#fantasy hurt/comfort

[nat-1-whump]

Whumper stole Whumpee's spell focus before tying them up and torturing them. At some point, Whumpee managed to sneak their spell focus back, and with their remaining energy, cast a teleportation spell.

Whumpee's body started to flicker, disappearing just as Whumper reached out to grab them. Exhausted and dizzy, their vision faded as they landed in the only place they were sure was safe---Caretaker's living room.

Needless to say, Caretaker wasn't thrilled to have Whumpee appear on their carpet unconscious, tied up, and in a pool of blood, but they'd have to save the questions until after Whumpee woke up.

For now, Caretaker settled for pulling Whumpee up onto the sofa and trying to bandage them as best they could. The more they worked on Whumpee, the more injuries they found. And they were bizarre injuries too, such as burns in odd shapes and cuts that seem to spell out words or runes. What already looked like a bad enough situation from the beginning revealed itself to be worse and worse, leaving Caretaker wondering who the hell would even do something like this to Whumpee in the first place.

"Shh... Yeah, I know it hurts. Poor thing." Caretaker stroked Whumpee's hair, trying to soothe them as they cried out incoherently with each sting of antiseptic.

The two of them admittedly hadn't spoken in a while, but as soon as Whumpee was lucid, Caretaker was determined to draw the whole story out of Whumpee, no matter how long it took. Someone had made a big mistake hurting Whumpee like that, and Caretaker was going to make sure they'd regret it.

[ricesinspo]

☆ — 'someone finally cares about you' prompts. by @ricesinspo, credits appreciated!

— ☆ —

[★] they wrapped their arms around you - you can't remember the last time someone hugged you like this.

[★] getting pulled aside while everyone else is yelling at you. they get you like none of the others do; they know not to yell.

[★] patiently listening to all of your problems. like actually listening.

[★] ^ with no judgement.

[★] they notice whenever something's wrong.

[★] letting you cry into their arms. telling you it's okay, everything is okay - and you know it's true because they're with you.

[★] letting you cry at all; realizing you don't have to hide your tears in front of them.

[★] "in a world where people don't care about me, i'm lucky to have you."

[★] ^ and then they're like "who hurt you" / "where are your __ i just want to talk" lmao

— ☆ —

[scealaiscoite]

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅ a month’s worth of whump prompts ]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

¹⁾ blood swirling down a shower drain

²⁾ stitches on a cheekbone

³⁾ fingertips numb from cold

⁴⁾ painkillers and a cup of tea left on a nightstand

⁵⁾ a thick plaster cast

⁶⁾ canine teeth tipped with blood

⁷⁾ a bruise in the shape of a boot print

⁸⁾ dried tear tracks

⁹⁾ an inescapable migraine

¹⁰⁾ sunglasses over a bruised eye

¹¹⁾ scars littering the expanse of a back

¹²⁾ bloodied teeth

¹³⁾ skinned knees

¹⁴⁾ a torn-apart first aid kit

¹⁵⁾ frozen peas pressed against a fresh bruise

¹⁶⁾ brambles and twigs knotted into hair

¹⁷⁾ lipstick and a split lip

¹⁸⁾ an especially improvised tourniquet

¹⁹⁾ blood seeping through clothes

²⁰⁾ a heart monitor

²¹⁾ unbearable nausea

²²⁾ a hoarse throat

²³⁾ blood under fingernails

²⁴⁾ a thermometer between bitten lips

²⁵⁾ hands soothing over a shaking frame

²⁶⁾ a twisted ankle on the side of a mountain

²⁷⁾ cuddling for warmth

²⁸⁾ thin hospital blankets

²⁹⁾ broken glass

³⁰⁾ a knife pressed against a throat

³¹⁾ night terrors

[hemipenal-system]

wait bear with me. so you know how most canids lick things to calm down because it releases endorphins? werewolves who absolutely love giving head. like if you just lay next to them and you have any skin anywhere near their muzzle they will just start licking it too but it's not the same

werewolf girlfriend coming home from a horrendously stressful shift at work to her girlfriend, who has already seen her string of texts about how fucking rude her customers have been to her, laying on the couch with her skirt hiked up and her legs spread. she's practically on the verge of tears as she shifts and dives to the floor, shoving her face between her girlfriend's thighs, sniffling softly as the love of her life reaches down and strokes her fur tenderly

werewolf girlfriend who zones out a bit into her girlfriend, not noticing as the human she's licking finishes over and over until her muzzle is roughly pushed away, her girlfriend struggling for breath between gasps as she comes down from somewhere in the second dozen

[defire]

Forest setting: whump in the woods

(army/scout, fantasy vibes)

Content: mild violence, restraints

Whumpee wakes up to a sword at their throat-- they close their eyes to just imagine this isn't happening for one more second

Getting dragged by the feet over sticks and stones, making gashes up whumpee's back and arms as they squirm and cry out

Whumpee getting tied to a tree and having to stay standing because there's thorns or obstacles at the bottom.

Trying to maintain their dignity by lifting their chin as they rest their head against the tree they're tied to

When that pose forces the bob of their throat as they swallow to be very visible (bonus: looking side to side to keep from crying)

A torch sparking and flickering as it's held a little too close to whumpee's face, whumpee pulling back as far as they can and squinting to protect their eyes

Tied up and bargaining "you look like you're having a little trouble with that fire. Sure would be nice if there was someone around that knew how to do that. Too bad the only ranger here is tied up."

Brigands. Whumpee gets caught, beaten up, manhandled, groped all over for valuables, left stripped and bloody in the woods

Army stuff--scouting and getting CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY (honestly this was my childhood favorite). That sinking feeling as whumpee's face mashes into pine needles under the knee of a soldier

Being up a tree hunting or hiding out, and whumpee's enemy camps below and instead of coming up after them, they start to chop the tree down. Cue a yelling match of "get down!" "Only if you promise my safety!" "Nope!" Chop.

Falling out of a tree and hitting the ground on their back, knocking the wind out of them (especially if then, they open their eyes to see they're surrounded by grinning enemies and just groan)

[elsecrytt]

so i had a thought.

what if 236 is actually jujutsu tech propaganda?

mei mei is broadcasting this entire thing, right? what better way to protect gojo from bounty hunters etc., than convince the entire world that he's already dead?

the final battle happened offscreen, with significantly less fanfare. gojo rescued megumi, defeated sukuna. the day was saved.

at a cost.

gojo gave up everything - at least, everything he valued. the six eyes, his abilities as a sorcerer. he assumed that would make him a normal man, and he was right -

what he didn't realize was that it would also make him blind.

so now... you live in a nice apartment complex. a guy moves in next to you.

you can't help but notice he happens to be blind - at least, he's wearing a blindfold, uses a cane, but he's often swearing and stumbling through his porch, over his entryway. he is very, very blind.

you, wondering what the fuck up is with your obviously blind neighbor who seems to have no sense of self-preservation.

he walks into objects all the time, especially hitting his head on things, since he's so tall. forgets his cane when going out. the dude just left his door open the other day, like, WIDE OPEN, who DOES that?

helping gojo learn, not only how to be human, but how to be disabled. how to not be disgusted with being disabled.

gojo learning that being blind isn't the end of his life, nor the end of his happiness - life is still worth living, even without one of his senses.

helping gojo mourn his lost sense while still finding things to enjoy. gojo who learns to cook by taste, by feeling heat or texture, with your help. gojo learning to organize things so he always knows where they are from memory.

bringing gojo audiobook versions of your favorite stories even if he teases you for your taste. he listens to them when he has nothing to do, which is most of the time, now.

he goes out on walks all the time because he doesn't have a job, you learn. while it's nice to not have to work, you can tell he comes from money, his life comes with a gaping hole inside it, one that isn't entirely explained by the blindness.

gojo who's overstimulated all the time because he no longer has infinity as a barrier, but somehow also as touch-starved as ever, alone in a foreign country away from all his students and colleagues.

gojo, who has only ever done Big Things with his life, who has only ever been an Important Person doing world changing things, now, just an ordinary guy.

he barely cares what happens to himself now. it's not that he wants to die, or anything. it's just that he doesn't have a reason to live.

and that wouldn't change overnight. not with cooking lessons or audiobooks or friendly greetings whenever you see him by the door. not with smiles or waves (he can't see them) or a braille rubik's cube you find online (how did he solve it in under a minute??) or karaoke (he has an AMAZING singing voice, and he knows so many songs better than you do?).

it wouldn't change overnight, because nothing worthwhile forms in a day, or two, or even a week or a month.

but gojo's life doesn't have to be amazing a day after he's gone blind. or a week. or a month. it's okay if it's difficult, he learns, it's okay if he hates it, hates himself, hates every choice that brought him here, even if he would never take it back.

it's okay. it gets better. with you there? it's getting better.

[hitlikehammers]

ignis obscura (dragon-sacrifice!Steve falls for random-man-in-the-woods(?)!Eddie before Steve goes to get eaten) (???)

feat. lots of love-at-first-sight, soul-deep devotion sorta shit

When a dragon arrives within telling-distance, the town nearest the lair it claims must send the sacrifice; their most valued possession. Everyone knows this.

It was just that no one in Hawkins had ever imagined—never really believed—that of all the villages, a dragon would come to them.

Steve had imagined it, though. As a boy, he’d thought it an adventure. As a teenager, he’d fancied it something of an escape.

Now, when it happens? As a young man, Steve Harrington mostly just thinks of course it goes like this.

Because he’s the disappointing-but-only son of the mayor, in a town where mayoral wealth rivals the coffers of the crown, and if the dragon wants value? Steve’s the gateway to whatever riches have been hoarded, whatever small power may be marshaled to command more, to rule, to gather up virgins if Steve himself proved insufficient to that fabled task—though he was renowned as the most comely of his people, having just dipped his toe into his prime while keeping the rosy flush to his cheeks alongside the strength in his arms: perfect timing, really. It helped pad the argument for him as the tribute.

As if maybe the dragon had waited, had watched. Had known what it wanted, and swooped in with intent.

Steve couldn’t give two rats’ asses what the dragon did or didn’t do, as he made his way through the woods and up the mountain. The stories of sacrifice always paired with the same end: no matter how you pleased the dragon, the tribute did not live to descend to their home again.

So really, at this point, it was merely a question of how Steve would meet his end. At the dragon’s mercy, of course, but: more like details.

Steve distracts himself with arguments for whether it’s wiser, or more efficient, to carve human flesh with claws or teeth, and it’s a job done so well that he not only finds himself wholly turned around on this trek, far too close to nightfall, and not nearly as near to the cave he’s aiming for as he need be, but more than that:

He fails to notice he’s no longer alone.

“Are you lost?”

There is a honey-smooth quality to the voice that rings out but…deeper. Darker even, though it doesn’t strike warning between Steve’s lungs. It’s…caramelized, and slow slip of thick…almost comfort. Steve fights to keep a clear head: not all dangers are apparent. Enchantment and faerie mischief, even, could have found him in his mindless wandering.

“Lost?” Steve tries to scoff at the right tone of haughty; “I’ve lived here my entire life—“

“In these deserted woods?” the voice, and now there’s a figure that draws nearer, closer in the growing claim of the moon for light but still more silhouette than anything as it—he, the voice is male, Steve is near-certain—turns and assesses their immediate surroundings before tutting thrice:

“Strange choice of domicile.”

And it’s mocking, of course it is: but the honey-caramel of the voice is a molten thing. It warms Steve deep and he cannot even be cross.

“I,” he starts, but sees not point to finishing before he sighs and admits, to himself as much as to the stranger:

“Yes, I am lost.”

“But you’ve lived here your whole life!” the stranger slaps a palm to his own cheek, mouth dropped in faux-horror but he looks so…earnest. And maybe adorable with it, so much so that Steve can’t help but chuckle a little helplessly for it all.

“Hush,” he chides, half-heartedly at best. “I was supposed to get to the caves by nightfall.”

“Ooo,” the stranger leans in, as if to prepare for a secret; Steve didn’t realize he was so close; “scintillating dinner date?”

Steve can’t help it but to snort.

“By a measure,” Steve deadpans, before clearing his throat; “I need to present myself to the dragon.” When the strange man stares at him unblinking Steve deflates a little.

“You know, hot, fire,” he gestures broadly; everyone knows what comes at the end of a sacrifice: “dinner…”

“Why are you looking for a dragon?” the other man asks, his lips pulling down a bit in just-shy-of-a-frown. Steve doesn’t like the look on him, so he tries to put on a bit of a show, match the stranger’s teasing energy from before as best he can in the given circumstances:

“I just so happen to be the village sacrifice,” Steve announces, chest puffed a bit, but he fails to do anything but deepen the frown he’d been aiming to wipe clean from the other man’s face; now Steve’s frowning, too, as he deflates a little, but hardens a little too, crossing his arms and leaning back where the other man’s not even bothered to stop leaning in, despite his apparently displeasure.

���What?” Steve challenges, but it’s brittle, he knows it. “It’s a,” he vacillates, unsure how exactly to describe the…ritual of it. The way it’s cast as a, as a…

“It is a high,” Steve’s voice wavers a bit, like finally saying it aloud makes it all the less believable: “honor.”

