#its not in his honor or anything its just a thing. idk

[crowfatherd]

they used to be friend s.,,, i m goinf to die here

dude i havent written in ten billion years and i havent written these two specifically in even longer but heres a little thingy about them when they were buddyss

[themyscirah]

Okay so basically the United States MINT of all people is going to be working with DC to make a line of coins! These coins sadly won't be in circulation (the things I would do to live in a world where I could get Batman coins from the supermarket) as they're collectors coins, but will be releasing over the course of the next 3 years, 2025-2027.

Designs haven't been released yet (the same is true for all 2025 designs) but we know there will be 9 coins in total (3 each year) with the first year featuring (of course!!!) Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman.

Although we know the first three heroes to be featured, the remaining six have yet to be decided, and it turns out the Mint is putting out a survey on their site to gauge which of a group of culturally significant heroes people want to see most! (link to the form is mentioned in the article above)

The considered group includes: Supergirl, the Flash, Green Arrow, Black Canary, Captain Marvel, John Stewart GL, Aquaman, Hawkman, Jamie Reyes BB, Robin (Damian?), Cyborg, and Batgirl, of which 6 will be selected.

As someone who does a bit of coin collecting myself (mainly circulation coins like the quarters sets, but I also have a couple proof and collectors coins) I think this is a really cool and interesting idea that showcases the history of the comics medium and these characters and their influence on American culture. Really excited to wait and see what the designs look like for the coins already announced!

[koobiie]

bestowing my highest honor as an artist to ffxv (drawing the characters in fun outfits)

thoughts under the cut

RREAAAGHHHH SO EXCITED TO BE DONE WITH THIS!!!!! it took me forevarrrr but i soldiered through as an act of love. now excuse me. yap time

OKAY SO the concept behind this was originally specific fashion subcultures for everyone!l ike noct emo ignis dark academia etc. but then decided i didnt want to pigeonhole it all and just freestyled outfits i thought would look nice on everyone

noct - i do think noct would still be emo-ish but also opt for comfy baggy stuff a lot. something you could just fall asleep in on the spot. note the details of bass pro shop shirt (of course) XV necklace, little moon + stars accents, carbuncle + fish keychains. i also wanted his metal band logo shirt to spell LUCIS but i forgor some letters but its not very readable anyways

ignis - ignit ooohghh ignos ignaurs. sorry i made him serve so much cunt it will happen again. i drew him first cause that kind of inspired this whole thing i love him so bad if i didnt draw it id explode. not much detail to note except his collar pins are like his double blade thingies

luna - lunaaa the concept was “clean girl aesthetic” idk if that happened but im actually really happy with how it came out! might be my favorite of the bunch just because she looks so pretty and happy. your honor she should have been able to just be a normal girl and just. chill

prompto - prompotoooo i had trouble picking his vibe!!! my first thought was techwear?? because weeheeeehee he loves tech and well... you know... but then i realized i didnt really like the look of anything i saw + it was so bulky and dark and serious for him! ending up going with some more youthful and baggy. i was considering something more loud and colorful but ended up not going with it. i feel like in canon he'd be too nervous to have such a flashy fit and would want to just look "cool" to fit in with the boys lol. itty bitty details here - chocobo keychain, pompompurin and bi miku buttons, and his lanyard is kings knight themed! i also thought it was funny to write LUCIS on his shirt like you know those shirts that just say BROOKLYN or TOKYO or SAN FRANCISCO and thats it. thats what its like

gladio - okay i know this is going to sound like a lie but im not horny for gladio like at all, hes my least favorite, i think he's just alright. but also i KNOW in my heart of hearts that he would LOVE being a leather daddy and so i had to make it happen. main detail to note here is that his tank top has the motifs of a cup noodle! i didnt know what else to add cause you know.. hes the cup noodle guy.. but also i didnt want it to be so in your face about it with a big as logo so kept it subtle!

(side note the leather daddy gave me an idea for a post where its like noct and prom go to a gay bar all nervous but then they run into gladio and its like "p: GLADIO YOURE GAY?" "n: nevermind that PLEASE dont tell ignis we snuck out" and then ignis walks up and theyre all like WHAT THE FUCK!!!! caption would be "the gang finds out theyre all bisexual." probably wont draw it but i think its very funny lol)

iris - iris my sweetheart.... definitely leaned into the scene vibes here and also that one image of the blonde emo anime girl. details here - of course the moogle big ass backpack and keychain (can you tell i love keychains), but also her buttons are an iris (the flower) and also a crown with hearts (haha symbolism)

anyways oh god i didnt mean to write an essay down here. usually i keep this in the tags but this time i just had Too Much To Say. can you tell i put a lot of thought and love into this . anwyays. *walks off into the sunset and fuckig dies*

[norrisleclercf1]

I've gotta request something with mafia Oscar. He's so quietly confident and somehow still hot when he's being all soft! Idk how its possible. But if sofft oscar is hot, then mafia oscar I'd die for

A/N: Mafia Oscar that's just being all soft and quiet while you're out eating and just being this calm steel wall

The bouquet of flowers were gently placed in your face making you turn from the mirror to see Oscar standing there smiling softly in his suit. "Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?" He asks softly giving you his bunny smile.

You blush a little and grab the bouquet, "Ozzy, of course," You smile and crane your neck as he leans down gently kissing you, and pulls back his hand cupping your cheek and he hums gently rubbing your jaw line. "I'm glad, work was......interesting and I would like some normalcy," He sighs knocking his forehead with yours.

"We can do that, whatever you need," Oscar places the flowers on the counter behind you, as he watches you do the finishing touches of your makeup. "Normal place or fancy?" You ask looking at him and he thinks for a second. "I want to spoil, so fancy?" he asks and you nod, "You can spoil me with normal, you know that right?"

"Yes, but I enjoy giving you the finer things in life," Oscar smiles giving you another kiss as you shiver. "Okay," You admit defeat knowing with him, while he was soft and caves to you, there are certain things he never budges on. "Can you wear that pretty black dress I bought you from Milan?" He asks and you nod, having only worn it once and he had it off faster than you had it on.

"Are you actually going to let me wear it?" Teasing him he blushes and clears his throat, "I promise to behave during dinner," But you just narrow your eyes and hum getting up heading to the closet. Oscar looks around and wonders how he can have this peace when it's home when literally he had blood down his hands not even an hour ago.

-----------------------------

He pulls the chair out and helps you sit as he pushes it back in the staff watching with a bated breath and thanking whoever above Oscar was here with you and not one of his associates. It was going to be good money and an easy service as he let mistakes happen and just give his polite cat smile everyone called it.

"Was work hard?" You ask as the waiter pours some water before heading off to grab the wine that the two of you like drinking. "It's work," He shrugs, taking a deep breath it's a thought to push for more information, it's not like you don't know what he does, you just don't know the full extent. "You can talk to me about it,"

Oscar looks up from the menu and stares which makes the hair on the back of your neck stand, he wasn't watching you in love, he was watching you like a predator studying its prey. "I won't ever, talk about work with you,"

"Okay," You whisper feeling that true version of him poke up and suddenly it gone as he grabs your hand, "Love, you just don't need to know anything okay? In case something every happened, then they can't touch you, and you can keep the wealth," He hums and kisses your fingers.

"I know," You admit and Oscar smiles, "Good, now what are you feeling tonight? Pasta or steak?" Thinking you smirk, "How bout both?" Oscar raises an eyebrow and jumps, a blush forming on his cheeks as he feels your heel move up his leg, "We can do both," He jumbles out looking like he'd follow you on a leash.

"Good boy,"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

cute j word stuff 😳

J WORD LITERALLY HASN'T GOTTEN AN EVENT SSR SINCE THE FIRST HALLOWEEN EVENT IN OCTOBER 2020 🤡 (and even then, his role in that event wasn't massive; Twst was still trying to iron out its kinks in event stories back then).

i'M SO HAPpYN THAT HE FINALYLR GETS TO hAVEQ ANTOHER EVENT SSR aND HAV EFUN ANd bE SO sdORDADlBLE IN ULTRAMARINER TOWN fwgvkjwvkwi3qrt463t87pteqgadgnafho OTL It feels like forever since he last got this much delicious new content…

Here’s a list the things J word did and/or said in Eternity Float that I found really cute. This is in no particular order; just consider this a stream of consciousness!! This also only covers episodes 1-3 of the event; the rest of Eternity Float doesn’t come out until May 5th so I may make a separate post for that.

Bro calls it FATE when he pretends to run into Yuu and Grim at Ramshackle. F A T E.

When Jade asked if Yuu and Grim would like to go to a wedding with him, the phrasing was such that he could easily be mistaken as inviting them to HIS wedding. Did he ask it like that on purpose just to mess with them 💀

Jade witnessing an Eternity Float as a child and loving that he got to see the desperate bride and groom screaming as they clung onto their rowboat for dear life… Of course he’d want to participate in one himself, JUST TO SOW MORE CHAOS.

NOT HIM LOW-KEY MAKING EVERYTHING A COMPETITION. Racing to be the first to a bench, catching two crabs AT ONCE in the water instead of crabs skittering on land, suggesting rock, paper, scissors to settle who will be the person to go without crab for dinner…

ALL THE MIND GAMES???? Manipulating Riddle and Malleus (and Rook, but Rook basically needs no convincing to go along with Jade’s invite) by using their weaknesses—Riddle’s wish to maintain the dignity and honor of a dorm leader, Malleus’s desire to be invited and included in group activities—against them… Bro fr played them like fiddles 🎻

CALLING US HIS “close friends”????????? Idk y’all, do you boot your “close friends” out of their home while you hold their house hostage OTL

Jade bluntly telling his mom “Azul did not wish to see you, mother” AnD THEn ALSO HAVinG THE AUDACITY tO ENCOURAGE HER TO TAlK WITH AzUL AS MUChsAS ShE WANTS NEXt TIME THEY vISIT HOME… Azul, Jade is NOT on your side for this one.

He’s absolutely killing that outfit 😭 GOOD JOB PICKING IT OUT FOR HIM, LEECH MAMA

HUMBLE BRAGGING ABOUT HIS CRAB-CATCHING SKILLS

Clowning on Grim for “using himself as [crab] bait” 🦀 (Rook’s the one who was concerned for Grim, Jade just smiled at Grim’s suffering…)

Him casually mentioning that the Mostro Lounge’s tuna sandwiches use the tasty canned tuna from the Sunshine Lands… Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Azul clapping for this free ad placement.

Calling a stray cat a DOG.

Not only acting out for the puppet show but putting forth the extra effort to use different voices for the different characters (INCLUDING barking for Max the dog). This makes me feel like Jade would be really great at reading picture books to his (hypothetical) child or children!! Or even reading to a whole group of them at like a library event or something.

Buying souvenir puppets for Azul and Floyd!! And then inviting their peers to a puppet show at the Mostro Lounge to pressure Azul to fulfill a promise. That means, in just ONE, Jade has invited Malleus go TWO things: the wedding and to a puppet show at a later date. Jade’s literally breaking all kinds of records here.

Eating his portion of crab VERY conspicuously, just to subtly rub it in Grim’s face 💀

Jade knowing so much about Ultramarine City, even though he wasn’t born there. (I barely know anything about the place I was born in, so this is really impressive to me.) True, he did visit quite often to learn about and prepare for life on land, but I think it’s great that he’s consistently curious and wants to keep learning new things all of the time.

Georgina telling us more about Jade as a little kid 🥺 how he and Floyd would always be in sync when it came to mischief, even if their interests differed and they often spent time apart…

Learning that Jade manifested his magic in his last year of elementary school, two months after Floyd!!

He gets to eat his favorite food… octopus carpaccio… Jade goes into such detail about it, it’s like he’s a judge in a cooking manga. And he gets to enjoy mushrooms (porcini orzo) too!! I���m so happy seeing that he’s eating well 🍱

Intentionally slicing the prosciutto pizza into slices of different sizes SO HE CAN WATCH HIS CLASSMATES FIGHT OVER WHO GETS THE BuGGEST PIECES. He would have gotten away with it too, were it not for Rook intervening—

Teaching Riddle and Malleus how to row the boat!! Jade is actually a really good instructor.

Giving a big, dramatic speech about how they should absolutely obey his every word (because the sea is so dangerous, and one wrong move could mean death)… only for him to use this as a pretense to absolve himself of suspicion when he fucks with them 💀 LIKE HE SORTA ShAMES THEM WhEN THEY QuESTION WHY HE DIDN’T CORRECT THE DiRECTION THRY WERE SiTTING TO ROW.

TRICKING RIDDLE AND MALLEUS INTO SHOUTING “Fight on, fight on!! Go, go!!” AND ALSO SING WHILE THEY ROW while having completely serious facial expressions… and getting Yuu to record all of this silliness for posterity 😭

He taught Riddle and Malleus how to row in a straight line but not how to get back… and let them row so far out that they struggle to hear his other directions from the pier.

aHHHHHhHHhhHGgggghhhhhhHHHHHHH J WORD ROWING THE rOWBOaT FOR US IN THE RHYTHMiC, THE KISS THE GIRL RHyTHMICCCCCCCC 🙂‍↕️ HE’S PriNCE ERIC, HEm’S pRINCE ERiCING SO HARD RitFHT NOW 🗣️ (Yuu has a dialogue option after the Rhythmic; YOU CAN CALL YOUR EXPERIENCE “romantic”, THIS IS NOT A DRILL)

Jade speaks Italian this event!!! It’s not full sentences, mostly just short phrases (primo piatto, secondo piatto) and words (ristorante, taverna, names of dishes, etc.) dhshwjdvkekw BUT I STILL FIND IT CHARMING, OKAY.

The way Georgina comments that Jade has gotten very good at using cutlery?? Implying he used to be so much clumsier?? Yeah, I know we all start off with no knowledge but this is significant because his twin, Floyd, just wings everything and can do so well with minimal effort sometimes. Floyd is a genius—but Jade is not. Jade has to work hard to be good at stuff, it doesn’t come naturally to him—and I think that’s really admirable.

Some of his responses to Yuu dialogue choices are cute 😭 Some standout moments: 1) if Yuu says they didn’t recognize Jade with his new hair, he says he must have Yuu get to know him better 2) if Yuu is successful at catching a crab, Jade suggests that they go after bigger game someday do you count as bigger game, Jade—, 3) if Yuu expresses hesitation to dance, Jade essentially replies with, “Not to worry, I will take the lead. No matter how bad you are [at dancing], I will support you.” STONE COLD backhanded kindness 🫣

Jade gets nostalgic seeing all the townspeople dancing in the plaza… It reminded him of when he was clumsy with his feet. Watching those mesmerizing movements gave him the motivation he needed to keep practicing walking and then eventually running. Again, another example of Jade having to work really hard to get to where he currently is!!

Georgina calling her own sons [name]-san (an honorific usually for strangers or to indicate politeness) kills me every time 😂 ShE’s WVEN MORE FORmAL ThAN JADE. I wonder if he intentionally tries to emulate her mannerisms???

HE PRACTICED SLICKING BACK HIS HAIR FOR THIS WEDdiNG?????!?!!?!

Practicing pushing his hair back/styling it for this very event 😭

HIM TELLING GRIM THEY RAISED tHE ShIP IN THE BOTTLE FRom a BABY ShiP 🚢

My favorite moment in this event (so far) is during the dance in Port Inn Plaza. The locals see the NRC students dancing and begin to join in the dance!! Jade smiles to himself and says that this feels so exhilarating; it’s something he couldn’t ever have imagined in the past. “Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful memories.” *SLAMS HEAD INTO THE WALL* ARE YOU kliDDING ME???!!??!!!!!??????? OTL J word, this conniving liar and manipulator, ACTUALLY BEING sENTiMENTAL AnD EARnEST FOR ONCE?????? YOU MIGHT As WELL KiLL ME NOW, TGAT WOULD cAUSE mE LESS EMOTIONAL DiSTRESS.

He’s having so much fun and living his best life out here, it’s great seeing him being in his full element 😭

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiii! Could you write a one shot with both Caracalla and Geta? The idea is that the reader is their favorite concubine (or legit their wife idk if that's how it works lmfaooo) but she's a witch? Like she's an oracle or something, they keep her around because she brings them luck and what not (they also kinda love her but they're both insane so...)

No worries if you don't want to write this!

