The crowd parted around you, allowing you and Snow to take the middle of the floor. You faced him, allowing his hand to fall to you waist. You placed one hand on his shoulder, and let him take the other in his free hand. âIt would be far too much of a shame to take your life.â
âSuch a kind and gentle king.â
âOnly for those who deserve it.â
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother miming for you to smile. You fought the urge to sneer instead. Even if you would rather do anything else than be courted by Coriolanus Snow, acting out would not do you any favors. If you had any hope in finding a love match, you had to at least be cordial to him. So you smiled as prettily as you could. But you couldnât help yourself from saying, âThen perhaps you should go see a physician. You seem to have lost your mind.â
To your surprise, Snow laughed. The sound almost scared you. When was the last time you heard Snow laugh? An actual laugh, at that. None of his snorts of derision or half-hearted chuckles when he was trying to charm someone. Had you ever heard him laugh before? You tried to wrack your brain, but you could not recall anything. In school, he had always been so seriousâfocused more on using the tools available to him to climb the social ladder rather than being a kid like everyone else. Though, you supposed, Snow was a far cry from everyone else.Â
The music began to play, and Snow spun you around the dance floor. As you turned, you locked eyes with Sejanus. He wore a large grin on his face, seemingly sure that you and Snow were making nice. Why else would he have laughed at something you said? You wished you could yell out to Sejanus, tell him that he was dead wrong.Â
âWhat is it that people say? Something about love driving people mad?â
This time, you did roll your eyes. âOh, come off it. You and I both know perfectly well that you do not care for me. I hardly understand why youâre even entertaining this nonsense, if for no other reason than to torture me.â
Snow considered you. After a long moment of silence, he said, âI seek a bride who will produce me an heir. There are few women here who meet my standards. A woman of good breeding, from a respectable family, and intelligent enough to keep up with me. Someone who will be a good Queen and a good mother.â
âSomeone that you can control.â You scoff. âYou truly must see a physician, Your Majesty, if you think that I will fall in line with whatever you ask of me.â
His lips curled into a grin. Your stomach churned. âNot yet.â
The next morning, your mother promptly reported that you had danced with Coriolanus Snow not once, not twice, but three times to your father. To say he had been pleased was something of an understatement. He was certain that Snow would soon be reaching out to discuss a proposal. It did not matter how much you tried to downplay the situationâexplain that he was only dancing with you for some other reason than him wishing to marry you. Your parents minds were made up. By the end of the season, you were to be Queen of Panem.Â
âItâs just the nerves,â your mother dismissed as you sat in the drawing room, waiting for any suitor to call on you. âYou will be more than confident once you are wed.â
You ground your teeth together. âI do not wish to marry Coriolanus Snow. I would marry anyone else. I would let you or Papa pick anyone else in the ton and I would not let out a single complaint. I cannot marry that man.â
Something just beyond you caught your motherâs attention. Your father, you supposed. âYou should not say such thingsââ she began to say. Of course. Of course she would say that.Â
âWhy not? It is true. I would be miserable with him. I would rather die than be his bride, bear his children. Frankly, forcing me to marry him may as well be a death sentence.â
âDear, you do not truly mean thatââ
âAnd you must not know me at all if you think I am not being completely, and utterly, truthful right now. Coriolanus Snow is the last man I would ever wish to marry.â
Your mother leaned in close to you, hissing, âStop talking right now, young lady.â
A frown settled on your face. Why was she so bothered about you speaking so freely? There was no one in the room but you, her, and a maid. Perhaps she was concerned about the maid spreading gossip with other maids and that slowly enveloping the ton. It wasnât a non-possibility, to be sure. But why was she acting soâŠscandalized by your words?Â
UnlessâŠ
You turned your head toward the entrance of the room. There should Coriolanus Snow, dressed in a dark red suit, holding a bouquet of white roses. Your mouth went dry. Oh, why does he keep showing up when you least expect it? âThe butler typically announces when a guest has arrived,â you said.Â
You couldnât read his face. A part of you wondered if you had offended him. You didnât particularly care about offending him, but you also knew that such an act could have dire consequences on you marrying anyone else. âHe was going to, but I wanted my arrival to be a surprise.â He took a step closer to you, holding out the roses. âI just had these freshly picked from my garden.â