The other man eyes him silently until Steve feels it in his very skin, before finally he speaks:

“Hmm,” he tips his head, considering just a little before he seems less to come to a conclusion, and more to a conclusion on how to best voice the things he wanted to say already, at that:

“Well, I know these woods very well, better than any hailing from the village I suspect you’re speaking of,” his gaze flicks Steve top to toes, something warm in it, no, something hot in it, that simmers through Steve’s veins: “and so I can get you to the caves, at the very least for shelter before moonrise-full,” he glances skyward, seeming to doublecheck his words before he nods decisively and reaches out a hand:

“Think you can trust someone you only just stumbled upon in the forest to steer you straight?”

And Steve doesn’t know for sure what he’d have done, what his answer and actions may have been if death-by-some-draconic-means weren’t imminent. But it is, and so he takes the hand offered, and grasps more than shakes, holds more than strikes accord and lets himself notice and relish how smooth and warm it feels against his skin:

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t know what he’d do in lesser circumstances.

But for the grin on the man’s face, the way it shines brighter than moonlight, than sunrays even, he suspects: for the way it makes of the man a star on his own somehow?

Steve wants very much to believe he’d trust the man anyway, regardless of sense, just for the breadth of that smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Looks like the dragon’s out for the night.”

Steve makes an extra survey of the den nestled a good bit into the cave when his mysterious guide comments on the undeniable silence of their surroundings, the telling echo of their footsteps in the empty space.

“Curses,” Steve huffs, both frustrated and dismayed because: “I’ll have angered him, what if he doesn’t think I’m enough for—“

“One,” Steve’s beguiling guide ticks the point off with a finger raised on a strangely elegant hand; “you think dragons to be too irritable.” Steve rolls his eyes to himself—this Man who knows so much of the temperaments of dragons, the ego to presume—

“They can be quite pleasant so long as they have sufficient treasure. And they’re long-lived, so they’re patient,” the man continues on, which: it seems his ego’s well-reasoned out at the very least, Steve supposes.

“Which brings us to point number two,” and of course there’s a number two, a pair of fingers now waving almost accusingly to the side of Steve’s face:

“You’re more than enough to be worth waiting for.”

Steve blushes furiously and thanks the sparse cracks of nearly enchanted—quite possibly enchanted, actually—light for very little chance to be seen for it.

His companion grins with a glimmer of that sparse glow catching his eyes, glittering in it like enchantment themselves, and Steve thinks both that yes, he’s likely been seen and caught so that likewise yes, he needs to move out of the shaft of light that betrays him and with haste, because to think such a thing about this strange and beguiling man—beguiling, good gods—says far to much about what Steve feels about him, and far too soon, even by his standards.

Which are lightning quick already on a day in which he knows restraint.

“Sparse for a horde,” Steve surprises himself for how steady his voice is, given how obvious his bid to change the subject lands, not matter his tone.

His companion is gracious enough to allow the shift without comment:

“You think mortal eyes can see such things without a dragon’s explicit permission?”

But not gracious enough to abandon that ego.

“How do you know so much of dragons?” Steve finally just asks; subtlety’s never been his strongest characteristic, and in honesty, it’s past time to have asked it.

The other man smirks, scoffs a little.

“This may be your village’s first encounter with them,” and it’s said not quite in censure, and not unkindly, but Steve is cowed a bit nonetheless—the man had never named but has more than once referenced where he thinks Steve’s from, and Steve suspects if his vestments and the crests embroidered to them weren’t enough, his lack of knowledge would be—his people have been blessed in many ways, and live privileged lives on the whole, most especially his family, in comparison to their neighbors.

“But here is the only perch for the span of tens of villages,” the man points out; “and they’ve not been left untouched for so long.”

Right. Of course.

“You’re from a neighboring town?”

“One word for it,” the man shrugs, in such a way now that it shivers through his unruly curls; “and you’re from Hawkins, I gather.”

Right. Unsubtle to the bone it seems, indeed.

“For the whole of my life I can say I know only one thing about your home,” the man takes Steve grimace as the confirmation that it is; “and it’s how they share notoriously little to know.”

Steve chews at his lip, knows the failings his family’s rule has had for the people without and without their borders. Has tried to find ways to help without power of his own in the order of things.

“I always wished to see other lands, even the nearest of them,” Steve finally lands on something to say; “I tried to convince my parents, but—”

“Parents?”

It might be the first time his new…friend? Looks properly halted.

“Son and heir,” Steve points to himself with a weary sort of smirk, the whole thing laughable, really; “the tribute has to be valuable, right? I thought upon seeing so little here, I could offer from our own troves before the end, as appeasement but,” Steve sighs, suddenly drained, only now realizing, now that the option eludes him, just how heavily he was counting on the option of at least trying to bargain with the dragon, appealing to its intellect and far more, its love of treasure.

“But if it’s as you say, I may have much less by way of offering at all.”

There’s an instant sort of chill that fills him as he starts to acclimate to the reality that he’s going to die, and soon, and there truly is not hope for an escape. He—

“Let me assure you,” the man’s hand startles Steve, battles and swiftly overcomes the chill in him as it wraps tight around Steve’s wrist, his voice following Steve’s own almost without break, a cutting finality to it, definitiveness in his tone and his eyes alike once Steve meets them—and once Steve meets them, the not-quite-stranger doesn’t let him look away.

Magnetic.

“Based on what I have seen?” and the words could be casual, but the low rumble they’re spoken with is anything but:

“You could walk here wholly empty handed, and no dragon worth their flame would turn you away as unworthy.”

Steve feels less his cheeks, and more his whole body, inside and out, flush bright and there’s no light to hide from, save from the one shimmering in the gaze locked into his own.

And Steve, for all his postures of pride: this time?

He has no desire to hide the way he flushes, never mind the way he shivers, if it means trying to evade those eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Incidentally, it’s too late for the other man to turn back, though he clearly knows these woods so well. Steve insists that he stays.

Not for any ulterior motives, of course.

The man argues, if almost for show alone, but agrees on one condition: they neither of them have bedding. The other man apparently hadn’t planned to be out past the hour for rest, is only stuck because of Steve and Steve—

Steve has a pack but he…he presumed he’d either be dead and his offerings deemed fitting, or the dragon would keep him as the dragon desired, bedding or clothing or neither, until the dragon was satisfied.

And then, again: he’d be dead.

It is unthinkable to take the meager blankets Steve can see in a corner, not without permission; not from a dragon, so. The other man is asking to…lie close.

And Steve is not opposed. The man is almost…surreally exquisite, especially in the passing moonlight. His angles are…particular. Alluring. They steal the breath in Steve’s chest a little, long before they’ve earned the right.

“It feels more than overdue now to ask your name,” Steve whispers, not that it’s necessary. Not that there’s anyone to hear.

“Eddie,” the man whispers back, his voice so warm and almost enveloping, like an embrace in itself and Steve feels less absurd for speaking so soft, so privately.

Nearly intimate.

Good gods, now Steve is being absurd and should feel it to his bones. He deserves to suffer the uncomfortable twist of embarrassment it leaves in stomach, at this rate.

“Steve,” he manages to say low enough that his mortification isn’t audible.

But then:

“That is a beautiful name, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, and he’s shimmied closer somehow while Steve was stuck in his shame-spiral for being the too quick to show his cards, even to himself in his own head.

“Nothing special to it,” Steve mutters, demurs a little but in a coquettish way, doesn’t even mean to. Just…there’s an energy between them now, and Steve’s primed to match it.

“Isn’t there?” Eddie asks, heated and near in a way that dances up Steve’s spine:

“I would hesitate to be so sure.”

Again, Steve doesn’t mean to, or plan to, when he rolls further into Eddie’s frame where they’re laid together, already so close, now nearly in each other’s arms.

He doesn’t mean to, and yet: his arms are gathered close against the chest of a man he doesn’t know, and yet feels…more comfortable next to than any body he’s pressed against in his life.

And there have been fair few.

“You’re so warm,” Steve mouths more than anything, lips dragging on this half-stranger’s neck by accident, because it could be nothing save an accident that Steve now knows that Eddie’s skin tastes of salt and smoked cinnamon sticks and the air in the forrest at night: elemental, somehow. Necessary.

Only by accident would Steve torture himself this way.

“I’d keep you warm always,” Steve hears as the world blurs soft to black, the phantom sensation of arms curling around him, welcoming him to sleep—the whole of it odd in every way because he hadn’t spoken loud enough to be heard, really, even so close, and to read his words from the drag of his mouth to flesh was of course impossible.

“To the end of the Age and beyond if I could,” the words drift blissful, wistful like an invitation into sleep: “if you’d let me.”

So of course: it must have been a dream.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daybreak finds them entangled.

Steve…freezes, as if he didn’t feel snug and perfectly warm wrapped up so close. He weighs the merits of bolting, and making apologies after the fact, against trying to extricate himself without rousing his companion, versus—

“Good morning, sweetness.”

Steve stills somehow further, feels his face heat yet again and yet this time, despite the dark of the cave, he’s…crushed ever so pleasantly against the bare smooth planes of a chest that…shouldn’t be bare, should it, because they moved together close for heat against the chill and for certain it is past dawn but it is still nowhere near warm enough for—

“Did you sleep well?”

Steve groans, which only leads him to burrowing further into the unavoidably welcoming give of Eddie’s chest, lean but strong, Steve can tell, much like he can feel as much as hear the rumbling laughter that cascades through that chest: so much like an invitation to sink into the chest and the sound alike, to never be singular, to never be cold.

What a ridiculous notion.

But then lips are unmistakably pressed to the crown of Steve’s head, not even in passing, no: they linger. They…feel right.

Steve wants for them to be right until the day he dies—

Well. That might actually be possible, or close enough for what he’s earned in this world.

The irony.

Eddie takes to the hunt—the reason he was in the woods to find Steve in the first place, apparently; he says his bow and knives are just down toward the ravine, which Steve vaguely knows but not well, too close to the borders of other lands.

“Don’t fret, though,” and this time the lips press to the low half of Steve’s cheek, affection that does not press its advantage but makes it desires clear, too close to Steve mouth to be anything less.

Steve…is unsure what to make of that. Because he cannot make what he thinks of first; he cannot possibly follow that thread in his own mind—increasingly in his own chest.

“I’ll find you, if you get lost again.”

As if Steve will wander, would risk missing his dragon captor’s return, to even consider one misstep to unintentionally enrage his looming executioner, to even consider missing a single instant in the meantime with this man—

But the glinting smile that man shoots Steve’s way as he strides out the yawning opening in the rocks, its glinting like stardust and warm radiance that fills Steve’s veins then spills over and seeps into his marrow:

Steve doesn’t think that man actually meant getting lost that way.

And what on earth is he supposed to make of that, save everything that he can’t have; that cannot be?

Though, in fairness: it would be on brand. Steven Harrington of Hawkins.

Falling hard and fast and more real than ever before, mere hours before he leaves the mortal coil.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re anxious.”

Steve knows now that his dreams were realty, last night. The words, the arms.

He is awake in them now after they eat what Eddie’s secured for them, cooked over a fire perfectly pitched outside the mouth of the cave, its warmth not insufficient as they’d eaten in pleasant company together.

Not insufficient at all. Just not this chest; these arms.

And now they are both of them bare to the waist, knowingly and happily curled into one another, and Steve feels on one hand boneless, weightless, inexplicably held and kept beyond the physical in the embrace of a man he barely knows and yet feels…close to. Something-he-cannot-bring-himself-to-say-at-first sight, like in the fairy stories.

But that man’s palm is splayed across Steve’s chest; can feel the birds’ wings of his heartbeat at first stroke.

For the first time in Steve’s life, it doesn’t feel like a weakness he’s caught out on; with Eddie nuzzling at his hair, Steve doesn’t hesitate to speak his fear with a heavy sigh:

“You said you’ve dealt with dragons.”

“Time to time,” Eddie hums, presses his lips to Steve’s scalp like reassurance.

“How will it happen?” Steve whispers shakily, but for the first time in his entire life, he shakes into someone who seems to care, against all reason; who holds tighter to him for needing rather than casting him away.

“I mean, I know,” Steve licks his lips; “I know what will happen, just,” and he can’t quite finish, chokes around his words. Eddie moves closer against him, under the weight of Steve’s frame, maneuvers them so that he can tilt his head just so to kiss down Steve’s jaw while still holding him close; ever closer.

“Well,” Eddie pecks against the peak of Steve’s cheekbone before moving down, all the while massaging circles against Steve’s chest; “a town sends their most valued,” and he sucks a little the, against Steve’s jawline; “but some towns have less to pick from,” and then he finds Steve’s pulse point and suckles there with real feeling until Steve may be terrified, but he’s simultaneously soft clay in a beautiful man’s hands, under a beautiful man’s mouth.

“A dragon is not a mindless beast,” Eddie adds after Steve can feel he’s been well and thoroughly bruised.

“I’ve always heard they’re very smart,” Steve breathes, maybe nods, mostly just savors Eddie’s heat, his nearness, how he touches Steve like he has value; like Steve has value to him, and what a thing to feel, to want, to possibly hold, even for these stolen moments; “it’s how they tell if you send them less than they’re owed.”

Because of course Steve knows the stories. Steve can remember countless tales of horrific ends for villages, towns, whole kingdoms even, razed for being so haughty and foolish as to try and swindle a dragon—perhaps embellished to encourage children’s behavior, but. The bones of the narrative fit the oft-smoldering evidence often enough, so far as Steve could tell in the proper histories.

“Not owed,” Eddie corrects, firmly but somehow also gently, his capacity for dynamism an oddly comforting thing, so human and forgiving of overstepping boundaries so freely as to maybe not even draw any to begin with, at complete odds with Steve’s entire life; “not how most people think, at least.”