The oracle of the emperors

Geta/Caracalla x witch!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, power inequality, kissing, mention of smut (light smutish), family issues

Summary : In times of war, one had to resort to everything, be it rationing, ambushes, burning or fetching the walking omniscient shadow from the alleys of Rome. An oracle surrounded the two emperors and was so much more to them than just a surrogate for the gods.

info : I love the idea, almost an au in Gladiator (maybe more someday) thanks for the request and have fun reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rome was a world city, an empire for decades no for centuries, it would outlast all time. Everything would fall to make way for the glorious holy roman empire and no one would stop it, no country, no army, you just had to keep conquering and conquering.

An idea, a thought, a dream that had burned itself into the minds of the two emperors - they wanted more, had to and needed more. The reign of Geta and Caracalla was to be glorious, but the body cannot bear what the mind dreams of, especially not when its own warlord threatens to withdraw.

You can't keep a man from dying for a lifetime without risking his downfall, a fact that the two also saw...but if the fighting force failed, what could be done to win more easily and quickly?

Gods, oracles and witches, the supernatural, that which could see more than only man could see.

Since the conquests, the oracles had only predicted victories, but why did more and more bases go under, why did the harvests come to an end and why did the emperor's gold seem to dwindle?

Wrong answers were punished with death and the temples remained mostly empty, the only thing that was known to help was the shadow of Rome, the woman who was found before she was even looked for.

Her figure emerged from the streets wrapped in the dark fabric, the rustling of the small bones in her pouch accompanying her as the people looked at her in awe, as much as she was feared she was revered, ,,The sound of water will bring you a poet, just as these bones of death brought me to you...my honorable emperors” she greeted them as she came up the stairs to the palace and saw the golden gods in human form.

Of one she had dreamed his gold would cover the Senate like blood that would not stop flowing and the other she had seen an agonizing spirit that would perish along with all of Rome.

,,You will be placed in our service, no harm shall come to you as long as your words are of use to us,” Geta assured her as he showed her a bedchamber larger than anything she had ever had and still needed some work, for as much as she saw and heard them all, she knew how to interpret the looks in their eyes.

And the looks of the brothers were full of desire.

After a very short time she was surrounded only by the two of them, hardly any other servants or concubines, the campaign was victorious as she had predicted, but her warning also came true.

It only took a full moon for the “poet” to arrive inside the palace and she saw the amused look on Caracalla's face as he grabbed her hand, ,,You predicted it!” he said, and his brother looked at her, a look she took as respect.

When they were with the brothers during the day, she was with Geta, his hand at her side, the human god who wanted to be closer to Olympus through her, ,,You belong to me, here, in the Senate and out there,” he reminded her whenever they took up political matters.

Dark eyes with make-up looked at her whenever she moved the figures on the map, whenever she whispered her proposal to him in the senate and when he drew her to his bedchamber.

Why should she say no? Even a fool would have slept with the most powerful man whose voice was almost as intoxicating as his body, his kiss intense he wanted this power she had, his gold soon adorning her too, gifts in the hope that she would stay with him, touches of lust, he desired her power and beauty until the day she asked the question.

The fire turned bluish and she heard the cry of a monkey asking him, ,,You speak of belonging but this mine, is it none of your brother the Emperor Caracalla's concern?" a question that drove him from her, his face became incredulous and she saw the disbelief in his eyes.

He felt betrayed.

A betrayal she thought he would spear away, but her last prediction that this mine would mean his end must have frightened him, frightened and almost more God-given.

The gifts of gem and gold he made sure she wore, as much as he tried to hold it back she belonged to one god and not two at the same time.

Geta would spend hours in the temples, making people feel at ease and being addressed as a god. it was during these days and weeks that the monkey Dundus would often run up to her and she would see the uncertain look on Caracalla's face.

As much as he was fascinated, he was also afraid of her, ,,Witches are a bad omen...but you helped us,” the younger one said as he ventured into her room and watched, curious about what she was doing there.

Instead of luring him with physical devotion like his brother, she put a motherly smile on her lips, ,,Look even I can make fruit dance” she lured him and he sat down on her chair while she instructed him to close his eyes, she mixed a few simple tinctures and dripped them on the grapes.

A simple reaction of plants, but for Caracalla, who clapped his hands in delight, it was worth almost as much as the whole of Rome, ,,You see, I can't be angry at all, my sweet king,” she murmured to him and hugged him carefully, an embrace he wanted more and more from then on. during the day she belonged to Geta, who soon ignored her warning.

Why listen to a witch when he was a god? The jewelry covered her body, his love visible on her body and at night she took care of the younger one, so much pain and suffering as she held him like a child who would soon take advantage of her when his madness took over, ,,His gold, his jewelry but you're mine, aren't you? I need you alone, not shared,” he ordered, fingers clutching hers helplessly.

A question she answered with a kiss and the game between the two emperors continued to grow daily. The bones in her bowl became more and more when she made new predictions and she went from a god to a delusional one whenever one of them needed her.

Gold and make-up adorned her body and whenever Geta and Caracalla met it seemed as if Rome was on the verge of collapse.

In the midst of this they stood, the most influential authority taking on the two emperors while Rome changed around them, brothers not seeing that the shadow had closed in around them when the first thought had fallen upon them.

She felt at home in the madness of the two and the threads that held everything together, because no one could separate such a love. Yet to everyone else outside the palace she was nothing more than the concubine of the brothers Emperor Geta and Caracalla.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[1yr4sp10d3]

hellohello girl your mark post was just UGH😫😫 yes had me thinking about it for DAYYSSSS then my acc got randomly deleted thats neither here nor there!!

your honor, if i may be freaky on record and request some mark smut where the reader is busy, homework/work work or like hero work wtvr and mark is just so in love and so needy and SUCH a nuisance and maybe reader’s a lil mean so she gives him her free hand and says go wild

i just know mans would not hesitate popping fingers in his mouth until they’re pruney *the jury gasps*

a/n: sorry this took so long i’ve just been busy with gymnastics practice and homework and stuff with school, and im on spring break now so im free but i have to clean my eoom so my friend can come over on thursday so we can go to the beach and have a sleepover 😟 so im putting off cleaning by writing a bunch of asks in my inbox 😭

You were sat on your bed, back propped on the headboard, working on some homework you needed to finish up on. Mark was laying on his tummy towards the foot of the bed, on his phone, sighing loudly every once in a while when you weren’t paying attention to him.

After a bit, you turn to look at him with an unimpressed look on your face. “What do you want?” You ask, annoyed by his silent complaining. He just shrugs slightly, having the nerve to play dumb.

“I dunno.” He says, staring at you with those wide puppy eyes, like you’d hung the moon and the stars just for him. Your face scrunches up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

You side eye him.

“Like you’re about to cum in your pants from me just looking at you.” You say, shaking your head in mock disappointment. His face flushes and he splutters indignantly.

“Am not!” You just roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay. Get over here.” You say, snapping your fingers and to the spot next to you, on the side that you weren’t using to write. He automatically put his phone down, crawling across the bed to you.

He settles next to you, curling into your side and resting his head on your shoulder, peering up at you. Big brown puppy eyes staring up at you pleadingly, and you coo, placing a hand in his lap.

“Oh, you poor thing.” You murmur mockingly as you feel the tent in his sweatpants. How long had he been sitting here, suffering silently? Probably a while, if the damp patch in his sweats was anything to go by.

“There you go, baby. Is this what you needed?” You ask, smiling as he nods his head and presses his face into your shoulder.

You gently help him push down his sweats, humming as his cock springs free, hand and leaking, the tip flushed an angry red.

You wrap your hand around him, listening to him let out a small little noise. You thumb at his tip for a moment, pushing around the slick precum that had built up before loosely wrapping your hand around him, smiling gently at him.

“There you go, baby. Take what you need.”

He lifts his hips up, shallowly thrusting into your hand until he cums all over himself. It didn’t take him long, since he was already so worked up and sensitive. He cums with a whiny moan his eyes rolling back slightly as he presses his face into your shoulder, his hips giving a few more shallow thrusts.

You pull your attention away from your work fully for the first time, coping and pushing his hair from his forehead.

“Poor thing.” You say teasingly, taking in his wrecked appearance, giving him a kiss on the forehead before letting him curl up into your side.

a/n: can you tell i have NO idea how to end this stuff? Also, sorry if you can tell i kind of like not unmotivated but like idk how else to describe it. this did kinda give me inspo for another freaky mark fic 😈😈 kinda like this but leg humping 😈 not foot stuff!!! i don’t like that. but leg stuff. i hope im not the only person who thinks its kinda hot 😈😈

[pomefioredove]

okay after reading all the goth hc, I gotta ask. how do you think the guys would react (any of them but preferred Floyd and Idia ) to playing them goth music/show them a trad goth outfit/makeup look (suprise them maybe? For example: I hc Leona to just have the least slay music taste to mankind (beastmankind?) so you play him- idk let’s say Lebanon Hanover, and he’s like “wtf is this herbivore?” But then he kinda gets into it. no pressure to write for it btw!

-✨♥️✨

ANON I was literally thinking about making a post like this a few days before this ask... you have my heart. I'm doing a full post

summary: nrc boys and goth type of post: headcanons characters: nrc students additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, half-headcanons half-x reader author's note: I'm assuming that goth as a subculture and a music scene already exists in this world. this post is also mostly about the music scene

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Riddle is essentially a baby bat

he's like, two bad life choices away from going full victorian goth at any given moment

he flat out refuses to listen to anything "vulgar" but secretly adores the dark, poetic side to goth

he's also morbidly obsessed with death, being a sad victorian boy and the child of two doctors. it works

as much as I hate to say it, Ace starts out as the kind of guy to say he wants a "goth gf" on multiple occasions

he proudly announces it to everyone at an unbirthday party once and Riddle almost kills him for being annoying for interrupting

thinks the music is too sad

...but he mellows out eventually (your influence)

both Deuce and Trey are not particularly interested

(Deuce leaned into punk music as a preteen but has since "given it up" because it's too unruly for an aspiring honors student, in his opinion)

Cater inexplicably already knows a lot about goth

won't talk about it unless you bring it up first but if you play him something semi-popular

he'll be like "oh yeah I know that one"

he has a few songs on his playlist he listens to when he's alone

is a goth magnet himself. pulls many hot goths. no one knows how

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jack is also not really into it. not his thing

however I can see him secretly being into emo

make of that what you will

and Ruggie will never pass you the aux again. he calls it "halloween music"

Leona acts thoroughly uninterested for a long time

like, he'll listen to the music you give him, but doesn't really say whether he likes it or not

says he doesn't care about the scene (thinks it's too pretentious)

and pretends to be annoyed when you give him more song recs

but he gets into it. he starts listening on his own

he has a definite preference for gothic rock

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jade is already goth (to me at least)

and very eager to talk about his favorite bands

loves giving recommendations

apparently the coral sea has its own goth subgenres and bands, which sound... much different from land ones

Floyd will listen (has listened, thanks to his brother) but he doesn't particularly care

he much prefers the aesthetic, it reminds him of home

...being that he's from the deep sea, where it's dark and cold

the flowy, dark, elegant looks are just enchanting to him. he can't keep his eyes off it

Azul couldn't be bothered

he's willing to learn, but isn't a huge fan of the general... strangeness

(he doesn't really understand why anyone would want to be perceived as strange in the first place)

and the music is so unmelodic to him

"that was just a man moaning and a gate creaking for seven minutes" and then he bans you from his office

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim literally listens to goth already

I don't know how to explain it but I know he does

it's so funny because he never ever dresses goth or acts stereotypically goth but every once in a while he'll be like "who wants to hear my new favorite song? :D" and it's like, alien sex fiend. and no one can say anything about it

Jamil is an appreciator

depending on what you show him, he could really get into the lyricism and general mood

...if only because he finds goth dancing absolutely mesmerizing

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rook is goth

he only dresses the part sometimes, but he's always been very passionate about the poetic elements of the music

...really into french coldwave

in terms of fashion he leans romantic goth

it just makes sense to me. he could find beauty in absolutely anything, and the dark and macabre are no exception

will talk your ear off about his favorite bands if you give him the chance

Vil is really more into the style than the music

he's dabbled in a little bit of everything; trad goth, romantic goth, medieval goth. he pulls all of it off

honestly, if anything, the gothic style compliments his features and tastes more than anything

he has such a respect for the subculture and the dedication that goes into the visual elements

Epel doesn't get it. sorry 😔

he will listen to the music you recommend because he cares about you, but he just doesn't like it

he's in the same boat as Azul. "was that a slide whistle?"

absolutely baffled, but he likes you and it's a small price to pay for your happiness

(and he thinks the fashion is too androgynous for his tastes)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I feel like Idia also used to think he wanted a goth until he saw the e-girl vs goth discourse, freaked out, then spent two weeks reading about different subcultures

...still wants a goth partner

but now he actually knows what that means

will listen to any music you give him out of respect (fear) and won't say anything about whatever weird taxidermy-related hobby you have

he's surrounded by death all the time anyway who cares

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you could get Silver to listen to the cure's entire discography and he'd come out of it really enjoying just like heaven and nothing else

it's just... not for him

(plus the slower songs put him to sleep)

Malleus somehow hasn't even heard of goth as a genre when you approach him

he is. a little disappointed it's not music about the architecture style

but he still warms up to it, especially as someone who enjoys finding the beauty in the dark and misunderstood

you can fix him. you can goth him.

Sebek joins only after everyone in Diasomnia gets in on it with you (he doesn't like being left out)

he loves it because silver doesn't and malleus does

peepaw Lilia is an old goth

he was around when the music scene started, and he also remembers the literature movement it was named after, and the popular architecture style that was named after, and...

...you get it

still, he's always pleased to learn about new bands and subgenres and styles and the like

could and will talk about it for hours and hours with you

he dresses the part, too

we love him

[bunni-v1]

Genshin College Au (Intro)

Bunni College AU take. These are just a dump of thoughts. I wanted to include more characters but there's only so much my little brain can handle. You can also def tell who my favorites are so, uh, shut up. Idk if I'll continue this, idk if I even like what I wrote, don't be mean to me, please. Anyway, enjoy!

TW: Mention of Alchohol and Drug use; Suggestive in Navia's part

Info: Navia x Reader; Wriothesely x Reader; Alhaitham & Kaveh x Reader; Eula x Reader; Venti x Reader; Kazuha x Reader; Childe x Reader; Ifa x Reader

Sumeru Academia (Graduate Branch), the pride of Teyvat. A collection of the greatest minds spanning from the windy peaks of Mondstat to the fiery pits of Natlan. Students come from across the world just to study in its grand halls, all yearning for the honor of being added to the list of greats who came from the prestigious academy.

You were no different, of course, having left your home as soon as you could after receiving your acceptance letter. Bright and starry-eyed, you couldn't wait to finally finally start your time there. Moved into your dorm, books bought, and closet fresh just for your new life here. You really had thought of everything! Everything except... well... your social life.

None of your friends had managed to get in, so you were completely alone. You didn't want to let it stop you, though! So what if you were socially awkward and a bit in over your head, you got into Sumeru Academia, you could do anything you wanted to if you set your mind to it. Even making friends.

What you didn't expect, though, was to collect a harem instead. You were confident you were pretty cute, but... certainly not cute enough to have so many people vying for your attention. Yet, you did. You had managed to put yourself on a lot of people's radars, and while it was nice to have so much attention... it was starting to get in the way of your studies.

The first delightful face you meet is Navia. Your roommate and fellow first year. Her bright and bubbly personality made her easy to get along with, and you found it very easy to talk to her despite your awkwardness. She was far more outgoing than you were, which was great, forcing you to get out of your shell and explore the campus and Sumeru City. You already found yourself having sleepless nights gossiping with her, playing with each other's hair, doing each other's nails, all the cute girly things you'd expect from someone like her. She always made you feel so pretty, complimenting you no matter if you were dressed for the clubs or in your nightshirt with messy hair. The way she protects you from creeps is so sweet, always checking in with you and walking you to and from classes when she can. It was obvious she wanted nothing but the best for you, and you thought it was all friendly bantering... until one night. You were up chatting, it was three in the morning and both of you had an 8AM, and neither of you was completely sober. You don't know how it happened, but one second you were giggling about your annoying professors and the next you were making out with her. It probably wasn't a good idea, but she tasted like buttercream frosting and the sweet wine you'd been sipping on, you couldn't stop yourself from letting her tongue slip into your mouth. It's all a blur, really, but you wake up in her bed curled up in her arms and you think that it's not so bad. It was Navia after all.

