#even though that's literally the opposite of what happens 🙃

[queenofglassbeliever]

[via-viana]

Finally, I can read this gem😭. Can't believe that headache is keeping me from reading this part😤

Aside from that, I love the dynamics on this part, I can say that they all will be happy🥰, except Sanie😬

ateez as pirates who fall for you (maknae line)

read hyung line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for jongho), fluff, angst, continuation of the pirate trope brainrot (but i must say i went all out for the plots this time)

length: 14.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, attempted murder), alcohol, near-drowning, angst bc i mean angst, specific c/w for mingi’s au: hurt/comfort, allusions to depression

a/n: i’m very sad i never got to use this joke somewhere so - why are pirates called pirates? because they just arrrr 🙈🙉🙊 also to those who like connecting dots and whatnot there are a few easter eggs related to hyung line 🥚 big thanks to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for getting me through the last three months of trying to work and write bc it’s been a ship time ha ha 😬👍

taglist: at the end

san

pov: you run away with san and the cromer

through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw

“s-san, don’t do it”

he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand

the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the ground, which is damp from moisture and your blood

you swallow the metallic taste in your mouth, “the cromer isn’t meant for changing fate.” it hurts to take a breath and you wince as you stutter. “it never goes th- the way you want it to…you know that by now”

san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”

he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek

it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open

maybe you can rest…just for a little bit

san will forgive you, right?

you close your eyes

just for a little while

just until the pain stops

faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm

but it’s far away

far away

far

san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish

you cannot die

you will not die

he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body

and then his world goes white.

you don’t notice when the footsteps behind you suddenly fall silent

you’re too busy reasoning with the captain, whose back you are facing as he walks ahead and leads your crew further into the dim tunnels of the cave

“it’s much safer if we go over the mountain. we’ll have the advantage of higher ground to ambush the horizon”

your captain, taesung, doesn’t look at you when he answers over his shoulder, “it’s much quicker through the tunnels. we don’t have the luxury of time if we want to attack their crew before they leave the island”

“and what if they attack - the horizon can easily ambush us as long as they’ve got the cave’s exit guarded”

you immediately turn around to look at san, knowing that he’ll support your argument

only to find that he’s not there

he’s several metres behind the back of the group and frozen to the spot

even in the shadowed darkness of the musty cave, you can clearly see the ashen and shaken features of his face

approaching him slowly, your fire torch held out in front of you, you gently call, “san?”

at the sound of your voice, his eyes lock onto yours

he looks terrified

san is lost in a distorted warp of visions

he can’t make sense of nor connect what he’s seeing

but there is blood

there’s so much blood

it’s everywhere

you’re there

it’s your blood

there’s someone screaming; raw with despair

he’s screaming

the ground digs into his knees and he feels wet and sticky from your blood but also his tears and there are so many tears and the walls are cold from moisture and it’s so dark and musty even with the smell of iron in the air and god you’re dying

you’re going to die

“san?” you repeat, now in front of him and tenderly cupping his jaw

and san has to stop you from dying

his pupils focus on you once again before he desperately tries to gain his bearings

he looks around with increasing franticness

he’s in a cave and the only light he can see comes from the torch you’re holding and the others shared amongst the crew

water drips from the ceiling and along the rugged walls towards the damp ground, filling the cave with a stale and mouldy smell

all his senses scream the same thing to him

it’s just like when you died

his own voice sounds foreign to him when he manages to choke out, “let’s listen to captain”

your eyebrows pinch together at san’s sudden compliance, especially more so when he lowers the volume of his next words so that you’re the only one who can hear his soft don’t argue with him

there’s something about the way he silently pleads with his eyes that makes you nod numbly

you slip the hand that isn’t holding the torch into his and prompt him to walk again with a light tug forward towards the rest of the crew, who are not too far ahead

when the both of you have nearly caught up, san readjusts his hand in your grasp so that his is atop of yours

and so you two walk, san leading you with a sturdy hand; a line of defence between you and the rest of the crew…and the depths of the cave

the thin sheet of cotton that you lay upon does little to soften the discomfort of the cave’s floor as you and the crew prepare for a few hours of sleep, but your pillow makes up for it

your head is cushioned by san’s thigh, who’s seated upright against the wall after offering to keep watch

he’s gazing down at you with a tender smile as he slowly runs his fingers through your hair like a soothing lullaby

your eyes scan his, still trying to catch any changes in his expression that could possibly explain his strange demeanour from earlier

you want to ask him what’s wrong but there’s only so much privacy you can get in a cave with the rest of your crew

instead, you give his hand a squeeze

san’s smile fades a little and you wonder whether it’s the illusion of the light and shadows from the torches that makes his face look so gaunt

his eyes flicker around guiltily and then he looks at you whilst reciprocating your squeeze

he’s mouthing something, you realise

do you trust me?

you tighten your fingers around his in reassurance

with my life

the dimpled caverns return to san’s cheeks, and then he’s whispering to you softly, “sleep”

you don’t recall dozing off, but you must not have been asleep for very long before you’re woken by a light shake to your shoulder

the groggy mumble that starts to leave your lips is hushed by a warm kiss on your forehead

you’re met with the sight of san holding a finger against his lips when you open your eyes and your brain struggles to comprehend what’s happening

there’s a faint glow coming from under his bulging shirt, which could only be one thing

the cromer

as your neurons start firing again, you come to the realisation that apart from you and san, nobody else is awake yet

quietly, he helps you up to your feet

the silent question he asked before you fell asleep replays in your head, and although it does nothing to clear up your confusion, it helps to ease your anxiety because you meant it when you mouthed your response

you trust san with your life

so you turn away from your crew members and start walking, each step deliberate and careful, your hand clutched safely within san’s while he retraces your steps from today

and when san deems you two far enough and out of immediate danger of being caught, he pulls the cromer out of his shirt to use as a makeshift torch

you both make a run for it

when you emerge out of the cave’s entrance hours later, thighs burning from the strain, you almost stumble to your hands and knees from the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun

san tightens his hold on you and urges, “this way, love”

together, you climb the outcrop on the left and disappear further into the mountains because you can’t afford to rest near the cave

few words are exchanged as san nimbly navigates the rickety ledges and overgrown roots, muscles flexing as he pushes forward and helps you with an extended hand

you realise soon after that whilst he leads you two away from the cave, he travels parallel to the edges of the mountain trees - a guideline that keeps the long port of the island just within sight

“san,” you finally break the silence to point towards an overhang you spot, “we should take a break”

he’s sweating from exertion and lack of sleep, so he nods with a grateful smile and leads you towards it

the rock provides a decent amount of shade and conceals you two well enough with the surrounding greenery

only when he sits with a sigh does he finally let go of your hand after hours of holding on

you know that he’s one for constant physical affection, but this…this feels different

it’s like he’s afraid that you will slip away the moment he lets go of you

you turn to look at him

“san, what exactly is going on?”

he’s quiet

he doesn’t know how to tell you - is there even a way to package his next words prettily?

letting out a stuttering breath, san puts it blankly on the table, “i saw you die in my arms”

you’re stunned into silence and your throat feels even drier than before

“was it…” you dare to ask, “was it going to happen in the cave?”

he nods, “i just suddenly saw it and it felt so real. it- it was dark and wet and the smell - the smell was just awful and-”

“hey, hey, san. it’s okay, we’re not in the cave anymore,” you soothe, pressing your forehead to his

you feel him relax under your touch before he tilts his head to kiss your lips

“yeah,” he sighs against you, “you’re right”

when you pull away, the faint glow under his shirt catches your eyes

“why did you bring the cromer?”

if it had only been you and san missing from the crew, taesung might not have bothered going after the two of you

but with the missing cromer too, the captain will spend the rest of his life tracking it down - tracking you two down - if that’s what it will take

taesung isn’t stupid enough to just let go of the cromer and the inexplicable power it holds to travel between dimensions

san shimmies the hourglass out of his shirt and holds it carefully in his hands, “i need a fail-proof safety net, just in case something goes wrong and…i still don’t end up saving you”

“a safety net?” an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, “san? what are you not telling me?”

he runs his fingers along the metal casing over and over again as he avoids looking at you

“i…i’ve used it before,” san finally admits, “i used the cromer to bring you back to life”

without thinking, you blurt, “it’s only meant for travelling between dimensions. nobody knows what the repercussions are if you try to mess with fate!”

“well, i did it.” he snaps, “you’re here, alive, and i would do it again and again to save you”

at his words, you soften

because san didn’t just see you die

he lived through seeing you die

you can’t even begin to imagine if you had been the one to experience san die in your arms

“i’m sorry,” you apologise. “thank you for saving me, and for loving me”

san’s eyes are red when he looks at you, “i’m sorry, too, for snapping at you. i know this is a lot for you to process”

you shake your head with your own watery smile

“i’m alive, and i promise i’ll stay alive”

“and i promise i’ll keep you alive,” he nudges your cheek with a playful peck

you laugh, because san makes you happy even in the most uncertain of times, and you ask, “what’s the plan now?”

“find a ship that’s willing to get us the hell out of here”

he makes a move to stand and you place your hand on the ground to push yourself up to your feet too

except your hand shifts with your weight and you end up cutting your palm open on the sharp edge of the rocks

hissing, you draw your hand back towards your chest

“shit, let me have a look,” san drops to his knees and takes your hand in his

he gently blows away the soil and rubble around your wound as you wince

it’s nothing too serious, but it’s deep enough that blood immediately begins to pool in the broken skin and seep further out onto your palm

the glow of the cromer pulses

“san,” you start when you see the cogs moving in his head

he removes one hand to pull the cromer out and presents it to the both of you

“i’m not losing you to infection from a cut, not after everything that we’ve done so far to get to here,” he quips

there’s only time to let out an exasperated sigh before he’s taking your good hand to turn the cromer together

your world goes white

the next moment when you open your eyes after blinking, you’re still there resting under the overhang in the mountain forest

san’s sitting next to you, the only sign of the cromer a faint glow under his shirt

and your hand…

there’s no cut

your head whips towards san and his eyes widen when he sees the unbroken skin of your palm

san makes a move to stand, but this time, he gathers your hands and pulls you up with him

“it worked,” you breathe out once you’re on your feet

“it worked!” san repeats, engulfing you into a crushing hug

the amount of relief he feels is uncontainable, because the cut is reassurance that he can change fate with the cromer

in high spirits, san tucks it back into the safety of his shirt after wrapping it in a length of sash and then he secures it snugly under his belt

you two need to look the part of inconspicuous travellers, and a glowing hourglass would most definitely draw unwanted attention

you and san cut through the back streets and alleyways of the small village that separates the mountain and the coast, keeping an eye out for not only your crew members - or ex-crew, you suppose - but also the members of the horizon

“remember,” san whispers into your ear as you both approach port, “if anyone asks, i’m your husband and we’re travelling merchants”

you’re too nervous to answer but you nod anyway, letting san take the lead once again

with the confidence of somebody most definitely not lying, san strides up to a sailor who is yelling at his men to load the crates faster and spins a story right out of his ass

somehow, san manages to concoct a convincing recount of how your goods were stolen by thieves, leaving you both without any means of making money, so now you are left with no choice but to go back to your hometown which happens to be on the way to the ship’s destination, which you know because you overheard the sailors talking earlier

when the sailor glances in your direction, you try to nurse your expression into one of simultaneous distress and gratitude in hopes of selling the story even further

he simply stares at the both of you and you think that he’s going to turn down your request, but then the sailor gives a sweet smile and extends his hand out in greeting, “daeho. welcome aboard”

that’s how you and san find yourselves in the ship’s hold, legs crossed side by side on the wooden floor and surrounded by a multitude of crates and barrels

neither of you realise that you’re holding your breaths and it’s not due to the stale air in the poorly ventilated hold

only when the shout of “anchors aweigh” is heard and the ship slowly starts to pull away from the dock do you finally relax, the feeling of hope slowly seeping into your bodies

because all that’s left now is to wait for the ship to dock at the next port and then you and san can disappear and start a new life

at the notion of safety, your stomach finally calls for attention with a grumble

san teases, “sounds like someone needs a bit of food,” just as his stomach answers with a growl of its own

you break out into laughter and pull him up with you to snoop inside the crates for something edible

lifting the lid to one of the crates, you peer inside to find what looks like a layer of burlap

you reach down with a hand to remove the covering and dig deeper, only to jerk your arm back when you feel the burning pain of a cut

“oh fuck, what?” you hiss as you look into the crate again, “why the hell are there so many knives?”

san is beside you within a split second, already turning you around to cradle your hand in his

the cut extends across your palm and there’s something sickening yet eerily familiar about the way the blood rapidly starts to pool and seep past the broken skin

goosebumps spread across your body when it hits you

“san,” you look up at him with a trembling voice, hardly audible over the pounding of your heart, “it’s the same cut”

his eyes bore into yours with reflected horror when your words sink in

because if it really is the same cut, then that means-

san’s attention suddenly shifts to behind you and that’s the last thing you register before your head explodes with blinding pain

your world turns black.