Eddie flip Steve over gently, firmly again, settles them chest to chest, one atop the other as Steve looks down at him, feels his heartbeat crash against Eddie’s own closer than ought to be felt, like their ribs clear way for the two of them, for whatever they could be, and Steve wonders if part of why his heart is racing so is for the loss of the possibility that rushes through him, that swells between them in every moment—something that grows in every moment, every look and touch and blink, that expands effervescent and filled with so much without any knowledge that there is not space to hold it, that what time they have is borrowed at best.

Steve thinks maybe; his sick heart for it could be railing where the rest of him is fixated on etching every one of those looks and blinks and touches into his bones so that they may be among the last parts of him to leave the earth.

“A dragon, above most things, has a particularly keen sense to know precisely where value lies,” Eddie’s explaining again, his hand now still, pressed against Steve’s heart akin to a shield, or a safe-hold. “And how.”

Steve ponder that for a moment before he meets Eddie’s eyes, having felt them heavy and molten upon him with new fire before taking them in for all that they are: brilliance.

Blinding.

Steve leans as Eddie arches and they meet in between to press their lips together after what feels an eternity and an instant of living in a world where they didn’t taste one another in such a way as to drink their fill. As to breathe each other’s breath.

So as to tease and cherish deep, to tongue against the very heart.

And there Steve makes certain, before he loses himself wholly to sensation:

Looks. Touches. Blinks. Carved into his bones, but first.

First he’ll gild them in every single kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~

They transition fully into lovers in a seamless fashion, insatiable like Steve’s never known it. Eddie never keeps him wanting, gives selflessly and Steve does all that he can to reciprocate and more, because Eddie is everything, of that Steve is certain, and therefore he deserves no less.

He also seems dead set on making sure that they are posed as equals. That to lavish one another with affections as much as to ravish each other endless never unbalances one way or the other. Wherever Steve seeks to give more where Eddie should have it, Eddie turns the tables to takes Steve apart so that all he knows is tingly euphoria. A happiness he’s never felt, didn’t quite believe could exist.

Yet here he is. Here they are.

Steve smiles more than he remembers, playful and ravenous and overflowing with feeling, and Eddie doesn’t rise to meet his enthusiasm: he’s already there, matched with him and ecstatic to entwine. It’s a heady thing, addictive and overwhelming and a gift, Steve thinks: maybe the universe forgive him for doing less to stop harm and deprivation in his home, for wishing to help more and acting where he could even if it wasn’t enough. Maybe he gets this sliver of heaven out of pity for what’s to come.

He will take it with open arms. He will welcome it. He will make himself of it until there is not Steve that exists outside of it.

But it cannot overcome the inevitable, in its impending, suffocating weight.

Come the sixth day like this—the sixth night like this—something in Steve gives way. Existing on the precipice of life and death with no telling of when the hammer with strike finally takes too much of a toll, and his nerves betray him.

“Likely they are hunting, it can take many days, weeks even I’m told,” Eddie tries to console him as he shakes, can’t even sob, like his body can’t coordinate even that much to work properly, too distraught are pieces of him he’s flooded with pleasure but finally could no longer be denied, fed on his wonderment and picked until it cracked enough for his fears to bleed through. “But if you are still so anxious we could, or, I could try and look for some clue as to where it’s gone?” Eddie offers carefully, holding Steve together as he does his utmost to shudder out of his skin. “And you can stay here, in case it returns?”

The only thing Steve can do then is shake his head until it hurts, until he’s dizzy with his own vehement denial: it’s the first things that’s properly matched, body to feeling.

It’s fitting that way.

“I,” Steve starts, just voice barely a scratch as Eddie reaches, tips his chin upward and cups his face so delicate:

“What, angel?”

Steve blinks at him—takes him in, presses down to pain as he draws it, brands it onto his skeleton to be remembered, all the tangled but powerfulfeelings he has for this man so fast, so strong.

For this man, for all he feels: Steve makes himself speak what’s heavy and true and real in his galloping heart:

“I have no intention of reneging my duties,” he rasps, holds on to Eddie as tightly as he can, as if maybe their bones could brand one’s another and fuse into one.

“But until no choice is left, I,” Steve chokes, and his eyes burn as he holds Eddie’s gaze, lifts Eddie’s hand away from his cheek and over to his lips to press all his hopeless hopes against Eddie’s palms:

“I don’t want to be out of your sight, nor you taken from mine.”

The tear that escapes him then is caught by Eddie’s thumb. Adoringly.

Each that follows is lost between Eddie’s lips; might belong to them both.

Steve thinks he can believe that much—in these fleeting, sacred moment—to be true.

~~~~~~~~~~

The dragon has still not appeared, and Steve has since collected himself for the most part, with Eddie ready to brace him steady when he starts to falter. It’s a wild novel thing, to be supported this way. To be cared for.

With such care, comes perception. For better or worse.

“What troubles you, beloved?” Eddie eyes him knowingly, a level of sight straight through to Steve’s soul that should not be fathomable in a lifetime, let alone a week’s time.

“My own mind,” Steve admits freely, unwilling any longer—if he ever had been—to hide from Eddie, unsure what the point would be even if he desired to: “it is cowardly, and selfish.”

“I doubt that,” Eddie catches Steve’s jawbone with a single finger, playful, endearing: but clear in its pointed redirection of Steve’s gaze, and his disparagement of his own thoughts:

“I would doubt that quite strongly, in fact.”

Steve lets Eddie touch prompt him to a kiss, as if he needs coaxing before he leans into the crook of Eddie’s neck and breathes him in: the best savours of the ground and sky.

“I would not run from my fate, here,” Steve says, not wholly to remind himself but, not without that purpose at hand; “save that it feels like my fate is…”

And he slides his hand to Eddie’s chest, hopes it speaks for him where he doesn’t know words for the depth and breadth and weight of these feelings; Eddie’s hand covers his, automatic, and he knows he’s understood.

“I wish not to be parted from you, now that I’ve found you,” Steve whispers, swallows hard, then looks Eddie in the eyes, speaks straight to the soul in them so that he is not misread, or underestimated in the weight of his own words, now:

“I think that I may be in love with you.”

And he’s never been before. He’s believed it may be love, but: no. No, it was never love before.

If ever it was love: it is this.

“Oh my precious one,” Eddie pets his hair and kisses after his own touch: “I don’t think that I’m in love with you,” and Steve stiffens only for the instant Eddie leaves between those words, and dipping down to Steve’s ear to exhale with feeling:

“I know it.”

How it is possible to die brokenhearted and happier than he’d ever dreamed, Steve doesn’t know.

But he’s about to serve as object lesson, in just days.

Maybe less.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Know that when,” Steve is speaking to the cracks in the rock that peek at the night sky as he speaks, Eddie on his chest like a blanket, save so much better; “when it happens,mwhen it devours me whole or takes me in pieces,” and his voice catches, but he remains resolute; “it will know you in every inch of me,” and he cups Eddie closer to him then, holds him against the thunderous roar of his pulse.

“My heart is full of you, and it will taste only of devotion,” Steve near-hisses for the fervor in him. “You’ll be the last bit of me known to the world.”

“Never.”

The growl that comes from the body that curls around him, protective, possessive, beloved in a way and to a magnitude Steve didn’t know he could feel before now: the venom in it makes it clear that it’s not a refutation of Steve’s declaration for the sentiment.

It’s a refutation to the cosmos itself.

“I would never allow it,” Eddie bites out, pressing closer to Steve, to his heart: “you will not be forfeit to some dragon,” and oh, but this man Steve loves is wild with his passion, foolhardy and yet all the more lovable for it.

“I would fight with all that I am to protect you,” he vows, presses his lips to Steve’s chest and speaks there like he means well and truly to means to tell Steve to the heart of him this sole, unshakeable truth: “and should somehow I lose the battle, it could only be because there is nothing of me left to fight.”

And for the first time, in all his life: Steve clings to something, someone, he’d happily rip his beating heart out to protect.

And that—he realizes in a single world-rewriting instant—he fears the loss of more than any other thing.

Any. Other. Thing.

~~~~~~~~~~

They don’t speak of it, or of a choice to be made when the time does come: Steve thinks maybe that’s the only way they manage at all, really, is to simply hold it between them in those last days. Known. Seen.

Loved.

And feared.

But always together. Always so close, in every way.

Until the stasis breaks.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes into the afternoon, innocuous. Steve’s stopped counting how many days they’ve stolen together.

“I must leave, my darling.”

Steve narrows his eyes, trying to understand him. He watches as Eddie hurries to gather both of Steve’s hands, to bring them to his lips.

“Only for a short while,” he murmurs between Steve’s fingers, kisses at his knuckles with apology, and with heartsickness thick between his breaths: “barely a moment,” and his breath is short, thin, like the thought of leaving hurts.

And Steve…Steve has been in love for the first time, with the perfect match to his very soul. Unthinkable, but undeniable.

But it hasn’t made him wholly blind.

He means to press, to see if the slight little inklings he’s had every so often hold any weight, point in any direction of significance, means to ask just a simple thing, but then Eddie’s expression breaks open, a miasma of emotion spilling forth as his breath catches, monumental on a sob and he takes the hands at his lips and instead uses them to bury his face.

“Oh, my Steve,” he breathes, and all Steve can really see are the heaving lifts of his shoulders, and the way his curls fall a little like a monsoon.

“I am sorry,” Eddie whispers into Steve hands and Steve feels dampness there, and oh. No.

Not from Eddie. Not for whatever this is. Steve can think of nothing, save Eddie leaving for good before the end, that he should be moved to apologize for. And even that Steve would forgive.

Because Steve loves him.

“Why?” Steve asks, incredulous, his own half-formed ideas to seek to know gone at the sight of his beloved in distress. “What reason on earth do you have to be sorry, you said,” and Steve halts, wonders if that’s the catch, and tries not to falter without reason, tries to stand tall: “only a moment,” and that is what Eddie said, he said only a—

“I lied.”

Steve does to falter.

He starts to fracture and fall entirely. Because what, what all was a lie, was it all a lie, he—

He doesn’t know if he can breathe. He’s never lost his heart before. But he imagines that if death is still waiting for him, and he’ll face it alone: it’s what he’d planed for. What he’s prepared for from the start.

He knows how to be alone. It has to hurt less, than losing his heart now.

It will have to hurt less, at the very end, if it comes to him without a heart in his breast.

“It was worth every second, no matter that it must end, in joy or heartbreak,” Steve finds himself saying, and if his tone rings hollow, it’s only because his heart’s already leaking from him, already half-gone: he means it with every bit he has left, nonetheless.

“You are the moon, pulling me close,” he turns his hands so his palms line to Eddie’s; “the sun wrapping me in warmth,” and he folds their fingers together, clutches tight one last time, greedy as anything:

“You have been the greatest gift at the end of all I’ll ever know.” And that is the truth, that is the last words and final rites written on his bones. “Because of you, I will die fulfilled in ways I didn’t realize I was lacking.”

And then there’s just one thing, because Steve, Steve needs to say this part, he doesn’t think he’s said this part yet:

“Thank you.”

He means it.

But Eddie only holds onto him harder, painfully but it’s perfection; only shakes his head over and over before he finally rasps, barely audible:

“You misunderstand.”

Steve leans closer to hear him, to feel him, to know his warmth in the lat moments that might be left. He wants to understand. He doesn’t want the end to be anything but clear.

Even if it hurts.

“I have lied,” Eddie swallows hard; “but you misunderstand for what.”

Steve…still misunderstands.

“You have been my moon,” Eddie nearly moans, his head nuzzling into Steve’s hands, his hold, with nothing short of desperation:“you have been the sun since the first revelation when I was taught as barely a hatchling that my kind were born of suns, made from fire.”

And that. It’s been those small things: some dragon. Not owed. No dragon would find him unworthy.

The ego to presume.

This is no longer a small thing, spoken now.

“You stole my heart straight away, and I gave it freely but,” Eddie hiccups the slightest bit; “I only grow in relishing that of all the souls in all the worlds, yours has welcomed mine,” and he sniffles, by every god and power in all the worlds—

“You are a privilege.”

And oh, oh, but by every god and power: Steve loves him.

“And you have a dragon’s heart now, no matter how you choose to use it, to keep or reject it,” foolish words Eddie speaks so messy, so rushed and ragged, so ripped out from him visceral and slick with feeling: “and your end will be my end,” and his lips brush Steve’s hands, kiss the pulse on both his wrists:

“And either that will be unmeasurable ages hence,” and his breath catches, and Steve only wants for him to look up, just look up, because he’s said it without saying now, hasn’t he, muddled and frantic and so human, to say he’s anything but as he admits to the thing he thinks he needs to offer apology for.

“Or,” he trips over the next words, but they’re so sodden with candor, the blood in his veins:

“Or my heart may turn ash if you leave but,” and he brings the heels of both Steve’s hands to his mouth and kisses, speaks into them worshipfully:

“Your life will go on as a mortal’s, once I’ve—”

“You’ve given your heart?”

Because Steve had suspicions. Of why Eddie said certain things, certain ways. How warm he was. How strong and even and…ancient the beating of his heart resonated beneath Steve’s ear, his touch, like it radiated heat as a sun in itself.

“Of course,” Eddie’s head snaps up, like he’s offended at any suggestion to the contrary; “almost immediately.”

He blinks; he forgets himself. There’s a lid to his starburst eyes that closes unlike Steve’s, the opposite direction, almost invisible.