The next person you'd met was enigmatic, and constantly tired Wriothesley. He was something of a local legend around campus, the tall buff law student with a permanent RBF and eyebags so heavy they could make you yawn at just the sight. You'd only found yourself in his intimidating presence thanks to Navia, who'd known him through one of her friends back home in Fontaine. It took you a long time to warm up to him, his reputation wasn't there for no reason, but once you gave him a chance you were positively charmed. Wriothesley was funny, clever in the way only someone in his field could be. He had a way of making you laugh without really having to try, and you'd always felt safe when he offered to walk you and Navia back to your dorm after spending too long out together. Truly you'd never hung out on one with him before, too nervous the conversation wouldn't flow too well, but when Navia gets sick right before a scheduled study session you feel too bad to cancel on him. So you haul your mousy ass all the way to the cafe on campus and explain the situation to him. You really expect him to reschedule, but he doesn't. In fact, he sits his ass right down next to you where Navia usually would be and talks to you like it's nothing. He even manages to sneakily pay for your drink without you realizing. It's, possibly, the least productive study session you'd ever had, but you can't complain when he's smiling at you like some kind of rugged prince. He even gives you his coat when you start shivering on the walk home, ever the gentleman. You only realize he'd forgotten it when Navia asks about it, too lost in your daydreams about how romantic he was all night.

Your next love interest came in a pair - well, not initially. Kaveh was your academic mentor, there to help you along with your classes and make sure your first year as an Academia student went smoothly. He was your reliable upperclassman, someone who'd helped you out plenty, but not someone you'd considered an option for a friend. He was technically in charge of you, right? That was until you met his shadow, Alhaitham, and more aptly, you watched said shadow completely destroy the calm and collected facade you'd always seen Kaveh hold. It was funny, really, watching how fast Kaveh got pissed at Alhaitham for simply scolding him for forgetting his keys. Calling him forgetful and insulting his scatterbrained tendencies. No amount of damage control would get you to forget what you saw, so Kaveh regrettably gave up the fight and just let you know just how much of a mess he was. Swamped with work, in debt from scholarship money, and completely exhausted. You'd gone out of your way since then to bring him an energy drink every time you saw him, delighted when his face lit up at the offering. It was odd how easily the two of them became a frequent part of your daily routine, usually ending your nights heading over to their (Alhaitham's, he always insisted it was his apartment that he allowed Kaveh to live in) apartment to hang out - usually watching shitty B-list movies and picking them apart for fun. (It was Alhaitham's favorite pasttime, and the only time you'd ever see Kaveh relax). Alhaitham, despite his abrasive first impression, was easy to get along once you understood how he worked. He liked quiet while he worked on things, he didn't like being bothered, and he liked to relax. Quite the opposite of the ever-stressed Kaveh. You'd fallen asleep during your movie marathons far too many times, somehow always waking up in one of their beds, tucked in while the other slept on the couch.

You had met Eula by complete accident and made quite the fool out of yourself in the process. Everyone knew not to bother using study room five in the hub during midterms, that was Eula's room. She always went to it, she studied for three hours, and then she left to get dinner before bed. Everyone knew that. Everyone but you, of course. You had a huge project coming up that you had, of course, neglected until the last minute. So with a six-pack of Red Bull, your computer, and a dream you'd reserved study room five for the night intent on getting it done in one go. That was, apparently, not a good idea as about twenty minutes into your session someone knocked on your door. Eula Lawrence was nothing short of annoyed as she peered down at you, the freshman stupid enough to take her study room. Why, it was inexcusable, unheard of even for her to be so blatantly disrespected. Yet, when you offered to just share the room with her, all the sharp words died on her tongue. She simply strutted in with a flip of her hair and a huff. It was hard to pay attention to your task with such a pretty person across from you, her concentrated features burning into your mind, and you were sure you'd be dreaming of her that night. Still, with four Red Bulls down and fifteen minutes left on the submission time, you'd managed to complete your project just as she closed up her book. It's a shock when she offers to buy you dinner when she finally looks up at you, it's even more shocking when she huffily gives you her phone number and requests that you join her again sometime soon.

There is one class that you never seem to enjoy, and that's poetry. You didn't have any issue with poetry itself, nor were you bad at it, just... the professor was the worst. The workload was ungodly, and the free elective you'd selected had become more stressful than your main class load. The only thing that seemed to make it bearable was your seatmate, Venti. He was a real hotshot with the poem stuff, and musically talented too, not to mention the funniest guy you'd ever met. He always had something to say about your professor that got the two of you in trouble for giggling too loud more than a few times. You only ever saw him in the class, but that 12:00-1:10 period went from your least favorite time to one of your most anticipated. An in-class tryst that you expected to stay that way. Until, of course, Venti asked you out of your first official unofficial date. He'd gotten you tickets to see his band play downtown, and while it might not be super romantic, it was the first time anyone had ever asked you out before. He'd catch your eyes in the crowd and you swear you saw his grin widening when you'd wave excitedly at him from the crowd. He even let you meet his band!

That's how you met Kazuha the lead guitarist and quite a heartthrob. He had a way with words that left your head spinning in confusion. Was he flirting, was he high, you had no idea. All you knew is he was cute and really sweet. He didn't technically attend the Academia, but he sat in on classes all the time. He was infamous for sneaking around campus and seeing what he could get away with before someone realized he wasn't supposed to be there. After meeting him, he started to show up around your classes a lot more, sometimes even walking with you between them and sitting in the back with you. He always had something poetic to say when you complained to him about classes or the campus, and while you didn't always understand the underlying meaning, you appreciated his flowery words regardless. He always went out of his way to compliment you on something new every day, making your heart race and face heat up in a way you hoped wasn't obvious. He was so constant in your life that you nearly forgot he wasn't supposed to be there until you had to pretend he was your boyfriend to get public safety off his case. He'd stuck with that story ever since, always introducing himself as your boyfriend to strangers with a cheeky smile... which only went over well with so many people...

Being as much of a recluse as you were, it was surprising to find that you'd caught the eye of the basketball team captain. Childe had completely ruined your favorite shirt barreling through the cafeteria one day, spilling greasy taco meat down the front of it in his rush to get to his table. He'd felt so bad that he not only cleaned you up but ditched his team to sit with you and keep you company since you usually ate alone. The gesture you'd expected to be a one-time thing happened now every Wednesday and Friday during your free period for lunch. He was flirty, but that didn't get in the way of his genuineness. He was a very heart-on-the-sleeve kind of guy, able to charm you with his straightforwardness and lighthearted teasing. Everyone you knew told you to keep your distance from him, but you couldn't help but like him! He was sweet, funny, caring, and not to mention pretty handsome. You just didn't know what was so bad about him. Not until you saw it firsthand. Being harassed by some creep as you walked to lunch as usual, you figured it would be over as soon as you got in and got to your regular table. You're quite surprised to hear Childe shouting after the guy accosting you, and more shocked when a loud crack sounds from his fist hitting the guy straight in the jaw. You spend your free period that day patching Childe up and scolding him for being reckless, even if it was helpful. With a fighting spirit like that, you'd have to be careful on what you let happen around him - sevens forbid he see you and Kazuha and mistake it for harassment from some random civilian.

Your one saving grace from all of this was the quiet of the cafe deep in the heart of Sumeru City. Its warm and inviting atmosphere was the perfect getaway from classes and people. Just you, the music, and a nice hot cup of coffee... and the super cute guy you had a secret crush on. You felt a bit like a stalker, watching him from a distance as he slaved over medical textbooks and endless notes, but he was just in your line of sight. It's not like you hadn't caught him staring a couple times before either, so at least you weren't the only one doing it. You don't know his name or anything about him, but you know that he goes to the same cafe as you every weekend and studies there way past when you leave. It's only by chance, and by that you mean bird, that you manage to finally talk to the handsome stranger. His cheeky little pet bird lands right on your shoulder as you walk around campus one day. Cacucu, as you learn, was Ifa's pet bird who had a knack for getting out of his dorm thanks to his forgetful roommate Ororon. He was a vet student in his fourth year at the academia, and it showed on his face, handsome features worn down from years of studying endlessly. It didn't take away from how attractive he really was, though, and was he attractive up close. As an apology for his bird bothering you, he bought you your next cup of coffee from the cafe. It was the first night you'd seen him there that he wasn't studying, instead, focused on talking to you. From then on. everytime he'd see you come in, he'd invite you to his table and chat until you got up and left. He'd complain about his roommate and Cacucu keeping him up until six in the morning, and you'd vent your woes about classes and personal drama. A symbiotic relationship of sorts formed between the two of you, becoming one another's sense of freedom from life stressors. It was so nice, in fact, that Ifa had asked you out. Not like Venti did, where it was implied, no. Ifa asked you out on a real date at a real restaurant with real flowers! It was all so perfect! Until, of course, news of it got out to the others.

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, He’s a loser your honor!!!

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost. 

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die. 

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows. 

You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting. 

After, he’s like a raging bull. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home. 

You wonder about her. 

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. A brother far away in Wyoming, Maria tells you later. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.” 

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him. 

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information. 

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor. 

You wonder if her sickness might be a baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself. 

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near. 

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts. 

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years. 

And you’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. Going out of your way to avoid him is childish when you’re supposed to be here to get to know people. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still, even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife. 

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat. 

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly. 

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs that catch you anyways. 

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?” 

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology. 

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry. 

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain. 

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow. 

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass. 

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there. 

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears. 

His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more. 

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips. 

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural. 

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. Turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior, likely, and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality. 

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years. 

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so. 

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him even when you didn’t want to. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain. 

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next. 

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it. 

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him. 

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home, then?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. You breathe him in deeply. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding. 

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” The way he says it, like a question—he’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard. 

“No…” the click of his tongue snaps you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be. 

“Do you hate each other?” you ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like. 

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too. 

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.” 

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery. 

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject. 

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him. 

-

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.” 

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart. 

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” you beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty. 

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession. 

He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.  

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned dangerous. 

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?” 

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.  

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence. 

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.” 

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.” 

And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it. 

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive. 

A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air. 

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere. 

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs. 

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?” 

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate. 

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Like an alpha. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant. 

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation. 

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” 

Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control. 

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it. 

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.” 

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine. 

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways. 

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God. 

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours. 

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied, scent mounting.

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust. 

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday. 

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he finally looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks. 

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions. 

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath. 

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious, himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself. 

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back. 

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.” 

And Joel suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy. 

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him. 

“Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t. 

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them. 

A miracle move on drug, is what she calls it. 

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all. 

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.” 

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.” 

Joel hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words. 

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look. 

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you. 

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are. 

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat. 

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now. 

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he thinks he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more. 

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms. 

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom. 

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s stalking after the sound of your crying. 

-

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown. 

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten. 

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering half-scream. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. Baby baby baby. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid. 

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.” 

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow, cringing with mortification at his crass words. 

“Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment. 

“Then how?”

You flush hotter, so embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help me.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down. In a rush of air out of your nose, it’s all okay. 

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly. 

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. A frightened thing. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan. 

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast. 

“Yes.” 

His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin. 

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear. 

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, acknowledging what it is that will now happen between the two of you soon, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your backside. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—” 

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say. 

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes. 

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another, he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt. 

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him. 

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis. 

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine. 

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair. 

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you. 

“Right there?” He hums. 

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning. 

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope. 

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching sex, and the frightened slam of a door. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[kiyo-cant-write]

hi hi! jade req again, kinda toxic this time

can we get jade with a reader who’s really easy to manipulate and they know it? idk if it makes sense but like jade realizing reader isn’t oblivious to his manipulation, just kinda self-destructive and hopelessly into him

jade thought he was being slick because reader wasn’t calling him out on anything, but he overhears their conversation and finds out that they’re fully aware jade is a ton of red flags but is still staying anyway, and his reaction to that

i really hope this makes sense! idk how to word it

jade w/ an easily manipulated reader ✧･ﾟ

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Aw! Thank you for another request! I love Jade and Octavinelle so much! I hope that I did your idea justice. Please let me know if you'd like another request in the future! Onwards to the story! ^^

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Summary: Jade Leech has been stringing [Name] along for fun and due to the instruction of Octavinelle's Housewarden. He thought he was doing well... but it seems [Name] may have had ulterior motives.

TW/CW: Toxicity but the standard Fish Mafia kind

Notes: established "relationship", they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, the reader is described as human and younger than Jade/frosh, ADeuce if you squint, implied to be post-Azul OB

Guest Stars: Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Grim, Azul Ashengrotto & Floyd Leech (referenced)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Jade Leech

As much of a sadist as Jade can be, he's not exceptionally cruel outside of what he deems as the necessity for his purposes.

He is a bit smug when he thinks he has [Name] under control.

Jade is pretending to be "honor student Jade Leech."

He acts as their friend and support albeit for the Lounge.

He pretends to care, to do everything to help them.

He smiles at them, speaks politely, and even "affectionately."

They trust him and they tell him things they shouldn't.

He will use those bits of information when the time comes.

Every time they have an inkling of doubt, he squashes it.

His surprise is evident when Floyd points out that it might not be the case this time, but Floyd is Floyd and doesn't explain.

Wanting to make sense of this discovery, Jade observes [Name].

He watches to see if [Name] really has caught onto him.

Jade is intrigued and what he finds does not disappoint.

He is surprised to find that they caught on long ago.

But they stayed? Why?

Because they "love" him?

Why would they love the guy trying to string them along?

It didn't make sense to him. He felt a tug at his heartstrings.

Did he feel bad about this?

He didn't know what to do.

Jade starts to avoid [Name] after realizing their feelings.

He retracts further into his honor student persona.

[Name] will not win this fight. He will not be bested by a freshman.

The battle has just begun and Jade needs to bury this sinking feeling in his chest. What does it mean anyway?

Floyd serves as a live studio audience to Jade's struggles.

Jade is an observer. That had been his role for so long, that he wasn't sure when it began. Ever since he was young, he would watch and calculate while Floyd was the type to rush into things, be impulsive, and just a tad stupid at times, at least when they were young. Jade never intended to make his observations a skill, but sooner or later, everything becomes an asset.

That's what his father had always said.

His mother worried about the sadistic streak in her son, but she couldn't do anything to prevent its development. Jade was, after all, a member of the Leech family. He and Floyd would join the family business sooner or later unless they wholly refused its offer.

"[Full Name]," Jade mused to himself, "How interesting."

Azul had been the one to ask him to pay extra close attention to Ramshackle's Prefect in case they strayed too far from things, or got into any trouble. The magicless human that had saved others from themselves, they interested the owner of Mostro Lounge. Jade had simply agreed with Azul's request, observation was his skill, after all.

It had never been meant to evolve, and certainly not into this.

Jade watched as this person fell for his polite words hook, line, and sinker. It was almost too easy. They were shockingly trusting, telling him all sorts of things he could use to be downright evil if he wanted to be. It wasn't time for that, not yet, but one should always guard their secrets (perhaps not as much as Azul, but at least a bit).

He didn't need to do anything unless the moment called for it.

At the time, it had not been necessary.

That was weeks ago.

Azul hadn't given further instructions and, to be fair about it, Jade didn't want to earn that octomer's ire. Not today, anyway. He and Floyd were troublesome, yes, but not stupid.

So, as Azul had instructed, he was trailing the Prefect until told otherwise (or until it became boring, whichever arose first). Though their reactions had been predictable, he could argue that things were getting boring now.

Floyd would have given up ages ago, he was sure of it.

[Full Name] was currently spending their time with their classmates, Ace Trappola (easily swayed by competition and bets) and Deuce Spade (note: gullible as a child). Jade had kept an eye on the three of them (and Grim) because of their closeness. It was rather irritating how buddy-buddy they were. He had worked a bit to get [Name] alone those few times they had spoken privately.

Standing away from the trio, Jade listened in on their conversation.

"[Name], I don't think that this is good," Deuce told them, clearly worried for their friend's mental state, "You need to be more careful. Don't you remember what happened to me and Ace?"

"I fucking remember!" Ace chimed in, "It sucked. Don't trust fish."

"Nya! Fish are food, not friends," Grim told them, "Especially eels!"

"Ah... You guys..."

Jade almost wanted to chuckle at Grim's words of "wisdom" but he withheld it, knowing that he mustn't give away his position. Not yet.

"You shouldn't trust Leech-senpai," Deuce continued, "Do you not remember how he and his twin brother acted before?"

"THEY TRIED TO KILL US, [NICKNAME]!!" Ace interrupted Deuce, earning him a glare from the navy-haired boy, "Sorry, Deuce-chan."

"Don't call me that."

What Deuce was doing could only be described as glowering.

"Lighten up and help me convince [Nickname] not to get themselves murdered by a shady eel and a shadier octopus!" Ace told him, slapping Deuce on the shoulder, "Just because they're better doesn't mean they're changed fish! Fish are suspicious!"