A part of you wanted to smack the roses out of his hands, but you had already embarrassed your mother enough in front of Snow. You took the roses, yet couldnât stop yourself from saying, âI cannot believe a man like you could grow something so beautiful.â
Your mother let out a loudâobviously fakeâlaugh. âOh, isnât she just funny? She always says the silliest things.â
Snow chuckled. He smiled at your motherâthe sort of smile that your stomach twist into knots. Like he knew something no one else did, and he was reveling in that. âIt is one of her moreâŠcharming traits.â He turned his attention back to you. âAs lovely as this is, I came to ask if you would like to promenade with me in the square.â
Oh, Snow. Why was he so good at backing you into corners? You took a breath and passed the bouquet to the maid so she could put them in a vase. âThat would be nothing short of a delight.â
He held out his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his bicep, your nails digging in. If he felt any pain, he didnât show it. Instead, he leaned down so that you could only hear him whisper, âIt seems like you fall in line much easier than you would like to believe.â
#the house of snow: a royal coryo au#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x fem!reader#coriolanus snow x female reader#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x y/n#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow fan fiction#coriolanus snow fanfic#coriolanus snow fan fic#coriolanus snow fic#starrywrites#starryevermore
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It was dark upon the ship, but the lanterns affixed here and there around the ship give off just enough light for one to find their way without danger of tripping on something that might cause them to fall over the side.
It's quiet, in the dead of the night, so the scramble of fast footsteps breaking that silence are quick to draw his attention and put him on alert. The sound of retching that follows, though, settles his nerves, and the sight of someone keeled over the side of the ship isn't an unfamiliar sight, even if the figure who is sick is.
"The sea not agree with ye, eh?" Tavish called out with a chuckle as he crossed the deck to approach.
The Prince and The Pirate
@dead-eye-ranger
The sea was good, and that was a good omen for the hunting they were about to be doing. They had the wind at their backs, and they were catching up quick. Soon enough they'd be in range to strike.
The air on the ship was abuzz with anticipation as the canons were loaded and men ran about, making sure everything was prepared for the attack. She'd have blood of anyone who slacked, and they knew it.
She herself was well and ready, watching the horizon, cutlass raised, waiting for the perfect moment.
The downswing of her cutlass was punctuated moments later by the rattling booms of the cannons as the fuses were lit and their projectiles sent off. Nodding with satisfaction as a mast toppled from the chains. The shot aimed for the helm had missed the man at it, but the damage was still satisfactory. They were wounded enough to catch like a fish in a net as ropes and hooks were tossed across when they neared enough, and if the people aboard were smart, they'd save themselves needless loss of life.
#dead-eye-ranger#pirate au#guest muse I guess?#Does it count as a guest muse if its one you have just on a different sideblog?
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halloween headcannons with the strawhats (modern strawhat au!!) characters luffy, zoro, sanji, usopp, nami and robin quick a/n i whipped this up in like 20 minutes... i know this is late but should i do a second part?? (please ask me to do law he is rhe love of my life)
luffy ÖŽÖ¶âËđŻïžâ±â§âË.
he LOVES Halloween. he doesnât really get the ideas and stuff behind it, but trick or treating is his THING.
he doesnât necessarily get why he has to knock random peopleâs doors and say âtrick or treat!!!1!!1!â but he gets sweets anyways.
to me, luffy is in the middle about costumes, sometimes he just puts a stripey t shirt and is like âim a pirate!â but sometimes he puts effort into his costume
loves matching with you though
loves carving pumpkins!! he makes an absolute mess of it though <33
they do end up looking terrible, but thatâs how theyâre cute!
he loves watching horror movies too! loves the coziness of cuddling with you in the middle of the night
you guys also watch coco around this time of year, since dia de los muertos is around halloween (i am NOT normal about coco i love coco)
halloweens with luffy are funny and full of laughter <3
zoro ÖŽÖ¶ÖžâËđŻïžâ±â§âË.
genuinely sleeps through it
he likes going to the parties for the drinks though
half asses EVERYTHING with it
but, heâll sit and watch a horror movie or two with you, he likes how you get scared he thinks itâs cute
if you donât get scared from horror movies , then you guys would laugh at the jumpscares together đ
does not care about costumes or trick or treat or anything but heâll tag along with you if you decide to go cos heâll worry about you alone in the night otherwise!