But Steve’s watching. Steve doesn’t blink once, cannot miss this.

Cannot pause what he writes into his bones because even if he plans for nothing less than ages unmeasurable, now, he wants this written on the bones that come in the end.

Whenever the end stretches out to.

“And if it’s ill received,” Steve asks slowly, his brows pinching as he picks through the implications of this part: “you—”

“Wither, slowly,” Eddie says, far too matter-of-fact for Steve’s liking, or willingness to stand: “but the end comes, yes.”

“Eddie,” Steve scolds, and Eddie flinches, thinks he’s been caught, been known and revealed now and in so being is anything but wanted with all of Steve’s being.

There is a tiny part of Steve that’s grateful for his foolishness: it makes Steve feel less alone, to be swept so by a love this vast.

“You are the dearest treasure I’ve ever known,” Eddie whispers, but it’s a pleading thing, something even Steve can tell doesn’t feel as if it had a hope to grasp; “if you let me keep you I would hold you closer than all things. To give a dragon’s heart means to place whatever holds it closer than the heart itself ever learned to rest on its own,” and Eddie gathers Steve’s hands again to his chest, stacks them, presses so very hard.

The life in him is a sobering thing. The idea that Steve holds this power somehow in his hands, literally and otherwise, is…staggering.

No less then amazing.

“You are my single desire, but more,” Eddie breathes; “you are my single care, my sole concern,” “my only.”

“Why do you leave, then?”

And Eddie stills. Pulls back only so much as to weigh what he sees in Steve’s face, Steve’s eyes—what Steve sees in his is clear: Eddie didn’t think he’d get to this part. He thought Steve would balk at learning his lover was something more than mere human.

Specifics aside, Steve could have told anyone that from the night that they met.

And so Eddie, bowled over by the shock of the fact that Steve still holds to him, does not waver, seems to speak unvarnished when he answers:

“The things you have shared,” and Steve knows without expansion what Eddie means: tales of home, of his family, of his parents, of how he came to be here, pledged as sacrifice for the good of his town, whispered in the dark as they watched the stars move slow; “I can bear it no longer, my darling.”

And Eddie straightens further then, and Steve sees what he dismissed as the play of the light: the glow in Eddie’s eyes unmistakable as something other, something from within.

“I demand the most valued,” Eddie’s words come out in a hiss, shape even as he hesitates, leaves every moment for Steve to pull away should his touch be unwanted as he reaches to brush Steve’s hair from his face.

“You are that and more to me and yet,” and he shakes his head, and it’s so strange still to be marveled at this way: unbridled and unashamed.

“You said it yourself, valuable,” Eddie nearly spits the word, like a poison he seeks to eke out; “and yet I believe that I said something different.”

Steve frowns, tries to put together the pieces but then his face is framed in long fingers that span the whole of him, fittingly so, as Eddie looks deed in his eyes and says with force and feeling:

“Valued,” he emphasizes with a kiss; “beloved,” and another, and Steve cannot help but smile into it just the slightest bit, his heart soaring as the other pieces—borrowed time and impending ends and forevers in view all at once rearranging into what he thinks might be an always with this man who’s more than a man when he speaks against Steve’s mouth:

“Precious beyond all else and others.”

He pulls back, and marvels more, then narrows his eyes in a way Steve’s never seen, pupils contracting inward from the sides into slits.

“You are mine,” Eddie growls; “but the demands we make are not idle, and they did not value you as you deserved,” Eddie scowls, and Steve sees it now, where he’s going, what he’s doing:

“And they thought it acceptable to send you to me as their most valued, believing they sent you to your death?” Eddie seethes:

“It cannot go unpunished.”

Steve…sees it. Understands, now.

It does not hurt, the idea of losing people who were family only in name, especially not to the man before him, who is all that family should mean, could mean, will mean.

Always, now.

“The villagers are innocents, please,” Steve whispers, and Eddie cups his cheek, so lovingly it aches.

“Fret not,” he says with that warmth that Steve’s melted in from the very start; “I know who deserves my ire.” His expression sours, hardens:

“And they will know their hard-earned consequences.”

Eddie kisses Steve with a kind of devotion bigger than the sky somehow, and it’s only because Steve’s reeling to get his footing back that he trails behind Eddie and not at his side as he makes to depart.

“Please do not follow me, beloved,” he calls over his shoulder, not breaking his pace; “I do not wish you to see-“

“I will stay,” Steve answers, like the words were waiting on this tongue of this very moment: “if.”

Eddie stills; turns.

“If?”

“You promise to return with all haste,” Steve reaches him quick and is the one who kisses with all that he knows, all that he can imagine, all that he holds inside of himself and shares already with Eddie uninhibited; “I will be cold without you.”

And that makes Eddie soften; smile as he promises:

“Done.”

“And,” Steve adds, pulling away from Eddie’s lips to look him straight on as Eddie’s brow quirks in question:

“And?”

“Change for me.”

And Eddie, for once, is wholly dumbfounded. Speechless.

It’s quite a feat to behold.

“You,” he stammers; “you wish to see,” he shakes his head, disbelieving; “beloved, it is not, I am,” and oh, oh: Steve did not expect this part: “we are cast as fearsome creatures for good reason.”

He is wary. He is cautious. He thinks himself the monster. He wants to hide this part from Steve.

But Steve will have nothing hidden between them, least of all this: the whole of who his love is.

“I do not fear you, I could not,” Steve pledges in truth; “and any creature with your heart, who has captured my soul,” Steve grabs Eddie’s shoulders and draws him in, bows those foreheads into one another:

“You could never be anything short of exquisite. Breathtakingly so.”

Eddies breathing is hitched, stuttering. Steve wants to cry for the way he is surprised. Wants to mourn for whatever hurt him to make him this cautious, this stunned by Steve’s love: unconditional.

Undying, now that it’s possible to give as such, and in truth.

And Steve waits, watches him, stares patient until Eddie sighs deeply, steps back far and then closes his eyes and…becomes.

Larger, of course. The wings are a feat. The talons are less a surprise from his spindly fingers.

He’s, he is…

“You are,” Steve reaches, waits until Eddie comes to him, welcomes his touch this way and to feel him, smooth scale not so unlike the chest bare against him in the night—warmth and safety and all that is right:

“Magnificent. And I would know you,” Steve tells him, seeks his gaze as he speaks from the very core of his being: “even if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

He steps closer, waits for Eddie to be curious enough to bow his head low so Steve can mimic how they’d stood, forehead pressed just moments before.

“These unfathomable eyes,” he whispers between them, and smiles at how those eyes fall closed in something like relief, like comfort after laying down a heavy burden as Steve reaches for the soft underbelly in lighter scales against the charcoal of the rest of his beloved’s form:

“The might of this heart,” and he presses, and yes, exactly as he knew he’d find: thunderous. Could part seas, reshape the globe, stir the stars.

And it’s Steve’s. So he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips above the breathing and breathe out:

“Unmistakable, my darling.”

When he pulls back those eyes truly are just the same: they wonder. They marvel.

At Steve. Just Steve.

It’s intoxicating.

“Do what must be done,” Steve nuzzles at the side of Eddie’s face, pulls his snout to his shoulder so he can kiss at what he supposes is something of a cheek, and then he pulls back, lets go.

But only their bodies. Nothing more. Never anything more. Not ever again.

“Then come home to me.”

Steve could be wrong, or just wishful, but he thinks Eddie glows from within through the whole of himself, and not just his eyes, as he takes flight and shoots like the star Steve always saw inside him, up into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s not long. It’s just as Eddie promised.

After everything, Steve hadn’t worried at all that it would be anything else.

“It was painless,” is what Eddie says as he walks back into the cave, a man again; “and it was for the sake of justice overdue,” as if he must explain. Or seek forgiveness.

Steve pulls him in and kisses him until he’s breathless as an answer for both concerns.

“What now?” he can’t help but ask. He is still more in love than he can breathe through. Will live and die exactly that way for time innumerable.

“You wish to be here, with me?” Eddie asks, almost hesitant; seeking.“You do not feel indebted, or, or coerced? Or tricked or held by force or—”

Steve grins at the babbling, the nervous rambles. To think they’re because of him.

It might just give him an absolutely unbearable ego of his own if it’s to be the norm forevermore.

“Love,” Steve presses a single raised finger to the missile of Eddie’s lips, watches as he adorable crosses his eyes to follow its trajectory.

“You are all that I have imagined and never thought to find.” And it really is as simple and as unthinkable as that, in the end. Or the beginning. “The only way I would be anywhere but your side is to be torn from it, or sent away.”

Eddie growls at the first suggestion, and huffs in pure offense at the suggestion of the second as he reaches and pulls Steve flush to his body: warm, warm, warm.

Steve’s heart flutters against him, reminding him that he owns it wholly.

Eddie’s drums in protective answer, welcoming as much as seeking to leap into Steve’s chest on the same promise, the same pledge as he murmurs into Steve’s lips:

“You still misestimate what it means to be loved by a dragon,” and drags his mouth against Steve’s bottom lips, a little wanton even as his words carry the weight of the universe entire:

“This,” and he clutches Steve’s closer still, so as to not be mistaken; “is for as much of eternity as is for us to grasp.”

It is not sacrifice at all to kiss the man, to love the dragon, in front of him, now.

And for the rest of time ahead.

For @a-little-unsteddie, who requested the quote 'Magic' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher

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💫 ao3 link here

[sweetarethediscords]

It’s Hurt/Comfort. It’s listening beyond hearing. Seeing beyond sight.

It’s finding ways to treat the wound, be it salve or bandage, kisses or quiet.

Salt to cleanse a festering sore.

Honey poured down a throat cried raw.

It's...

It’s limbs entangled in the dark of night, fingers knotted in hair, breath and heartbeats slowing into a steady rhythm, a reminder that you’re both still here, both alive, together.

It’s gentle lips pressed against old, deep scars. Silent prayers of gratitude whispered into the gnarled flesh.

It’s the years past the pain, when you’re both old and happy, but the nightmares still come. Far and few in-between nowadays but just as feverish and frightening as they were back when their cause was fresh. The hand that rests on your shoulder gently. The reverent, patient whisper of your name becoming a lighthouse beacon. Waking you, saving you. Thumb brushing the tears off your cheeks as tender as if it were the first time.

[icarusignite]

PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The ships have come to carry you home Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Weary of the gilded cage of royalty, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain to defy the bounty on your head.

Pairing: Siren Yeosang x Poacher Reader Summary: You have always lived by the code of the hunt, and as a skilled poacher of exotic creatures, the only law you abide by is that of your own survival. But when a lucrative contract tasks you with capturing a siren alive, you find yourself ensnared in a perilous game where delivering the prize without succumbing to your own guilt or its elusive song proves impossible. (coming soon)

Pairing: Ex-Naval Officer Jongho x Captive Reader Summary: As the daughter of the naval commander, you find yourself ensnared by the very pirates your father hunts. Among them, your most ruthless captor is none other than the man who once served your father but is now a deserter of the worst kind. As days turn to weeks, you uncover the hidden truths that drove him from the ranks of the navy, and through the eyes of your captor, you witness the cruel corruption that festers within the very force sworn to protect the seas. (coming soon)

Pairing: Cartographer Yunho x Pirate Reader Summary: When you find yourself marooned on a remote island after your ship is stolen, you must rely on your wits to survive. With the unexpected help of an old friend, you join a new crew ready to take back what was yours. Among your new allies is the soft-spoken cartographer, whose quiet strength and compassion offer you unexpected comfort. (coming soon)

Pairing: Explosives Master Mingi x Medic Reader Summary: Life as the ship's medic is no easy task, battling not only the fierce skirmishes and injuries typical of a pirate's life but also the ship's resident explosive expert, who constantly finds new excuses to seek your company, often accompanied by yet another injury for you to tend to. Despite your repeated warnings, his cavalier attitude toward safety continues to test your patience and skills, until his recklessness costs him more than he could ever anticipate. (coming soon)

Pairing: Lookout San x Spy reader Summary: You have managed to infiltrate a notorious pirate ship through deception and lies. Your mission: to pass on their secrets to their enemies. But navigating the perilous waters becomes increasingly difficult when you discover the all-seeing eyes of the ship's lookout, who seems to witness all and scrutinize your every move. Caught between the need for stealth and the watchful gaze that seems to penetrate your every facade, you must tread carefully, or risk being exposed and facing dire consequences. (coming soon)

Pairing: Firstmate Seonghwa x Ghost Reader Summary: Trapped for centuries within an ancient artifact as a restless ghost, you find yourself unexpectedly released by the intimidating first mate of a pirate ship. However, there's more to him than meets the eye, and as you struggle to adapt to a world you no longer recognize, he finds himself strangely drawn to you and your secrets. (coming soon)

Pairing: Quartermaster Wooyoung x Pirate Hunter Reader Summary: You have dedicated your life to eradicating piracy from the seas, but when a case of mistaken identity finds you on the wrong side of the law, you're forced to flee with the very crew you have sworn to destroy. Onboard the pirate ship, tensions run high, and you find yourself torn between your duty and an unexpected connection with the charming quartermaster who is determined to make you stay. (coming soon)

A/N: lol so Ateez at Coachella was my final straw and I absolutely had to write for them. This pirate/maritime theme has been rattling around in my head for a while so I'm excited to get into it. They're probably going to be one-shots or maybe 2 parters if they get long. Comment if you wanna be added to the tag list <3 will probably post the first one sometime next week cuz exams this week rip

[thisisxli]

|| 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 ||

❃.✮:▹　◃:✮.❃

❃.✮:▹　◃:✮.❃　

Rs: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!reader (afab/amab)

Warnings:

slight heavy angst, neglecting boyfriend,

bad break-up.