"Ace, do you have some fish-related trauma outside of campus that I should know about?" Deuce asked him, "It's starting to seem—"

"FOCUS ON [NICKNAME], DEUCE."

Ace's reddened face was a sign that Deuce was on to something with that fishy nonsense. Jade Leech would remember that fact.

Fish trauma. Noted.

"....Okay," Deuce agreed, turning back to [Name], "Do you want to tell us what you've been doing with Leech-senpai? We're worried..."

Deuce trailed off for a moment before he added a Deuce-typical offer.

"I can fight him if you want me to. They're messing with my friend."

"N-no thanks, Deuce... I don't think I need that," [Name] said, laughing at the antics of her friends and roommate, "Honestly, I know he's not being honest with me... But I don't really... care?"

The words surprised Jade but he refused to give himself away. There was more information to be gathered, for his own needs and Azul's.

They don't mind my dishonesty? Heh...

"I have never been more concerned for you than I am right now," Ace said, tone lacking its usual goofy undertone, "Do you want me to tell Mom and Dad about anything? They would help..."

Ace wasn't sure what to do but this was a worry. So frantic to say his sentence Ace neglected to register his misnomer for Vice Housewarden Trey Clover and everyone's favorite senpai Cater Diamond. He could lay awake and think about that later.

Deuce clearly felt similarly as he reached out to put a hand on [Name]'s. He wasn't good at solving problems of the emotional variety but he could be a support. Or, he would try to be one.

"Even if we can't say anything helpful... We can be here to listen."

"I appreciate it, but I'm fine," [Name] tried to assure them (but it wasn't working), "I just... I like Jade-senpai... and if this is how... he will talk to me... then I am okay with it. I've just been going along with all... that."

Jade felt time stop for a millisecond as he processed the words. They had been "playing along"? They didn't fall for every trick? Perhaps this was more interesting than he had thought. Still. He didn't like being bested, perhaps he needed to up his game...

"[Name], that's not good... I don't think..." Deuce managed.

"I wish Mom and Dad were here..." Ace mumbled.

"[Name], don't leave me for a fish! It's not even tuna!"

Grim clung to his human with small paws, tail swishing.

Jade was baffled not by those that Azul had previously controlled but by [Name] themself. They were something odd amongst the students of Night Raven College. They didn't shy away from his... methods.

But they said they liked him. He wondered if that made him feel something. He wasn't one to like other people, stay around them long... especially these landfolk.

It was a foreign concept.

Oh dear. [Full Name], you've managed to intrigue me now.

To the concern of Deuce, Ace, and Grim, Jade Leech wouldn't be letting his human prey go any time soon. Not for Azul, or his brother... This was something he was pursuing now. For better or worse.

I hope they're prepared to best me once more.

What would they say if I said I "loved" them? ♪

.

Imagine the rest for yourself~

.

.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[the-s1lly-corner]

May we get some general dating headcanons with Ticci Toby Masky and Hoodie please :)?

Dating the proxies

I'm more than sure that I've written these hcs for masky and hoodie before like way back when this blog was first made but ykw imma make new ones.. or not, idk I'm not rereading my old posts LMAO

Characters: Masky, Hoodie, and Toby

Notes: reader is GN

CWs: None

Masky

Semi verbal- he talks every now and then but like hoodie hes more of a listener than anything

Hovers around you when hes home, let's you ramble about what you've been up to because theres no way in hell hes going to tell you what hes done- at least overtime he learns to give you a headsup before he vanishes

It's almost like having a cat tbh...

Very defensive about the mask, he'll pull it up when hes ready..

Actually wait he really is like a cat because it's best to let him seek out touch and affection- he does lean into it if you show signs, though..

Acts of service and quality time, he may be absent for a few days at a time every now and then but he does try to make up for it

Jealous, but not as much as toby- VERY possessive though.. it's almost like a 6th sense when you're in danger or when someone tries to make moves on you.. he almost just.. spawns/hj

Hoodie

Gentle and sweet with you, but very firm when setting boundaries and honors them

More of a listener than a talker, however he does engage in conversations via sign

Speaking of, he's more than willing to teach you so you can better communicate with him instead of having to rely off of writing

Loooves stealing a kiss from you before he has to head out to do something, you usually only ever see the lower half of his face though

Compared to masky hes more likely to take the mask off, though

Very warm! Great for snuggling up to him when its colder out!

Very physically affectionate, loves holding you.. will linger or graze his hands on you as he passes by.. also acts of service- that's another thing he does to show his love!

The least jealous out of the three

Toby

You're definitely his first partner. The nature of his work doesnt exactly leave him much room to interact with many people, and before that he didnt have that large of a social circle

I bring this up to stress that he is very new to this, this is a learning experience for him and.. actually all things considered hes not doing that bad!

He can be a bit of an asshole every now and then, but ultimately hes so hyper focused to make sure you feel comfortable and happy around him, subconsciously he doesnt want you to feel like how he did when he was surrounded by the people in his old life

Very clingy, but he does his best to try to mind your personal space and boundaries, as well as this he tends to be jealous- overtime you do get him to talk about it rather than react or isolate

Hes soft for you, absolutely spoils you and anything ever happened to you he would scorch the earth if it meant making it right

Let's you borrow his jackets, sometimes to his detriment due to not being able to appropriately gauge how cold it is out- though hes naturally a physically cold person in general..

[bananonbinary]

idk if ive ever talked about Mill Ends Park much but its my favorite thing ever. it used to be the smallest park in the world, but apparently just barely lost that honor last month (Which, rude.)

anyway its a hole in the middle of the fucking street that was supposed to be for a light pole in 1948 i guess, but the city never got around to actually building it, so a newspaper columnist named Dick Fagan got tired of staring at it out his window every day and planted flowers in it. he took care of it for 20 years and it was made an official city park in 1976, seven years after his death. it's a real park. people have been married in it.

it just makes me so happy like it wasnt a publicity stunt or anything, one guy just hated how ugly and broken the road was, and did something about it. and that something has lasted for almost 80 years. ilu dick fagan.

[nyxtickled]

i’ve seen a few people do musician monday and figured what better time to contribute, now that i finally have a keyboard to play on? (honorable mention: lil belly pouch hehe)

warning: i am not a proper musician so don’t come for my finger positions!!!! i know they’re wrong. i knowwww my pinky just kinda floats there bc i never learned the right hand positions. if u wanna learn more about my piano history, read below the cut<3

i’ve always had a fixation with the piano, since elementary school. the first time i played around with one, i was probably about 6-7 when i had a basic little electric keyboard. didn’t do anything fancy, but i was an only child so i used to just listen to my favorite CDs and then try to play the songs. the first song i taught myself was 1000 years by vanessa carlton lmao.

i never really got into lessons and idk why. i don’t know how to read sheet music, i don’t remember what the notes are called, i don’t know what any of the chords or keys are called. playing a piano is more of a puzzle-solving game for me, where i listen to songs that i find beautiful (usually they don’t even have piano in them, just pretty melodies/harmonies) and then i try to find the matching sounds on the piano.

it takes me anywhere from days to weeks to months, depending on how ambitious of a song i’m trying to cover (the wildest one i ever did was Its Not A Fashion Statement It’s A Fucking Deathwish by MCR lmaooo i swear it actually sounds so pretty on the piano tho) and it’s something that i’ll basically just sit there and hyperfixate on until ive worked the whole thing out. ofc that comes with memorizing it too, so usually i can kinda sorta play the song, but i have to practice it a million times until i can play it all the way thru.

i would love to learn how to play the piano like a Real Musician and like, read music and know what everything is called etc. it’s on my bucket list. but there’s just something so fun and peaceful and meditative about just sitting there and sorting it out by ear, it kinda feels like solving a rubik’s cube in a way.

anyway this is just me trying to remember how to play part of a song called severus and stone by radical face. it’s prolly my favorite song of all time bc of the story it tells and the artist himself but i ain’t getting into all that rn. the section of the song i pulled this part from goes like this:

brother woke just after midnight, and he didn’t make a sound. but as he climbed from out of bed with severed rings around his head, his feet didn’t touch the ground- i could feel it then, a tiny miracle, so i followed him into the woods. crossed beneath the trees, but only i left my prints in tow; he was afloat. found a lonely tree, tied himself within its limbs, and he said to me these words: “don’t you fear for me, for i am where i’m supposed to be.”

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (2)

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

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

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

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

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

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

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

masterlist

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

[AN]: part 2 !!!! ty for reading pt1, hope you guys will enjoy this too <3 as always, ty to @highvern for beta-ing and sitting through this entire thing lmao <3 happy reading, and remember to tell me what you think !!

THE FOREVER EMPTY DECK, for whatever reason, was occupied when you trudge up the stairs in an attempt to free yourself from the stuffiness of your quarters. 

You make out Seungkwan sitting cross legged on the floors, very carefully pouring himself a bottle of something unmarked into a bowl. Chan is there as well, very meticulously explaining a happening to…Hoshi, who sits by with an interested expression, mouth turned into a frown with his brows furrowed. Chan is using his hands as he continues, unaware of your presence. 

“Oh!” Seungkwan calls you out by name, causing the rest of the clique to turn their heads to you. “Come have a drink!” 

“What’s this?” Hoshi starts. He’s smiling, but his reddened cheeks give away his very obviously intoxicated state. “Has miss princess decided to grace us with her presence?” 

You ignore him, acknowledging Chan when he asks why you were up at this hour as you sit between him and Seungkwan. 

“Just needed some air,” you mumble. 

“Well,” Hoshi is loud when he spills half the drink out of the cup he was pouring it into. “Air pairs well with rum.”

He holds out a cup of the liquid for you, swaying slightly from the effort of holding it far out towards you. 

“I am a lady.” You resist the effort to turn your nose up. 

“Okay lady, bottoms up!” he slurs. 

When you continue to keep your hands folded, he retracts his hand with what you think is a  prominent scowl, but it looks more like a disappointed pout if anything. He takes a dejected sip from the cup. 

“Come on, just one!” Seungkwan tries to convince you. 

“Leave her alone, Kwan, miss princess is too good to be drinking with pirates,” Hoshi chides. 

You aren’t sure if it was meant to be a jab at all, considering the strange switch in behaviour he seems to have adopted as his drunk persona. You watch in silence as he reaches over to plant a big kiss on Seungkwan’s cheek in affection, grabbing his head strongly. He yelps, pushing his captain off with a face. 

But regardless of what he meant, the defiance sparked within you anyway, and you find yourself gripping the neck of the poorly dusted bottle that sat in the middle amidst even more bottles, cups and twine. The motion has all eyes on you, even as you bring the bottle to your lips, preparing yourself for one of the dumber things you’ve done. 

Locking eyes with Hoshi’s sharp ones over the bottle, you chug it of its remnants, ignoring the fiery burn and the trickles of liquid that trail down the corners of your mouth. 

You hear Seungkwan and Chan cheering, Hoshi remaining stoic as he refuses to be the one to look away from above the bottle. 

By the time you’ve slammed the bottle back onto the hardwood, you’re struggling to maintain your vision and you’re forced to tear your eyes away from the man that sits across from you, unwavering. 

Resisting the urge to vomit, you can only smile weakly at Seungkwan and Chan who are overly excited over your endeavour, clinking their own cups as they down another one in your honour. 

It kickstarted your spree in any case as the night commenced, continuing to accept refills as you sip slower than before, savouring the taste that you couldn’t really say you enjoyed. The feeling, however. 

Seungkwan and Chan took longer than you’d expected to pass out, noting the way they continued to clink and drink with no regard. 

Hoshi seemed to need little to be washed away, something you found yourself silently snorting at, even as both boys continued to snore quietly behind you. 

“What’s so funny?” Hoshi asks, taking a sip from his cup. 

You snap your head up, drunk and hot. You consider shaking your head to indicate a null, but you can’t say you have much control over yourself at the moment. 

“You take so little to get tipsy,” you comment with a little giggle. 

“What makes you think I’m drunk?” he asks.

His red face? The uncharacteristic warmth he’d been treating you with all night? Who knows? But right now you ignore his question, zeroed in on something. He’s wearing one of his stupid linen shirts that are always buttoned too low, the ones that make it impossible to keep your eyes on his face. 

Your eyes find the distorted slash of tissue that resides on his chest, right over his left peck, right over his heart. You’ve noticed the scar on multiple occasions. Not that he seems to ever try to hide it. You decide to mention it. 

“How’d you get that?” you whisper. It feels right to talk like that; the deck is silent, the sea is calm in her regard to pushing the ship where it needs to go. Your legs are pulled up to your chest, cheek on your knees. 

He follows your gaze to his scar, coming round to answer you with a drunk, dopey smile on his face. “Got hungry.”

Possible, but you also get the feeling he wasn’t about to give you a straight answer if you pushed anyway. But your gaze remains on his chest, ingraining the ridges of the scar to memory. 

And with every moment that passes, it looks less and less like a scary altercation of someone trying to carve his heart out, and more like he may have fallen off his horse while riding. Accidentally cut himself with a steak knife at the supper table. Took a bad blow during a practice sword fight. 

And with every moment that passes, the backgrounds of your mind’s pictures turn from the rugged sea to the grassy training grounds of the palace, the hay and brown of the stables, the silver glints of the dining hall. The thuds of rusting cups and cheap sailors rum turn into clinks of wine glasses, Hoshi’s hand wrapped around the stems, skin free of every scar and darkened slash. 

And with every moment that passes, you imagine what this deadly, ferocious pirate would look like if his life was a little different. If his life was a little like yours. Would he be able to be a better match against your father, would he have taken every missed opportunity to become a ruler that you only wish you could be? Could he lead a kingdom as well as he leads his beloved band of pirates?

There’s not a thought of what you’re doing in your mind as you find yourself reaching over, not to the bottles that lie empty, but to the pirate captain’s hands, taking his rough calloused palms in your soft, unscarred ones. 

He does little to resist, letting his hand fall limp in yours. 

“What’s this one?” you ask, tracing over the biggest scar that slashed across his knuckles. 

“Piece of wood sticking out of the mast.” 

It’s an older scar, clear with the way his skin has settled into the healed wound like it’s always been that way. 

“This one?” you ask, tracing over another nick. 

“Fell on glass.”

“This one?”

“Punched Mingyu.”

You frown at that, looking up at him and in accusation. 

“I apologised,” he defends. 

Was it strange that a pirate captain would apologise for assaulting his crew? Slightly, yes. But you liked to think you understood Hoshi a little better than you’d first met him, and that he considered his crew more like his family than anything else. 

Never in a million years, in your pirate hating household, would you have thought that the deadliest band of pirates would soon be the ones you’d be sharing drinks with, tracing scars with, feeling somewhat secure being alone with. 

Entrusting to save your future with. 

You turn his hand over to his palms, now staring at a fresher looking gash that seems to still be healing. It looks painful, the redness yet to fade into its darker hues. 

“What about this one?” you ask, being extra careful to not touch the wound. 

Hearing him let out a small laughing exhale, you look up.

“Thought you’d recognize your own work.” 

And then you remember. 

The spray of blood in the air as your dagger made its first ever maim at your hands. 

“Oh,” you breathe out. 

When you look up from your hunched position, you’re closer to Hoshi than you’d initially thought. He went from an arms length away to brushing shoulders with you, his palm remaining cradled in both of yours. 

“Do you regret it?” he asks as he looks at you like he’s gotten lost somewhere in your face. 

His breath hits your face in a delicate fan, the smell of alcohol mixing from your own mouth. 

Glancing down at his scarring wound, you look back up at him with your lips in a tight line. 

“No.”

He smiles, less of disbelief and more of contentment, a pleasant look on his face as he reads your expression. 

You felt like you’d passed some kind of test. 

“Good.”

And then you’re so close you can barely make out the tip of his nose, his warmth infiltrating your own. You can smell him past the rum, a faint woody scent that makes your head spin. You push up to the alcohol. 

Your stomach is on fire as you expect the final push to come, the eager build in your chest becoming near unbearable. 

Just as you’re about to flutter your eyes closed, ready to take whatever he might give you, you find his face disappeared. 

Hoshi turned his face away, your face infiltrated by the cool breeze once more. Your palms are cooling as his warmth retracts from them as well, leaving you cold and confused. 

Blinking, pushing your chin closer to your chest, you attempt to catch your bearings, catch the notes in the air as you feel him move to his feet quickly. 

“Get some sleep, it’s late,” he announces in a low, gravelly voice before trudging towards the staircase. He seems to have sobered up. 

All that’s left on the deck is your empty palms, the stinging sea spray, and two snoring pirates. 