there’s a ceaseless hammering in your skull when you regain some semblance of awareness and it takes all of your willpower not to let the throb drag you back into unconsciousness

you open your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your vision, only to find san still out cold on the floor beside you

you scrabble closer towards him and brush his fringe out of his eyes

“san,” you shake him a little, “san, wake up”

his mouth tightens into a grimace as he’s slowly brought back to consciousness at the sound of your voice

“fuck…they hit hard,” he props himself up with another curse before he asks you in a panic, “are you hurt?”

you start to shake your head but then think better of it, “my head hurts like a bitch, but i’m okay”

san pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you

you let yourself sink into the safety of his embrace, pretending that everything is okay even if just for a moment

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” san repeats the apology into the crown of your head

you can’t do anything but return hushed whispers of comfort and hug him tighter

a sudden clang draws you out of his arms as you both turn in the direction of the sound

that’s when you realise you’re no longer in the hold

you’re in a cell

the brig of the ship is much darker and the air is suffocatingly musty from the lack of ventilation and the perpetually damp floors and walls

damp from what exactly, you really don’t want to know

you hear the heavy thud of boots amplifying as the person approaches your cell, your eyes straining to make out their face in the dark

they squat in front of your bars

the sweet smile on daeho’s face makes him look crazed now and you shrink back to put some distance between you two

“did you have a good rest?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious

at san’s seething growl of anger, daeho raises his hands up in faux surrender and states, “i just want the cromer”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” san glowers

the other man wriggles his fingers at san’s waist, “you’re not very good at hiding it in your shirt”

almost as if it knows it is being talked about, the cromer flashes from under the layers of cloth

“why didn’t you just take it from us earlier,” you bite out

daeho clicks his tongue with a disappointed smile, “but then where’s the fun in that?”

he stretches a hand out and waits with his palm upturned just outside of the cell bars

“now give it to me,” he demands

san stares in retaliation, not once looking away as he slowly reaches for the cromer

he takes it out of his shirt and unwraps the sash from around it, then starts to extend the hourglass out towards daeho’s hand

as you watch with bated breath, you notice the subtle tightening of san’s grip around the metal casing and you realise he intends to flip it

except you’re not the only one who comes to the same conclusion

you see the exact moment the facade drops from daeho’s face and is replaced by his true derangement

the hand by the pistol at his side starts to move

but so do you

this time, everything turns red as the scorching heat of pain paralyses your entire body

the cromer falls to the floor at the same time as you do

from outside the cell, daeho laughs viciously, but it’s drowned out by the agonising cry that comes out of san’s chest

san desperately gathers you in his arms, hands pressing against the bullet hole to stem the blood flow

but there is so much blood

it’s everywhere

the ground digs into his knees and he’s wet and sticky from your blood but also from his own tears and there are so many tears and even with the pungent smell of iron in the air he can still smell the mustiness of the cell and he can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs because god you’re dying

and he’s suddenly struck with the heart-wrenching thought

did he unwittingly condemn you to your own fate?

or is it like the cut on your palm - is he unable to change fate no matter what decisions he makes differently?

the sob that wrenches itself out of san hurts you more than anything

“i love you,” you say, because your words are numbered and you want them all to be san’s

he shakes his head furiously, “shut up, you’re going to be fine”

your words come out effortfully, “please, i want to hear you say it one last time”

“fuck,” san buries his face in your shoulder, “i love you so, so much. i can’t live without you”

he pulls back heartbroken, “i can still change this”

through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw

“s-san, don’t do it”

he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head again, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand

the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the damp ground

you swallow the metallic taste in your mouth, “the cromer isn’t meant for changing fate.” it hurts to take a breath and you wince as you stutter. “it never goes th- the way you want it to…you know that by now”

san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”

he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek

it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open

maybe you can rest…just for a little bit

san will forgive you, right?

you close your eyes

just for a little while

just until the pain stops

faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm

but it’s far away

far away

far

san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish

you cannot die

you will not die

he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body

and then his world goes white.

mingi

pov: you're the crew's surgeon

you have all the time in the world to yourself

the recent raid was successful - the other vessel had surrendered quickly without putting up a fight and your ship is now well stocked up from the loot of supplies

hongjoong has promised the crew shore leave, a vacation of sorts, and so you and the crew are travelling to port malthov, a haven island for pirates

it’ll take about a week to arrive

and without a foreseeable raid or run-in with enemy vessels, there is no need for your medical duties

which is a good thing, really

but it also means that you have a lot of time

and time is your worst enemy

time is time alone with your own thoughts, time alone with your internal demons, and right now, your mind is a sinkhole of them and you are the very thing being pulled into its depths

you’re sprawled out on the upper deck, arms and legs splayed like a physical manifestation of your efforts to reach the edges of the sinkhole and hold on

you think to yourself that it’s reassuring when you can see blood

because it’s visible, physical, and you can fix it

step one, rinse the area with clean water

step two, disinfect the wound

step three, remove any foreign objects or dead skin

step four, suture as required for nastier injuries

step five, wrap a clean cloth over, under, over, under, then fasten

there’s a procedure and it makes sense

but when it’s invisible, what do you do?

there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt

you may be the crew’s surgeon, but you wonder how qualified you truly are if you can’t even fix yourself

the skies are clear today and the sun shines down directly on your exposed skin

it’s uncomfortable but you don’t move, limbs feeling just a little too strung tight to cooperate

you don’t think you have the energy to do much more than to just lie there and exist

and the burn of the sunlight is kind of nice

it tells you that you’re still alive - even if the feeling of living is pain

that’s where mingi finds you twenty minutes later, his face upside down as he leans over to look at your face-

only to very nearly drop a block of wood right onto you

“oh, shit,” he fumbles as the multitude of items he is carrying to his chest falls and clatters onto the deck around your head

you jolt up to save yourself from a bruised forehead and eye him, curiosity well and truly piqued

with a huff, he piles everything in front of you, followed by himself as he sits cross-legged in front of you

he looks suspiciously hopeful and expectant

“can you carve me another dolphin?”

months ago, you had tried carving ornamental animals out of small scraps of wood left over from a hull repair

most of your carvings had turned out hideous and you had tossed them overboard, but mingi had not stopped following you and begging until you gave him one

you could barely even call it a dolphin, but for some reason, he has kept it since like it’s something valuable

“i already made you one,” you start

but he protests, “i lost him!”

you blink

nevermind. maybe not so valuable

“...you lost it?”

you’re not sure whether you’re disappointed or relieved that it’s forever gone to the void

“i lost him, yes. so can you please carve me a new one?”

you blink once more and he looks back at you with wide, pleading eyes

“fine, pass me the knife,” you finally relent

he grins, handing something that feels quite familiar into your outstretched hand

“are these my scalpels?!” you clutch them defensively to your chest. “mingi, i am not carving wood with these”

mingi breaks out into pleased laughter, crescent eyes and gaping mouth as he produces a pocket knife that you can actually use

“you’re ridiculous,” you tell him, setting your medical instruments safely to one side, but you don’t really mean it

you bring the blade of the pocket knife to the edge of the wood and start whittling away

you expect mingi to get up and leave you to your devices, except he doesn’t

he stays and asks you question after question about the carving

which part are you working on now?

how do you shape the tail?

what was the first thing you tried to carve?

if you could carve something else after this, what would it be?

and it goes on for hours - as the wood gradually takes shape of the animal, as the harsh sun lowers and is replaced by the cool breeze of evening

…as mingi fills up your sinkhole and you are no longer grasping at the edges to stay afloat

it happens without you even realising, but he lets you take refuge in him from your own thoughts

and later that night, when the crew are preparing to sleep for the night, mingi will place the newly-carved dolphin at the head of his hammock

he will itch to rummage through the small chest that holds his personal belongings and treasures

he will want to unwrap the small object he has hidden away at the very bottom of his chest and put it side by side with the dolphin

but he won’t, because otherwise you’ll see the two dolphins and realise that he was lying about having lost the first one, so he’ll opt to keep it hidden

mingi thinks that he might even ask you to carve him something else tomorrow

he’ll say that his dolphin needs somebody by its side

what he won’t say though, is that he knows you need somebody by your side

and if he can offer you a few hours of mindlessness while you carve with him beside you, then he’ll ask you to make him a whole aquarium of animals

but that’s tomorrow

for now, he lets you rest on him, and you find that it doesn’t seem quite as hard to exist anymore

because sometimes, even surgeons need their own healers

you don’t have another bad day that week

technically, they’re all still bad days, but they aren’t as bad

but as it is with your luck, it all comes back to drag you underwater when the arriba pulls into port malthov and lowers its anchor

of all days, your head feels foggy, your body feels empty and your lungs feel laboured

you’re not even sad

you’re just…hollow

and the worst part is that you have absolutely no reason to be feeling this way

being up in the crow’s nest for once has given you the perfect vantage point to watch as the majority of the crew precariously run off the gangplank with whoops and hollers, splitting off to explore the town

their excitement is infectious - to everybody but you

instead, you had offered to take over yeosang’s lookout duties so that he could go to the town’s tavern

you’ve already rotted the morning and most of the afternoon away and your stomach grumbles in protest at having skipped both meals

it knows that you probably won’t be eating dinner either

“y/n,” a voice calls out to you from the deck, “are you not going into town?”

you peer over the edge of the nest and find mingi’s small form, his head craned upwards in your direction

“lookout duties,” you simply say

but mingi calls your bluff

“the whole point of shore leave is that we all get time off. captain’s still on board to make sure our ship doesn’t catch on fire or some shit, don’t worry”

when you still don’t make a move, mingi starts to climb up the rigging and you startle to your feet

“heavens, okay, i’m coming down”

he’s banned from rigging duties for a reason

when you land on the upper deck, he looks awfully smug with himself

he asks, “can we go eat seafood? not fish, but like the good stuff”

“since when did you like seafood?”

“always?”

mingi did not always like seafood but you let it slide

he guides you across the gangplank and towards the bustling streets of the town, keeping you tucked closely into his side

almost like he knows you’re feeling more fragile than usual

you two come across a market and he tells you to find a table in the outdoor seating area

when he returns to you after a while, both his hands are stacked with platters of shrimp, some crabs and even a lobster

“mingi, what-?” you break out into an astounded laugh

you can’t even find it in yourself to finish your sentence because it looks like he’s bought enough food to feed half your crew

he sets the plates down in front of you, one by one, until you can barely see the table itself

and you watch, still incredulous, as he picks up a steamed shrimp, meticulously peeling off the shells that he discards onto his plate

…before placing the peeled shrimp onto the plate in front of you

“eat,” he encourages

mingi picks up another shrimp to peel, looking away from you so as not to pressure you

but he can’t help but look and smile widely when you do eventually bring the food up to your mouth and take a bite

it tastes good

shrimp has always been one of the things you miss the most when you’re sailing and as the salty taste of the ocean spreads across your tongue, you start to feel your appetite returning

by the time you’ve swallowed, there’s already another shrimp on your plate, peeled and ready for eating

mingi smiles knowingly when you groan around your next bite

the sun may have already started to disappear into the horizon, but right now with mingi’s plate piling up with discarded shells and yours with juicy shrimp meat, the hollow cavity in your chest slowly filling with warmth, the sun is only just starting to rise for you

and mingi will keep filling your plate until your sun has fully risen into the sky

because sometimes, healing needs the help of an extra pair of hands

the day before your crew is scheduled to leave port malthov, you find yourself sitting on the sandy shores of the coastline, far away from where the arriba is docked

the wind tugs at your hair and the hems of your clothing in the direction of the ocean

you wonder what it would be like to just let yourself go and float along with the wind

your thoughts are interrupted by the soft squeaks of bare feet in the sand approaching you and mingi lowers himself down to sit by your side

no matter where you hide, he somehow always finds you

you give him a small smile when he calls your name in greeting, but it’s all you can really manage to do

it’s hard for you to talk today

but he already knows that

“can i tell you a story?” mingi isn’t really asking you

without waiting for a response he knows you can’t give, he starts to talk

“i don’t think i’ve told you about the time when yunho and i went skinny-dipping at night. i swear we saw the kraken that night”

he has told you this story before

more times than you can count on your fingers and toes combined - to the point where you have some of his exact phrases and expressions memorised

mingi knows he’s told you this story before

but he drones on anyway, adding his usual touches of dramatic flair and exaggerated details - words that he hopes keep you grounded to the spot so that you don’t disappear with the wind

(“did you know that yunho’s chest goes red when he screams in fright?”)