overall doesnât care but heâll do some stuff with you because he likes seeing you get excited over it
sanji (the LOVE of my life) âËđŻïžâ±â§âË.
personally, I think heâd really be into Halloween traditions
you guys would bake cookies together and decorate them to make them spooky , how cute !
probably has dressed up as a Dracula/vampire more than once and will do it again
when Halloween comes around, you guys are the ones to arrange the party
he likes the dressing up part of trick-or-treat more than the getting candy part, definitely
so you get all the candy !
he lets you put makeup on him for parties (he looks GORGEOUS)
you guys donât watch horror films, but like ⊠the kinda more human⊠cuter Halloween films
like corpse bride! and encanto <33 (i know encanto isnât exactly a ⊠halloween movie of sorts but itâs has that vibe to me okay)
but yeah! instead of being outright terrifying, Halloweens with Sanji are fun and cute, with that tone of scare and horror but he would never do anything to shiver your timbers :3
usopp âËđŻïžâ±â§âË.
nowâŠ. usoppâŠ.
he is a scaredy cat and a halloween WARRIOR at the same time
as he is obsessed with pranks, he capitalises on this time to pull pranks on EVERYONE (you included, soz queen </3)
but the pranks on you are a bit more ⊠calm one may say
watching horror movies with usopp is an experience to say the least
heâs acting all high and mighty but when the jumpscare comes he is CLINGING onto your arm for his life
but, at the end, he denies everything, and he says he wasnât scared at allâŠ
you both know itâs a lie
also a trick or treating warrior. he goes all out!!
nami âËđŻïžâ±â§âË.
another one who LOVES Halloween
the two of you have gone to so many partiesâŠ
you guys are planning your costumes from august, getting all the stuff early and definitely the best dressed
sometimes⊠when little kids come for trick or treat she tricks them by giving the sweet to them and then taking it away last minute but then she feels really bad so she gives them another sweet
you guys also bake cookies for Halloween together
the result? uhhhhhh itâs the thought that counts right
but overall, Halloween with nami is a very enjoyable and fun time where you guys get to dress up tons and no one asks đ
nico robin âËđŻïžâ±â§âË.
oh nico robin save me please
she likes giving little kids sweets in the most normal way possible, she thinks they look really cute in their silly little cat costumes :3 (so do i)
for some reason sheâs really good at carving pumpkins like they look FIRE like they are works of ART
loves playing little harmless pranks on you, like usopp, but she makes up for it afterwards with kisses <3
alongside nami has the BEST costume for literally no reason.
you two donât always go matching, but she helps you look for your outfit !
again, she really enjoys watching horror films with you, she enjoys your reactions to jumpscares (whether you are terrified of them or not)
probably goes as a witch or something basic but makes it look really good
note can you tell i like sanji ... send recs if you want love you bye
#one piece headcanons#straw hat pirates#one piece x reader#monkey d. luffy#luffy x reader#roronoa zoro#zoro x reader#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#one piece usopp#usopp x reader#nami one piece#nico robin#nami x reader#nico robin x reader#one piece
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unbreakable bonds ê° no quirks au | childhood friends | friends to lovers ê± âą a collective of family bonding and little moments between you and katsuki.
ăâĄă k.bakugo x fem!reader ê° tags & content ê± emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, happiness all around â ËÊÉ â just wanted to write something sickly sweet and itâs been sitting in my drafts forever. reader has a little sister that helps bond the two of you together over the years. cross posted to ao3 | word count; 3.3k -`⧠katsuki bakugo masterlist
You were too young - a little over three - to understand the day your mom brought home your little sister. You'd been secretly asking the universe for a sibling, someone to share everything with. Ask and you shall receive! But, you never knew just how much she would shape your life into what it is today.
The Kingdom - Elementary School
Fourth grade is when you and Katsuki started to play after school together on a daily basis. Him and Izuku would come by and grab snacks from your mom while you went back to the park around the corner, playing pirates and super heroes with the other neighborhood kids. Every so often, your mom would ask for you to bring your sister along. You never minded, even though she was your baby sister in first grade. The boys would pick on her - lovingly, of course - to make her feel included with the rest of the pack. She loved being around you, cooing and giggling away as she'd hold your hand and squeal with delight.