Summary: you knew dating pro-hero Dynamite was gonna be tough but when you notice how distant he becomes, you can't help but wonder whether either of you chose the right decision to get together in the first place.

Wc: 0.7k

Suggested song: (P.S, if you're listening to the song recommended, please read a little slow at some parts if you want it to sync at the best parts (p′︵‵。))

*+:｡.｡　｡.｡:+*

It was one thing to know he was constantly busy and away with hero work. But to be deprived for his attention and have the first thing he did when he got home, ignore your entire presence and walk pass to sleep in your shared bedroom.

You know that Katsuki was working hard every day, fighting criminals, saving banks and civilians, etc. But you would've at least expected one kiss from your boyfriend when he got home. It tugged at your heart strings but you knew you had to let it go. You knew the priorities and the responsibilities he had and you couldn't put yourself above that. To pick you over the world is ridiculous.

By then, you slid into bed along with him but he wasn't facing your side of the bed. You didn't mind though, scooting close to him and running your hand in his hair. You slithered your arm around his waist before pulling your body close to his, savoring his warmth.

The next week's were honestly so painful. He would ignore you even when he was home. Every time you texted him or tried to call him at work, he would ignore you but respond when you were pissing him off.

One day, when he was home and finally spoke to you, he wanted to break up.

"Look-" he averts his gaze to the side, a solemn look on his face. "I just think we shouldn't be together. I'm caught up in work a lot so you shouldn't be with somebody that's barely around and.. I shouldn't be with somebody that...." He drifts off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"What is it, Katsuki?" Your lip quivered but no tears formed in your eyes. You sure felt like crying.

"I shouldn't be with somebody that I don't feel something for anymore. I'm sorry. We're just barely around each other and.. I have other priorities. I don't think I should worry about needing to protect somebody close to me if they're ever caught up in danger."

This was the calmest Bakugou has ever been but yet, this was the angriest you've ever been with him. Was he calling you a damn burden?!

You felt like you shouldn't feel mad. But you did. How long did he feel like this? You were fucking stupid, you should've known from the start. You were both at fault. You should've known what you two were getting into.

You held your head low, jaw clenched tightly. You knew tears were forming when your vision started to become blurry.

"I.. really am sorry." You look at him through your lashes. Although it was blurry, you could tell his face only shown little remorse. You scoff at his half-ass apology, sniffling as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve before any tears escape. "Whatever. Just go, Bakugou."

He nearly winces at the use of his surname. He couldn't even be mad or make a remark at your petty attitude because he couldn't blame you. He's seen the way you looked at him at the times he came home, the way your touch was so yearnful and clinging. Of course, he loved you and wanted to be there for you, but he just didn't love you that way anymore. And he felt terrible about it. About as terrible as his old bullying toward his rival best friend back when they were in middle school. Luckily, instead of him staying, he let you stay in the house. He felt bad. And you hated it.

He had his things packed at the front door, slipping his shoes on. "Hey..."

You were hugging your arms, thumbs rubbing them and trying to soothe your nerves. You warily look up at the ash blonde man, biting your lip. You nearly cry out when he holds his arms out to you. Even in this moment, he was showing his soft side. Holding his arms out was like his signature move throughout your relationship. Your heart urged you to go and envelop yourself in his arms but then again, your heart also said not to. He hurt you, so bad. He hurt your ego and your heart.

When you stood in your place, bottom lip quivering, he sighs. Grabbing his suitcases and opening the door, he looks back at the place and you one last time. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out and that's right when you look up at him with teary eyes that pangs him in the heart.

He sucks in a breath, slightly frowning. "Do you.. Do you think we're together in another universe?"

You dryly laugh, tears escaping your eyes.

"We're not even together in this one."

*+:｡.｡　｡.｡:+*

A/N:

Honestly wrote this because I wanted to and I love writing angst. Was gonna make Bakugou a huge red flag but we all know that he's changed and that he's developed<3 after the latest chapters, there's no way he hasn't changed

Had to use the "do u think we're together in another universe" blablabla trope, it completed it ᰔᩚ

[nat-1-whump]

Whumpee was a capable magic user, having cultivated that skill their whole life. So, naturally, they took liberty in exercising it every change they got. From teleporting rather than traveling, to using telekinesis to carry heavy things, to using illusion spells to pull lighthearted tricks... it was a wonder they ever had any energy left to cast more spells at all.

However, they were injured and had to be hospitalized. The doctors put them on magic suppressants, warning them that using magic could be unpredictable, or even dangerous, in their vulnerable condition. It was safest to take their powers away for the time being.

Whumpee did not take this news well.

One evening, Caretaker went to visit Whumpee. Whumpee had seemed particularly upset with their loss of magic last time Caretaker visited, so this time, they brought them a stuffed animal. Hopefully it would comfort them, at least a little bit, as they recovered.

They expected to find Whumpee frustratedly picking at their bandages, or in a restless sleep, as usual. But when they opened the door, they found Whumpee knelt down on the floor, sobbing over a shattered mug.

Caretaker hurried to set the plushie on the bed. They crouched down next to Whumpee, and put a hand on their shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. I'll help you clean it up, and we can get you a new mug, okay?"

Whumpee sniffled. "I-I can't even fix a stupid cup..." They cried.

Caretaker instinctively glanced towards Whumpee's hands, worried that they'd cut themself trying to pick up the pieces. They were initially relieved to see that Whumpee hadn't, until they realized that Whumpee must have tried---and failed---to use a mending spell instead. That must be why they were crying now. "...Fix it? Whumpee, no... You can't. Not right now. Look, I'll go get a broom to clean up the pieces, and-"

"No, I want to do this..." Whumpee looked up at Caretaker, their eyes reddened and tearful.

"Whumpee, you can't, remember? They-the doctors, they put you on magic suppressants until you get better." Caretaker wasn't a magic user themself, so they wondered what it was like to lose magic powers after using them for so long. They figured it probably threw poor Whumpee's system all out of whack.

Whumpee considered for a moment. They looked at the broken mug, then back at Caretaker. "Wait, I think... I think I can force a tiny bit, just a little..."

"What do you mean, 'force?' Whumpee, I really don't think that's a good idea." Caretaker tried to take Whumpee's hands in their own, but Whumpee pulled away, focused on the broken mug.

Whumpee picked up a few pieces. They ignored Caretaker's protests and closed their eyes, chanting a mending spell under their breath. Their brow furrowed, as they seemed to strengthen their resolve to cast the spell.

To Caretaker's disbelief, a faint light began to flicker from Whumpee's palms, the glow peeking out from under the ceramic shards. A couple of pieces began to shudder, clinking as they seemed to gravitate towards each other.

Suddenly, the pieces went still. They clattered to the floor as Whumpee's arms fell limp. Like a reflex, Caretaker grabbed Whumpee and pulled them into an embrace before they could collapse into the pile of sharp pieces. The ceramic shards glittered in the light from the window, as if to taunt them.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker felt a warm trickle against their chest, and gently turned Whumpee's head up to see a stream of blood coming from their nose. They shakily pulled Whumpee up and took them back to their hospital bed, struggling to carry their limp body. After draping Whumpee over the blankets, they found a paper towel and began to clean the blood off their face.

Whumpee's eyes fluttered open as Caretaker wiped their bloody nose. "D-did I do it?" Their voice sounded distant and groggy.

Caretaker's heart broke. Whumpee sounded so hopeful. "No, Whumpee. Your cup's still broken. But you have to rest, okay?" They instinctively put a hand on Whumpee's chest to push them down, fully expecting Whumpee to try to pull themself out of bed.

Instead, Whumpee only stared up at them, defeated. Caretaker noticed the dark circles under Whumpee's eyes and was about to ask when they last slept, when Whumpee's gaze wandered past Caretaker to the floor.

Caretaker followed their eyes to where the fragments of ceramic seemed to glow in the fading sunlight. They felt they should leave Whumpee's side to clean it up, but now, such an action felt too... final. They figured it would only make Whumpee feel worse, watching the pieces they tried so hard to fix get swept up and dumped in the trash.

A sniffle from Whumpee pulled Caretaker back to the moment. They looked down to see Whumpee's eyes well up with tears. Wordlessly, they squeezed Whumpee's hand.

Whumpee pulled their hand away and curled themself up on the bed, hiding their face behind their knees. Their sniffling turned to full-on sobbing.

Caretaker gently stroked Whumpee's hair, trying to find the right words. "Whumpee... You need to rest. Nobody is expecting you to start casting spells again so soon. Not after all that happened."

Whumpee peeked over their knees. "It hurts. It feels like they took something out of me and it messed everything up."

"I know... But you'll feel better once you sleep, yeah? And the more you rest, the sooner you'll be recovered enough to handle your magic again." Caretaker pulled the blankets up to Whumpee's shoulder and handed them the plush toy they'd brought earlier.

Whumpee moved their legs away from their chest, exposing their face as they clutched the stuffed animal. Their momentary comfort gave way to worry. "What if I forget how to use magic while I'm in here, though? W-what if I'm never able to use magic again?" Their lip started to quiver.

Caretaker gave Whumpee a warm smile, though their eyes held a look of pity. "I'm not sure, Whumpee. I don't know a whole lot about magic... How it works, what it takes to learn it." They patted Whumpee's shoulder. "But whatever happens, I'll stay by your side every step of the way. I'll promise you that much."

A small smile formed on Whumpee's face. Though they still seemed worried, Caretaker's reassurance calmed their nerves somewhat. They closed their eyes, squeezing the stuffed animal against their chest.

The two rested quietly in the hospital room, the shadows stretching higher up the wall until the orange sunset outside had darkened to a rich purple. Once Whumpee dozed off, Caretaker swept up the broken pieces. They sat down next to Whumpee again and gently placed a hand on their cheek.

Whumpee mumbled contentedly. For the first time in a while, their sleep seemed... peaceful.

[night-market-if]

Chapter Five Public Release

Book 2, Chapter 5, is now up for the public release!!!! There were a few coding changes within this chapter so I would advise going back to the end of chapter four and replaying the choice of where you are going to send Belladonna to (Reese, Elias, or send her) before going in to play chapter five.

It also came to my attention that some of my Patreon members may have had a code break at the end of Milo/Mal's route. It should not be there anymore. You should have an end scene with them in Malcolm's apartment.

Thank you all for the support you have shown me! It has been a crazy month and is bound to be a crazy July as well. Thank you for your patience!

Read book 2 here

[floralmusings]

Hi hello, and welcome to my little writing corner!

You can call me Flora (she/her), and I’m hoping to carve out a place for myself in the writing community here on tumblr and follow along with new writing projects, as well as hopefully garner some interest in my own!

I hate the idea of creating this thing and asking for interaction without doing so myself; I am a huge believer of the idea of community, of bettering and bolstering other content creators, and participating in something bigger than myself. So, tag games, asks, challenges, and so on and so forth, are all welcomed and encouraged - additionally, I LOVE hearing about other people’s works, with a particular weak spot for high/dark fantasy, as well as urban fantasy.

Thank you for your time in reading this, if you are a writeblr, interact with this post and I’ll check out your blog! In the meantime, if you’re interested in learning about my wips, they’re below the cut - I am a predominantly adventure fantasy writer, taking inspiration from D&D and real world mythos.

UNDECIDED : Unbound By The Light

Dark Fantasy - Found Family - Hurt/Comfort

Ashaveth, a once devout woman, finds themselves dragged back into the throes of their old beliefs when they stumble upon a creature spoken of only in aeon old hymns and textbooks lost to dust; a creature that bears the symbol of a Goddess they had abandoned so long ago.

Donning a mask that burns with a holy light, all consuming, all radiating - this, was a Faceless One.

If legend was to be believed, they were servants of Vigil, molded and shaped by Her to be the perfect protectors of peace and divine will - they had no name for they had no identity, they had no tongue for they had no voice, they had no blood for they did not bleed.

Had the Goddess she fled finally tracked her down?

UNDECIDED : Parcels & Papercuts

High Fantasy - Cosy - Found Family

The Couriers are a ragtag group who are the proud owners of the delivery service Parcels & Papercuts - a wandering delivery service who will deliver anything to anyone.

This is going to be an anthology series following the characters of this group and their various escapades - from delivering baked goods to a homesick grandaughter, to handing over a love letter to a scorned god. No job is too big and certainly never too small.

This is the type of series that you can jump in whenever, and you won't miss any major plot beats or anything like that.

[unboundprompts]

Hello! I'm back with another oddly specific request, if that's all right? My request is for prompts of a doctor in a low-fantasy setting coming upon an injured nonhuman, if it wouldn't be too much trouble. Thank you in advance!

Doctor Finding an Injured Non-Human Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. A man-- a fish?-- lying nearly unconscious in the shallow waters. His skin was decorated with blue scales, flared gills on his neck as if they were gasping for air. He had a tail and fins in place of legs. What was most alarming, however, was the angry red gashes on his back. It looked like he had been hit by a boat or a jet ski, and was too weak to swim away. She cautiously approached him, and he looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. "I don't know what you are," she muttered, trying to keep her voice unthreatening, "but please let me help you."