you want to make silly little comments about his silly little story

you want to laugh in harmony with mingi’s own rumbling sounds

except you can’t

it’s like whatever you want to say goes through a paper shredder right before it comes out of your mouth

and mingi knows

but he is willing to take all the time in the world to tape your words back together, shredded piece by shredded piece, until he can make you feel heard and seen

and even if you don’t talk, he is there to do enough talking for the both of you

some things don’t need to be said - he understands either way

because sometimes, healing looks like walking backwards on any progress that’s been made and that’s okay

after all…mingi’s been there before, too

the arriba sets sail again and hongjoong allows the crew one last night of rest before your usual duties resume

the stock of fresh produce and meat won’t last for longer than a couple of days anyway, so you all feast your stomach’s fill of food and alcohol

someone brings out an accordion and you all gather together on the upper deck as jongho sings to the music, background filled with the lively rattling of shared plates and mugs being passed around

the air is chilly but it’s crisp and fresh whenever you take a breath of it into your lungs

where being with the multitude of your crew usually makes you feel lonely, tonight, it feels okay

and from beside you, mingi sings along quietly to the music

his voice is not like jongho’s, which is soulful, emotional and powerful

mingi’s voice is deep, honest and raw as he sings the lyrics to the song of a man who is drowning and yearning to be saved

he looks at you during the last bridge, when the key changes from sorrowful to hopeful and the words tell of a man who is saved by his lover

you smile back at him, genuinely content in this moment

and even if it is only briefly, even if you will still have bad days in the future, you think that today is a good day

because healing takes form in all different ways, and being loved is one of them

maybe one day, mingi will be able to confess that he loves you

when he’s confident that you’ll be able to accept his love

not in the way where he expects you to reciprocate the same feelings for him, no

but in the way where you are able to accept the fact that you are worthy of being loved

there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt

but you have mingi and he is making one for you

it’s written with the ink of love on the very pages of his own heart and he will not stop writing until the day you are well and truly happy

and even if it takes forever?

well

mingi’s got a huge fucking heart

and it’s all yours

wooyoung

pov: you find a stowaway on your ship

“we’re headed off course again”

“again?” you look at your helmsman with furrowed brows

yunho nods, sighing out his next words, “i can’t get a read on north. the needle keeps flickering”

you look at the compass that’s mounted at the helm and true to his words, the tip of the arrow seesaws back and forth over the cardinal point

a quick glance down tells you that the newer compass you’ve got in your pocket is also behaving in the same manner, needle twitching despite the practised steadiness of your hands

so you know for sure that it’s not a fault in the instrument at the helm itself

but even if it were to be faulty, you would never replace it

not when it’s one of the only things you have remaining of your parents after they perished at sea

“maybe we should ask him,” yunho suggests, beckoning his head towards the deck

although seonghwa hums thoughtfully, having joined you both at the helm mid-conversation, you look at him incredulously

“you trust that person?”

yunho shrugs, “it’s not like he’s given us a reason to not trust him”

well

considering said man had been found stowing away in the cargo five days after your ship had left alcarres, who then also tried to plead for mercy by reasoning that he was ‘valuable’, you think that there’s plenty of reasons to not trust him

yunho rectifies his argument once he sees the pinched expression on your face, “as in, since we’ve found him on board”

you close your eyes and exhale

admittedly, yunho has a point

and there’s been one too many times where the man has flippantly suggested navigational changes or casually observed shifts in the winds and waters - which all turned out to be accurate - for it to be sheer luck

you open your eyes and call out to the upper deck

“stowaway”

yunho winces as seonghwa chides you with a slight elbow to your side at your choice of name, or lack thereof

said man looks at you from where he’s helping san and yeosang swab the deck, mouth tightening with wariness

the last time you had spoken the same word, it was along with an order to throw him into the brig with his wrists bound behind his back

but considering that that was the extent of his punishment for stowing away on your ship and he is now mingling amongst your crew with minimal security measures on your orders too, really, he’s gotten off scot-free

the stowaway approaches the quarterdeck with hesitant steps

you jerk your head towards the helm, “help yunho navigate the rest of the way to vlasgar. just until we can dock and work out what’s wrong with the compasses''

despite the curtness of your order, his face scrunches up into an enthusiastic grin

“of course, captain!”

you’re taken aback by his demeanour because you’re trying to find a reason to distrust him

but he’s not giving it to you

you watch as the stowaway makes himself comfortable against the helm rails and easily slips into conversation and banter with yunho amidst intermittent pointers to adjust the rudder

seonghwa nudges you from behind, “give him a little credit”

you scratch your neck awkwardly before calling out to your helmsman

“keep me updated on the ship’s course”

yunho nods and then you clear your throat, quickly glancing at the stowaway

“and thanks…wooyoung.”

you turn and leave the quarterdeck before you can fully catch a glimpse of the delighted smile the man beams at you

because if he’s not giving you reasons to dislike him, then you’re going to ensure he doesn’t start giving you reasons to like him

except…wooyoung attacks when you least expect it

it’s the night before your crew reaches vlasgar, and true to his claims when he was first discovered onboard, wooyoung has proven his value by navigating your ship through the waters without the aid of the malfunctioning compass

his innate sense for shifts in the wind and waters, combined with his understanding of celestial navigation and use of dead reckoning has meant that he is extraordinarily precise with his route

honestly, he’s freakishly accurate to the point where it’s a little unsettling

at least that’s what you tell yourself

you and hongjoong have given the crew the night off from their usual duties in preparation for a few busy days of maintenance and intel-gathering once your ship docks at vlasgar

wooyoung offers to cook in the galley and whip up a meal as fancy as he can from the select ingredients on board

you don’t have a good reason to deny him, not when the rest of your crew looks at you with eager faces at the thought of a meal that isn’t just the usual salted meat, so you send mingi along to help him locate the ingredients

also to keep an eye on wooyoung to ensure he isn’t using this as an opportunity to poison your crew, but you’re not about to admit that aloud

and that’s exactly when wooyoung chooses to attack

he attacks your heart with his cooking

granted, the standards are rock bottom, but wooyoung utilises a deadly combination of rosemary, thyme and bay leaves to prepare a hearty broth with preserved beef

he serves hardtack on the side to be softened and eaten with the broth, and jongho even manages to catch a few fish that wooyoung then scores and grills with lemon slices over the fire

mingi must also be in good spirits because he takes out the reserve of dried fruits and nuts that he’s usually pedantic over and allows wooyoung to arrange them artfully in a wooden bowl as nibblers to go with the profusion of rum that will inevitably be downed tonight

the impressive spread of food is placed on the upper deck where the entire crew sit in a rough circle together

you take one bite into the beef and curse without realising

“fucking hell, what did he put in this?”

wooyoung freezes mid-spoonful across from you in the circle

realising your words sound petrifying without context, you awkwardly amend them with your eyes glued to your bowl, “i could eat this every day,” before shoving another spoon of broth into your mouth to shut yourself up

there’s a chorus of teasing oooh’s at your words and somebody sing-songs, “captain likes youuu-r cooking”

“i don’t,” you scoff, completely ready to bite the bait and engage in this childish argument

but it’s him who comes to your defence

“it’s not my cooking, it’s just the spices that make a difference,” wooyoung insists

then he’s gesturing to the grilled fish and telling everyone to try, diverting the attention away from you

you accidentally make eye contact with him and initially flicker your eyes away out of embarrassment, but when you chance a peek back at him he’s still looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically calm and gentle when usually all you can hear these days is his raucous laughter bouncing across the deck

…not that you can recognise his laughter or anything

you stare at each other for a few more seconds before you lift up your bowl of beef broth and give him a little smile

you leave it up to him to interpret it however he wants

and just before you look away, you see the apples of his cheeks rounding with elation

wooyoung’s potentially earned himself a few points with his cooking (and perhaps with his unfailing happiness too), but maybe you’re just looking for excuses as to why you’re allowed to like him now

when you decide to take a walk in town long after midnight, your quarters having felt stuffy ever since you’d docked at vlasgar, you’re surprised to find that you’re not the only one still awake

“i’m going out for some air and maybe a drink, did you want to come?”

hongjoong shakes his head, “hwa’s gone out too, i’ll stay behind”

you pause, wondering whether it’d be rude if you didn’t extend the invitation to wooyoung, considering he’s literally two feet away

“what about you?” you end up offering

wooyoung excitedly hops up to his feet, “yeah, i’ll come with”

to your own surprise, you find that you’re not particularly disappointed by his response

the streets of vlasgar are empty, considering the late hour, and your leather shoes clack in unison against the cobblestones as you walk together

you’re not really sure what to say to fill the silence but wooyoung easily talks about anything and everything and you’re content to just listen

your feet eventually take you towards a small alehouse and you both settle down at one of the tables further away from the live music playing

the oil lamps flicker dimly along the wall, casting small dancing shadows on the surface of your mugs of ale

“my father never liked the taste of ale,” wooyoung suddenly muses after a swallow

you note the use of past tense

“is he…still around?” you ask tentatively

he makes a noise of refutation, the quietest he’s been tonight, before he reveals, “he took his own life”

“oh, wooyoung,” you breathe out

he curls his hands around his mug, “it’s already been two years, but it still hurts”

in a moment of empathy, you gently place your hand over his

your tone is bitter when you reply, “time doesn’t mean that it hurts any less, it just gets easier to pretend that it doesn’t”

he looks up at you, surprised by the touch of your hand but also by the sorrow reflected in your eyes

“have you also lost somebody?”

you nod at his question

“my parents,” you hesitate before adding, “their ship got swept under a rogue wave, the same night it turned into a tidal wave that destroyed the city of light”

wooyoung looks at you with wide eyes, “the one along the north coast? six- no, seven years ago?”

there’s not a single person who doesn’t know about it; when an apocalyptic wave had wiped out an entire city overnight

he places his other hand over yours when you nod again, creating a sandwich of comforting hands in the shared experience of loss and grief

you smile wistfully and he returns it

“well now that we’ve exchanged childhood trauma, care to tell me the real reason why you were on my ship, stowaway?” you half-joke

wooyoung laughs, each breath a pronounced cackle of joy, and you find the corners of your lips pulling themselves upwards too

“i’m being chased by a lunatic who’s out for my blood,” he deadpans

“that would have been nice to know before i let you join my crew”

wooyoung grins wickedly, “i’m part of your crew?”

“i’m definitely rethinking it,” you banter before you add on seriously, “only if you want to be”

he pulls his hands back to salute you loudly, “it would be my honour to be your human compass! jung wooyoung at your crew’s service!”

“shut the fuck up!” you hiss in embarrassment, but there’s no bite to your words and you’re laughing into your own hands

you tip back the remains of your ale and then beckon to wooyoung, “let’s head back, shall we?”

“yeah,” he gives you a dazzling smile

he pushes his chair back to stand up and you head towards the doors together

just as you walk past one of the tables, a man abruptly stands up and knocks into wooyoung’s shoulder harshly

your hand flies out to steady him as the man stares at wooyoung, then turns to leave without another word

“what’s his problem,” you mutter angrily. “are you okay?”

wooyoung reassures you with a placating squeeze to your arm before leading you out of the alehouse

as you retrace your steps back to the ship, you pass by a rickety stall that makes you falter

the wood of the table is rotting and standing on its last legs and there’s a roughly thatched roof propped up above its goods

even though the stall is enshrouded by the shadows of the clouded moonlight, you still wonder how you missed it on your way to the alehouse, considering it’s the only stall along the empty street, and with a vendor, no less

there’s an old woman bearing the burdens of living across her skin and in her posture, sitting hunched on an equally as weathered crate beside the table

you’re drawn towards it - by its ambience, seller or the familiar instruments lain on the table, you don’t know

the woman’s head is covered by a dusty shawl but you don’t miss the way her eyes bore beadily into wooyoung as you both approach

you reach out and skim your fingertips across the cool brass of the compasses on the table

a frown adorns your face when you notice there’s something strange about all of them

like the compass in your own pocket and the one mounted on your ship’s helm, the needles all swing indecisively over the north point, as if some unknown force is meddling with the magnetic field of the earth itself

you let out a little scoff of disbelief, “they’re all useless”

with a final glance at the table, you and wooyoung start to walk off

but then a raspy voice beckons at your backs, a ghost of a hand that tickles the hair on the nape of your necks, “the only time a compass is useless is when you have something better nearby”

unable to ignore the sensation, you look over your shoulder, “what do you mean by something better?”

a toothless smile; one that appears to know a secret that it doesn’t want to let you in on

“true north”

her cryptic answer alone is enough to tell you that you’re wasting your time

she doesn’t say anything else when you walk off for good this time after bidding her a tight-smiled farewell, not that you would have stopped either way if she did

wooyoung hurries to catch up to you

as he falls into step with you, he asks, “do you believe what she’s saying?”