One day at the park, she'd declared herself to be queen of the castle as she stood on the slide, proudly puffing out her chest with her hands on her hips.
"I am the queen, and what I say goes!" she pointed to you and Katsuki. "Sissy will be the princess and you will be our royal guard, Katsu!"
You chuckle. "Isn't the older sister supposed to be queen?"
She does her best impression of a royal laugh, projecting her voice theatrically. "Not in my land! It's my kingdom and if you don't like it, I'll send you to the brig!"
"You're confusin' pirates 'n princesses again,â Katsuki taunts playfully.
She stomps her foot on the slide. âSilence in my kingdom! Izu will be my knight!â
Katsuki pouts. âHey! Why donât I get to be the knight?!â
âCause I say so! Youâre the royal guard cause youâre tough. Izu is the knight because heâs brave!â
You canât help but let out a loud âhah!â at her comment. Your sister never failed to push Katsuki in the cutest ways - he probably was thankful to be an only child whenever you guys would go home for the day.
Katsuki huffs at her declaration, taking the challenge with stride. âFine! Iâll show you whoâs tough and be the best dang guard in the whole world.â
âDo I get a cool set of armor, queen?â Izuku asks, bouncing up and down at the bottom of the slide.
âOf course! Only the best armor and ponies for my royal kingdom.â
She sits and pushes herself down the metal slide, rocketing off the edge past Izuku and barreling toward Katsuki. She trucks into him at full force - but, being small, that force isnât much for him to withstand.
âWhat the heck was that for?!â he yells while catching her before she hits the wood chips.
âA test of your toughness, Katsu! And you passed! Youâre deserving of a spot in my kingdom,â she giggles, mashing his cheeks together with her tiny palms. He protests her closeness and tries to fight her off, setting her feet back on the ground while sheâs wiggling in his hold. Watching the two of them act like siblings themselves always made you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, knowing your two closest friends also adored your sister as much as you did.
You meander over to grab her from him. âAlright, I think you made your point, queen. Your guard and knight have other duties to get to.â
She waves goodbye to the boys over her shoulder as the two of you stroll home for dinner. She gleefully remarks how cool they are and that she canât wait to marry them someday.
You canât help but giggle at the thought. âBoth of them? Wow, all to yourself, huh?â
She pouts and whips her head upward. âNo, sissy! We both get one!â
âOh yeah? Because youâre the queen of the kingdom, you get to pick?â
âThatâs right! Theyâll have to fight to see who gets to pick you!â
You roll your eyes, shaking your head at the thought. Youâre only ten years old, the thought of boys fighting over you was hilarious.
âPromise not to tell Izu, but I think Katsu would win that fight,â she whispers, tugging on your hand to get you to lean over closer to her face. âHeâs taller and faster!â
The thought of marrying Katsuki flashes in your mind - you have zero clue what that even looks like, but you imagine him bringing you flowers on the playground or giving you a bite of his ice cream. A blush creeps over your cheeks and nose at the thought. Your sister catches your reaction and gasps dramatically.
âYou like Katsu?!â she exclaims.
You shush her. âNo! Donât go yelling that!â
Thatâs a big fat lie. You liked him a lot, he was your favorite person, but youâre kids.
Itâs just a harmless crush.
âââ
An Enchanted Afternoon - Elementary School
A week later, the four of you returned to the playground after school. Snacks from your pantry in hand, the bunch of you sit on the swing set to eat. Your sister seemed extremely eager today, more so than usual. Once you all finished eating, she demanded your attention.
"Gather 'round! Your queen summons you," she declares, arms raised above her head. You and the boys huddle around her.
"Katsu, go fetch flowers!" she orders as she points to a nearby patch of grass. "Zuzu, clear out the sandbox of any villagers."
There wasn't anyone else here today, so that job was easily done. Izuku doesn't say anything and smiles as he heads over to the sandbox as ordered. Katsuki is confused, nose scrunched and arms crossed.
"Why do I need to get flowers?" he asks, tapping his foot in the wood chips.