There was a werewolf in his backyard, littered in gunshots and limping. It left a trail of blood where it walked. The wolf was wild. Too afraid to allow him to get close, but just scared enough to know that it needed his help. The night would be over soon, and he was worried what would become of its injuries when it turned human again. He would be patient, though. Just to make sure that they would be okay.

They found a vampire unconscious in the woods. She had been caught in the sun, skin red and blistered like a severe sunburn. All they could smell was burning flesh. They lifted her, hooking their arms under hers so they could drag her to the shade.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[angels-fantasy]

Congratulations on your followers milestone! Can I ask for the prompt "first fight" with Dabi?

Scars and All

Dabi/Touya x Reader

Details/Warnings: lowkey toxic relationship, arguing, kinda angsty LMAO i'm sorry i cant help but make dabi angsty. hurt/comfort i think, angst to fluff? dabi is trying, okay? also dabi is called touya in this fic!

Word Count: 957

hello thank you sm for your ask and the congratulations :) i hope you like this, i really like dabi bc 1) hes hot lol and 2) hes such a well written character. also i'm going to start writing in all lowercase bc its what im used to and upper case drives me crazy!!

loneliness was something that consumed you constantly. it was a scary feeling sometimes, especially because of the things it could drive someone to do.

you wished you didn't feel like this, but you couldn't help it.

before getting into a relationship with touya, you knew of the lifestyle he lived and how much of his time it took up. at first you thought you could handle it, but over time you soon realized that wasn't true. hours of him being gone quickly turned into days, sometimes even weeks and it was driving you crazy. you really wanted to try and continue to sit compliantly and let him do what he wished to do, but you were at your wits end.

sometimes you wondered why you even continued to put up with him, especially when you knew deep down that he'd probably choose to continue committing villainous acts over your relationship.

but you knew the answer to that-it was because you loved him, and sometimes love can make you do crazy things.

so now here you were; sitting on the old couch in your living room. the edges of the fabric having frayed ends and burn marks here and there from the moments touya let his temper get the best of him.

you can't remember how long you've been sitting there anxiously, waiting for your boyfriend to get home, but you felt your heart beat faster when you heard the front door being unlocked.

you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself to confront touya, who sighed as he walked through the door and his heavy boots thudding along with each step.

he walked over to you and threw himself down on the couch, placing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. moments like this made it hard to stay mad.

he placed a kiss on your temple, "hey. you miss me?"

you fiddled with your fingers as you leaned further into his chest, "of course i did. i'm glad you're home."

he tilted his head down to look at you, "then how come you don't sound happy, huh?" he asked, squeezing your shoulder as he did so.

you frowned, knowing he'd caught onto your bad mood already. he was way too perceptive sometimes.

"i am happy touya, i promise." you insisted, "it's just..."

"it's just what?"

you sat up from your position and faced him, but it was hard to look him in the eyes. "i just wanted to talk to you about something that's been bothering me."

he looked at you for a moment, expressionless, making you even more nervous until he said, "alright, what is it?"

you took a deep breath.

"you're never home touya, and i miss you." you frowned, "i worry about you and when you're gone for so long i get lonely. i miss spending time with you."

he groaned, "babe, do you not understand why i'm gone? or do i need to tell you, is that it?" he asked.

you regretted this now.

"no, i know why but it's just-"

"if you know why, then why do you fucking ask me?!" he yelled, making you shrink into yourself. you two had bickered over things before and there were even times when you needed space from each other, but touya had never yelled at you like this.

you could feel your eyes prick with tears and the lump in your throat grow, "touya don't yell at me!" you cried.

"i'm yelling at you so you get this through your god damn head!" he snapped, "i can't be here, sitting on my ass like you every fucking day. i have shit i need to do to make my plans happen!"

you gasped at his words. did he really think that's all you did?

"you know damn well i don't just stay at home on my ass, touya! i work too!" you said, tapping his chest with your finger as you pointed it at him.

"i buy the groceries! i make the food! i wash your blood stained clothes! i do everything i can, but you don't know because you're never here!" you yelled, taking a deep breath after so you could continue speaking.

you sighed heavily and spoke softly, your energy gone from yelling. "you're never here touya..." you sniffed, letting the tears run down your cheeks. you brought your hands up to your eyes to wipe them away, "i love you, so i miss you. i just wish you were home more so i don't have to spend my nights all alone."

touya was breathing heavily, but sitting silently as he processed your words. he was perceptive, sure, but he wasn't really good with emotions and dealing with people when they were upset.

feeling guilty, he wrapped his arms around your crying figure and hugged you tightly to his chest. he brought a hand up to your head and stroked it gently, shushing your cries. you stayed like that until your crying had become sniffles with occasional hiccups.

"i'm sorry," he said softly, "i'm sorry i'm always gone. i fucking suck at this, i don't know how to be here for you... but i'm going to do better now, for you, okay? i love you too. i don't say that enough."

you brought your hands away from your face and wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his beating heart and closing your eyes.

"as long as you try, touya. i know you're not perfect, and that's okay with me. i love you the way you are."

"scars and all?" he asked jokingly, making you giggle.

"scars and all."

authors note

love ya!

[alxtiny]

Ad Astra per Aspera

Episode 3

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: food, self deprecating thoughts

Notes: sort of filler chapter i guess? Character profiles are updated a lil btw :D

Playlist : SOS by Kang Daniel | Pirates by Xdinary Heroes | Animal Farm by BIBI

Series Masterlist | Episode 4 | Episode 2 | Bonus!

Of course, peace was never an option.

You were rudely jolted awake by the sound of a door slamming—again. Your body jerked so violently that you nearly fell off your bed, barely catching yourself on the edge. The thumping in your chest was a mix of lingering exhaustion and sheer irritation. You had almost landed yourself a third visit to the doctor, which was something you wished to avoid after what happened the before.

“What the hell do you want?" you snarled, sitting up with a scowl, blinking against the dim light of the room.

Leaning casually in the doorway was the same infuriating man from earlier. He wore his usual cocky smirk, the kind that made you want to throw something sharp or heavy at him. “Several things, sweetheart, but I’m afraid you won’t like some of the answers," he drawled, his eyes looking you up and down with amusement.

You threw him a scandalised look, crossing your arms over your chest. "Don’t call me that," you snapped, glaring daggers at him. Your attitude only seemed to amuse him more as he chuckled.

“Alright, alright," he raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning like a stupid cat. "I’ll tell you the real reason I’m here. The captain needs you again—something about getting us out of here. He said we’re through the darkest parts of the cave, and the light’s slowly coming back.”

You groggily glanced at your wristwatch, confirming that about two hours had passed since you’d last checked. If the captain was right, you were nearly through the treacherous part of the cave and would soon be back in open waters. The thought gave you just the slightest bit of relief.

“Take me to him. We have much to discuss,” you said, standing up and brushing the sleep from your eyes.

“Mmm, much to discuss, huh?” he teased, a sly look on his face.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “It’s navigation stuff, don’t make it sound like that! And who even are you to question it? Don’t you have a job to do?”

A mischievous glint lit his eyes. “Ah, of course. You don’t know me yet.” He straightened up dramatically, as if preparing for an introduction on stage. “Jung Wooyoung, lookout extraordinaire and your new favourite person. Pleased to meet you." He extended a hand to you.

You scoffed, swatting his hand away. "Favorite? In your dreams, Wooyoung."

Unfazed, he continued, “Also, I do have a job, but right now there’s absolutely nothing to look out for in this cave, so I decided to come here and annoy you.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes yet again as he grinned wider. "Great," you muttered sarcastically, already regretting your decision to ask him anything. Now that you knew his name, though, you were definitely adding him to your nightly list of people to curse.

As you both walked toward the main deck, you noticed something off about Wooyoung. In the dim, flickering light of the corridor, his presence seemed… shadowy, almost as if he wasn’t fully there. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, but it was hard to tell if it was just the darkness playing tricks on you.

He stayed silent for once, which was even more disturbing than his usual cheeky remarks. Occasionally, he whistled quietly under his breath, but the quiet of the cave made the sound echo strangely around you.

Finally, you reached the deck, and there was Captain Hongjoong—still wearing his damn sunglasses even though darkness enveloped the entire cave. He stood completely still, even with the rocking of the ship, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out toward the dimly glowing exit of the cave.

You stepped up beside him, unsure whether to interrupt his thoughts. “Captain,” you finally mumbled.

He turned slightly, just enough to glance at you from behind his sunglasses. “You’ve rested,” he stated more than asked.

“Not really,” you replied, loosening up a little, “but I hear we’re almost through. I’ve come to discuss our next course of action.”

“Good,” Hongjoong replied, nodding. “We’re almost at the exit, and I want you to confirm our path as soon as we’re out of the cave. I’ll not have any more surprises. Not today.”

You glanced back at the looming cave walls, the jagged rocks jutting out as the ship slowly stirred forward. If you had estimated correctly, you’d make it through soon—hopefully without the ship scraping against the sharp edges.

“Once we’re in open waters again, we’ll head for the eastern port towns. But after we dock, there’s another matter I need you to assist with, something a little different than what your job entails” Hongjoong said plainly.

“What matter?” you asked warily.

He waved you off, “All in good time, navigator. For now, let’s focus on getting through.”

Before you could question him further, he turned away, dismissing you. Typical. The man was near impossible to read, always playing out his cards carefully.

With a sigh, you nodded and made your way toward the main deck, tired of all the cryptic talk. Beside you, Wooyoung offered a lazy grin, his earlier silence breaking. You had almost forgotten he was there, almost. "So, what do you think? Captain’s got another fun surprise lined up for us?"

"Probably something that might get us killed or worse," you muttered, shaking your head.

"Wouldn’t be a normal day without it," he chuckled.

You stared at him in shock. "Wait, what? This kind of stuff happens every day!?"

He tipped his head back. "Every. Single. Day. You’ve not seen the worst of it yet" he said, cackling as he sauntered away, leaving you standing there, mouth agape.

Before you could even process what he'd said, a gentle but rough hand came out of nowhere and closed your mouth for you. Startled, you whipped around, hair flying out and smacking the person behind you, who groaned in response.

"Ow, that hurt," the deep voice groaned. It was that tall beefy man with the baby face, the one with the figet dagger. You hadn’t really seen him in a while, and now, here he was, standing right behind you.

"Why are you here?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

"Captain sent me to train you," he said matter-of-factly.

Your brow furrowed. "Train me for what?"

He just smirked and without another word, grabbed your hand and began dragging you toward the lower deck. You stumbled along behind him, still lethargic and bewildered. Light had just started filtering in as the ship neared the end of the cave, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards.

When you finally came to a stop near one of the secluded corners of the main deck, it was in front of a large, leather-bound case, big enough to hold a person. You eyed it dubiously. "Are you trying to lock me up or something?"

He just gave you a big smile, showing off his teeth, offering no answer as he bent down and popped open the case. The lid creaked loudly, revealing an array of weapons—swords, daggers, even a few guns.

Your stomach dropped. "Wait—are you going to kill me? Captain Hongjoong said I was useful!" you shrieked, taking a step back.

The man laughed, his deep voice rumbling through the air. "Relax. I'm just teaching you some basic combat skills so you can defend yourself when we dock."

You blinked, incredulous. "What do you mean 'defend myself'? How dangerous can the people there be?"

He straightened up, closing the case for now, and turned to you with an amused smile. "Well, they’re not that dangerous, but captain's orders are captain's orders. Gotta do what I gotta do."

You groaned, realizing there was no way you were getting out of this. Maybe you should fake sickness. “And you’re the one teaching me? My head hasn’t even healed completely yet!” you argued, pouting angrily.

The man chuckled. He sure found this all amusing, “You’re safe for now, relax. My name is Mingi, by the way”

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, Mingi. Let’s get this over with.”

He clapped his hands together, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "That’s the spirit! Now, let’s start with something easy."

He pulled out a lightweight dagger and handed it to you, guiding your hand to grip it properly. As he began explaining how to hold and wield the weapon, you could feel the absolute absurdity of your situation. Just a day ago, you were quietly navigating maps and casually dodging storm flashes, and now you had to learn how to stab people—for your own protection, apparently.

Mingi’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Focus, or you might hurt yourself, before someone else can even try to" he said, his tone reprimanding but gentle. You nodded, trying to focus on his instructions.

As he moved behind you, adjusting your stance and positioning your hands, you realised that despite his intimidating size, Mingi wasn’t nearly as unnerving as you first thought. He was patient, explaining everything in detail and offering tips as you clumsily practised a few basic moves.

“Not bad,” Mingi said after a while, stepping back to observe your progress. “For a beginner, you’ve got decent instincts.”

Your ego swelled ever so slightly, at his words, though you were far from being a pro. “Thanks, I guess,” you said, slightly out of breath.

“Alright then, we’ll wrap it up for now. Captain doesn’t need you killing anyone yet,” he said with a wink, sheathing his own blade with ease.

You handed the dagger back to him, relieved to be done. “Well, that was… fun?”

Mingi just laughed again, leading you back toward the centre of the main deck. “You’ll thank me later. Trust me.”

The open sea was finally visible ahead, you had just passed the exit. Hongjoong still stood at the helm, a satisfied smile on his face, happy to be out of the claustrophobic cave.

You glanced at Mingi, who gave you a nod before heading off to god knows where. You took a deep breath, feeling both exhausted and relieved.