“of course not, it doesn’t make any sense,” you glance at the tavern you’re walking past, telling you that the port is close now. “how can you have true north?”

wooyoung’s brows knit together, “well, there’s that old legend that says true north isn’t actually a direction, but a-”

he’s cut off by an amused voice behind you both

“so it really is you…jung wooyoung”

when you turn around, you’re met with the sight of a man donning a long, velvet coat and buckled shoes - articles of clothing very obviously pirated from the wealthy

it’s evident that he and wooyoung are acquainted in one way or another, but from the way wooyoung’s face loses its colour, they’re acquainted in a bad way

immediately, your hackles are raised

the man’s tone is saccharine as he continues, “when one of my men said that they had spotted you, i didn’t believe him”

“what do you want?” you snarl at the same time wooyoung murmurs next to you, “it’s the lunatic. jang hyunsoo”

hyunsoo cocks his head as he stares you dead in the eye, “i want him. dead.”

your face darkens, unwilling to back down, “and why are you so intent on killing him?”

“oh?” he raises an eyebrow in delight at your answer. “you must not know who he truly is”

sick of his bullshit, you reach down towards your belt to unsheath a throwing dagger and hold it in front of your body, “i don’t care who the fuck he is. he’s my crew member and that’s all that ma-”

“he’s the man that the legends speak of. blessed by the sea gods, bearer of the oceans’ wisdom - jung wooyoung is true north”

those two words again

you don’t understand why everyone you come across today seems to be so fixated on the idea of…

suddenly, you remember.

legends tell a story of true north - not a direction pointing to the earth’s axis, but a person

a man blessed by the gods of the sea with the power to be all-knowing when it comes to the waters

he possesses the innate ability to navigate without use of any instruments or celestial bodies; the wisdom of which passageways and courses to sail; the subconscious understanding of mother nature and her elements

the powers are passed down through his bloodline for generations, but the blessing does not stay sacred for long

human greed and coveting eventually lead to the murder of the bearer of true north at the time, and the powers are transferred to the murderer, permanently staining the bloodline and commencing the paradoxical cycle of sinning for a blessing

however, this does not go unpunished

the gods of the sea are enraged and in their uncontainable wrath they cause-

your memory ends there no matter how hard you try to recall the rest of the legend

wooyoung interrupts

“if you kill me, there’s no guarantee you’ll survive the consequences,” he tries to reason with the other. “just have a look at how close we are to sea”

you’re lost but hyunsoo sneers, “it’s not your power that i’m hungry for. it’s only fair that i spill your blood, after your father spilled the blood of my family”

at the mention of his father, wooyoung growls, “what the fuck do you think you’re saying”

“how do you think your father became true north? or better yet, let me jog your memory,” hyunsoo’s expression becomes hauntingly blank, “what happened seven years ago that wiped out a whole city because the sea gods had been angered?”

your breath hitches as you involuntarily whisper, the remaining piece of the puzzle slotting into memory, “...a tidal wave”

“yes,” he acknowledges your words but keeps his eyes drilling into wooyoung, “because true north - my father - was killed”

as were your parents by extension of the consequences

“killed by my father,” wooyoung concludes, voice frail as everything rapidly starts to reveal itself

one more revelation makes him look at you with a face of horror and remorse, “y/n…your parents…”

without hesitation, you push aside your own anguish for him

“wooyoung,” you warn, “it’s not your fault”

because you see it

the very moment his eyes start clouding over as he willingly takes on the burden of guilt wrongfully left behind by his deceased father - the same guilt that eventually took the man’s own life

wooyoung, who, with a heart and soul too pure, would rather take the blame himself than to push it onto somebody else

you step in front of him, knife raised in protection

because despite your best efforts, wooyoung had not only secretly stowed himself away on your ship but has also secretly stowed himself away in your heart

“what are you doing?” he tries to tug you behind him

there’s a teasing lilt in your voice as you stand steadfast, “stowaway, you’ve ruined navigating for me now - made it too easy for me and the crew. so you better fuckin’ take responsibility and be my compass for as long as i sail”

“how touching,” hyunsoo coos patronisingly before he draws the cutlass from his sheath, “looks like i’ll just have to kill the both of you”

you don’t stop wooyoung this time from stepping up to stand by your side, his own hands armed with dual daggers and his demeanour now iron-willed to fight

because if you’re prepared to fight for him, then wooyoung is prepared to fight twice as hard for you

tonight, either hyunsoo dies, or you both go down trying

the tension in the air is punctuated only by the slight scrape of your soles as you and wooyoung lower your stances and shift further onto your front feet

you had never believed in the sea gods until now, but you pray that they’re watching over you both

and indeed they are

they answer your prayers in the form of a deafening gunshot in the nearby tavern

hyunsoo flinches at the sudden commotion - only slightly, but the distraction in attentiveness is more than enough

now.

as you and wooyoung leap forward together in unison, weapons raised, the needles in your hearts’ compasses waver for one final time before they settle and point resolutely in one direction

your needle at wooyoung; wooyoung’s needle at you

because compasses will always point at true north and that’s exactly what you are to him and him to you

each other’s true north

jongho

pov: you're a mermaid who saves him

you follow the shadow of the ship’s hull, gliding effortlessly through the waters

you know that you shouldn’t be following so closely but it’s hard to refuse the temptation that comes hand in hand with storms

there’s a chance that vessels will toss cargo overboard as a last-ditch effort to save their ship from sinking

and if you’re really lucky, the vessel might sink entirely and you’ll be able to spend the next few days rummaging its ruins, scavenging for shiny treasures and intriguing objects

besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

no sailor or pirate in their right mind would think to cast a fishing net in this weather

you only have your carelessness and recklessness to blame, but regret won’t change anything about your current situation

you feel the strange lurch in your stomach as the fishing net you’re trapped inside is pulled out of the water, up along the side of the ship’s hull, until it levels with the gunwale

there’s someone standing there waiting

his face is still rounded and limbs still gangly with the telltale signs of youth

the fish around you jerk around desperately, a physical manifestation of your terror, while you lock eyes with the young teenager and grip at the net with white-knuckled fists

you are at his complete mercy

he stares in shock at your form, until you beg a single word

“please”

immediately, he draws a small pocket knife and starts to frantically cut through the net

there’s another questioning voice from somewhere on the deck that you can’t make out the words to, but from the way the boy in front of you picks up speed, you’re seconds away from being discovered

“come on, come on, come on,” the boy mutters through gritted teeth

there’s a slight jerk as he cuts through the strands of flax and a few fish slither their way out, the hole starting to become bigger

he lets out a hiss of pain when he accidentally slices through his own hand in his haste

but even then, he does not stop or falter

and then you hear it

the ripping of the material when the weight of yourself and the other fish tear the remainder of the net

you plummet into the ocean

and the last thing you see before the world above becomes blurred by the waters is the boy’s wide eyes peering over the ship’s edge as he watches you fall

jongho struggles to adjust his centre of gravity as the ropes stutter underneath him

he chances letting go of the rigging briefly with one hand so that he can wipe the rain out of his eyes, which is pouring down incessantly and obscuring his vision

overhead, the top sail continues to billow and flap in an angry dance as the rapidly shifting winds tangle it further

he swallows thickly and grips the rigging once again

he needs to climb up and untangle the damned sail, fast

one hand extending outwards to grab the running rigging, jongho supports himself on shaky legs so that he can unfurl the twisted edges of the sail from around the ropes

it’s difficult enough having to chase the mocking flits of the canvas in the gale, but it’s fucking hellish with the added lurching and pitching of the ship as it’s battered by the swells of the sea

he finally manages to get a good grip on the sail and tugs hard, feeling it give way and flush full as it catches the wind properly now that it’s free

except the force of it sends the material swelling right in his face and he slips

by some saving grace, the combined movement of another colossal wave sends his body careening through the air in a wide arch

he does not land on the upper deck in a heap of broken bones

instead, he plummets into the ocean

and the last thing jongho sees before he loses consciousness is the shimmer and flick of a tail

your body reacts instantaneously to the sudden intrusion of something plunging into the waters in front of you, your tail swishing to increase your distance

for a brief second your heart seizes up in fright at the thought of a harpoon

but then you see it - see him

apart from the young teen who had freed you years ago, you have never seen a human up close before

and certainly not one in the ocean; in your home

there is something about the man before you that is beautiful yet haunting

it is as if time and gravity have warped his very existence

you see a weak flail of legs, a desperate hand reaching for the surface, floating tendrils of hair, but even in the face of approaching death, his movements appear slow and graceful in the water

as the pockets of air and bubbles of foam dissipate from around him and cruelly escape upwards without him, the man stills - grand and slow as his form steadily starts to make a descent towards the sandy bottom of the ocean

in folklore amongst your merpeople, humans are as swift, sure and savage on land as they are aboard their monstrous vessels

and yet, watching the ethereal existence of this man before you, you realise that once humans are underwater, they are at the complete mercy of mother nature and her beings

you gingerly swim closer

when you wrap your arm around the man’s limp body, his skin is warm under your fingertips

you’re reminded of the fact that he is at your complete mercy

and so you swim.

the moment jongho regains consciousness, his chest involuntarily contracts in an attempt to take a huge, stuttering breath

he curls onto his side instead, one hand scrabbling in the wet sand and his other arm crushed between the ground and his upper body as he hacks up his lungs with retching motions

the salt water burns even more coming back up than it did going down and his eyes sting with tears

when the convulsions cease, jongho closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool sand, trying to regain his breath-

and bearings

the jarring clarity has him sitting up abruptly as he tries to recall where he is and what he’s doing

there was the storm

the tangled sail

him climbing up the riggings

falling down, down, down

and then…

you

your eyes widen when the man’s unfocused gaze suddenly sweeps the waters and lands on the small part of your face that is exposed and peering at him

instinctively, you duck underwater, the notion of hiding your existence from humans ingrained into you

but even though he only sees a glimpse of you, jongho would recognise you from anywhere

it’s hard to forget when he’s kept his eyes peeled on the waters since that day, hoping to see you once again

he can’t believe that the mermaid he once saved would end up being his saviour

but he guesses that’s what people call fate - an alignment of miracles

he glances around at his surroundings to find himself in the safety of a small cove

you dare to emerge your curious eyes again when you see the form of the man stand up with his gaze on the sand, seemingly in search of something

he fumbles along the edge of the coast, reaching down several times to grasp things too small for you to discern

it seems that he becomes satisfied with what he has found, because he then sets them all down in the wet sand - right where the tide kisses the shore in a teasing game of chase - and takes several steps backwards so that he is no longer close to the waters

the man scratches the back of his head as he gestures vaguely to the pile, appearing to want to say something before thinking better of it and turning around to pick at the driftwood further inland

you wait, trying to gauge his actions

but when it becomes clear to you that he is not attempting to catch you off guard, you cautiously swim closer to shore

you are able to rest your forearms comfortably on the shoreline’s sand from how close you get

and then you see it

a small pile of glossy pebbles and patterned shells

a peace offering of pretty things he could find that he thought you might like

you duck under the water again, but this time to hide your shy smile as opposed to an act of instinctual self-preservation

jongho looks at the hefty pile of dried wood that he has gathered in the meantime, deeming it enough to keep a fire going for the inevitable night he will have to spend at the cove

he’s tried his hardest not to look out to the waters, wanting to gain your trust

but he can’t help it this time when his eyes are drawn to the little mound of his sincerity in the sand

…only to find it untouched, and you nowhere to be seen

he tries not to feel disappointed

after all, you have no reason to trust him

so he sets his mind on starting a fire before the sun sets completely instead, trying to ignore the growing dryness in his throat

when he finally nurses a spark into a flame an hour later, jongho almost misses it in his fatigued state

but it’s unmistakable when he walks closer

gone is his own pile of pebbles and shells

in its stead is a jumbled collection of broken combs, rusted locks and a glass bottle

a peace offering of peculiar things you had found that you thought he might need

jongho doesn’t know it, but as he bends down to carefully gather every gift and safekeep them closer to his fire, he is not the only one with a bashful smile on his face

you tell yourself it’s purely curiosity and displaced familiarity that makes you linger and return to the cove the very next morning

you’re well aware what the risks are if you fall in love with a human

how many stories have you heard of mermaids and mermen alike, falling for a human, only for their love to be unilateral or rejected?

their tails slowly lose their lustre as gradual paralysis takes over until they lose complete control

quite literally drowning within their own body, they eventually sink to the bottom of the ocean to perish with the decaying wreckages of sunken ships…

and the countless corpses of sailors, pirates and other unfortunate souls alike

it’s ironic

no matter how much folklore makes out humans and merpeople to be different, you all end up the same in the face of death; buried in the soil of the earth or buried in the sand of the ocean bottom

side by side

jongho stands in that very ocean right now, sleeves and pants rolled up to keep them as dry as possible as he crouches over with the water up to his thighs

he would try to fashion a fishing hook or harpoon of some sort, but with the possibility that you may be close by in the waters, he doesn’t want to risk using anything that could hurt you

so he resorts to using his bare hands

you’ve been watching from the safety of the water for well over half an hour now, curious and slightly endeared by his clumsy attempts to grab at something

you’re not sure what, but you can see the fish as they dart teasingly through his legs and from out of his reach

for beings that are supposedly apex predators, this human doesn’t seem intimidating at all

so, very cautiously, you swim up closer to him

jongho feels himself freezing at the sight of you approaching - not because he’s afraid of you, but because he’s afraid he’ll scare you away

he holds his breath as you hesitate and linger just out of his reach, then swim up and bump his leg playfully with your tail as you circle around him once

he’s reminded of a puppy wanting to sniff out somebody unfamiliar and his eyes follow your form with rounded fondness