"Do you dare defy your queen?!" she shouts, grinning wickedly. He obliges, sauntering over to the grass to find a few spare daisies.
"What's all this for?" you ask, genuinely curious to her plans. She doesnât answer you as she grabs you by the wrist, dragging you over to the sandbox.
A few minutes later, Katsuki comes back with a handful of daisies, picked and pruned clean of any dirt and weeds. Izuku stands on the edge of the sandbox patiently.
âPerfect! Katsu, Sissy, please approach your queen.â
You play along and stand in front of her with Katsuki. Itâs amusing how small she is in comparison to the two of you, easily shadowing over her figure.
âWith my knight as witness, I give the blessing to the princess and royal guard to be married forever!â she exclaims, waving her hands around to mimic casting a magic spell.
You're pretty sure she got that line from a princess movie, but that doesn't make the sentiment any less adorable. You begin to chuckle to yourself, smiling ear to ear before turning toward Katsuki. You're expecting him to be disgusted, repulsed by something so sickly sweet, but are shocked to see him standing with the flowers outstretched in your direction. He's biting his bottom lip and avoiding eye contact by staring directly at your feet.
"H-here," he whispers meekly, pushing the flowers into your hands. You've never seen him so shy before - that's usually Izuku's demeanor. His unexpected affection makes your little heart flutter in your chest.
"Thank you 'Suki," is all you can muster up the courage to say, your mind running blank on the right thing to say. It's just an imaginary scenario...It's not real, not like you're actually marrying him. Katsuki exhales, turning his back to you to hide his strawberry colored cheeks.
"Now you're together forever!" you sister raves, dancing on her tip toes with satisfaction.
Maybe that was the moment she bound you two together with some unknown magical force, or it was a mere coincidence. The sappy part of your young brain believed in fairytales and chose to believe she was weaving your golden string to him, binding you two for life.
âââ
Leftovers - Middle School
âYo, brats! Come eat already so I can get the hell outta here,â Katsuki called from your doorway. Heâd come by with leftovers from his mom for you and your sister, since your own mom was working later that day. The two of you were stillâŠfriends? You werenât sure. Being in seventh grade and all, he started acting like you werenât cool enough for him. He did the same to Izuku, starting to ditch the two of you for other kids in class to hang out with at lunch or walk home with. Did it hurt your feelings? Absolutely. But you didnât own him, he was allowed to have other friends, even if it did suck to see him less outside of class.
âComing!â you called back, skipping down the hallway with your sister in tow. She happily ran into the entryway, hugging Katsuki by the waist. She was taller now, but still much smaller than him as a fourth grader.
âHiya Katsu!â she gleamed up at him, rubbing her face against his uniform jacket.
He grunted, uncomfortable with her sudden affection and poking her in the forehead to release her grip. âLet go, squirt!â
He turned his attention to you as your sister finally let go of him. âHere, take these. I gotta get to practice.â
âThank you! Tell your mom we said hi.â
âYeah, whatever.â
You hand the containers to your sister as she wanders off to the table. Before Katsuki opens the door, you tap him on the shoulder.
âHey, are you alright?â
He scoffs at your question. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
âYou just seem distant lately. Wanna come by sometime for a movie marathon?â you ask, tilting your head and giving him a warm smile.
âWeâre not kids anymore. Got better stuff to do.â
Ouch, that stung. Your smile fades away as you reply. âWellâŠI know. I just miss hanging out with you.â
âYou have Deku anâ that other group of bitches you hang out with, ya donât need me.â His harsh comment has notes of jealousy intertwined in his words. He goes to put his hand on the door again before you take a step forward to stop him.
âKat, theyâre not a replacement for you. Youâve got your own friends now, too since youâre on the soccer team. Youâre saying we canât hang out 'cause we have different friends?â
He glares at you before pushing past you and pulling on the front door.
âHey!â your sister shouts from the dining area. âKatsu, thatâs not nice. My royal guard doesn't act like that!â Sheâs always thought of Katsuki as a guard since your elementary school playground days.
âCut the shit! Weâre not kids anymore!â Katsuki rebuttals with a growl of frustration.
He makes eye contact with you. âWeâve grown apart, end of fuckinâ story. Get over it.â
He slams your front door closed and leaves you standing in the entryway, your eyes stinging from the urge to cry. You feel a small gust of wind rush by as your sister is sprinting to the door, throwing it open and running outside without shoes on.