As you made your way back towards Captain Hongjoong, you spotted Seonghwa standing beside him, still as a statue. His sharp, delicate features made him look almost princely, if it weren’t for his hollowed cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder if they fed him enough—or, for that matter, if anyone on this ship had eaten at all. With everything that had happened, food had completely slipped your mind.

Reaching Hongjoong, you tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He turned to face you, his body language telling you he’s exhausted despite him trying not to show it al all.

“Hey, since we’re past the cave’s exit,” you said, quickly moving to the more important matters. “From here, we need to travel westward for about three hours, then head north once we pass the last island on the peninsula. It’ll take us approximately another day to reach the eastern ports.”

He nodded, looking less burdened as you spoke. “I see. Good work,” he said, pausing for a second efore continuing, “We need to discuss your role when we dock. We’re not exactly welcome there, if you catch my drift.” His lips managed to curl into a small smirk. “But there’s a man who’s willing to host us while we take care of some… business.”

“Is that the man you mentioned earlier?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“No, it’s my—"

Before he could finish his sentence, your stomach growled loudly, cutting him off. Your eyes widened in mortification as you slapped a hand over your mouth, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. You hadn’t realized how hungry you actually were until this moment.

Hongjoong stared at you for a beat, and then, to your surprise, he burst into laughter. “You haven’t eaten in a while, have you?” he asked between breaths, his usual stoicism gone.

You shook your head, mumbling a quick “no” as you tried to disappear into the floor from sheer embarrassment.

“That’s okay,” he said, still chuckling. “You should head to the kitchens. We’ll discuss the plan when everyone’s together.” He turned to Seonghwa, who remained as still and composed as ever. “Seonghwa, show her the way. Make sure she doesn’t get lost—and for God’s sake, make sure you eat something, too.”

Seonghwa nodded, the corners of his lips twitching. He caught your gaze, and with a subtle gesture, indicated that you should follow him. Your face still burning, you gave Hongjoong a quick, flustered nod. “Thank you, Captain. Sorry ‘bout that,” you muttered before quickly following after Seonghwa.

Hongjoong waved you off, still chuckling. “Don’t worry about it. Get some food.”

As you walked through the dimly lit corridors with Seonghwa, the ship gently swayed in time with the waves, and you could still feel your cheeks burning from embarrassment. Seonghwa, of course, said nothing, his footsteps light and quiet as he led the way.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, you mustered up enough courage to speak. “So… do you actually eat?” you asked, chuckling awkwardly.

Seonghwa glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression impassive. “On occasion,” he replied dryly.

You snorted, relieved that he had a sense of humor, however subtle. “Well, it didn’t seem like it. You look like you haven’t slept or eaten in days.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply, leading you down another set of stairs toward what appeared to be the ship’s galley. “There you go,” Seonghwa said, gesturing toward the entryway of the kitchen and dining hall. “Wooyoung should be around here somewhere. He usually handles the meals.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of Wooyoung. “Oh, interesting. Thanks, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa gave a short nod. “I’ll make sure to eat something too, later” he added, a hint of teasing in his tone before turning to leave.

“Wait—where are you going?” you asked, feeling a bit more comfortable around him now.

“To report back to the captain,” he replied, “and to rest. Unlike you, I haven’t gotten a break yet.”

You felt a bit guilty for holding him up, but you smiled weakly at his dry sense of humor anyway. “Alright, see you later.”

With that, Seonghwa disappeared into the shadows once again, leaving you to explore the galley in search of Wooyoung—and most importantly, food. You wandered further down the corridor, and soon, the delicious scent of something cooking hit your nose sharply. You nearly started drooling right there and then. The aroma was rich and savoury, with the perfect combination of spices, and it drew you in like a moth to a flame.

You groaned at the prospect of a filling meal. You followed the scent with your nose up in the air, your feet moving almost on autopilot as the hunger gnawed at your stomach. Soon enough, you found yourself standing in the large kitchen and dining area, which made sense considering there were about thirty crewmen aboard—not including the eight others. The kitchen was bustling, but what really caught your attention was Wooyoung, standing at the stove, cooking himself.

You weren’t entirely sure of what you had expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. When Seonghwa said Wooyoung handled the meals, you thought he meant something more along the lines of rationing supplies or managing food storage. Seeing him actually cooking made you slightly sceptical. The mischievous pirate who had spent most of his time getting under your skin was now handling sharp knives and hot pans—what could possibly go wrong?

Curiosity piqued, you walked closer, hovering around him until he noticed you, peeking over his shoulder as he tossed some spicy fried rice in a pan. Beside him, a separate dish sat covered on another stove, its contents a mystery for now. A few other crew members were busying themselves farther away, likely preparing more food for the rest of the ship.

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked, his focus still on the rice as he expertly tossed it in the pan.

“Oh, nothing… nothing,” you lied, stepping closer. “Just, you know, looking.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking. “I didn’t know you could cook,” you said, surprised. “You don’t seem the type.”

“Is it really that surprising?” he whispered, turning his head slightly to catch your gaze. Amusement danced in his eyes as he added, “It makes me more attractive, don’t you think?” He shot you a quick wink.

A fiery blush rose to your cheeks at his words, your heart doing flips. Now that he mentioned it, you had to admit—Wooyoung did look rather appealing when he wasn’t actively trying to irritate you. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the veins in his forearms, and the deft, precise way he handled the pan showcased a kind of skill that was hard not to admire.

“Shut up,” you muttered, your embarrassment growing. “How is that even relevant?”

Wooyoung’s laughter filled the kitchen, sounding more like a monkey than human. You scowled at him, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Besides,” you added offhandedly, trying to regain some composure, “how do I even know if it’s any good? I haven’t even tried any yet. You don’t have to be so overconfident.”

At that, Wooyoung’s playful expression fell away, replaced by a dead-serious look. His pride, especially when it came to his cooking, was not something to be trifled with.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing toward a nearby table. “I’ll bring you some, and then you can give me your fair judgement.”

Sensing the sudden shift in his mood, you quickly obliged, taking a seat at the table. Maybe doubting Wooyoung’s culinary skills wasn’t the best idea. He disappeared briefly, then returned with two plates piled high with food. The steam rising from the dishes carried the tantalising aroma of spices and roasted meat, and your stomach grumbled in anticipation.

Wooyoung placed the plate in front of you, along with a set of cutlery, and stood back with his arms crossed, watching you intently. The spread before you was impressive: spicy fried rice, seasoned roasted potatoes, and fried chicken coated in a vibrant red sauce. Everything looked perfectly cooked, and the rich, savoury aroma made you feel heaven.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of Wooyoung’s expectant gaze. Then, slowly, you picked up your fork and took a bite of the rice and chicken. The moment the flavours hit your tongue, your eyes widened in disbelief. It wasn’t just good—it was abso-fucking-lutely divine. The heat from the spices was perfectly balanced with the richness of the sauce, and the fried rice had a satisfying crunch to it that elevated the entire dish.

You closed your eyes, savouring the taste as a pleased sigh escaped your lips. When you opened them again, Wooyoung was staring at you with a smug grin on his face.

“Well?” he asked, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction.

You couldn’t deny it. “This is amazing,” you admitted, shaking your head in disbelief. “I didn’t think anyone could cook this well on a ship.”

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “I told you I’m good, didn’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the smile that tugged at your lips. “Fine, you win this one. But don’t let it get to your head.”

He gave you a mock bow, clearly enjoying his little victory. “Too late.”

As you continued to eat, Wooyoung sat down across from you, digging into his own plate with the same enthusiasm. For a few moments, there was a comfortable silence as you both focused on the meal.

"So," he said after a while, "what do you think? Does it make me more attractive?"

You nearly choked on your rice, glaring at him as you swallowed. "You just had to ruin the moment, didn't you?"

His laugh once again filled your ears. How annoying you thought, smiling to yourself.

As you finished eating, more crewmen began to file into the dining hall, grabbing their own plates and piling on food. The atmosphere grew more lively, but you were already feeling sleepy, especially after the amazing food. After all, it had been a long couple of days.

You picked up your plate and made your way to the sink, leaving the dish with the growing pile of dirty ones. You felt a smidge of guilt for whoever had to wash them all, it wouldn’t be an easy task. As you turned to head back, you spotted Wooyoung also cleaning up his area, still looking refreshed and energetic despite the long day.

"Has the captain told you anything about what we're supposed to do when we dock?" you asked him, maybe he would have some answers.

Wooyoung shrugged, drying his hands on a towel. "He just said we’re meeting in the map room tonight. Only us, the others, and him. We’re not supposed to talk about it until the rest of the crew's out of earshot."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why all the secrecy? They're part of the crew, too."

A sly smile curled on his lips. “You’ve been with us for a few days now, but you’ll learn soon enough—not all crewmen can be trusted. There are always ears where you least expect them.” He winked before turning back to supervise the kitchen.

With a slight nod, you said your goodbyes to Wooyoung and left the kitchen, heading back to your room. His words stuck with you, though. What were they so cautious about? And why the distrust among their own crew? It felt odd, and your instincts kept raising red flags at whatever it was they had planned to do.

Once in your room, you shut the door and sat at the small desk by the window. It was the first quiet moment you’d had to yourself in days, and your mind began to churn with thoughts and questions. You reached for the loose paper you had been given, scribbling down whatever came to mind.

The first thing you had considered, when you’d first been taken aboard, was the idea of escaping, you had thought of nothing else. But now, after spending time with the crew, especially Hongjoong and the others, you knew better. These pirates weren’t ordinary men—they were highly skilled in what they did, and escaping was definitely out the window. You sighed, accepting that, for now, it was better to stay put and go along with whatever they asked of you than to waste energy on an escape plan that had no chance of success.

The second thing that nagged at you was their reputation. You had heard rumours about this crew before—they were renowned for doing certain unspeakable things, but so far, you hadn’t witnessed anything that aligned with those stories. In fact, they had been surprisingly kind to you, even if some of them, like Wooyoung, enjoyed teasing you, constantly. Despite all that, doubt lingered in the back of your mind. You had only been with them for three days, and for all you knew, they were just waiting for the right moment to take off their masks. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your usefulness to them had a limit—and when that limit was reached, what would they do with you?

Third, and perhaps most pressing, was the matter of what they intended to do when they docked. You didn’t know much, but from what Hongjoong had said, it was clear they weren’t exactly welcome in the town. What had they done to be so unwelcome? And what was the nature of the business they had to take care of? You couldn’t help but wonder if it involved something illegal—something you could easily get caught up in, and potentially ruin all progress you had made in life.

As you stared at the half-finished notes on the paper, and one random flower drawing, your thoughts spiralled further. There was a lot you didn’t know, and the more you learned about these pirates, the more questions seemed to pile up.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice how much time had passed. The sun had again been replaced by the moon high in the sky, its glow filtering through the small window of your cabin. Outside, the ship bustled with activity as the crew prepared to speed up the pace and retire for the night, now that they were out of the more precarious part of the waters.

You zoned out, meanwhile a cat had wandered into your room through the open door, its sleek body hopping onto your bed and making itself comfortable. It stretched out lazily, giving you a sideways glance before deciding it wasn't getting enough attention. With a graceful leap, it hopped up onto your desk, startling you out of your daydream. You blinked at the feline, and it blinked back at you, then let out a loud, insistent meow, demanding your attention.

Your hand slipped from where you had been propping up your head, and you stared at the cat in mild surprise. It was a beautiful Siamese with big, curious eyes that studied you closely before padding closer. It hopped down onto your lap, rubbing itself against you and purring softly. You couldn't help but laugh, the restlessness that had been building in your chest easing as you patted the cat’s soft fur.

"Where did you come from?" you murmured, scratching behind its ears as it leaned into your touch.

A few minutes later, a voice called out from the doorway. "There you are!"

You looked up to see a man standing there, his broad figure filling the doorway. He let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the cat, his expression softening as he stepped into the room. "I was looking everywhere for you. You can't just run off like that, you know?"

The cat, hearing its owner, perked up immediately and jumped out of your lap, sauntering back over to him. He scooped her up in his arms, and she looked impossibly tiny against his large frame. He nuzzled her affectionately before looking up at you with a smile that deepened the dimples in his cheeks.

"She doesn’t usually go up to strangers this easily," he said, clearly amused. "I think she likes you."

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought. "Well, I like her too. She’s adorable."

You stood up and walked over to him, reaching out to stroke the cat’s fur again as she wiggled happily in his arms. "What’s her name?"

"This little one? Her name’s Byeol," he replied, his voice filled with affection as he looked down at her. "She’s my little star."

"That’s a perfect name for her," you mused, still petting Byeol. "But what about you? What’s your name? I asked you yesterday too, but you never answered."

The man’s smile grew wider, his dimples drawing you attention even more as his eyes turned into little crescents. "I’m Choi San!" he said with enthusiasm, his voice carrying a warmth that made you smile in return.

"Nice to finally make your acquaintance, Choi San," you said, watching him closely. It was hard to reconcile the image in front of you—this man with his soft smile, cradling a tiny cat—with all the tall tales you had heard about the pirates. He seemed so gentle, so full of joy. You couldn't help but wonder how someone like him could be a man who allegedly killed without remorse.

San noticed your thoughtful expression and tilted his head slightly, his smile never wavering. "What’s on your mind?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase your thoughts. "I guess... I just didn’t expect someone like you to be, well... a cat dad," you admitted, hoping your words didn’t come off as offensive.

San chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Things aren't always what they seem, right?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a strange sense of calm in his presence. "Yeah, I guess not."