“hi,” he breathes out softly, “i’m jongho”

your tail swishes with sudden movement, splashing him with water and he giggles

you can hear it clearly even from under water and your heart nearly stops

if this man - if jongho - was a siren, the sounds of his happiness would be his song of calling

you want to hear it again

jongho sucks in a breath when you dare to emerge from the water’s surface, presenting him with a fish held carefully between your lips and one more in each of your hands

he’s a little dumbfounded at how easily you managed to catch them as he gently takes the one from in between your teeth

the still-flailing fish in his hands is peppered with two tiny neat rows of puncture holes where you had carefully bitten into it

he finds it so fucking cute, especially when you continue to peer up at him with expectant eyes, wanting to know if it was the fish that he was trying to catch this whole time

he wants to thank you, and not just for the fish

so he fumbles through his words when he asks, “would you like to eat with me? unless…” he trails off, “unless you don’t eat fish because…”

are mermaids technically fish?

did he really just offer you the mermaid equivalent of human flesh to eat?

before jongho can panic and try to salvage the situation, you give him a shy smile and nod

jongho makes a fire as close to the shore as possible without the wood at risk of becoming wet

as he spears the fish onto sticks so that he can hold them over the flames, you gather the courage to slide out of the shallow waters so that you can lay on the damp sand closer to him

whilst you can for short periods, you rarely ever fully emerge out of the waters because you leave yourself vulnerable without the full mobility of your body

but jongho makes you feel safe enough to do so

and he must at least partially recognise the amount of trust you are placing in him because he looks at you in awe, the unveiled beauty of your tail now in full display

your scales are a kaleidoscope of cerulean, mauve and periwinkle, reflecting onto the sand below you in a magical dance with each of your slight movements

he notices that the gradient peters out into shades of salmon and coral the closer the scales are to your waist and he cannot tear his eyes away from you

jongho thinks to himself that you were created by the hands of the sea god, who then named the word beautiful after you

and even then, the word does not seem to do you justice

“why are you staring?”

your voice is simultaneously bashful and teasing, yet jongho is utterly mortified that your first words to him are ones exposing his smitten behaviour

his brain kickstarts in panic and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind

“if your tail gets too close to fire, will you start smelling like grilled fish?”

for a split second, your expression contorts into one of pure horror, before the absurdity of his question breaks down the remainder of your reservations and you lose yourself in laughter

a pretty blush settles over the round of jongho’s cheeks and then he is also laughing with you

together, where the land and sea unite, the sounds of your shared happiness fill the air

his song of calling chimes melodiously in your heart even as you swim away for the night

but the dangerous thing about a siren’s song is that you don’t realise you’ve become captivated…

until it’s too late

you’re looking down at the object in your hands as you swim for the cove

it’s cream-coloured and smooth to touch, with several blunt tips extending from one side

you’ve always wondered what it is and so you decide to see if jongho will know

you don’t notice the large rock formation jutting out of the seabed until it’s almost right in front of you and at the last second, you flex your tail to manoeuvre yourself around it

except you must miscalculate your distance because you end up grazing yourself on the sharp edges of the rock

it doesn’t puncture your scales but it certainly catches you off guard - your organs and senses work in a way that ensures you never collide into anything so long as you are underwater

so then, why?

you look down and your heart drops

tentatively, you spin around once, eyes never leaving their focus

you realise it’s not a trick of the lighting or the water

your scales have started to lose their shimmer

jongho is beginning to think that you won’t show up today when you finally do, one of your treasures cradled in your hands and a smile on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes

(you weren’t going to show up, not after realising that you need to stop yourself from falling further in love with jongho if you want to live, but you decide to be selfish one last time and say goodbye, even if you’re the only one who knows it’s a goodbye)

“what’s that?” he gestures towards your hands with his chin as you slide your upper body out of the shallow waters, leaving your tail to be submerged when the waves come in

you uncurl your fingers with a shrug

“it’s a comb,” he answers his own question as he turns it over in his hand, “made out of animal bone, i think”

you look at him curiously as he sits down, unbothered about wetting his clothes, and you ask, “what’s a comb?”

jongho brings it up to his head and pretends to move it up and down

“you run it through your hair to untangle it”

he pauses as his eyes flicker to your hair then back to your face

“i can…show you how to use it…if you want?” he offers

just once, you’ll allow yourself to get close to him just this once

when you nod and sit up, jongho shifts himself so that he is behind you

you try not to shiver when you feel the heat of his chest enveloping your back as he reaches forward to gently gather the hair from around your face and neck

he steadies your head with one of his hands, the other bringing the teeth of the comb through the slight waves of your hair

his touch is soft and loving in the way he tries not to tug too hard when he encounters a knot

his fingertips skim against you intimately but with an innocence that betrays the fact that he has never brushed somebody’s hair before

you feel your shoulders relaxing into his touch and your eyes close, blissfully - and perhaps deliberately - ignorant to the fading radiance of your body

“are you feeling okay?” jongho’s voice sounds even more alluring when it’s right next to your ear and you can’t help but shudder this time. “you seem paler than usual”

he brings a hand down to your waist and turns you towards him so that he can see you better

you try to formulate an answer, “i…”

i think i’m in love with you

of course, you would never tell him that

but before you can tell him that you’re fine, you become distracted by the glimpse of something on his hand that’s still resting on your waist

a scar

“is that- how did you get this?”

you run your thumb lightly over the taut, white line that runs from his wrist to the knuckle of his index finger

as you’re suddenly reminded of the familiar memory of a teenager with rounded cheeks and gangly limbs, the man beside you with those very same eyes looks at you fondly

“i cut myself trying to free a mermaid from a fishing net”

your gaze is unfocused as you process the information

the effects of the shattering revelation are immediate and a terrifying numbness starts to creep up your tail

because what you didn’t know - what nobody in folklore knew - was that the effects of paralysis and onset of death are accelerated when you fall in love with someone again for the second time

years ago, your heart had been claimed by the young man who had freed you at his own expense

you had managed to survive the heartbreak due to the briefness of your encounter, your paralysis fading and tail regaining its beauty when you never saw him again

but the effects of your unilateral love have not vanished entirely as you and your merpeople have believed it to

they have simply lay dormant like a disease, waiting for the right time to resurface when your feelings are rekindled

and so now it snowballs and gains traction at a speed that cannot be stopped, racing to catch up on the numerous years that you have cheated death where you thought you did not love jongho

“why is your tail turning grey?” the voice of the man you love is pinched with muted panic

you never thought you would ever be afraid of your own tail; your own body

yet, when you look down to see the monochrome advancing up each layer of your scales, you are absolutely petrified

your tail is starting to look like a stone statue and you know it won’t be long until that’s exactly what you become - motionless and unmoving

“y/n! why is your tail grey?!” jongho repeats with a shout, in full blown panic due to your lack of response

you can’t- won’t die in front of him

your lower body is almost deadweight with immobility and you bite back tears as you’re forced to crawl pathetically towards the water with your arms

jongho scrabbles to his feet as he hovers next to you, hands wanting to help but not quite touching you because he’s not sure what’s happening and he doesn’t know what he can do for you and you look like you’re in pain but he doesn’t know why-

“don’t!” you bark out sharply

he freezes in shock

you’re frightened and angry and you want to yell at something, someone, but…

you could never yell at jongho

with a much softer, albeit shaky voice, you tell him, “don’t look for me”

and before you can hear the pained noise that escapes jongho’s lips, you drag yourself back into the water

except a few metres after you’ve submerge yourself, the unthinkable happens

you. cannot. breathe.

you’re drowning.

jongho doesn’t care if you’ll hate him forever, doesn’t care if this is the last time you’ll choose to see him, but he will not just stand and watch when it looks like you are leaving to die alone

his body moves with the decisions of his heart before his mind tells him otherwise

he dives into the water after you

the world distorts around him; a moment of weightlessness as the waters easily shift to accommodate his body; the bubbling sound of air pockets reverberating inside his very skull; the shock of cold that overrides every other bodily sense

jongho forces his eyes open with numerous blinks until he can see you

your form is eerily still, and yet, you remain bewitching

he kicks his legs desperately with one arm outstretched and as soon as you are within reach, he tugs you into his chest

you’re limp to touch, lips slack and parted as if the very essence of your soul is escaping through your mouth

jongho will not let you die

lungs starting to burn and heartbeat pounding in his ears, he presses his lips against yours

a kiss of life- 

he closes his eyes

-and love

but you don’t respond

jongho ignores his instincts even as his body screams to part from you and kick upwards for a breath

instead, he moves his jaws to kiss you even harder

and then he feels it

he almost sobs into you when your lips twitch weakly against his

with renewed vigour, you’re sealing your mouth around his bottom lip as you respond, capturing him in a real kiss

below your joined lips, your scales start to bloom with their full brilliance once again

your tail shimmers brighter than before, reflecting intricate patterns of fractals with each slight ripple of the water as you open your eyes to the sight of jongho’s face, beautifully swathed in the incandescence of the rainbow

you can move again

you flick your tail, jongho’s arms still firmly around your waist and you both burst upwards, breaking the water’s surface with spluttering breaths

he desperately treads you both backwards towards the shore even though you can easily hold your own now

“jongho, you-”

he takes one look at you before he cuts your words off and plunges himself back underwater, stunning you into stupor, until he re-emerges with another splutter

“your tail!” he yells with overwhelming relief, face still scrunched as he tries to sweep his fringe up and wipe the water from out of his eyes

“yeah…” voice muted as you process the fact that you’re still alive, “my tail…”

“fuck, you scared me”

jongho’s eyes are bloodshot as they stare into yours, and you know for a fact that they aren’t just red from the irritation of salt water

you bring up a hand to rest it on his chest, right where his heart still thumps rapidly under your touch, and you apologise with a small smile, “sorry…i scared me, too”

he huffs a little before looking at you earnestly

“don’t ever do that again”

the water is now shallow enough that jongho can stand, but it’s deep enough that you can still drift effortlessly

it’s the perfect harmony where land and sea unite; where a human and a mermaid interact

where you, the enchanter, and jongho, the enchanted, find a balance of love

“i won’t,” you promise

on land, humans tell a story of a mermaid who falls in love with a man

a mermaid who is ready to give up her voice in exchange for her happily ever after

but in the sea, merpeople tell a story of a man who falls in love with a mermaid

a man who is ready to give up his life in exchange for his happily ever after

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[lalalaugenbrot]

15 questions + 15 friends tagged by @nougatbit

1. Are you named after anyone?

i don't think so but as far as i can retrace my name it's greek, somehow ended up in russia and then was made popular outside of russia via doctor zhivago's lara/larissa... (still have to read that!)

2. When was the last time you cried?

I cried from an allergy i have to certain skin cremes last night at the cinema... apart from that i don't remember atm but certainly not long ago

3. Do you have kids?

nope

4. What sports do you play/ have you played?

i did swimming when i was like 14 (i still like swimming a lot but i'm not in a club or anything anymore)

5. Do you use sarcasm?

no :-)

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

this has always been a weird question to me... their??? face?!?!! (*laughs nervously* wouldn't that always be the first thing to notice about someone???)

7. What's your eye color?

blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

a weird opposition. i don't really like horror movies and i prefer the ending a story needs and deserves, so some stories (e.g. a story on two traumatised young men who love and need each other more than anything or anyone else in the world in a mediocre prime time crime show) certainly deserve a happy end, other stories (e.g. a film that displays some severe social grievances) often should not have a happy ending because there isn't one to be expected in reality either... except for sometimes, for example, when it is about two queer men in 1913 Britain, finding and loving each other against all odds and all social norms, written by a gay man in the same era, then of course a happy ending can be imperative even :-)

9. Any talents?

people don't tire to tell me how ~creative i am... and that despite my apparent total lack of (visual, auditory, sensory) imagination 🙃 so there's that

other than that... i think i am good with words and i write since i literally can write and nothing brings me more joy than having written.. writing has been like the most important thing in my life for 26 years now even though it has always been something that happens more like 'in the background' of everything else

10. Where were you born?

in one of the (imo) most village-like "Großstädte" of Germany... if i told you where you'd probably know it because of one specific thing... i've been all the way to other continents and people knew it just because of that

11. What are your hobbies?

most hobbylike things are probably analogue photography, building stuff around the house (shelves etc.) and going to the cinema (or like film in general)

12. Do you have any pets?

no, but i had mice and i miss them... if i had more time and more space to have an adequate place to keep them i'd like to have mice or rats again...