âHey!â She calls after Katsuki. âGet your butt back here, Katsu!â
He turns on his heel. âHah?!â
She stomps on the ground, fists balled at her sides. âApologize to her!â
Katsuki cackles, a little too manically. âFor what, brat?â
âYouâre being a mean jerk to her! She doesnât deserve to be yelled at like that. Friends are friends forever, idiot!â she yells, her cheeks puffed and eyebrows scrunched together.
You canât help but stifle a laugh at her calling Katsuki an idiot and turn your head to hide your amusement.
âThatâs not who you are, Katsu. Thatâs not how you treat your princess!â
He pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut in annoyance, exhaling dramatically. He locks his gaze on you, storming back up to the doorway. He roughly ruffles your sisterâs hair as he passes by her as a pseudo apology. Katsuki sucks the air through his teeth and shoves his fists in his pockets as he stops in front of you.
âLook, âm sorry for yellinâ, okay?â he sighs, kicking a foot against the pavement. âI'll come over Saturday, weâll have that movie day ya wanted.â
"You don't need to if you feel forced to hang out with me." Your eyes shift to your feet to avoid looking at his reaction.
" 's fine. I'll be here at noon, don't pick anything lame."
With that, he turns to leave for a second time in silence. You watch him disappear around the corner and can't help but feel like a burden for asking him to make time for you. As if reading your mind, your sister shakes you out of the negative train of thought while walking back to the house.
âDonât worry about him, heâs just being a dumb boy. Thatâs what my teacher says when boys are mean for no reason.â She grins a toothy smile up at you and grabs your hand. âCome on! Foods getting cold!â
Katsuki rounded the corner and waited to be out of sight before palming his face in anger. He had no idea why he said those things to you. None of it was true, especially that youâd grown apart. If anything, he was jealous of your friends and missed seeing you all the time. But he couldnât bring himself to say so, like always. Ever since middle school started, heâd harbored some unknown rage inside of him that lashed out every chance it could. He hated it and didnât know what to do to stop it - hence trying out for the soccer team, looking for an outlet for the pent up emotions in his body.
Katsuki secretly hoped you wouldnât end up despising him for it. Even after all this time, he still thinks of you whenever he sees a patch of daisies.
Maybe one day heâd be brave enough to tell you about it.
âââ
Running Late - High School
The front door to your home opens as Katsuki slips inside, kicking his loafers off by the door. Your younger sister peaks over the kitchen counter while spreading jam over her toast and nods in his direction.
"Hey Katsu, pretty sure she's still asleep upstairs," she calls, rolling her eyes. "I tried to get her up three times, maybe you'll have better luck."
It was hard to believe that she was already in her freshmen year of high school - shit, itâs crazy that you and Katsuki were seniors. The age of playground days and summer adventures went by in the blink of an eye.
He makes his way to the kitchen island, leaning over to ruffle your sisterâs hair - some things never change.
"Thanks, bean. I'll get her ass movinâ."
âStooop! Youâll mess up my hair!â She whines as she pulls away, fixing a few stray pieces of her fluffy mane.
âYa look fine, donât sweat it,â he compliments while heading for the staircase. He makes his way to your bedroom on the second floor. The door is surprisingly cracked open - he taps on the doorframe to grab your attention.
âCome in,â you call, lying on your bed facing the wall above the covers while scrolling on your phone. You presume itâs your sister until a soft kiss is planted on your cheek.
âMorninâ sweets,â Katsuki whispers, rubbing your shoulder to turn you to face him. He sits on the edge of your bed beside you. âYou wanna be late for our last first day of high school?â
You shift to sit up and drop your phone to your bed, reaching to cradle his face in your hands.
âNo, I just wanted to steal a few kisses first,â you mumble as your lips quietly meet his. Katsuki places one hand on your cheek while the other lightly grazes your back. After a few moments, the two of you part with a soft smack. You stand and straighten up your uniform skirt, flattening a few of the panels to work out any stray creases.
âDo I look okay?â You ask, spinning around for Katsuki and showing off your uniform. Your hair was pulled into a pretty ponytail with a few pieces framing your face. The only make up you had on was some lip gloss - you valued sleeping in over doing a minimalist makeup look today.