HOSHI SPENT THE REST of the morning trying to sleep off the imminent feeling of spontaneous combustion. 

The tingle in his right hand refuses to go away, even when he plunges the darn thing into a freezing bucket of water next to his cot, assuming his wound was acting up. 

He sleeps fitfully, the frustration that simmers refuses to let him have a staggering moment of peace. His head is as dense as a whale, throbbing in the seeping light. The sounds of the sea, ones that once brought him calm, were now triggering an irrational reaction from his entire being. 

Swinging to his feet is easy, it’s the aftermath of such a reckless action that has him stumbling like a fawn. Slipping into his boots, he thuds to the lower decks, to the storage area where all of the rations are. 

And where all of the alcohol is. 

He bumps into Minghao on the way down, who’s filling his canteen as he keeps morning watch on deck. 

“Go sleep, I’ve got it,” he says to him, and Minghao does little to refute as he makes a beeline for his beloved hammock. 

It’s too early for anyone to be awake, despite the afternoon sun that lingers. He takes full advantage of it as he hauls the first crate of rum up to the deck. 

There isn’t an inch of hesitation as he lifts the death juice and sends it splashing into the ocean. He stares for a moment as heavy bottles disappear under the water, still full of the very thing he’d shoot his crew for wasting a single drop of. 

Even more determined than before, he goes back down into the brig, this time lugging two more crates of rum, all to be met with the same fate, going down to touch the bottom of the ocean.

With every echoing slam of the wood hitting the water, he feels himself freeing. 

But you plague him anyway. 

Lifting a particularly heavy box, he thinks of how close you had gotten to him on this very deck. How he could breathe in your exhales. How he could feel the tactile of your fingertips tracing over every mauled slash on his hand. How you consumed his mind in ways he couldn’t fathom. 

It was the rum. The rum was doing this to him. 

At least, that’s what he’d chosen to blame. 

Who was he to deny the effect you seemed to have on him?

The answer was that he was a pirate, especially with the way he chalked his muddled brain to not having had a woman around for so, so long. 

He’d considered indulging once they reached Port Ash, slipping away for an hour into one of the beaded doors of women ready to give him what he wanted. The thought seemed like an unwanted remedy. 

Every solution felt fruitless, a balm that only seemed to make the itch worse. Even as he commits a sin as heinous as feeding perfectly good rum to sea foam, he only does it in the hopes that the sea will take it as a sacrifice, to give him the kind of peace his being has begun to crave. 

Hoshi has been moved to insanity. 

Even as he feels the cool cylinder of Jun’s revolver on his temple, he pushes the last crate overboard as his final answer. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hears Jun ask. 

When he turns around, the revolver remains stationary as it now points into the smack middle of his forehead. He has an audience, Mingyu’s face has leftover sleep on it, a mildly horrified look on his face. Chan looks like he could slice his own Captain’s throat open. 

“Where’s the rum?” Mingyu asks in an airy voice, disbelief prominent. 

“The rum’s gone.”

“Why is the rum gone?” 

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he moves Jun’s loaded gun out of his face and makes his way back to his cot downstairs, in no mood to squabble with his too sober crew. 

There’s calls of his name that follow him all the way to below the deck, even as he snatches a stray hat on the floor, placing it above his face in the hopes that he was relieved enough to sleep. 

It’s snatched away as Mingyu stands above him like an angel of death, his hat in his equally deathly grip. 

“Did the spirits possess you?” 

“No,” he replies begrudgingly. “But good sense has.”

“Captain,” he hears Chan begin, looking about five seconds away from committing a murder on the seas. “You know I can’t fight sober.”

“Learn.”

“What is this about? Where was the rum at fault?” Jun grits. 

Hoshi swings up once again. If Mingyu was an angel of death then he was the king of hell. 

But he has no threats left to give, his menacing soul left with the rum. There is only a snarl that turns into him dropping his head, sighing a loud, loud sigh. 

He tells his crew a sad affair as he expresses his sorrows like a eulogy. Blaming the rum was stupid, but it was what he had done. And now the fruit of his decisions sit forgotten in the reefs so far below.  

His crew is not happy when they find out, in any case. 

“But what did the rum do?” 

“Kissing beautiful women is part of life’s pleasures!” 

“I have half a mind to make you fish it all back up.” 

Mingyu has simply crumpled onto the floor in his heartbreak, Chan has his face in his hands. Hoshi doesn’t look up to witness Jun’s reaction. 

The crew would get over the lack of alcohol on board, perhaps a morbid brawl or two to help them get by, but what was more concerning was whether it did anything for Hoshi at all. 

At the very least, he knows he won’t go around kissing people sober, but when it comes to the matter of the war inside his chest…

A phantom ache throbs across the scar on his chest. 

Perhaps his heart would finally be the next to go.

PORT ASH WAS A depraved man’s heaven. 

One that could easily become his downfall if he doesn’t play his cards right. 

Too covered was suspicious, too much of the opposite was an open invitation to all the drunk and debauched population of Ash; pirates, criminals and councilmen alike. You were comfortable enough in what you were given to put on, to become the perfect blend in the rowdy, barely lit streets of the brothels and bars. 

Despite everything, Seungkwan assured you that no one would bother a woman flanked by obvious pirates, for whatever reason that may be. If it were up to you, you would’ve remained on the ship, safe and buried in your quarters, but the threat of an ambush on the docks plagued the crew enough to risk bringing you directly into the dragon’s den. 

Jun disappeared quickly, ducking behind an unmarked curtain with a nod to his captain. You could only assume this was where he’d obtain his remaining supplies for the explosives he seemed to be so good at creating. You’ve awoken to multiple median bangs during the night, so you can only assume he knows what he’s doing to a certain extent. 

“Jun said it might take a while, so we might have to wait on him a little bit.” Hoshi stands at the front of the group, addressing his crew. 

“Spread out, do whatever. Don’t linger, don’t drink yourselves to death—” he sends a pointed look at a shifty Chan and Mingyu, “—and meet back at the ship at six bells or we’ll leave without you.”

The announcement doesn’t seem to apply to you. You’re sandwiched between Hoshi and Seungkwan as they lead you into the throng, to wherever it was they were to pass the time till it was time to return.

If Ash was anything, it was alive. Men and women scatter in all states of drunk and sober, arms latched with their partners for the night as they let the oil lamps carry them to their abode for the night. It’s a wilder Hasry, a scarier Hasry. 

The nighttime does nothing to help your nerves, every single face shrouded in the half shadows, seemingly resembling every person you’ve ever met in the Kingdom. 

It makes you feel better that both men are pressed against your sides, as strange as the thought sounds in your head. Safe between two pirates.

“Nobody’s tried to kill you yet, I’d call that a record,” Seungkwan comments, but it’s not directed towards you. 

Hoshi scowls as you shift your gaze from Seungkwan to him. The usually nonchalant pirate captain looks…cautious. His eyes dart around the crowded streets, like he was looking for familiar faces all the same as you. 

Your eyes land on his curled lips and force down a shiver. This was the first time you’d been around him since that drunken night, since you’d promised to never drink again. 

He doesn’t mention it, so neither do you.

“Captain Hoshi Kwon? How wonderful of you to show your face again!” 

A woman’s voice rings shrill amidst the loud buzz and hollers of the streets, emerging like a white ghost from the throng. Dressed to the nines, face painted intricately, fan clenched in her hand that perches on her hip. She’s joined by another gaggle of women that crown behind her, displaying a rainbow of coloured gown and fans, but holding the same disdained look. 

The pirate captain freezes beside you, and you feel Seungkwan’s hand on your back burn. 

He seems shaken at the sight of the new woman initially, but puts on a smile you’ve only seen a few times. One that dazzles with his teeth on display, eyes squinted.

“Delilah!” he exclaims, almost too happy to see this mystery woman. “How’ve you been?”

“Who did that? I’d like to send them flowers,” she refers to the scar above Hoshi’s heart. 

“Jellyfish don’t really like me, learned that the hard way.” 

His answer seems to only annoy her. Delilah has a wicked snarl on her face, threat in her stance. “When was the last time I saw you?”

“Uh,” Hoshi stumbles. 

“The Crowded Inn, was it? When I fell asleep to a promise and woke up to an empty bed?”

“Our dear captain seems to have thrown memory at sea,” one of the girls behind her calls out, followed by a collective giggle. 

Hoshi looks cornered, at a loss for words as he attempts to save face. Regaining his prior easygoing expression, he continues. 

“There’s no promises after I’ve had a drink or two, you know that, Delilah.” It scares you a little how easily he can inject all the sugar and honey in the world directly into his words, flirting his way out of the predicament. 

Except, she doesn’t seem to be buying it, because as soon as the words leave Hoshi’s lips, you hear a loud thwack and a blur of colour. You gasp before you can help it, covering your mouth in shock. 

There’s a reddenning mark on his cheek in the shape of a hand. Hoshi remains face scrunched, coming round, hand slowly coming up to touch his no doubt stinging cheek. 

Your reaction seems to have roused this woman, because she sends you nothing but a look laced with pure venom, completely ignoring Seungkwan who stands aside doing nothing to help his captain. 

“Where’d you pick this one up?” She asks, her fan now shucked open, fanning herself even in the pleasant weather. Her pale face, red lips, dark eyes all remain on your shabby form, a hint of a smirk on her face. “Is she as disappointing of a performer as she looks?” 

That seems to do it, as you watch Hoshi’s facade of a cheeky bed trotter image drop to something with more depth. 

“Delilah,” he says, warning in his voice. 

“Ah! Looks like I’ve struck a nerve.”

You watch Hoshi take a step forward and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the crowd of people that continue to pass and linger, reminding yourself of the repercussions of causing a scene in a place like this. Turning slightly, you attempt to push Seungkwan to do something.

“Captain,” Seungkwan says, a casual but careful voice. A starting attempt at calming things down. 

“That’s enough,” Hoshi says, ignoring Seungkwan’s warning. “Quit pretending you weren’t warming that privateer’s bed right after I left.” 

There was no reason for you to say anything, do anything. But when you find yourself pushing forward, leaving Seungkwan’s hold, you can’t stop. Perhaps he’d have punched Seungkwan, his own crew, if he’d done the same as you were right now, but you’d like to think you know the pirate captain enough to assume he’d react less so with you. 

There’s a shift in the woman’s jaw as she watches you wrap your arm around one of Hoshi’s, trying your absolute best to mimic a bright smile. 

“We should go,” you announce, the stretch of your cheeks unfamiliar even to you. You turn to catch Hoshi’s stare, he’s looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “Right, Hosh?”

“Go on then, Captain. Your little princess awaits.” 

You flinch without meaning to. Princess. 

This woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about, at least, that’s what you recite in your head as your trio goes back to pushing walking through the streets. She doesn’t know who you are. 

“She doesn’t know,” you hear Hoshi say under his breath, but you hear it loud as day.

You exhale, “I know.”

“Sorry about her. And him, “ Seungkwan says, before turning to Hoshi. “I told you not to get involved with that one, she’s a menace.”

You’ve let go of Hoshi’s arm at this point, now simply watching him attempt to calm himself down as you walk. He doesn’t reply to Seungkwan’s jab. 

You feel strange, a feeling you can’t exactly pinpoint. You’re too aware of yourself, in a way that’s different than just the fear of being recognized. Shifting your eyes to your attire, your usual linen skirts and corset, an added grey shawl for your own anxious sanity.

The woman’s voice rings in your head. Shabby. 

“You didn’t let her get to you, did you? She’s always been vile, she can’t live without being a bitch about something every five minutes.” 

Seungkwan’s grumbling goes in one ear and out the other as you don’t answer. He seems to read you better than you thought he could. He sighs.

“Congratulations Delilah, you’ve made a princess feel shabby,” he says in a sarcastically chipper voice, one that earns a hiss from his captain for being too loud. 

Before you know it, you’re being led down a flight of stone stairs and you’re informed that it was an underground pub of sorts. Something about his undertone told you it was probably more, but you ignore it as the darkness is let alight beyond the musty curtains of the basement entrance. 

It’s a sizable expanse, a bar on one of the long ends of the hall, busy and overflowing with mugs, jugs and plates. Wooden tables and chairs, almost all of them occupied by patrons of all kinds that do nothing to regulate their volumes. It smells like a rancid mixture of alcohol and people, but you push past as you find yourself seated on one of the wooden seatings in the corner. 

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Seungkwan announces as he walks up to the bar. You watch as he’s greeted by nearly every passing customer, all smiles. 

Hoshi sits beside you like a begrudged toddler, arms crossed and glaring at nothing. 

“Didn’t realise how popular you were around these parts,” you comment, scanning the crowd in excruciating detail, blaming force of habit as you do. 

He clicks his tongue, and you can’t see him, but you can almost visualise his grimace.

A too clean councilman that has his hands on the upper thighs of an outlandishly dressed woman. A man so grimy and dusty who has nothing but an array of empty jugs for company. Another flock of fan yielding, hair towering, gown exploding women that swarm a man you cannot see past the bodies. 

It’s organised chaos, immoral yet is the only thing that seems to work on this island. 

Another entrance is being made from the curtains that block the pub from the outside, you steer your eyes automatically. 

Looks like he could be a pirate, beyond just the dark hair and chiselled face. He has a girl under his arm, a pretty brunette that giggles at his side as he whispers something in her ear. She’s wearing something similar to you, a corset and a linen skirt, and a pirate's hat that’s too big for her that’s perched on her head. 

Subconsciously, you feel better about being so severely underdressed. 

Hoshi sits up next to you and you glance over your shoulder to assess his shift. He’s also staring at the couple that’s just walked in. You briefly wonder if this was going to be another showdown.

The man catches Hoshi’s eye from across the room, and you notice how his smile falls a little. 

“Who’s that?” you ask quietly. 

Your question is answered when the man himself begins to walk towards your table, leaving the girl at his table, a confident strut as he makes his path. 

Hoshi rises next to you before you realise what’s happening, and you have the sudden urge to call out for Seungkwan. 

“Why are you getting up?” you hiss. He doesn’t answer, yet again.

“Captain,” the man greets. 

“Captain,” Hoshi replies. 

Captain. So he was a pirate. 

“Hm. That’s not gonna go away, is it?” The man comments with a smirk, eyes trained on the scar on Hoshi’s chest. 

“Wonder who’s fault that is.” Hoshi’s voice is levelled. 

Oh. Was that scar his doing?

“I hope you won’t mind if I don’t apologise?” The smirk on his face remains as he continues, motioning towards his own cheek, eyes trailed on the side of Hoshi’s face. “Looks like you’ve got enough enemies without me trying to carve your heart out.”

Hoshi doesn’t answer as he grimaces, a frustrated blink and a hand that runs over his sore cheek. 

“Delilah was quite adamant on having your head on a pike after that,” the stranger adds with a chuckle of his own, before trailing his eyes behind Hoshi. Right where you sat watching the two men interact. “Perhaps she does have some consideration left.”

“Delilah cared more about looking like a fool than she ever did me leaving. You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, Wonwoo?” 

There’s a flash of irritation on Wonwoo’s face at the jog of a memory. “Handled it better than you did. At least I wasn’t walking around with a handprint on my face.”

“No, no you weren’t. Just a leash around your neck,” Hoshi’s own eyes darted towards the girl seated at Wonwoo’s table, a silent jab.

Wonwoo’s face morphs into something a little more dangerous than just irritation, his jaw tightening as he takes a step forward. They’re nearly nose to nose. 

To your surprise, Wonwoo smiles. “I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all. My mistake.”

For the second time that day, you spring from your position in the shadowed table, giving up on praying for Seungkwan’s arrival. The man seems to have disappeared somewhere along the barline, and you curse both the men that stand before you for their horrid temper management skills. 

You don’t have to do much, however, as you find Wonwoo pulling away by himself. At least, you thought so, finding a hand wrapped around his upper arm. The brunette spares neither of you a glance as she simply murmurs furiously under her breath, hand now on her lover's chest as she pushes him to move back from the brewing altercation. 

Hoshi doesn’t seem to be breaking, remaining standing with his eyes shooting daggers at the man that’s reluctant to walk away from a budding fight.  

Being gentle wasn’t going to work right now, and you weren’t feeling so soft anyway. Instead, you reach over to grab his wrist tight, positively yanking him back as hard as you could. 

“Wh—ow!”

He slams into the seat next to you, deadly eye contact with the other captain broken as he winces at the impact. When you glance up, Wonwoo is gone. 

“You said to blend in, how is this blending in?!” 

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You were two seconds away from drawing knives,” you hiss. “We’re in a pub, for goodness’ sake!” 