13. How tall are you?

1,73

14. Favorite subject in school?

hm. not sports. i had a 'compulsory optional course' in physics/informatics and i always say it changed my life bc that's where i understood that i like and am good at technical and computer stuff... i also liked pedagogy (nrw superiority), the obligatory history course in 12th grade specifically and in the last years also maths... god do i miss solving math problems 😭😭

15. Dream job?

i wrote this in my friends journal when i was like 10 and it is still true but i think i am a bit past the point where this will ever happen but it's 'director ' (of films)... but that involves networking and other people and putting yourself out there... and uh... i just don't see that happening (i have directed but not in the slightest professionally), the other one of course has always been 'author' and i guess that could still happen... someday in the future maybe... you know, when I'm a grown-up

tagging: @diersten @tiny-steve @sinnsenke @mcfif @black-cat-aoife @silverysnake @free-piza @lachricola

[emma-radfemcanu]

I really need to change this tag to 'being sad about tennis' because that's what it is 🙃 under 'keep reading' bc no one cares (I wish I didn't care this much fr) but it makes me feel better to write it down

This year's French Open is on paper one of the most open in years- Nadal is toast, Djok is flopping hugely (he actually withdrew before the QFs due to a knee issue and I really think this is it for him now, obviously he's not going away overnight but he's no longer the threat he was), and there was a bit of a question mark over the level of Alcaraz and Sinner who have been mildly injured and haven't played a huge amount on clay this year... but they are in the SFs against each other so seem to be fine

And of course Stef got stuck in Alcaraz' quarter of the draw, literally anywhere else would have been better- the most open draw in years and he gets the one player he just cannot beat 😢 he's now 0-6 against him, it's partly mental (and is only going to get worse) but mostly because Alcaraz is just a horrible matchup for him physically

Meanwhile, on the other side of the draw- Djok has withdrawn giving Casper a free ride to the semis (who he is bribing I have no idea but he always gets a pisstake of an easy draw, or whenever he gets a difficult one it completely collapses), and the other QF on this side is Alex de Minaur vs Zverev (who is still being allowed to play despite an ongoing domestic abuse trial??? It literally started last week??? but that is a whole other post in itself)

Overall Stef's clay season has been solid, I felt so optimistic after Monte Carlo and then he was done dirty by a terrible draw on what should have been a really good chance for him :( of course it's not actually unfair at all, it's quite literally the luck of the draw, I'm just feeling sore about it because I want him to win a slam SO BAD and I'm having to accept that it probably won't happen

I mean he's 25 not 95, he's so good on clay and Australia Stef is also a whole different beast, so maybe I shouldn't be so pessimistic. Going forward Alcaraz is 100% his biggest threat so I'm just going to have to pray that he's on the opposite side of draws and that someone else can get rid of him first. I wasn't really expecting Stef to win today but that hasn't made me feel any less upset about it

I'm just insanely frustrated by how unfair it feels even though it isn't. Insult to injury is that he is now out of the top 10 again- due to people like ADM and Hurkacz getting lucky with their draws and gaining a load of points on clay that they never would normally (this is also bitterness on my part but it's true) and even worse Sinner is now no1 and his already horrendous fanbase are going to get even more insufferable than they already are

Like I say, I know I shouldn't care this much and I wish I didn't. But I do 🙃 I'm going through it a bit emotionally at the moment anyway and as tragic as it sounds it really isn't an exaggeration to say that I'm heartbroken (and am crying while writing this)

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Not only do I prefer the demo version musically, but lyrically it seems more cohesive than the studio version.

Like, omg no, why did he get rid of this verse (which, upon a bit of research, because I'm not a songwriter, I believe is actually the bridge!):

"I never dream of times like these When all my time is never free And every tear drawn face we see Is hung on you and me"

It's absolutely related to the rest of the song!!! Hello!!!? (I also love the commentary of "When all my time is never free"...it's very "Belief in the Small Man" to me, in terms of thematic similarities and how Big Country progressed as a band and still retained their values in their music.) The next part of the bridge (unless it's considered an entirely separate bridge...I'm not a songwriter, as I already mentioned, so I do not know!) doesn't fit quite as well to me, though, even though conceptually I love it and I'm curious if Stuart Adamson ever reused it for another song.

Anyway, I also love this demo version lyrically because, as compared to the studio version which is very 'Hello yes I'm putting all of my emotional baggage on you* and I can only be happy if you accept it without expecting any reciprocity from me...thank' but THE DEMO VERSION'S LYRICS NOTABLY DO NOT DO THAT!

*Whether he's talking about a partner or his homeland/country and countrymen, it's still kind of manipulative to me because, again, he makes no mention of 'If you do this for me, I'll do it back on your behalf,' so that's SHITTY! 😞 And it is, in fact, the opposite example of why I love "Wonderland" so much! So that makes the studio version of "I Could Be Happy Here" feel regressive. 🙃

Although I personally do not get what in the hell he meant by "If you could take my pride/If you could take my tears/If you could take my side/If you could take my fears/If you could turn the tide/You could be happy here" because that sounds like 'Here's my emotional baggage; NOW YOU CAN BE HAPPY [WITH IT]'???????????????? I'm sorry, WHAT. Hm...I guess it's just a good thing that was scrapped from the studio version, because, um, yeah...what. YIKES.

But after that bizarre verse, he gives us both of these verses:

"I will take my love I will take my stand I will be the one I will show my hand I will never run I will be happy here"

(Finally, a bitch takes responsibility! Good - THANK YOU!) And:

"We’re gonna use our love We’re gonna take a stand We’re gonna be the one We’re gonna show our hand We’re gonna never run We are happy here We can be happy here"

So he's not only taking responsibility, but it's implied that he shares it equally - and whether that's in a hopeful and hypothetical way or whether it's active (I could see it both ways, personally), the important thing is that it's still an equal effort. Yes, that fucking matters! Also, I'm intrigued by the first time he changes the verb type in the last lines of the verses "could/will" from a modal verb to a supporting verb "are" in the line "We are happy here"; it's the first time he switches from uncertainty with "could/will" to absolute, present tense certainty of "we are" (although to me it loses a lot of its power when he immediately returns to the modal verb of "we can")...I'm not sure why he did that, except that "we are" happens to follow the pattern of the rest of the "we're" contractions in the verse's anaphora (which I had to look up as I am very much not an expert in poetry - it's the practice of word or phrase repetition at the beginning of a group of poetic lines), but then to not only break the anaphora but return to the hypothetical context of so much of the rest of the song feels like a letdown! Oh, well - at least the final verse brings back the supporting verb of "are" for "And we are happy here" as the final two lines! :') So that's something to look forward to, literally, in the rest of the song.

[king-maven-calore]

Do you think Mare and Maven could love each other enough, to have a long lasting relationship, like getting married and getting old together kind of relationship? Even though, you mentioned that they are twin flames not soulmates.

I checked my inbox and I'm legally bound to reply to this first bc of priorities: YES, YES, AND YES. I'm so sorry for doing this to your ask anon but...Welcome to Annie over-analyzing YA episode 100 🤡 First we need to understand the difference with Soulmates. A soulmate is meant to support and help the person grow (Can't get more supportive than "I'll protect you for as long as I can" Cal Calore). A Twin Flame is supposed to bring the person closer to their divine mission and their soul's true purpose. A mirror of the soul where an instant connection is inevitable. The problem with this type of connection comes from the fact that the mirroring also applies to the person's insecurities and worst traits (the soulmate balances these out by being the opposite). And you know, where sparks fly, there's a fire hazard 😬. The concept on itself has the warning that the intensity of this bond is more often than not super unhealthy and ends in separation, but still: the purpose of the mirror has been achieved. To look at oneself reflected in another and learn (or be destroyed, whatever happens first).

I've been looking for the quote but I can't freaking find it 😭, where Mare says that when looking at the monster that Maven is, she sees what she could become.

Basically, the Twin Flames journey goes: Yearning, Glimpsing, Falling, Challenging, Crisis, Chasing, Surrender, Oneness. Here's a link explaining all the stages and a bit more but I'll focus on the stages where Mareven could have been saved 😔✌

After falling in love, when Mare thought she had found her equal and companion, comes the crisis: In the mirroring phase, twin flames begin to see the ‘other’’ side of their partner, the less pretty, less dreamy and less acceptable side, and it is in this phase where perfect love shows its dark side. Since this is fiction, experiences are heightened, and so is Mare's disillusion and horror when presented with the "darkness" in Maven.

We reach then the pivotal point: Runner and Chaser Phase. Pretty self-explanatory since Maven literally chases Mare for the rest of the RQ series🥴, hello Glass Sword my beloved. In this stage we have the opposing forces of change and permanence putting the relationship through the trial of fire. Maven wants the context to remain the same, but to force Mare to be with him. Mare wants the context to change but not only she isn't going to change her mind, she also has a confirmation bias toward Maven's humanity: She is convinced he can't be changed and everything he does only confirms this. This isn't a bad thing in context though! because it protects her from falling into the tricky waters of trying to be his savior, thus betraying herself and her cause.

And here's the only thing that keeps them apart (feel free to argue but I can pull receipts for days) not his lies, not his cruelty, not the fact that she straight up murders Elara: the oppression of Reds. Because as Mare says, it's bigger than her. They get stuck in the Separation stage because Maven's obsessive grip on the crown just as it is (a weak grip honestly) and it's not even something he wants it's that bitch Elara's sjkfnjd damn her.

If the freaking crown issue could have been solved, or Reds liberated sooner, before Maven kept damaging her in his attempt to keep her, they would have reached the Surrender stage; when the twin flames finally accept the negative aspects within themselves, work on them, learn self-love and in turn are ready to love the partner completely. Leading to the Oneness, "creating a healthy, love-based entity – a relationship that serves both individuals equally." Mare soul wouldn't end up as fractured as it ends up in canon, and Maven's soul would still be around the living 🙃. Their ending would have been infinitely softer together, but that's not their story. Because Mareven is not our romance.

Disclaimer: I'm only using the concept of Twin Flames from a literary standpoint. Don't let weird irl cults and gurus lie to you kiddos ❗

[aspoonfuloffiction]

I’m loving the asks & discussion happening here!

When I rewatched, I also noted how all the romantic gestures for Edwina were public and hollow. There is not one gesture he does for just the two of them, because their relationship is for everyone else and is for public perception. Arguably at the wedding when he is honest with her, but she finally sees what he is actually saying at that point. Almost like a PR relationship except only Anthony is in on it. And poor Edwina is kind of swept away in that thinking it is romantic (which actually if you pick apart a lot of her feelings and reaction to Anthony throughout their courtship, I think it’s a really good commentary on first love, and red flags in relationships - as in, it’s what he does in private/when no one else is looking that is important).

Also even their chat they have which goes seemingly well, she is completely blinded again because ‘at least he is honest’ but she doesn’t think of the reality of talking AT him about books, and him being away for long periods of time. And if you compare the conversation with what she then gushes to Kate about - he’s not funny, it was quite one sided in that he didn’t say anything about himself, and he again revealed he’s not looking for much passion in his relationships. Not to mention that Edwina is playing a part the WHOLE TIME even when she says, it does not mean I do not have my own mind, everything she says is calculated to get his attention.

I’m not blaming her for that, I think it’s really well done and I kind of wish they’d made it a bit clearer after the wedding because she clearly was a different person at that point, but again it’s similar to when you are in a bad relationship and feel you need to be someone you are not to keep their interest.

This is a really interesting interpretation! I haven’t heard it yet…and it did floor me a little bit.

Without sharing personal life details from my own experience I know all too well you don’t always see the red flags. It doesn’t matter how smart you are or who in your life is telling you the truth. Sometimes a relationship literally has to blow up for you to think back and see how much you missed.

I obviously wouldn’t qualify Anthony/Edwina as abusive but it’s definitely not healthy because it’s inherently built on a lie. For both parties this is a terrible situation. Only just Anthony knows why.

I had never thought about in that way thank you for the insight. I think I may be bringing this to therapy though🙃😬😂

As for your second point- I don’t know if I think Edwina is totally talking at Anthony I actually thought it was pretty equal. Lol I mean I laughed when he said all he’s read are estate ledgers so I see why she thought it was funny. (No one has accused me of having a refined sense of humor though)

I also compare it to the scene with Edwina with Lumley, a man I genuinely do not think Edwina found remotely interesting at any point. Anthony, when finding himself with opposite “interests” as Edwina asks her to talk about herself share her interests. Lumley was like me tell you about poetry. Which the show tells us Edwina is actually versed in because Ghalib is a poet.

I think Edwina’s standards might just on the floor and Anthony some how passed.

Also yes absolutely to Edwina knows how to play the marriage mart. She is sheltered and naive; and there is a lot she doesn’t know, but to quote S1 the “art of the swoon” is not one of those things. Edwina is a bit like Daphne without the rape-y tendencies ofc. Naive to some parts of the world sure but this one particular task-courting a man? Sharp as a knife. This they have trained for their entire life. In this singular aspect of her life I do see Edwina as calculated as anyone.