âYâalways look good,â he sighs, standing to his feet. âLetâs get movinâ before bean suspects somethinâ.â
You hadnât told your sister about your relationship with Katsuki. Sure, you guys had been friends since you were children and heâs always aroundâŠhow would she know the difference?
The two of you patter down the hallway and skip down the stairs to the kitchen. Your sister is waiting for the two of you, arms crossed and tapping one foot impatiently.
âFinally! Get your damn shoes on,â she orders while pushing you toward the door. She does a double take at Katsuki while youâre putting on your shoes, raising an eyebrow at him.
âKatsuâŠare you wearing lipgloss?â
Oops.
Katsukiâs searching for something to say as his face glows scarlet. He puts a hand on the back of his neck and turns away, grumbling while attempting to hide his embarrassment.
âOh come on, you two. I knew you guys started dating months ago. You think I didnât notice?â
You spin around to face her, cheeks puffed and eyebrows scrunched. âYou never said anything?!â
She laughs, walking up to Katsuki and placing a hand on his shoulder.
âIf you ever hurt her, Katsuki, Iâll knock your lights out. I know where you sleep,â she threatens, grinning mischievously. Katsuki pulls her into a headlock, ruffling her hair a second time.
âDeal, but I plan on stayinâ alive.â He lets her go, chuckling as he smooths out the pieces of hair he messed with.
Seeing the two of them get along never fails to make your heart swell with joy. Katsuki has always treated her like his own sister - one that he could easily give back at the end of every day, anyways.
She turns with a huff with her hands in the air.
âYou both have my blessing, you should know that. I didnât marry you two in a sandbox for nothing!â
âââ
Today Was A Fairytale - Current Day
âItâs an honor to be doing this for a second time. Youâre in luck, my vocabulary has grown exponentially since our sandbox days.â
Thereâs a wave of laughter through the crowd at your sisterâs lighthearted joke. You canât help but smile as Katsukiâs fingers dance across the back of your hand to regather your attention.
God, he looks so damn handsome in that tux. His usual wild hair is slicked back and tamed - an extremely rare sight. Carmine eyes stare back at you, full of devotion and excitement for this next chapter in your fairytale.
âBy the power vested in me, and these people as my witness, I pronounce you two as king and queen of the kingdom!â
Friends and family alike cheer and whistle as you and Katsuki intertwine, kissing each other for the first time as husband and wife. He spins you around and dips you low, kissing the tip of your nose playfully.
âI love you,â he mouths, a silent profession of adoration - reserved just for you.
The two of you strut down the aisle to the dance floor in the reception hall, the DJ already queuing the first dance song. Katsuki gently tugs you by the waist, pulling you closer to him as he begins to sway side to side when the music begins to fill the room. You rest your head against his chest and get lost in the moment.
Right now, the world belongs to the two of you. Every worry, struggle, and hardship is stripped away from your lives to give you the peace you deserve.
Thereâs one thought that lingers in your mind as you catch a glimpse of your teary-eyed sister watching you from the corner of the dance floor, latched onto Izukuâs arm for support.
She tied that golden string with an unbreakable knot.
tags đ„ @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon
#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#bakugo x you#bakugo x reader fluff#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo#my hero academia#bakugo fluff#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou fluff#katsuki bakugou x reader#â.rei writes
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i want you
kinktober, day twenty-five
a/n: okay but why haven't i thought of pirate captain!miguel till now? shame on me honestly because that's way too delicious
summary: âno, please!â you bellowed, tears nearly forming in your eyes, âI have money! Just name the price! I will give you anything I have to get out of here!â
warnings:Â pirate captain!miguel o'hara x upper-class!reader, smut, historical au, sex as payment, stripping, kissing, slight knife kink, dirty talk
word count: 830
⌠gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here âœ
masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023
âSo, let me get this right,â the gruff man behind the desk glared up at you through his furrowed brows, âyou want to bid passage on this vessel? You are aware of what kind of ship this is, arenât you, miss?â
âI am,â you stood your ground. Â
âYou, a lady,â he gestured to your fine dress, âwillingly want to sail upon a pirate ship?â
âI want to get out of this town on a ship that isnât under my fatherâs employ, thatâs what I want.â
âWhat, is your bed too soft and your suiters too dashing?â he chuckled.Â
âYeah,â you scoffed, averting your gaze, âsomething like thatâŠâ
Looking you over a moment, he then let out a heavy sigh and said, âmiss, Iâm gonna do you a favour and tell you to get the hell off my ship before someone comes looking for you, or worse, my crew does, and their manners arenât what youâre accustomed to.â
âNo, please!â you bellowed, tears nearly forming in your eyes, âI have money! Just name the price! I will give you anything I have to get out of here!â
Narrowing his eyes, ââŠanything?â his head tilted at the possibilities.