Despite your irritation, and with the newfound information that rests in the back of your head, it’s difficult to keep your eyes off the scar that stands against the lamplight of the pub. 

Someone did try to carve his heart out. 

Context for an altercation that could lead to something like that remains unknown, and you doubt you’d ever get a straight answer from him if you asked—as always. Besides, you forget they’re pirates. 

Hoshi goes back to simply ignoring you as he festers in his grumbled silence. Choosing to keep his arms folded and staring straight ahead. You make no moves to entertain him. 

“I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all.”

This mystery captain’s left you with enough ammo to keep you wondering for days. What on earth was that? 

As if Hoshi’s (and yours) mood wasn’t sour enough, your attention is brought to the front of the room where another entrance is being made, quite loudly so. You very quickly recognise the gowns and fans and shrieking giggles of women as Delilah and her posse. 

You note the woman herself is nowhere near. 

“Fucking hell,” you hear Hoshi swear under his breath. He’s sitting up, eyes darting around the room, almost like he was trying to find a hiding spot. You doubt he's too excited over another conversation of similar nature, let alone a matching mark on the other side of his face.

The women hadn't seen him yet, and were approaching far too quickly for him to get up and leave anywhere to hide. A quick scan of the room yourself and you realise there’s only one remaining option. 

They didn’t seem to recognise you for your title before, and you assume the current extent stays within simply being another seductress in the pirate captain’s company. You push the sickening feeling away as you realise you might have to play the part. 

So you do the sensible thing and push Hoshi’s head under the wooden table, forcing him to leave his seat and crouch beside your legs. In a split second, you’ve lifted your linen skirt and draped it over his hunched body. 

This would have to do. 

And it seems to have been the right move because as soon as the man is out of sight, you find the opposite end of the table more occupied than you ever would have been comfortable with. 

“Oh! You’re that Hoshi’s girl aren’t you?” one of the women who's made themselves comfortable asks, fan in front of her mouth and nose as you note her sharp eyes. 

“Uh,” you laugh nervously. 

“Oh, nothing to be embarrassed about,” she assures, a snap in her voice. 

Another woman decked out in a green ensemble speaks in a teasing voice, “We’re all quite accustomed to his…mannerisms.”

The table erupts in a fit of giggles and cackles and you’re forced to laugh weakly along, hyper aware of the man that sits under your skirt right below. You try not to flinch as you feel his clothes brush against the side of your calf. 

“So, tell us,” she says, taking your hands in hers, a contact you really wish you could break free of. If only you weren't quite as terrified of the women seated at your table. “How far along in heaven has this man taken you?”

She spares you an answer as you gape with square shoulders. She fans herself in a whimsy as she looks like she’s reminiscing. “He’s almost as good of a pirate as he is a beast in bed, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.”

“Quite generous with the tongue too, if you know what I mean.” 

The pirate captain’s breath hits your bare knees in its own fan, goosebumps almost immediately erupting across the expanse of your skin. You fail to suppress a shudder.

Goodness, this man stays busy.

“Oh look at her, she’s gotten all flustered!” one of them laughs. You take it as an opportunity to slip your hands out of the tight grasps of the bold ladies. “It seems he’s taken to a newer liking. How innocent.”

These women seem to like talking more than they wish to hear a word from you, of course, you couldn’t tell them anything they already didn’t know. Of which, according to their interests, you knew nothing of it anyway. 

“Don’t get too attached now, we’re all mere expendables in this busy pirate’s—”

Slam!

Rum. You smell rum. 

It’s like you’ve been transported back onto the main deck, the smell of rum mixed with….with—

“Ladies!” Seungkwan announces, slamming bottles of alcohol on the table with a force unnecessary. “Funny seeing you again.”

For a moment you may have even thought Hoshi had clambered up to the table to announce himself, and you feel a hand fly down to your skirts. 

He’s still there, head now actively leaning against your knee. You pray the man hasn’t fallen asleep as you attempt to greet Seungkwan. 

“Took you long enough,” you grit through a sickly sweet smile. 

With your hand somewhere on Hoshi’s upper back, you guide him with you as you make space for Seungkwan next to you. 

“The—oh!” Seungkwan is quick to notice the breathing lump under your skirt as he sits himself next to you, but manages to compose himself with a cough. “Long line. What were you ladies talking about?”

One of them smiles big as ever, slowly lifting themselves from their seats, “We were just…leaving. Wonderful speaking with you!” 

And with that, you can finally feel your breath coming back to you, the table significantly lighter with the lack of colours, perfume and humans. 

Releasing a long exhale, you let your shoulders drop and lean backwards. 

“Are you going to explain why the captain is hidden under your skirts?”

With a jolt, you're forced to consider his presence under the table, scanning the room to find the women gone from the pub altogether. 

Hoshi emerges from under the fabric, and shuffles over to the other side of the table to sit down, bringing an instinctive hand towards the fresh bottles on the table. Halting, he instead reaches for the jug of water on the edge and pours himself a helping.  

You refuse to look at him. Refuse to acknowledge the red in his face. Refuse to acknowledge the sudden cold under your skirt. 

Seungkwan’s stare is burning holes into the side of your head, even as he uncorks one of the bottles as an offer. You also refuse; both to look him in the eye and the drink itself.

Bottle to his lips, he moves his glare to his captain, who sits nursing his water like it was something stronger. 

“I haven’t gotten an answer yet,” he finally breaks. 

Instinct has your eyes lifting to meet Seungkwan’s inquisitive one’s, answers frozen in your throat. 

“Why are you asking like you don’t know who they were?” Hoshi snaps. 

“I can understand not wanting a matching handprint on your other cheek!” he refutes. “But how do you decide the solution is to dive into yet another woman’s skirts?”

Your only solace to the heat that prickles your body is the way Hoshi himself flushes. 

Seungkwan sighs as he takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Hoshi’s still red cheek. “I’m starting to think you deserved it.” 

Hoshi makes a motion like he’s about to send his half full cup flying into Seungkwan’s face but stops short. Perhaps he’s realising he’s become the problem child for today. 

You contemplate telling Seungkwan about Wonwoo and the near pub brawl you would’ve had to deal with, but decide it to be a story for another time. Besides, you weren’t about to risk mentioning his name while it was still fresh. 

You realise just how unstable this island can turn a person; not just the pirate captain.

Because as you look at Hoshi on the other side of the table, you find how difficult it is to look away.

“YOU NEED TROUSERS.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t look so scandalised, you’ve been prancing around with pirates for goodness’ sake.”

Seungkwan haggles with the stall owner over the price of padded coats, blankets and an array of other things the crew would need. The journey was only going to take the ship further North, and it was only going to get colder as you neared the icy water of the Green Islands. 

Seungkwan’s suggestion to buy you trousers came out of the blue, but it seems you couldn’t refuse when you find both Hoshi and Chan (who joined you after he was tired of the others) agreeing. 

“You can’t possibly stay warm in linen,” Chan argues. “Trousers are the only way you won’t freeze your limbs off.”

“Too much airflow in a skirt,” Seungkwan agrees, eyes closed, head shaking solemnly. “Captain would know.”

“Hm?” Chan looks at him confused. 

“Fine!” You snatch the folded brown lump in Seungkwan’s hands. You keep talking in a louder than necessary voice in the hopes that Chan won’t ask any more questions. “I’ll wear them.”

“Perfect! Now we need to get you boots.”

“I have boots!” 

“Warm boots!” 

“But—”

It was difficult to argue with Seungkwan once he’s got his mind set on something. But that paired with the loud noises of the Ash port market was sending pulsing throbs across the sides of your head. You simply surrender as Seungkwan leaves Hoshi to pay the vendor before pushing you across the street to where a stall held boots and slippers for sale. 

In the midst of his bargaining, Chan had disappeared into the throng, returning with a steaming plate of something that smelled doughy and delicious. 

“What is that?” you ask as Chan shoves the tray in front of you. 

“Whatever they are, they’re delicious. Try one.”

He was right, one bite of the warm, soft goodness covered in syrup had you taking a moment to ponder. It melts in your mouth, barely registering the rest of the group scarfing down the tray like it was their last.

“God, you can never get them this good on the mainland,” Seungkwan cries. “We’ll get another tray before we leave.”

Speaking of leaving, you turn to ask about the time. 

“How many bells has it been?” you ask Seungkwan whose cheeks bulge with the amount of dough balls he’s stuffed in. He looks like a child caught stealing when you ask. 

“Oh—”

“Five,” Hoshi answers instead, eyes remaining on the pile of goods that he’s gathered to remain in his line of sight. You suppose there was no delivery system here like in Hasry, and you doubt how secure it is to be walking around with a pile of supplies on this island in particular. 

“You need to hurry, I told the rest of them to meet at six bells.”

Seungkwan’s quick to wrap up, but not before shooing Chan away for another tray of those sweet dough balls for the journey. You manage to whisper to him to bring extra. 

By the time Seungkwan’s done with the last vendor, dropping the giant coil of rope onto the already large pile of supplies, you begin to wonder how you were supposed to get all of this to the ship. 

“Shove those in a bag and carry some of this,” Hoshi says to Chan who has returned, brandishing another steaming tray of the sweet treat. He grumbles as he complies, complaining about how the sticky sweet syrup was going to ruin the inside of the pack. 

You look a little lost as you attempt to help, all three men grabbing their share of the load. 

“Let me hold something,” you attempt, reaching for a wrapped pile. 

You watch as Hoshi snatches it before you can grab it for yourself. “Keep an eye out instead.”

“But—”

“Here.” Chan drops the pack with the now rolling dough balls inside. “Snacks for the walk too, how lucky.”

There’s a light push from behind you as Seungkwan urges you to move forward, face slightly obstructed with the tower he’s holding in his arms. “Go on, straight and then left. We’re close to the port anyway.”

You’re left feeling slightly useless as you remain caged with Chan in front while Seungkwan and Hoshi follow you from behind. The walk is short, but crowded nonetheless. 

It’s only later in the night, which means the crowds in the bustling streets and alleys of Ash only multiply, clear with the case you’re pushed into right now. You pause in front of a particularly busy patch, needing to take a breath before following Chan’s fearless footsteps. 

It’s immediate suffocation, bodies on all sides as you try your best to not lose Chan in the midst of the crowds. Perhaps they were right to keep your hands mostly unoccupied—it would’ve been impossible for you to not completely lose yourself here. 

Gaining a rhythm of walking with the crowd before moving slightly against to near your exit, you’ve almost made your way out. 

Just as you find the bend leading to the open air of the port, you hear a distinct rip sound from behind you. 

If your skirt was airy before, it was a windstorm now. 

Craning your neck at an impossible angle, you find the bottom of your skirt ripped so high up the back of your knees are out for the population of Ash to see. 

Gasping loudly, you halt in your tracks. A horrible mistake, because you’re only being bumped and shoved by the evermoving bodies. 

“Why are you stopping?” Seungkwan hisses, before realising what’s just happened. “Uh oh.”

“I…”

Both Seungkwan and Hoshi push past the throng making their way out of the crowd, leaving you there frazzled and practically naked 

You barely consider that they’ve just left you there as you scramble to cover your calves with what overlapping fabric you had left, registering the threats and curses being sent your way for being the idiot that stops in what is essentially a fast paced parade. 

The rational part of your brain checks out, refusing to consider that perhaps the back of your knees were the least scandalous thing this island has seen, especially after the conversations you’ve had in your short time here. But alas, a few months of the pirate life wasn’t enough to push the princess out of you, and you stand like a paralysed fool about to get stampeded. 

Just as you’re convinced you’d die here, embarrassed and utterly panicked, you feel a body press up from behind you. 

It was too close to be a bystander pushing past, which was saying something since most of these patrons were practically climbing over your form. 

You whip your head back to look at the person who’s invading your space more than usual, hands tight around your upper arms in an effort to push you forward. 

Hoshi stands behind you as his body covers the ripped damage of your skirt, eyes trained in front to survey the crowd.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he grunts, pushing to get you to move your legs. You stumble in the beginning, still not registering anything.

He was helping, but with the way you can feel every dip and shallow of his chest and abdomen pressing into you, you can’t help but think he’s only made matters for your already speeding heart worse. 

Your legs move automatically, letting him steer you wherever. Trying not to think about how his entire front is pressed onto your back like a mould. He’s so close you can even smell him despite the crowd.

Like your head isn’t spinning enough.

By the time you’ve exited the main rush of people, you’ve begun counting your minutes. 

Emerging to the bend that leads straight to the docks, you find the rest of the crew already there, running sprints to get all the new supplies to the ship that remained a few yards away. 

Despite having left the crowd behind, your exposure remained, which meant you’d have to be tailed all the way to the ship. You curse your luck as you watch Jun quirk an inquisitive brow at the both of you stuck like you’ve been glued. 

You pray you never have to show your face here again, because the looks don’t seem to stop until you’ve reached the ship. Perhaps the crowd where nobody was paying attention was better.

In any case, you respond to Minghao’s questioning noise with half shut eyes and a joint sprint towards the stairs leading to the lower decks. 

Hoshi keeps behind until you’ve gotten to the heavenly doors of your quarters, springing inside before Hoshi could register looking lower. 

It’s silent for a few sparing moments as you breathe tightly, convincing yourself that you were alone and uncompromised. You're pressed up against the door, almost like you’re afraid the entirety of Ash would barge through to witness your calves. 

“I’ll handle the boys, don’t worry about that,” you hear Hoshi speak from the other side of the door. 

There’s nothing you could do other than slide down the door in a beyond dramatic fashion, head in your hands as you grip the strands like you were moments away from ripping them off. Every instance of your upbringing flashes before your eyes, every crack of your mentor’s canes on your thighs and calves, every waking pain in your back from the impossible postures, every bruise and nick on your feet from being stepped on and trodden over. 

Despite the ridiculous nature of the situation, you feel your eyes grow heavy with tears. 

Was this panic? 

Taking in the circumference of your cramped quarters; the unmade bed, the strewn clothes, the thrown covers. 

It was nothing. Yet, at the same time, it was everything. 

Amidst the pile, there’s a glint of metal where your knife lies on your nightstand, the tiniest smear of uncleaned blood on the blade. From your position on the floor, you find the half broken lamp discarded under your bed, shunned from your sight. The desk in the corner is empty, save for the staggering mountain of letters from your father. 

The only suggestion of normalcy, yet the one you itch to be rid of the most. 

The letter opener necklace that was exchanged for the ring on your finger sits warm against the valley of your breasts, a reminder of the first weapon you plucked from this very room. The weapon that began it all. 

The smell of gunpowder fills your nose, the forever echoing bang of Jun’s revolver as you took that child sailor’s life with your own two hands. 

You lay like that, on the cold floors of your quarters. Refusing to touch the court appointed comfort of your bed, for fear of reigniting the guilt with a fire stoked. 

You aren’t sure if you sleep, but you do dream.

LIDS OPEN, EYES WIDE, but nothing to perceive.

It’s a pit of obsidian, unrelenting and unproposing in its press against your lungs. 

The familiar ball of prickling embers makes itself known in the pit of your stomach, rising and penetrating your senses in ways worse than even the darkness. It's alarm, dread and swivet; the concoction sticking to the walls of your lungs, throat and mouth. 

And then there’s pressure. 

Something envelopes you from behind, an unidentified lump that pulls you into something warm and sturdy. There’s another pressure at your stomach, another pull keeps you grounded between a wall built just for you. 

The air is perfumed, something beyond a flower or an incense. You know what it is.

And then you're falling, slipping into nothingness and landing between sheets warm enough to suggest you never left. 

The scent remains, and this time, Hoshi towers over your frame in something that might have been domineering. But with the distinct feeling of a wet mouth over your collarbone, a small whisper of words unintelligible, you melt like frost in front of a fireplace. 

“What?” you question his muttering, hands hovering just above the expanse of his covered back, barely touching. 

He rears his head like a gentle beast, wet lipped and zeroed in on your face. His response comes in the form of his lips enclosing your own. 

He tastes like rum.

OPENING THE DOOR TO an expectant Seungkwan, you only wave off his reference to you looking like you have one foot in death’s mouth, grabbing the stack of clothes and boots he delivers. 

He leaves you alone, something you cannot decide is a blessing or a curse as you take in the unchanged state of your quarters. 

Sleep gives you nothing but more troubling images to keep your mind utterly occupied, so you take what you can control in consciousness. 

You drop the clothes on a cleaner corner, yanking one of the thinner pairs of dark brown trousers to change into from your still torn and tattered skirt.

Moving inside the room, you pick the littered papers, ropes and rags on the floor, swerving and crouching with more vigour than necessary.