And if Anthony were any other man, it would’ve been hook, line, and sinker.

[plutowrites]

Pluto!! Hi hi 💕 for the matchup game 🤭-

Fashion style: I’d say soft/comfy - hoodies, jeans, t-shirts but I also like to dress up on occasion. A lot black but I do have some ✨colour ✨in there too.

Fave fic trope: a classic one that I rarely get to read because it’s so hard to find good fics that are completed is mafia AU lmao [[if you have any recs hmu 😩 any fandom idm]] But I loveeee the ‘I can’t stand them from the moment we met’ they are complete opposites but somewhere along the line, the pair grow closer and fall for each other lol. Also soulmate aus help🥲 Sorry asdfghjkl I couldn’t pick just one

Annoying thing that I do- procrastinate till the point where I’m playing with fire 🥲 when will I learn my lesson idk. Even if it’s something I enjoy doing- like writing..I just put it off for no reason 🙃

Anime: AOT :o

HIII MY BB!!

I MATCH YOU UP WITH...

PORCO GALLIARD.

now you're getting a KING and it's only fitting because you're royalty and deserve to be treated as such.

porco has that bad boy look without actually being a bad boy because he's a teddy bear to the ppl he loves

i see you guys starting off as co-workers. you found him cold and unfriendly and even though he thought you were gorgeous, he really wasn't interested in making new friends. HOWEVER that forced proximity of working at the same place reveals a budding attraction and eventually sparks of romance!!

porco doesn't procrastinate and he won't let you either. he starts each day asking what you're planning on doing and will remind you throughout the day of what you said you wanted to do. he dangles a reward in front of you as motivation

"if you write just one paragraph, i'll let you pick the movie we watch tonight, okay? deal?"

also understands that you're not always in the mood to ~do things and once you tell him you don't have the energy, he's all up for just cuddling in bed too.

temple kisses! forehead kisses! neck kisses!

you can call him anytime saying you miss him and he'd drop everything to be with you. i strongly strongly hold this hc for him.

HATES HATES HATES seeing you down and upset. literally makes his stomach hurt. he just wants his bby to be happy and he'd do anything to make that happen.

likes playing with your hair and cupping your face<33

gets all hot and bothered when you dress up. he thinks you're beautiful, always but when you wear something you don't normally wear? *gulp*

[cosmicteabethsarim]

So, you want to know what happens next?

After you tear a new one into your life, your stability, whatever that means...

After you've negotiated your way OUT...

Maybe this serves as a cautionary tale, though what I really hope to do here is gain clarity for me.

Every single change I have made since 2014 has been about clarity, who is this person in the mirror?

I dedicated to the people I surround myself with, however little and spotty their dedication towards me was...

I thought when I understood how I "do that" I would gain inner peace, tranquility and I would stop moving and finally take roots.

But I find myself in the opposite movement in general... a deep instinctive "pack your bags and take to the path into the wide open world".

I guess it's no surprise 🤷 🙃

I have never been one to sit still, even when I was in fact laying down, my mind was flying on some new adventure with a book resting in my arms.

And here I am, no longer seeking to fly in minds eye, but literally with my arms spread wide.

And that's what this blog is about. Opening up my inner world and playing my exit music.

I AM here!

[r0und3bitch]

PART FUCKING 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This story owns me. I'm just going to start by saying that Rafe didn't really get punished much in the first part but DAMN DID WE MAKE UP FOR IT HERE. 🥵

My face when she licked his nipple, not gonna lie. 😛😛😏😏😏

What I love most, is she's doing all of these things to "test the waters" with Rafe when in reality she's only (somewhat surprisingly) making her own self feel all these really strong feelings towards him! Like every single thing she DOES to Rafe, SHE FEELS IT. idk if that makes sense but it sure does in my head.

And I love that Rafe is also still embarrassed by what happened in Part 1 and while she WILL NOT let him feel badly about it....we also know deep down more punishment is coming?

He felt like he was floating; all the stimulation overwhelming him after being denied her touch for so long. He couldn’t help the noises that left him when she bit down on his lip, or pinched his nipple, or squeezed his hip - though he wouldn’t even if he could, he knew she loved hearing him. Knew it from the last time they were in this position and she made him see the world in whole new way. Brought him pleasure like no one else has. And he was just happy, so fucking happy, to be here under her again, to feel her again, to taste her lips. So lucky to be touched, and kissed, and teased, and pleased, and tortured, and overwhelmed - by her.

"SHE LOVED HEARING HIM" - FUCKING FACTS!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have read this paragraph so many times. He wants her do damn bad but let's be real, she wants him just as badly. But what's cool is she is just breaking down all these barriers and making him feel and expierence things he's never even considered before so...make it even more special just sayinnnnnnnnnn. 🥺🥺💖

How can she look at him like that and expect him to recover? Like she needed him, the same way he did her - just as deep, completely lost in him.

AND HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

When she grabbed his throat.....I am not going to go into detail but just KNOW...IT DID THINGS. I FELT THINGS. MKKKKKKKKKKK!? AND HE FUCKING LIKES IT!!!!!!!! This lil freak she's turning him into! (or maybe he had it in him all along, he just needed her to show him, I like that idea) 🥵🥵🥵🥵

It made her feel like a fucking queen.

^ SHE IS A FUCKING QUEEEN. BOW DOWN BITCH. (I certainly do) 👸

And then the main event....I don't even think my brain could catch up (Am I Rafe?!) 😅 When she started on his leg.....................JESUS TAKE THE GOD DAMN WHEEL I AM GOING CRAZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IN THE BEST WAY. She just so bossy and in charge and its's amazing. Like "yo I'm gonna ride your leg and theres literally nothing you can do about it so sit here and be all hot and pathetic while I do it" 🙃🙃🙃

WHAT IS THIS STORY DOING TO ME. (idk but I love it) 😚🥰

“Are you with me?” Her voice a stark opposite of what it was earlier, soft. He nodded and she kissed him again.

“Sorry.” He whispered. “Don’t say sorry. I’ve got you.” She kissed him once more, deeper and she could feel him reciprocating now - she had him back.

^^ the level of trust!!!!!!!!!!! I adore it so so so much.

 “Good boys don’t play around, Rafe.” He whimpered - sorry, desperate, pathetic. “But you haven’t been good tonight, have you?” He was looking at her with big eyes. “I thought I told you. Bad boys aren’t worth my time.”

^ I AM FUCKING FRANTIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!!!! Holy fuck Rafe wants to be good for her SO BADLY! He's so desperate! all of his pleas! He's literally begging for her and I have arguably never been more turned on in my life. 🥵🤯🥲

Okay but the part of him telling her he didn't deserve it actually broke my heart....even as pissed as I was that he was flirting with another girl....UGH this still tugged at my heart strings. WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?! THIS MAN DESERVES TO BE PUNISHED DONT MAKE ME FEEEEEEEL THINGS!!!!! 🥲🥹

I do love that he feels the remorse though!!! AND THEN HE ADMITS HE NEEDS TO BE PUNISHED!!! And the confidence that drips from him?! LIKE YES BITCH TIE ME UP I DESERVE IT. YES MA'AM I REMEMBER MY COLORS. Is he turning into a good boy again?! FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When asking if she's tying him too tight. "Its perfect" 🥹😍

MY JAW ACTUALLY FELL TO THE FLOOR. ITS PERFET?! SHE IS TURNING HIM INTO SUCH A SUBBY LIL BOY.

It wasn’t about him. This was all her.

A big smile broke on his face as he watched her catch her breath.

Thinking about the look on Rafe's face as he looks up at her in all her glory. I'm so obsessed with this. 🥹

Part 2 was fucking amazing!!! YOU ARE AMAZING and you're truly tearing my entire world apart with this story but I am so here for it :)

Love this and you until the end of time!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The Sounds of a Good Boy: The Punishment of a Bad Boy (part 2)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: Rafe's punishment continues, making him regret ever upsetting her.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: SMUT (18+), sub!Rafe, dom!Reader, masturbation (fem), choking kink, nipple play, bondage, thigh riding, orgasm denial

Authors Note: This is part 2 of the continuation of my The Sounds of a Good Boy fic. Part 3 (final part) of his chapter will be posted soon! Do let me know if you're liking this story and wish to read more!

Part 1 can be found here.

My work is my own; it’s not to be copied, transferred or translated.

Happy reading! 🥰

The Punishment of a Bad Boy (part 2):

At one point she rolled over on top of him, straddling him. Their kisses were now desperate and hungry. She could feel him harden under her, all previous embarrassment and awkwardness gone - replaced with desire. He moaned into her mouth when she ground her hips down on him. The sensitivity of his cock still causing discomfort in his pants causing him to wince and she pulled back to look at him. He was looking up at her with big, desperately hungry eyes and she could feel the pooling between her legs again.

She sat back on his thighs and ran her hands through his hair as she looked him over. A flush coming back to his skin, lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks red from arousal and a hint of shame as the reminder of his indiscretion kept awkwardly itching at his skin. She realized he was still wearing the same thing he came in and she knew it must be making him feel worse. So she leaned over for another kiss and let her hands work on unbuckling his belt. He was groaning as she finally popped open his pants - the constraint he'd been in all night finally lifting. She kissed him again as she pulled his belt out of the loops. She broke the kiss to pull his pants off of him, then sat back on his thighs taking in the mess he made of his boxers. She could feel him grow hot under her from shame and she quickly kissed him again, to distract him from that feeling. None of that. Not on her watch.

She kissed down his jaw and neck, moans leaving his lips as she nipped on salty skin. Her hands were working his muscles, caressing him all over. She made her way down to his chest licking on his nipple and he moaned out for her. She looked up at his face, he was looking back at her, panting. She smiled and left an open mouthed kiss on his other nipple, his eyes rolling back at the image and the feeling. She lightly bit down, just to test the waters, and his moan and the stirring of his dick under her told her all she needed to know.

She kept working her mouth and tongue and teeth against his skin, over his chest, his collar bones, his shoulders, right to his neck where she bit down a bit deeper and he let out a whimper of pleasure that went straight to her core. She soothed the bite with warm tongue and peppered soft kisses all over his neck as her fingers ran ever lower on him until she met the waistband of his underwear and he gasped.

She once again broke her kisses to pull his messy boxers off of him, finally releasing his poor, tortured cock. She climbed back on top of him and kissed him deep, with more force than before - swallowing his moans and groans as her fingers traced his skin, leaving a fire in their wake he never wanted to put out.

He felt like he was floating; all the stimulation overwhelming him after being denied her touch for so long. He couldn't help the noises that left him when she bit down on his lip, or pinched his nipple, or squeezed his hip - though he wouldn't even if he could, he knew she loved hearing him. Knew it from the last time they were in this position and she made him see the world in whole new way. Brought him pleasure like no one else has. And he was just happy, so fucking happy, to be here under her again, to feel her again, to taste her lips. So lucky to be touched, and kissed, and teased, and pleased, and tortured, and overwhelmed - by her.

The way she kissed him, like she was as desperate for him as he was her, was driving him crazy. He was rock hard again and he couldn't stop his hands from roaming over her figure - taking in all the curves he could reach. She let him explore her for a bit, letting herself enjoy his touch. She had touched him and drove him crazy but she hadn't felt his touch nearly as much as she wanted - she craved it, just as he did.

She lowered her hips onto his, right against his cock and he whimpered into her lips. She drew back to look at his face - so needy, so fucking pretty, and those damned eyes - she felt like he could see right into her soul. Her eyes darkened, pupils blown out - she looked absolutely feral and he cursed under his breath. How can she look at him like that and expect him to recover? Like she needed him, the same way he did her - just as deep, completely lost in him.

She ground her hips against his now and he groaned, biting his lip. His cock twitched under her and he couldn't help but raise his hips a little, chasing the feeling. She pulled away at that, sitting right back on his thighs as he panted looking at her. He needed her so badly, needed to feel her wrapped around him, be buried in her warmth. He swore she was gonna kill him with all the teasing.

"You haven't quite learned your lesson, have you?" She posed a question but didn't wait for an answer. "You came without permission earlier too." She tsked and he gulped. He didn't know what to do or say, if he was even supposed to do or say anything. He just stared at her with pleading eyes, begging her to understand him, to show him mercy cause he was too far gone. Too far gone, desperate for her.

She ran her fingers over his chest, teasing his nipples as he let out moans. Her hands reached his neck and she wrapped one around his throat - just holding him, only the weight of her hand and yet he whimpered under her. He liked it. A lot. She applied the tiniest amount of pressure, just to see him react. His eyes rolled back and she could have sworn it was the hottest thing she'd ever seen. He was completely at her mercy and he loved it. It made her feel like a fucking queen.