âYes,â you nodded desperately, âwould you rather have my jewellery?â your hands shot up to your necklace, âthen itâs yours.â
âI donât want your jewels,â your fingers halted around the dainty chain, âor your money for that sake.â
âNo, wait, please, I donât care where you are going, what port you drop me off at, I just have to get out of here-â
âIf I help you, then I want something different.â
Gazing back at his leisurely seat in his chair, you asked breathily, âwhat?â
Staring what felt like directly into your soul, he then uttered, âI want you.â
Blinking back at him a moment, you then stammered, âe-excuse me, sir?â
âChrist, you really are a ladyâŠâ he chuckled briefly at your bashful reaction, âlook, I presume you can retrace your steps and find your way off this boat yourself-â
âNo, no, Iâm sorry, please donât, Iâm sorry, I just-⊠you want me?â
Gazing back at you, he stated confidently, âyes.â
âWhat, do you want me on your crew? Because I donât have any sailing experience-â
âNo, I wanna fuck you,â a shiver ran down your spine at his crude words, âso, either take off that dress or see your way out.â
After letting your desperation sway your deliberation, you carefully began to undo the overwhelming row of tiny silk buttons down the front of your garment. Letting the top part fall to the floor, soon joined the poufy fabrics around your legs. But when you reached back to pull at the laces on your corset, the knot was too stubborn for you to manage in an effortless second.Â
Though suddenly, as the Captain got up and conjured a short blade from his leather boot, your fingers froze and your eyes grew in alarm, âwhat are you-â
âRelax,â he walked around the desk to where you stood, âIâm not gonna hurt you,â then gestured as he said, âturn around,â which you promptly did, letting out a stifled gasp as he cut through the strings, the stiff stays swiftly joining the pile on the floor. Chest heaving beneath your thin chemise, you felt his broad palm glide over your waist, begging you to turn back around, âitâs been a very long time since Iâve been with someone who wasnât a whoreâŠâ your eyes didnât meet his intense gaze as his touch fluttered up to ghost across your cheek, âhonestly, I donât know if I ever haveâŠâÂ
As your vision finally flickered up to catch his, his fingers curled to graze his harsh knuckles across your cheekbone, searching your eyes as he seized your waist with his other hand and pulled you in close to taste your lips.
His kiss wasnât at all like you had expected. It wasnât foul and unpleasant, no, his lips nearly caused your knees to buckle.Â
âYouâre so soft,â his deep voice warmed you from within as he held you near, âlike youâve never lived a fucking day in your lifeâŠâ
âIâve lived,â you tilted your chin, âjust not like you have, sir.â
âOh, have you now?â a genuine chuckle bubbled out of him, âhave you ever done anything like this before?â he spun you around and began to back you up, âI thought rich girls like you were kept in the dark and waited till marriage⊠are you married? Is it your husband that youâre running from?â
Answering both of his questions with three simple words, you uttered, âIâm not married.â
âWell, Iâm not gonna take you like some stuck-up lord youâd have ended up with,â a swift hand sent parchments flying before he scooped you up onto the desk, his sly fingers playing with the softness of your stockings as he pushed your shift up your thighs, âI know way too much about pleasure to treat you that terriblyâŠâÂ
© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubbleÂ
#leaâs writing#kinktober 2023#pirate!miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara fic#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara fanfiction#oscar issac smut#miguel oâhara x reader#spiderman smut#spider man smut#marvel smut#spiderman x reader#spiderman 2099 smut#spiderman 2099 x reader#spider man 2099 smut
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