Hoshi’s scent sticks to you. 

Grabbing the pile of letters on your desk, you shove them in a sack and throw them under the bed. 

Hoshi holds you like he might die if he doesn’t.

Ripping the covers off the bed, you fold them into a giant ball of fabric, hoisting it into your arms as you strut to the door.

Hoshi’s lips have left a bruise on your chest.

The late morning sun combats the chill in the air, the salt sticking to your hair. 

Hoshi’s mouth is hot and wet on yours. 

Hoshi stands before you, manning the wheel on the deck. 

You halt in your tracks. 

He turns to register you with your arms full and shielding most of your body. 

Clearing his throat, he states, “You’re up.”

Eyes darting, you respond. “I’m up.”

Somehow, his presence makes you forget the audacity of your own brain to stew the play it did. Depositing the sheets on the floor of the deck, you attempt to look for a reasonably long coil of rope. 

In your pointed distraction, you miss how distracted the pirate captain has also become. 

His elbows, initially perched on the wheel, slip in a comical manner, unintentionally pushing the wheel to the right. 

You don’t expect the minor lurch of the ship, landing on your bum with a yelp when you lose your footing all of a sudden. Your elbows take a worse hit, spiking pain across your upper limbs at the hard contact. 

His hands are pulling you to your feet before you can register what’s happened, coming round as you open your eyes to an open mouthed captain.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, dusting off your brand new pants as you move past him, refusing to make eye contact. 

Picking up a coil of rope, you bring one of the ends to a mast on the end of the ship, stepping on a crate to tie it around the pole. By the time you’re stepping off the crate to tie the other end to the opposite mast, you find it already done, the pirate captain tightening the knot from across the ship. 

He meets your eyes for a moment, before you step in the direction of your piled sheets, breathing in a heavy inhale.

Untangling the mess, you pull them over to the suspended rope, throwing the sheets over with a grunt. You’d only ever seen the palace maids do this when they’d beat the carpets to oblivion, dusting the ages of dirt. 

“I just…”

When you turn around, the pirate captain is closer than you anticipated, hands encased around a smaller slab of wood. He trails off when you turn to face him, like he hoped he could speak to the back of your head instead. 

You take an instinctive step back, putting space between the both of you. You bring your expectant eyes up to him.

“I just wanted to tell you to ignore what happened at Ash.”

You flush, stuttering, embarrassed at your previous predicament all over again. “Oh, um—”

“Wait no!” he drops the wood onto the floor, hands flying as he waves them all over, seemingly as flushed as you are. “I meant—what Delilah and the others said. I just– they’re horrendous gossips—”

“What are you trying to say Hoshi?”

He falters. 

“I’m trying….” he exhales. “There’s nothing on my roster. Nobody. You aren’t expendable or disposable or whatever it was she said, you aren’t a used rag—”

“What am I then?” 

The question is tumbling out of your mouth before you can help it, stoned jaw and tight fist. 

“What?”

“What am I then? If I’m not expendable or disposable, what am I then?”

“You’re…” 

Taking a step forward, you move back to your initial spot, closer to him, chests almost touching.

“I’m?”

“You’re a princess and I’m a pirate!” he blurts, his previously apprehensive face morphing into something intense. 

You huff a short breath, an incredulous stretch to your lips. Of course. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask in a low voice. 

“Like what it is,” he heaves, chest inflating and deflating like he’d run the course of the deck about thrice. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

If your ears weren’t deceiving you, it sounded more like he was trying to convince no one but himself. 

You take a step closer as he takes a step back.

His face is scrunched ever so slightly, eyes blinking quicker than normal. The sunlight blurs the edges of his features; his usually sharp, stinging stare is hazy, the slant of his nose curvier, the ridges of his lips blending into your muddled perception of his face. 

The only thing dividing you is the silence, the bore of your stare and the war in your mind. You cannot speak for him, but you also aren’t a fool. 

“Everything they say about you is wrong.” 

“What?” he asks again. 

“You don’t have a deadly bone in your body. You’re a coward that hides behind his knife and his big bad pirate ship that you can’t even defend.”

For once, he remains speechless while you persist.

“To think we spent all these years trying to subdue you, push you to the edge,” you can feel the anger seep into the hottest centre of your bones. “All for you to be some scared sailor all along.”

“Your father ruined my life,” he says. It’s a strange voice he uses, one that’s somewhere between disbelief and a warning.

“And mine with it.” 

He laughs, blinking rapidly, backing away even further, running a hand through his hair. Coming around, he looks over his shoulder. He looks like the man you met the day your life fell apart, a strut in his step that runs your blood cold. 

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with you simply wishing to spite the man?” He walks back over. “Prance around with the filthy pirate he hates just for the fun of it?” 

“Oh and you haven’t just been itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess.”

Your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, spewing the accusation with a vigour you never realised you possessed. Lies. Lies. Lies.

This was your own deteriorating mind’s doing. You were the debauched princess painting lewd pictures of a pirate in your mind. It was your heart that couldn’t stand being near the man for longer than necessary. It was you that had the scripture somewhere in your chest, the tiniest speck of a daydream, that perhaps this inner turmoil didn’t end with just you. 

Did you want to be another woman he doesn’t have to remember? 

You don’t know. All your mind registers is the unbearable twist in your chest, and how it feels like you can’t do nothing about it.

You’re used to getting your way, and you hate that your mind seems to have drifted away from you.

Hoshi’s expression is nowhere in your mind, too preoccupied with sucking in inhales and trying not to begin spiralling right on the main deck. 

“You’re projecting.” 

Eyes snapping up like he’s proposed to sink the ship itself, you feel yourself hit a mental wall. And a physical one as you feel the brush of the suspended sheets against your hair, having taken an unconscious step back. 

He’s cornered you. Yet again. 

“Everything about you screams vulnerable,” he says, moving closer. “Not very sharp to show in front of a pirate.”

“Hoshi.” A warning. A sharp, hurtling sting of fear. 

“What? Big bad pirate too emotionally removed? Beloved princess trapped and defenceless on unfamiliar lands?” 

He’s moving closer, too close.

“I take it back,” he says. “Perhaps drunken Ash does speak the truth—”

Not a familiar plane on his face, like the pirate king had absolved a long held mask. His eyes mortified you, his stance was a walking threat. 

Despite the morning sun, the cave of the hung sheets, the shadows of the high masts and the towering gloom of the pirate captain creates enough darkness to throw a shadow in your mind. 

It’s like the day his crew dropped on the deck for the very first time. The emotions you wished you’d never have to feel again. 

“Stop.” A whisper. 

“Itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess—”

“Do not move any closer!” you shout, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisting the suspended sheets so hard you can feel your fingernails dig into your palms. Scarring.

The world halts, and you feel the darkness beyond your eyelids, lighten. The air is forgiving, cool and blowing.

When you open your eyes, you’re alone.

THE WAR ROOM LOOKS the same, but everything has changed.

For one thing, you were significantly more bundled up with coats and lined boots. The cold of the green islands wasn’t the creeping frost you’d anticipated. You simply woke up one day without feeling in your fingers and toes, fog in the air as you breathed. 

The coat wasn’t nearly as thick as it needed to be, but you doubt you would’ve found anything better even at the ports. The green islands weren’t meant for life.

“You need to get into the hold unnoticed, and as quickly as possible,” Minghao says. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen after the exchange is made but we know we can’t help you once you’re on that ship.”

Clenching your jaw, you nod tersely. It was high stakes, you couldn’t hurt any of the soldiers to keep it clean; planting a bomb where a King resides was difficult—princess or not.

“Getting you out of the wreckage is our job,” Hoshi says, and you pointedly refuse to look at him. You weren’t quite convinced. “We’ll be on Tigress by the time the bomb goes off. Leave nothing of importance on this thing, we’ll be blowing it up too.”

“You need to get in the water as soon as that bomb goes off,” Jun says. “Their priority is gonna be you and your father. You need to make sure they can’t find you when they realise the ship’s sinking.”

The ship the King should be transported in was the same as the very naval vessel you sat in right now. 

“They might be on one of the smaller ships,” you say.

“Why?”

“You know what the ships that hold royals look like, they aren’t risking you having that advantage.”

If your father was bringing out all the guns of deception to take down these pirates once and for all—which you don’t doubt he was—every move you were about to make was based on assumptions. Assumptions that might as well cost this entire crew’s heads.

“Do you know what those ships look like?” Minghao asks.

“I’ve only been on them a few times, but never in the hold,” you say. “I think I’ll figure it out well enough, they’re all the same more or less.”

There’s a blanket of silence, a quiet regard to how utterly unprepared all of you were. Limited information and the most important man’s head at the butt of the target; your bow pulled too taut, too wobbly, your arrow too blunt. 

“Are you sure we can’t risk shooting a couple of ‘em in the head?” Chan asks from across the room, running a tired hand across his face.

Sighing, you ignore the burst of fog erupting from your mouth, answering, “I can convince an entire Kingdom their King drowned, but I don’t know if I stop them from trying to find his body. Imagine their surprise if they find a supposedly drowned man with a bullet in his head.”

“It’s fine,” Hoshi interrupts, eyes downcast and arms folded. He leans against the wall of the war room and you can’t help it when your mind flashes to that stormy night. Your hands finding refuge on his chest, the heat of the moment. 

Nose flaring, you look away, the rage hurtling up your throat like vomit. 

“We’ll just have to figure it out. Stay vigilant, we all know what’s at stake. We all know what we have to do,” he continues, a glance around the inhabitants of the room. 

Something about it almost insinuates an underlying question of trust, a confirmation to sweep an unanswering room.

“The bomb’s done,” Jun says, and heat crawls up your entire being. “I made a couple extras, I’m gonna chuck ‘em out into the water for a test and that’ll be it.”

Somewhere on this ship lies the bomb that would kill your father, and if you didn’t do your job like you were supposed to, it might as well kill you all. 

YOU LEFT YOUR SOUL on your bedside table the moment Seungkwan entered your quarters with a rapt knock, informing you that the ship was nearing the rendezvous point. 

It had only been a few hours since that meeting in the war room, and it felt like only a week since this had all begun. 

Seungkwan invites himself in as he continues to talk. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it to calm you down or not, but you appreciate it regardless. 

“Keep those trousers on and make sure you look good. You have to look like we cared while we kept you prisoner,” he says, and you can’t help but smile just a little. “Take anything important—pocket it, give it to us. We’re not gonna see this ship after we’re done.”

The idea is strange, that your home for so many months would soon be forgotten, resting on the frozen ocean bed for eternity. You think of what you wish to keep, eyeing the stack of letters on the desk. You won’t be able to keep them on you if you were going to be jumping into the ocean at some point. 

Collecting the smaller pile, you hand them to Seungkwan. “You might have to take a dip in the ocean too, but at least you may have a chance to skip that bit if luck’s on your side. Keep these for me?”

Seungkwan smiles as he takes the stack of letters, pressing them to fit inside his coat. “Aren’t these all from your father?”

“Yes, but…” you trail off. “I’d like to remember them in case I forget why I did what I’m about to do.”

Seungkwan stands in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face. “You know this can’t work unless we trust one another. All of us. The entire crew.”

“I trust you,” you say. “Pirates are impatient. If you wanted me gone I wouldn’t be here.”

He sighs, almost like he was dissatisfied with your answer. With a laugh you ask, “Did you want me to say no?”

“No, it’s just,” he starts. “I wasn’t going to bring it up but, since we don’t have time…I don’t know what’s going on with you and Hoshi but…”

You stiffen at the mention of his name.

“I need to make sure you aren’t about to do something rash because of him.”

Your corset lies on the sheets, and you snatch it off, a bite to your movements.Your coat is already off, your linen shirt is the only thing that covers your upper body

“It was my mistake. I misunderstood. I won’t be letting it affect anything tonight.” You push the loosened corset over your head, too frustrated to unlace it and lace it back up. Your fingers are freezing cold, even too much for your palms to bear as they come in inevitable contact. 

Beyond yourself, you continue to grit through your chattering teeth, the pulses of irritation in your brain only encouraging you to spill. Turning around, back now facing Seungkwan, you fiddle with the strings on your corset as you rant.

“I can’t say the same for him, but you can ask.” Your arms are bent at a strange angle, but you attempt to make the loops and knots anyway. Having never had to do this by yourself ever, you’d found a practice after your peculiar situation. You were alright, but the cold was making it near impossible to simply loop the string through the existing holes.

“He seems to have a lack of emotional control, of course, you’d know, but I can’t say I find it too charming,” your grunting front he effort as you speak.

Seungkwan seems to have noticed your struggle because you feel a pair of warmer hands replace yours, unlacing the loop you’d just made only to loop it again, tighter this time. He takes the liberty to tie the final knot, tighter than you’d usually have it but you’re too busy to correct him. 

“I don’t think I need to explain what happened, your captain seems to be content with the way he is,” you scoff slightly before continuing. “I’m not quite sure what else I was expecting. Actually, I do know what I was expecting, but again, that’s just seems to be my fault—”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s like an entire ocean’s worth of ice water has been poured down your back. Perhaps being buried under the glaciers of the Green Islands would be more forgiving. 

Turning around, you find the hands on your waist do not move, Hoshi’s face coming into view instead of Seungkwan’s. 

The room is bare besides the both of you, the door to quarters closed. You don’t know when he came in nor when Seungkwan left, but he stands before you now, hands touching you where you shouldn’t let him. But you do. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his eyes locked in on yours. 

“W-what?” you breathe.

“I’ve been quite stupid.”

“Have you?”

It sounds like he breathes out a laugh, but composes himself. “I didn’t realise I was cornering you on the deck the other day. I’m sorry for making you feel unsafe. I’m sorry for everything I said.”

Every fibre of your being wants him to suffer, to withhold your forgiveness. But then you realise where you are, in the middle of an ocean that’s been designed by the heavens to kill. 

“Thank you for saying that.” You don’t have the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry too. You aren’t…you aren’t what I implied you were. You’re right. I was projecting.”

“I don’t want us to go out there walking on eggshells around each other,” he says as his breath fans your face. Warm. “We have to come out the other side. All of us.”

You nod slowly.

“You have it the hardest out of all of us, I just…” he trails off and you feel his fingers tightening on your waist, even through the material of your corset. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. No matter what you lose, I think it’s safe to say you’ve gained me. All of us.” 

The thought of not making it out alive has you flexing your numb fingers in front of you slightly. You might die. This crew might die. Your crew might die. 

The man that’s begun to mean more than just a saviour might die. 

Not considering your frozen fingertips, or the absurdity, your body moves on its own. 

In a split second, your iced lips are in contact with the pirate captain’s warmer ones. 

You don’t doubt they’re cold as well, but they differ from yours enough for them to feel like the only warmers you need. 

Your hands have grabbed his face, light brushes against his skin as you tiptoe to reach his lips. They’re soft. Softer than you could’ve ever imagined on a pirate, and you find yourself forgetting where you are for a moment as you feel the plush of his mouth against your own. 

Pulling away first, your noses still brushing, you whisper to him through the creaks and groans of the drifting ship. “I had to do that. Just in case.”

“In case?” he whispers back.

“In case… we don’t make it.”

It only takes him a moment to remove his hands from your waist. For a heartbreaking second, you think this is him pulling away from you. Again.

And then both of his arms are looping around your waist, pulling you into his chest hard, your lips slamming into each other even harder. 

He takes the liberty to move his mouth against your own, hot even in the cold air. Moving with a restrained pace, yet appropriately desperate nonetheless. The cold tip of your nose brushes against his cheek and he pulls away to hiss. 

“God, you’re freezing.”

The discovery only seems to urge him to pull you impossibly closer. If your lungs weren’t already occupied, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Despite it all, you find your arms coming up around his neck and shoulders, one hand finding refuge in his light hair.  

You might never need a drink of anything ever again, not with the way his mouth alone seems to have you drunk and deranged, begging for time to stop so he’d never stop kissing you, never stop moving his beautiful, glorious mouth against your own. 

There isn’t a thought in your mind as you pull away for wretched air, eyes closed and breathing heavily. 

Hoshi places his forehead flush against your own, both of you exhaling into each other’s faces, still holding you so tight it hurts. It’s warm, his breath seemingly defrosting the formed icicles on your face. 

“Hoshi,” you slip from your mouth instinctively.

“Soonyoung,” he breathes, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s talking. “My name. Soonyoung is the name my mother gave me. I want you to have it.” 

Opening your eyes, you register his face so close to yours. His eyes are screwed shut, he’s still breathing heavily. 

“Soonyoung,” you repeat, hands finding his face again, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Soonyoung.”