"Oh, by the way," San added with a playful grin, "the captain told me to come look for you. Said we have things to discuss."

"Ugh, finally," you groaned. "The fact that he dragged this out for so long has been eating away at my soul."

San laughed, the sound warm and so different from Wooyoung’s. Wait a minute why were you suddenly thinking of him, you were taken aback at your brain playing tricks like this. San beckoned you to follow him, and with Byeol nestled comfortably in his arms, you both made your way to the map room. The corridors of the ship were quieter now, the hustle of earlier fading as the rest of the crew settled into their rooms.

As you entered the map room, most of the others had already gathered. There was one unfamiliar face in the group, a man you hadn't seen since your first encounter with the crew. He sat in a corner, arms crossed and eyes distant, clearly uninterested in anything or anyone in the room. You wondered briefly who he was but decided not to question it.

You pulled up a chair and sat down, glancing at San, who was still holding Byeol. He gently released the cat from his arms, letting her roam freely around the room. Byeol wasted no time in greeting the others, nuzzling up to each of them, her little purrs filling the room.

From across the table, your eyes met Yeosang’s. He gave you a small wave, his smile as sweet and boyish as ever. You felt your cheeks flush with heat, and you waved back shyly. He chuckled softly at your reaction, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to Mingi beside him and continuing their conversation.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Captain Hongjoong strode in, his sheer presence silencing the room. As always, Seonghwa trailed close behind him, quietly locking the door after them.

"Alright," Hongjoong began, taking his place at the head of the table, his sunglasses perched on top of his head, stormy eyes looking at each face intensely. We’ve got a lot to cover, and not much time to do it."

You leaned forward slightly, eager to know what this urgent meeting was for. You still didn’t fully understand the task at hand, but the way Hongjoong and the others talked about it, it must be something very important.

"As I’m sure most of you are aware," Hongjoong continued, glancing around the room, "we’re heading into hostile territory. The port we’re docking at isn’t exactly a friendly place for us, or any pirate for that matter, but we have a contact there who’s willing to help us— you’ve all met him before, although our brand new navigator might come off as a surprise for him,”

He paused, letting his words settle over the room before continuing. “This heist might be our most important one yet, and we absolutely cannot afford any mistakes.”

His gaze shifted toward you, locking eyes in a way that made you want to run away. You felt a wave of anxiety wash over you—you were inexperienced, a liability among a group of seasoned pirates who had honed their skills over years of dangerous work. Sure, you could navigate and read maps, but when came the questions of combat and risky missions? You were out of your depth.

For a brief moment, you started spiraling into self-doubt, your mind racing with questions about your usefulness. What if you messed up? What if you put everyone in danger?

But Hongjoong’s voice broke through your anxious thoughts. “But this time,” he said, eyes gleaming with a spark of a plan, “we have someone who’d be great for going undercover. Our faces are already known, but I doubt anyone has seen our navigator before.” His words were pointed but not unkind. “Even if they have, they probably wouldn’t remember.”

Well, ouch, you thought to yourself, feeling a bit slighted by the implication. But before you could dwell on it, Hongjoong pressed on.

“Our target runs a popular saloon and inn uptown, which, of course, is funded by his illegal auction houses operating behind the government's back. Now I wouldn’t have cared about a lousy businessman like him at all but unfortunately, his activities have started to affect our business as well,” he said, his tone turning sharp. You didn’t even want to know what he meant by their business. “His lawyer is who we need. He holds all the evidence we require to shut that fat pig down once and for all.”

The room was silent, as if each of the men were absorbing what Hongjoong was saying. You could see the intensity in their faces as they nodded in understanding.

“We’ll reach the port by noon tomorrow, and our work begins immediately. We shall leave the town as soon as we’ve completed the mission,” Hongjoong continued. “Pack light and only the essentials. The ship will be docked elsewhere to avoid drawing attention to our presence. Questions?”

You hesitated for a moment, then raised your hand timidly. “Umm… what exactly do I have to do?”

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered back to you, his expression softening slightly. “I’m getting to that,” he replied. “Once we’ve reached our accommodation, the first to depart will be our navigator…”

He trailed off, his face going blank for a moment as if he’d just remembered something important. “Wait… I never asked for your name.

The room fell into an awkward silence as Hongjoong’s flustered expression mirrored the confusion in the room. You blinked in surprise. Hongjoong had just come to the realisation that after nearly four days of you being on this ship, none of them had ever confirmed who you were. What if they’d picked up the wrong person?

“Oh… right,” you stammered, feeling your face heat up. “My name’s Aurora.”

Hongjoong nodded, casting a quick glance toward Seonghwa, who hadn’t shown a single flicker of emotion since the meeting began. It was like they were communicating with their eyes.

“Whoa, I can’t believe we forgot that!” Wooyoung exclaimed, slapping his hand to his forehead in disbelief, earning a few deflated murmurs in agreement from the others. Even San was shaking his head, feeling a little disappointed that they had missed such an important detail.

Hongjoong shook his head, visibly trying to shake off his little glitch before returning to business. “Anyway, Aurora will be the first to move,” he explained, focusing back on the task. “Your job is simple: go up to the saloon building and introduce yourself as a collector of rare navigation instruments. I assume that won’t be too hard for you?”

You nodded quickly, trying to ignore the nerves building in your stomach. “I can do it,” you said, your voice louder than you expected.

Hongjoong gave you a curt nod, his eyes briefly meeting yours as if searching for a hint of doubt. He shifted slightly, and pursed his lips in thought. "You’ll reserve a room for two," he continued, "and during your conversations, ask the host for places where you can buy such instruments. Make it clear you’re looking for something underground since a collector like yourself would prefer to avoid the rare items acquisition tax. Slip him a few bills, and he’ll be more than happy to point you towards the auction house."

You took note of his instructions, feeling a little excited at the thought of going undercover. It was the first time you had done something like this, maybe it won’t be as life threatening as it sounded.

Hongjoong took a deep breath before continuing. "San will accompany you," he said, glancing toward the man, "since he’s the only other face that people around here don’t know much of."

You looked at San, who met your gaze and gave you a playful wink. His presence, there with you, was a little reassuring, in a way—having someone you were comfortable with might help ease the tension.

"After you’ve found out the location of the auction house," Hongjoong said, his tone darkening, "this is where the difficult part begins. From what my sources tell me, the lawyer lives in a permanently reserved room in the saloon building. He operates from there, running the auction house's legal affairs. As night falls, you two will need to find him and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere—quietly." His eyes shifted between you and San.

You swallowed nervously. "What happens once we have him?" you asked, your voice an unintended whisper.

"Once we have him with no alarms raised, the job becomes a little easier," Hongjoong replied. His eyes glinted, a smirk playing on his lips. "He has a liability we can exploit, something that’ll make our interrogation a lot smoother. We’ll use it to extract what we need."

You nodded, though there was something dark in his words. This lawyer wasn’t exactly innocent, you knew that, but you couldn’t help feeling some pity for him. Whatever Hongjoong had planned, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

"As for the others," Hongjoong continued, turning to the rest of the crew, "Wooyoung and Yeosang will tail the man during the day. Keep track of his movements and note where he goes. Jongho, take Yunho and Mingi to restock the ship’s supplies while you’re in port."

The crew nodded in understanding, their expressions set in determination. Hongjoong’s grin widened, clearly pleased with how things were falling into place.

"We’ll reconvene at night to move the lawyer from the inn to our accommodation. I’ll have a room ready for him." He held a cheshire grin on his face, and you shuddered at the thought of what might await the poor man.

“Once we have the evidence, we can anonymously turn it over to the authorities and get what we need in return. All clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, Captain" and "Aye, Captain" echoed in the room, the crew eager to carry out their roles.

"Good," Hongjoong said, satisfied. "You’re all dismissed until we dock." He paused, glancing in your direction. "Mingi, I need you to continue training Aurora in defense. San, you’ll be teaching her hand-to-hand combat as well."

"Sure, Captain," Mingi replied, turning to you with a friendly smile. "Take good rest, Ms. Navigator. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

You returned his smile, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. As everyone dispersed, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was to come—the danger, the deception, and the responsibility that had unexpectedly fallen onto your shoulders.

San caught your eye one last time, giving you a nod as if to say, You’ve got this.

And even though you weren’t entirely sure if you have it, you nodded back, determined to see it through.

However, as you left the meeting and wandered back toward your room, exhaustion hit you like a wave. You were so ready to sleep again—you had barely gotten any proper rest, this job was much more demanding and taxing than the usual small ones you took up on for merchants.

You missed your parents. A pang of longing shot through you as you thought about them, wondering when, or if, you’d ever see them again. It had been years since they were sent on their own assignment, and there had been no word from them since. You missed being a whole family—you missed bickering with your younger brother, it must be around the time for his final examinations. You hoped he was doing well with his and not causing the school trouble as he often did.

As you wandered back to your room you let yourself be consumed by the overwhelming thoughts, all the deep emotions you had put away, tears fell from your eyes, marking dark spots on your shirt and leaving your vision blurry. You held on the handle of the door of your room, grip tightening as you found it difficult to open it and face loneliness again.

However terrible these pirates were, they lived life as it was intended and they were so carefree while you were just existing for now. The splotches on your shirt grew, you let out a bitter laugh wondering why your mood shifted so suddenly. Little whimpers and sobs escape your lips, then you felt warmth after the coldness of the tears.

Just as your grip on the door handle tightened, a pair of warm, calloused hands cupped your face, gently swiping away the tears. Startled, you blinked up through your blurry vision and found yourself face to face with a concerned Yunho. His gaze held a desperation to comfort you, something that felt of place on a supposedly ruthless pirate.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

Snapping out of it, you pulled your face away, taking your hand off the door handle, wiping at your eyes, rubbing them red. Yunho moved his hands trying to get yours away from your face before you could hurt yourself. You sniffled trying to calm yourself and put on a weak smile, “It’s nothing, just feeling a little overwhelmed…. that’s all,” your words did not convince Yunho.

He wasn’t good with people, you couldn’t pick them apart like machine to understand how they worked. You had to be careful and sensitive. Yunho didn’t like the way your face showed nothing but pain. He signed not knowing how to reply, “Can i show you a place, i think you’ll like it right now,” he looked at his feet, his hands fiddling with the edge of his shirt, “going there helps me too,”

You hesitated, the idea of being this vulnerable in front of a pirate didn’t please you, but you agreed nonetheless, "Okay," you whispered. "I trust you."

Yunho lightened up a little at your words, and he gently took your hand, leading you up toward the poop deck. You followed him around the mizzen mast until he stopped in front of a trapdoor. Without saying much, Yunho unlatched the trapdoor, you don’t know how, since it had seemed to be sealed shut with metal but you didn’t think much of it. He jumped down first, holding out his arms to help you down.

The passage was narrow and dimly lit, with small fixtures glowing faintly. Yunho’s head nearly touched the low ceiling, and the space felt tight. He closed the trapdoor behind you with a small whizz, and you continued down the corridor until he stopped in front of an unseemly wooden door.

"I’ve only shown this to the other guys," Yunho explained quietly. "But now, you too. No one else knows about this. It’s special to me." He glanced at you before continuing, "We’re right under your room and the captain’s. No one can hear me down here, but I can hear everything."

He opened the door, and the creak echoed through the small space. You hesitated for a second before stepping inside. At first, it was pitch black. You could hear soft clicks and whirrs, and then, all of a sudden, there was a sliver of moonlight creeping in from above. The light grew, revealing an open room, one wall slowly rising to reveal the vast, open sea.

The stars sparkled over the water, the moon casting a glow across the room. The sounds stopped, you felt yunho walk around the room, and all of a sudden there was a burst of light in the room, much more intense than the moonlight, you looked around there were no torches no fixtures just an open room with one wall lined with shelves upon shelves of books, a mattress big enough to fit ten people, folded up towards the other wall and then of course the newly revealed balcony.

"How is it?" Yunho asked softly, his eyes watching your reaction.

"It’s so... wow," you breathed, your earlier worries momentarily forgotten. "This is amazing."

Yunho chuckled softly, walking toward the folded mattress and sitting down, patting the space next to him. "I designed this all by myself. It was my first real project when I got a hold over my abilities," he said, pride lacing his voice.

You smiled and walked over to join him. Sitting down on the mattress, you let the calming sounds of the ocean fill the silence. For the first time in days, you felt a sense of peace. Although that was not all, Yunho seemed to have one more surprise in store for you. He stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, flicking a switch you hadn’t noticed before.

Suddenly, the ground beneath you began to shift. The balcony extended outward, nearly doubling the space of the room. You gasped in awe as the floor moved, the motion smooth but stopping with a gentle jolt. The room now opened even further toward the endless ocean, giving you an unobstructed view of the night sky, its stars shimmering more vividly than ever.

Yunho returned, settling down beside you on the large mattress again. “Lie down,” he said softly, putting his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow.

You hesitated for a second before lying back and copying him, your gaze immediately drawn to the open sky. The stars twinkled like diamonds scattered across the dark canvas, the crescent moon glowing softly in the distance. You took a deep breath, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin, carrying with it the smell of the sea.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes catching Yunho’s. His eyes twinkled like the stars too, he had a contented smile on his face, you smiled too and turned back enjoying the calm. Time felt like it had stopped.

The sound of the waves gently lapping against the ship, the light breeze, and the soft hum of the world around you, gave you suck comfort. You didn’t know when it happened, but eventually, you drifted off to dreamless sleep, the stars overhead keeping you company.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

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