High off the the fact that he was submitting to her so willingly, panties soaked with arousal and a deep burning in her belly - she couldn't hold back anymore. She moved on him, straddling his thigh, just low enough to not to touch his cock, and she started moving. Slowly at first, grinding her panty clad pussy over his skin.

He moaned loudly realizing what she was doing. She was using his body for her pleasure without giving him any release - it was cruel and hot and he was scared he would cum from the sight alone all over again. As if she could read his mind she spoke. "I'm going to get off on your thigh and you're going to be a good boy and take it. Is that understood?" He moaned at her words, feeling completely unhinged. How was he supposed to answer? To speak? Use words? Fucking hell.

He nodded, hooded eyes on her. She stopped moving and wrapped her hand around his neck again, squeezing a little tighter than before. He could feel his cock twitch and he wanted to cry. He never thought being choked would turn him into a whimpering mess but here he was.

"I need words, Rafe." Her use of his name was like a slap to the face - she didn't call him baby and he hated that. He hated having her angry at him. But God she was irresistible. "Y-yes." He managed to croak out, voice strained. She was barely choking him but his voice went straight to her core. She couldn't wait to hear what he sounds like with more pressure applied to his gorgeous throat. His Adam's apple was bobbing under her palm, he was sweating, trying to stay in the room with her. So she wouldn't get mad. But he could feel himself slipping in and out, like he was floating in the air even though he was planted firmly under her still. He didn't understand how he could feel this untethered just by having her touch on him like this.

She noticed he was struggling so she released his neck and rubbed his chest, waiting for him to come back to her. His eyes blinked as he slowly realized he was indeed still lying on his bed and not miles above in the clouds. He looked a bit lost and confused and she leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Are you with me?" Her voice a stark opposite of what it was earlier, soft. He nodded and she kissed him again.

"Sorry." He whispered. "Don't say sorry. I've got you." She kissed him once more, deeper and she could feel him reciprocating now - she had him back.

His hands wrapped arouned her and he pulled her in closer, as if he needed to melt into her to feel real. And for a while she let him. They kissed again, for what seemed like ages but neither had any intentions of stopping. Getting lost in each others embrace, finding themselves entwining - pieces of one another making their way home, right into the other's chest, right where they belong.

He grabbed her ass and pulled her down against him and she finally broke the kiss. He was getting too cocky for her liking. No more playing nice. He deserved a punishment and she wasn't letting herself get distracted again. All softness gone now, her voice bringing him out of his daze. "Good boys don't play around, Rafe." He whimpered - sorry, desperate, pathetic. "But you haven't been good tonight, have you?" He was looking at her with big eyes. "I thought I told you. Bad boys aren't worth my time."

She looked disinterested, like she was going to get up and walk away right then, leave him cold and alone. He wanted to cry. He wanted to be good. Why couldn't he just be good? It was hard. But he should've tried harder. He didn't want her going back to being indifferent to him, he didn't think he could survive that. He just wanted to be hers. Just hers. Hers always.

"I'm sorry. Please. Please." He was mumbling incoherently by the end, too overwhelmed with worry, need, arousal and something that was clawing painfully at his chest at the mere thought of her leaving him.

"Please? Please, what?" She had no patience left for games. "Please. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." He was clenching his fists at his sides, wanting nothing more than to wrap himself around her so she couldn't go anywhere.

"Do you think you deserve it?" She could tell he was struggling with something in his head but she wasn't sure what he was thinking. She needed him present. Her question had him looking up at her with teary eyes. A small "no" leaving his lips. "What was that?" She was torturing him. "No. I don't deserve it."

She was nodding slowly, thinking over her next step. "What do you think you deserve?" The question had a million thoughts running through his brain. What did he deserve? After flirting with someone who wasn't her? After hurting her by being stupid and selfish? After not even being able to be good for her and keep himself in check? What did he deserve?

"I deserve to be punished." His voice was confident - he felt it, he meant it. The way he was looking at her then - waiting for whatever she was going to do next, putting himself at her mercy; to decide what she needed in order to forgive him - made a funny feeling blossom in her chest. In her heart. He was fully submitting to her now, without reservations. She didn't expect this. The amount of trust he was putting in her was doing crazy things to her head. He was putting himself in her hands; hopeful she'd take care of him, hoping she'd keep him there, trusting she would always keep him safe. Even when she was angry, even when he needed to be punished. The realization nearly made her cry then. But she didn't. She pulled herself together, like she always did. Like she had to.

"Do you remember your colors?" She asked and he swore his heart soared. She wasn't going anywhere. Wasn't gonna leave him. She wasn't indifferent. She kept him close, like he hoped she would - his heart safe in her hands, and he felt so fucking happy then.

"Yes. Green." His answer was eager, eyes wide, a spark back in them. She was amused at his answer and she had to force herself not to let a smile out. He was adorably earnest and it clenched her heart to see it. He knew he was going to be punished but he was happy to take it and that funny feeling was floating around her chest all over again.

She forced her voice to stay calm. "What are the rest of them?" His eyes widened, as if no other color had occurred to him - and it hadn't. "Um, yellow... and-and red." She was nodding along. "And what do they mean?" He was trying to answer as best as he could. "Um, yellow means slow down, red means stop and green means-green means keep going." "That's right."

"You're going to use them as you need to, yes?" He was nodding along. "Words." She reminded him. "Yes."

"Okay. I'm going to ride your thigh now. And you're going to be good and keep your hands to yourself. Keep your eyes on me. And no cumming." Her eyes were boring into him, wanting him to take her seriously. This is what she wanted, and he would give it to her. He could give it to her.

"I promise." His words made her heart skip. Why was she feeling all these things? She's supposed to be focusing. She needed to focus. Damn him for throwing her off her balance. Again.

"Are you going to be able to control yourself or do I need to tie you up?" Her question was genuine, but the mere thought of being tied up by her made his cock twitch on his stomach. What the hell was wrong with him? Fuck, she was ruining him.

"Yes." His answer breathy, she could tell he liked the idea. "Yes, what?" She wasn't letting his damned beautiful eyes distract her. No way. "Tie me up." He spoke with conviction, but his cheeks turned crimson. He couldn't believe those words left his mouth. She could feel her panties were soaked now, this was driving her insane. He was so eager to give her control it was throwing her off her game.

She took his belt and climbed up to reach his hands, already grasping the headboard for her. Fuck this was hot. She carefully tied his hands to the headboard, making sure the leather wasn't too tight against his wrists. She could feel his eager eyes on her and she forced herself not to look at him, unsure of her ability to keep her cool if she did.

"Good? Not too tight?" She asked, eyes singularly focused on his hands, not willing to risk meeting his searching ones. It was as if he was trying to force her to look at him, it was difficult to handle. Fuck he was ruining her. "It's perfect." His words yet again causing butterflies in her stomach and she yet again forced herself to focus. "Good."

She got back down, straddling his thigh again in the same spot she had earlier. She had to take a few moments to collect herself and then she finally met his heated gaze. There he was; tied up with his own belt against his own headboard, naked and hard and flushed and breathing heavily under her, completely at her mercy. And she could swear she'd never seen a sight more beautiful, never been more turned on in her life. He was perfect.

She slowly started to grind against him, finally getting the much needed pressure against her clit. He was looking at her like she was the most stunning thing he'd ever seen. And she was. He could swear he'd never been harder. But that's a thought he'd had every single time with her. Like every time he gets more turned on than the last, even though he wasn't sure that was physically possible. Fucking hell - what a sight. Her pleasing herself on his leg, riding it so slow and nice he could feel his cock leaking precum already. How he wished she was riding his dick instead. But he could be patient. He needed to be patient. Fuck, she was beautiful.

She started going faster, pressing herself a little harder, the stimulation on her needy clit felt so fucking good. Her panties were a puddle against their skins and she decided they weren't needed. So she pulled them to the side, baring herself to his eyes for the first time and he swore under his breath at the sight. How is she so perfect? How is he even alive right now? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Her skin met his, the final layer removed. She started grinding her bare pussy on his thigh now, spreading her slick all over his skin and he could feel his cock twitch, hands straining against the leather. He kept his eyes on her, like he promised he would. And the sight, and the feel of her pussy on him, her juices coating his skin, her chest heaving as she brought herself pleasure - he swore he was in heaven. She was perfect.

She could feel her high approaching, faster than ever - she had never been this consumed with arousal before. It felt new and exciting and liberating. Allowing herself to just feel was incredible. She was letting out little moans now, not even aware, so dazed in her own pleasure.

He was watching everything with hungry eyes, wanting to commit it all to memory, never forget this heavenly sight before him. Fuck he was so hard and so hot and so red and - he clenched his thigh then, the hard muscle giving her a jolt and she let out a louder moan. Fuck.

She rode him faster, harder, chasing her high. He kept clenching his muscle, bringing her more stimulation, wanting her to feel the best she possibly could. And she loved it. She saw his cock, impossibly hard, red, leaking, twitching - he looked so delicious she wanted to feel him inside of her. The thought making her groan. His eyes rolled back at the sound and she scratched against his hip to bring him back to her - eyes on her again. She needed him to watch, needed him to see how good she felt, how much pleasure she was experiencing.

She could see him struggling to stay still, his hands were pulling at the restraints against his will, hips shaking a little with the effort it took for him to not buck into her. It wasn't about him. This was all her. He was being so good and her own eyes rolled back as she reached her peak. And then it was all half choked half high pitched noises, shaking body on top of him, so much pleasure washing over her that her legs nearly gave out. It was the most stunning thing he'd ever seen and it took literally every ounce of willpower he had in his body not to cum with her.

When she came down from her high, her half closed eyes met his and she swore he stole her breath away. And he swore she stole his too. There was an odd intimacy there. Her getting off in front of him, on him - and him watching and holding out. She felt like she'd let him in a lot deeper than she expected to in that moment. But somehow she didn't care. She loved being with him too much to hold back.

A big smile broke on his face as he watched her catch her breath. Her own a little tired but just as blissful. He did so good for her. He was so happy to have experienced this with her he didn't even care about his painfully hard dick. He was blessed to witness her in all her glory and he felt high from it.

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @r0und3bitch , @lurkymurker , @tianotfound

[that-devout-catholic-woman]

@chefboyard-bag Bisexual people aren’t “experimenting”, like literally, can you not shame us the way that everyone else does? We’re told by heterosexual people that “it’s just a phase” and you literally are participating in that same toxic line of thinking even though you belong to our own community. Why do you have to add to our shame and trauma? I’m going to assume you know nothing about bisexual erasure and am going to suggest you look it up and educate yourself.

You have as much control over your same-sex attraction as the rest of us. There are gay and leabian and pansexual and etc. Side B Christians/Catholics, and they do just fine. It’s not that we “die in hetero[-looking] relationships” that allows us the opportunity to get into Heaven (and it’s still a bisexual relationship but it’s with a person of the opposite sex, regardless of how it looks on the outside because whether I pick a man or a woman, I’m still bisexual). People regardless of sexuality and regardless of whatever they’ve done in their past get into Heaven by repenting for their sins and having a healthy relationship with God—which definitely doesn’t include blaspheming Him, I don’t think He’d like that very much. Luckily He’s merciful and loves you and is willing to forgive you if you apologize. Even if you mess up along the way, He’d still be there waiting to forgive you. God isn’t the Hellfire and brimstone type that Evangelicals claim He is, I hope you realize that.

And it’s not about bi people “repressing” their SSA, bi people are attracted to both sexes so it’s just making the conscious decision to only seek out and date/marry people of the opposite sex. Another part of bisexual erasure is the fact that people think we’re super hypersexual people and just willing to willy nilly go around dating and having sex with anyone and everyone and that’s so far from the truth. We’re capable of monogamy as much as everyone else and so there’s no repression happening, we’re just making conscious choices. And just because you’re not educated enough to understand the solid doctrine of the Catholic Church doesn’t mean that it’s pointless, it means that you just don’t understand it.

Some of us definitely do feel the same depravity/immorality about our SSA. Wanna know why? Because we’re constantly shamed by both straight and LGTQIA+ people like you. 🙃 We’re in this limbo position of constantly being told we’ll never fit in anywhere and that our existence doesn’t matter. Honestly, I can never understand what it’s like to be gay or lesbian, but I hope you can at least see how crappy of a situation that puts us in and all the trauma and baggage that comes with that.

Even hotter take: you can be any sexuality and find healing and happiness in Catholicism because you are wholly loved here. There’s no repression here, just conscious choices like I said, which does allow for a feeling of added control in your life and again, you can still find happiness as a gay/lesbian/other Catholic—there are tons of people out there as proof of that.

Are you really bi? I'm also Catholic and feel some attraction towards both men and women. It'd be nice to know someone else was in the same kind of situation as I am.

I am indeed! I’m a bi Catholic who follows Church teachings. As such I’m marrying a male since I am female and am called to the vocation of marriage.

Those of us who are same-sex attracted (SSA) and still follow Church/Biblical teaching are called “side B” Christians/Catholics. There are lots of us. :)