He opens his eyes.

“I like it. It’s very you.”

He smiles and you can’t help but think how beautiful he looks when he does, and when he leans forward to give you another elongated peck, one that has you chasing his lips again. He relents for one more.

“Well, Soonyoung, can I give you something too?”

He looks at you expectantly. 

Reaching up to the back of your neck, you find the knotted bind of the leather cord that hangs from your neck. Undoing it, you bring the charm out from under your shirt, leaning forward to tie it around his neck this time.

He stares at the charm that dangles down his front as you give it a light tug, “A letter opener. So that’s what you were getting from that lady at Hasry.”

“You knew when I left?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“I was more worried about you wandering off than I was about anything else, what made you think I didn’t know exactly where you were?” He has a cheeky smile on his face, one that you’ve never seen without an underlying threat or the usual glint of unhinged in his eyes. 

You can’t help but grin, of course he knew.

“If you wanted a letter opener as a weapon, you should’ve just asked.”

“Aren’t knives just bigger letter openers?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

He responds with a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before saying, “Since we’re exchanging gifts—”

“You started it.”

“And I’m ending it.”

He emerges from one of his many pockets with what looks like a bracelet in his hands. 

“That’s—”

“From Hasry,” he confirms. “I bought it for no real reason, never even wore it.”

He rolls one of the pink and blue beads between his thumb and forefinger, and you remember it sitting at the stall in Hasry like it was yesterday. 

“Didn’t realise I only bought it because I saw you looking at it.”

The twist in your heart is the worst it’s ever been, even while he holds you closer than anyone ever has, you feel the need to squeeze him beyond measure hoping it’ll fix the turmoil in your chest. 

He attempts to take one of your hands, in an obvious attempt to slip the bracelet on your wrist. 

“Wait.” 

Hoshi stops. 

“Keep it,” you say as you grab his wrist, pushing the beads down his hand so it sits on his wrist instead.

“But—”

You cut him off with a kiss. “A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

There’s a silent understanding between the two of you as you stand in each other's arms. 

“We still have much to talk about. But I think this is alright for now,” you say. 

“We will,” he confirms. “But when we go out there and put everything on the line, remember you aren’t just a princess anymore. You’re a pirate, too. So fight like one.”

THE COLD HAS COATED the deck in a fine layer of ice, one that makes it a hazard to simply walk on. Your boots feel unstable and it takes a conscious effort to plant your feet firmly on the wood to ensure you don’t fall like Chan almost has the last four times and the one time he did. 

It’s less foggy than you’d anticipated, and you can see Mingyu and Minghao working overtime to ensure the giant ship doesn’t hit one of the absurdly large icebergs that float in the freezing water, the crow’s nest occupied by Hoshi himself as he peers through his telescope. It was strange seeing him use it, you’d begun to think he only kept it like an accessory.

He yells something from his place high up; it’s unclear, but you know.

And then you see it, the naval ship with the unmistakable flag that ripples proud in the cold air. Your family crest is barely decipherable, but knowing what lay ahead was enough to have you taking significantly deeper breaths. 

Your father’s—the King’s— ship bobs in the water with a near empty main deck, not a soul on board. 

You hold your breath, and as one of the blocks of ice are swerved, you find a second ship. The indicative jolly roger is nowhere to be seen, but it's obvious what ship that was. 

The Tigress stands proud with her years of darkened wood, the unmistakable figurehead at the prow in the distinct shape of a fanged siren. 

And only a smaller sailboat away, lay a flat of ice. 

Another white flag with the royal crest, lines of uniformed soldiers that stand at attention like protectors of the ice, a pattern of dotted blues. The admiral stands next to your father, who’s donned his own Naval uniform complete with a purple cape pinned at his shoulder. 

The purple cape of a victor that returns home from battle. The purple cape he’s donned before the battle has even ensued. 

The King has noticed your arrival, his face becoming clearer the nearer the ship gets to the block of ice that would act as common ground. 

And then the ship stops, you turn around and realise the rest of the crew has their eyes on you, expectant. 

“We have a message,” Mingyu says, looking at you but handing the thing in his hand to his captain. 

In your fixation, you did not notice the small boat that had floated near the ship, bearing a scroll with the royal seal. 

Hoshi reads it, lips tight shut and jaw clenched. 

In the next few minutes, all seven of you are cramped into a single, tiny wherry to be rowed onto the iced land. None of you speak, none of you acknowledge the other. The canister that Jun had given you presses against the side of your bare hip, your knife strapped inside your boot. 

That was it. That was all you had. 

But there was some confidence in it, the way the entire crew was asked to present themselves at the exchange was enough to tell you there was truth in what you presumed of your father’s plans. 

He had knives of his own up his sleeve, and he intended to provoke his worst enemy while looking him in the eye. 

As the boat reached what was a hardened shore, the crew stepped off the boat one by one. Very carefully, you stepped on the block of ice as the group moved forward, reaching a point where you stood parallel to the other rigid party. 

In a purposeful attempt, you were kept in the middle of a herded circle, shielded by the crew as Hoshi stood front and centre, the crew’s mouthpiece. You can’t help but swallow, the ringing in your head growing louder than ever. 

There’s a loud voice that plagues the sheets of ice, and your stomach flips so violently you lose both your vision and your hearing. You take an unconscious step back before you feel a hand on your back. 

It was Chan, who whispered, “Keep it together. Calm down, it’s okay.”

It was the obvious response from him but you find yourself calming in any case. 

“The crown commands you, Hoshi Kwon, to bring forth Her Royal Highness, the princess,  at once.” Your father’s right hand man, the royal advisor, and his more trusted friend speaks for the throne, his voice recognizable as it rings on behalf of his king.

From standing behind him, you watch as Hoshi simply raises his fist to place at his hips. 

“Captain. Captain Hoshi Kwon,” he corrects, before continuing. “And my hostage will not be brought anywhere till I have my money ship.”

“As proposed by Hoshi Kwon, His Majesty, The King will cooperate in the exchange of Her Royal Highness, the princess for said ship.”

“Give me my ship first.”

“Hoshi Kwon—”

Hoshi groans loudly, loud enough for the other party that stands multiple feet away to hear, before continuing, “This is why I despise dealing with you insufferable lot, why must everything be so formal?”

But you knew what game he was playing at, the deadliest pirate on the seas does not comply with government officials so easily, and he wasn’t about to drop his masquerade now. 

“You know what,” Hoshi starts, and you see him eye the wooden boat you had just reached the island on. “We do it this way.”

There’s a pause. 

“Me and my harmless little crew will sidestep back over, zip our way to our ship and leave you with your precious princess. Is your royal highness majesty in agreement?”

“Hoshi Kwon is commanded once again to bring the princess forward.” There’s less formality in his tone now, and you realise very quickly that there was no other way to separate yourself from the crew.

“Hoshi,” you whisper under your breath, hoping he would understand. Taking the risk, you move forward in the little space you had, hand very gently placed on his back. 

There’s a pause before he speaks, “Fine. Have your princess.”

Turning around, back facing the crowd, he makes eye contact with you before moving to discreetly meet the eyes of his crew. “Let them take you.”

That’s the last thing you hear him say to his crew as you find a larger shadow approach from behind Hoshi.

“Ho—”

Hoshi grabs your arm harsher than he usually would, dragging you forward in his attempt to present you, but you find that Hoshi’s turned back was taken as an opportunity, the dozens of soldiers having already made their way across. 

If you hadn’t heard what he had whispered to the crew, his shocked face would’ve fooled you too. He looks like he wasn’t expecting the way the crew was immediately surrounded by swarms of armed soldiers, guns perched directly at each member of the crew. He looked like he wasn’t expecting to be cornered. 

But you liked to think you knew this man, and he had once told you to never turn your back to an enemy. Too much to be a rookie mistake of his, so you trust him. 

And then you’re being tugged by someone who’s not from the crew, the distinct feeling of softer, more respectful hands that wrap around your elbow, urging you forward. 

You find it within yourself to not look back, sending a prayer to every entity in the world to keep them safe, to keep the trust in your heart that they knew what they were doing. 

Eyes downcast, you know immediately who you’re being led towards, and when you stop, bracing yourself to meet your father’s eye, you find yourself feeling nothing. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks in his strange form of greeting. No embrace, no sign of relief that his daughter and only heir was alive and well. 

“No, sir,” you reply, shifting your eyes back down to your shoes. 

“Go back to the ship with the guards. We leave as soon as I’m done with this lot.”

Your stomach jolts, but you bite your tongue and let yourself be led to one of the smaller boats. The canister burns against your skin. 

Seated in the smaller boat, flanked by guards, you can’t stop your neck from craning to look at the scene behind you. 

Far away, on the other side of the glacier, the pirates are being ordered to strip themselves of their weapons. 

Hoshi’s dagger glints against the sunlight and you spot Jun’s revolvers in the pile. 

Hoshi looks up and catches your eye, face unchanged. 

“You’re safe now, your Highness,” one of your guards assured you, taking your gaze as a fearful look back instead of one laced with something else. 

Please be okay. 

As soon as you're led up to the main deck, your eyes dart. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out that your father had not chosen to take one of the smaller ships as you’d expected of him. Instead, you stand in an exact replica of the ship you had just disembarked, except for the flag that fluttered with your family crest. 

You’re pushed into one of the quarters in the lower decks, hearing the distinct click of something outside as you find yourself in the mostly barren indoors. 

It looks like a colder version of your quarters on the other ship, the same dimensions, the same window that displays the clear waters of the Green Islands. Except it’s only occupied by a single bed that’s pushed into a corner, stripped of its sheets. 

It looks like a prison cell. 

When you turn around to try for the door, you try to wrench it open but it refuses to budge. You can’t help but question how many times you’ve landed yourself in this exact situation.

Why on Earth would they lock you in? Did they suspect you of something? But whatever for?

You give up, turning to untuck your shirt from your trousers, feeling for the bomb against your hip to make sure it hadn’t slipped. After that, you crouch down to check the inside of your boot, despite feeling the dagger this entire time, you couldn’t help but need to check. 

There was nothing you could do, not when you knew nothing of what was happening on the other side of the door. The window gleams, and you find yourself bolting towards it, peering through the glass to check for any bodies that may land in the water, praying your father would keep them alive.

Hang them publicly. Guillotine them and suspend their heads at the gates of the palace. Just keep them alive for tonight. 

The sun is proving a sorry resource of time, especially when you can’t tell how long it’s been since you were shoved in here. The sun seems closer to the seas when you hear the jingle of the lock. 

Nearing the risk of whiplash, you turn to the door to find your father walking into the room. He walks in, his cape gone, immediately turning to lock the door from the inside once again. 

Once he comes around, he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes boring into your soul. 

“It seems the pirates have changed you,” he comments, eyeing your new trousers that you sport. It was strange, a woman in trousers, let alone a princess. 

“Not at all, sir,” you respond. 

“Your newfound friends are strapped into the brigs, finally subdued and ready to stand trial for their crimes.” His voice is rough, and he looks older than when you last saw him months ago. 

He acts in less alarm than you would’ve thought, assuming his definition of ‘friends’ was simply a sick way to prod at you than any indication that he suspected an alliance. But you fight the effort to let out a sigh of relief; they were in the brig, they were fine, they’d stay alive in time for you to get to them. 

“I thought David less than for a fool,” he refers to the Admiral as he talks. “He proved me quite incorrect when he showed up on some shoddy fishing boat with a message from a pirate. Like some messenger boy.”

You don’t answer as you simply stare at the toes of your boots. It was foolish to dare make eye contact with him.

“A stupid proposal from a stupid pirate,” he chortled in a genuine laugh. “That pirate ship was easy bait. If only you hadn’t gotten yourself roped in like a simpleton.”

His sentence ends with a harsher undertone as he blames you for something you couldn’t possibly have controlled. 

“In any case,” he continues, the gruff in his voice clearing out. “What’s a pirate to a King?”

Everything in you screams at you to halt your already moving tongue, yelling about how horrible the idea was. 

“He’s more of a man than you ever could be.” 

The ringing in your ears becomes a sounding blare, your vision going white at the sides. Your hands shake and you don’t know why you keep staring your father in the eye. 

There’s a furrow in his brow, eyes unyielding and face stoic. 

It’s silent for goodness knows how long as you wish you could sink in that very moment. 

“That load of filth’s done more than just put you in trousers, is it?” he grits through his teeth. He’s seething. “Henley had said you were acting strange when he saw you at that port market, it seems he was right.” 

“No matter,” he continues, exhaling loudly. “It only makes my job easier.”

He unclasps his hands, pulling his white gloves at the fingertips. 

“Perhaps we may live in a world where princesses prance around with pirates, but that won’t be the reason I fulfil my duty as King today.”

He slips them off his hands entirely. 

“I tried shaping you into something worthy of the throne for so many years, and I’d begun to realise that perhaps, not everyone is fit to be ruler after all.”

Was he about to strip of your inheritance? The crown was why you were born. Despite everything your father had put you through, the throne was your god given right. 

“Unfortunately, I cannot simply renounce your title. Not without reason,” he continues as he takes a step closer to you, dropping the gloves to the floor soundlessly. “And while perhaps the court may not consider inadequacy as enough reason, I’m quite sure an exchange gone wrong would be enough, even for them.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, dear daughter, that our time together has come to an end.”

And then his hands were around your throat.

[AN]: HEHEHEHEHEHEHE rb or send an ask telling me your thots as always, one part left to go!!!!!

[zarisdonut]

Okay so update on my reading journey, I finished The Way of Kings!!!!

Here are my final thoughts, v summed up cause there's a lot of info to process but these are the main ones:

The way the whole book Dalinar's like 'omg i cant imagine living without my shardblade id be so miserable :((((' but then he trades it to get Sadeas' bridgemen???? Cause life is priceless but so is his blade so by trading 1 priceless blade for a bunch of priceless lives, he got a bargain???? Literally made me tear up.

I love how honorable Dalinar and Kaladin are. they truly feel like two sides of the same coin (idk if i used that expression right). They love their men, would do anything for them, and idk. They are such good leaders like I love them. I cant wait to see them work together in the future books. I hope i get some kind of father/son type of relationship. Im so excited to find out!!!

Also like, its v funny to me how Kaladin's only 19-20. Like, wdym ur getting bossed around by a fucking kid, grow tf up????

Now, Adolin? He got a special place in my heart. Mid 20s and totally acts his age. Sure he is hot-headed, and a bit pushy, but he's so competent and caring and he acknowledges his mistakes???? Idk, he felt so real to me. Big fan of him btw.

Elhokhar i hope u know ur a fucking bitch.

Sadeas and Dalinar's relationship... Lemme just say that I love some old man toxic yaoi. Like, wdym ur ex best friend/(lowkey) rival now turned ally has betrayed you but still, when ur abt to die fighting the big boy parshendi shardbearer, a situation he put you in btw, u still think that the man coming to save you is still Sadeas???? I know what you are, Dalinar Kholin, and what you are is a fucking simp.

That said, Dalinar and Navani are so fucking cute, actually. Barely shows up in this book but i can already tell Navani's a bad bitch and you know what? That's exactly what Dalinar deserves.

I cant wait for Dalinar and Jasnah's family reunion like yay ur lit my fav duo and you haven't even shared a physical space in this book.

Shallan crushing on Jasnah cause of course she is, fork found in kitchen. Still, i appreciated it :)

And Jasnah's whole thing with the faux soul caster???? Oh, I can already tell she's going to be one powerful mf in future books. I can't wait.

Also Shallan and Jasnah teamup???? i love my little hero/sidekick dynamic

Going back to Kaladin, bridge four is my fucking family if anything happens to them I'm cancelling my subscription to life like idgaf. Teft and Rock my best bros please don't die

And Kaladin being able to inhale stormlight???? iktr my powerful king!!!!

Also Hoid??? Being Wit????? Hello???? Gagged. Love that he came, insulted some people, confused Kaladin and me, and left. My king, actually

Aside from all of that, I found this book so good but also quite frustrating cause I want to know things but wdym that after reading a 1000 pages, I'm still confused???? Maybe even more confused than I was before starting it???? But what rlly shocks me is the fact that Im not mad abt this at all. I just read the longest introduction to a fictional world of my entire life and I'm sitting here, fucking amazed that I get to experience this story. Crazy. But do you know who's crazier? Fucking Brandon Sanderson for coming up with this entire world, making it work and making it so alluring, that you cannot put the book down. Like, that's father.

And this is it for now, I'll keep updating and doing silly lil posts bc I found that writing all my thoughts helps me understand and process all the information better so there's that :))))))