#the ship who sang more like the ship who cursed me

[aspocko]

listen. i have no patience or respect for r/obin h/obb, and i did not love liveship traders (although i liked it a whole lot more than i liked the rain wild chronicles lmao). but talk to me about the ofmd AU where Stede has a ship built in the image of his hero, the legendary blackbeard, only for Ed the figurehead to come to life and teach him how to be a pirate and fall in love with him. or ed capturing a ship with a very fancy very chatty figurehead who is stede and is just so excited to get to partake in some real piracy. i am just thinking thoughts about this that i have no one to share with, and so i bequeath it to this webbed site instead, so that maybe one day i will know peace.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

summary: a siren attack is already unfortunate, but it's worse if it also reveals some truths about your insufferable crew mate

pairing: pirate! hawks x gn! pirate! reader

warnings: just a silly drabble to get back into writing and exorcise some of my hawks brainrot; a little suggestive at the end

general masterlist || bnha masterlist

Getting stuck on the same ship as Takami Keigo was one of life’s most torturous challenges. At least for you. He was obnoxiously arrogant and, much to your chagrin, people flocked to him like seagulls to a forgotten loaf of bread. 

Sure, your fellow pirate was quite easy on the eyes and rather charming when he wanted to be;  a truth you would only ever admit in the comfort of your own head, lest you inflate his ego even further. Instead, you rather grumbled to yourself, cursing his name for getting to sit pretty in the crow’s nest while you sat on deck and mended a torn net.

“Having fun down there?” If the devil ever spoke to you, you were sure he would mimic the grating lilt of Keigo’s melodic voice. “You know, I’m pretty sure a whale could swim through the holes you’re leaving.”

He was your crew mate, he was an essential part of the expedition, you couldn’t just shoot him down. 

“At least one of us is doing their job,” you deadpanned, not even giving him the satisfaction to look up. “You know, I think an island could sneak up on us with how distracted you are.”

“Oh you think you’re distracting me?” Even with your eyes trained on the cords in your hands, you could picture the cocky tilt of his head, a dashing grin playing around his lips. “Is that the kind of effect you want to have on me?”

“You’re the one who’s always coming up to bother me, so if anything you’re the one who’s obsessed with me.” If this conversation went on for any longer, your medic would have to patch up a popped vein on your part.

“Ah there is that wishful thinking again,” he laughed and this time you glared up at his silhouette standing out against the blinding sun. As always, he wore loose beige pants and the top buttons of his black shirt were undone, showing more of his toned chest than you needed to see. His black boots were propped up against the nest’s railing and the crimson head scarf fluttering in the breeze matched the earring dangling from his left lobe.

Just as you were about to retort, another shadow against the sun caught your attention. Drawing your pistol, you undid the safety, alerting the rest of the crew that there was something coming.

But before you could see what exactly was approaching, you suddenly lost your balance as the ship developed a heavy list. Grabbing onto the mast of the crow’s nest, you managed to steady yourself, yet the impact knocked the revolver from your grip. As you looked up, the first thing you saw was the massive cliffs your ship was heading towards, sharp rocks littering the waters, waiting to demolish its wooden bottom. 

Then your eyes locked on to the crew’s navigator, whose head lulled from one side to the other as he firmly steered you towards your demise. Next to him, holding his attention, was a beautiful woman sweetly tracing a finger along his jaw as she sang to him. As a feather drifted past your eyes, it suddenly hit you what -or who- exactly you were dealing with.

“Cover your ears!” You shouted to no one in particular as you scrambled for the wax you had stuffed into your pocket. With your hearing muffled, your own heartbeat raced in your ears as you dove for your pistol and breathlessly aimed for the siren attached to your navigator, who by now was half way towards the ship’s railing, his feet dragging underneath him as the woman lured him further towards the water.

You weren’t sure if your bullet was enough to actually kill the siren but upon impact it dissolved into a burst of feathers and released its hold on your crew mate, who dazedly blinked as he tried to regain his senses.

The next few minutes were a blur of talons, feathers and pulling your crew back from the ship’s edge, even tying some of them to the masts to make sure they wouldn’t try to kill themselves again.

Soon enough, however, you were out of bullets and you reluctantly drew the dagger previously secured to your thigh, scanning the area for more sirens when someone tapped your shoulder. Whirling around you slashed your dagger in an arc around you, only to find Keigo standing in front of you, holding up his hands innocently. There was an easy going smile on his face as he said something you couldn’t understand, so you removed one of the wax beads restricting your hearing.

And that was your mistake.

Only a few heartbeats after his velvety voice reached your ears, your dagger clattered onto the deck as Keigo reached out to unplug your other ear as well, his fingers grazing your cheek with nails much sharper than you expected. You wondered if his lips would be as plush as you imagined them to be or if his hair would be as soft as it looked when you buried your fingers in it.

His amber eyes were trained entirely on you as he gave you a coy gaze, inviting you to take another step towards him, to find out for yourself, to sate your curiosity. Likewise, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him either as your feet followed his graceful movements, the light reflecting of his golden hair like a halo, the crimson wings on his back completing his angelic appearance—

Then, Keigo dissolved into a burst of those same scarlet feathers as two sharp swords sliced through his torso. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it when the same face came back into view again.

With full force, the noise of the ship reached you again and you staggered backwards at the sudden onslaught of stimuli. Around you, the crew was running around, untying people and frantically steering the ship back onto the right course as you raced to regain your bearings, disoriented by the orders being bellowed around you.

“That should be the last of them,” Keigo ripped you from your daze, his voice clearer as the sea as he sheathed his swords again. “Nasty creatures, those sirens. Though I guess this one was a handsome fellow, considering you were dazedly mumbling my name on your way overboard.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line when your brain caught up to your current situation. Perhaps the siren had been taken care off, yet you were still tempted to throw yourself head first over the railing. Justifiably so, you thought when your eyes darted to the man’s face long enough to confirm the self-satisfied expression he was wearing.

“I am quite flattered really,” he mused, one hand reaching out to tilt your face up so you’d meet his eyes as he stepped closer to you. For a split-second, the thought that it was still a siren in front of you crossed your mind. “To think that a siren would choose to wear my face in an effort to seduce you… now isn’t that quite the compliment?”

“Just… shut up and let me die in peace, would you?” You rolled your eyes, ready to retreat into your little cabin and try to grapple with your near-death experience, this confrontation included. If only the rocky spikes had ripped open the bottom of the ship, you could sink to the sea floor in quiet solitude.

“No no no, why would you do that when you can stay right here with me? C’mon just see it as my reward for saving your precious life, treasure.” He sent you a cheeky wink, drawing your attention to the sharp slant of his eyes and your heart, the treacherous thing, skipped a beat. 

“Is your idea of a reward torturing me further? Or what could you possibly get out of this?” Your shoulders sacked with your sigh, resigning to your defeat. 

“What I’m getting out of this? It’s quite obvious isn’t it?” Slinging an arm around your hanging shoulders, Keigo pulled you flush to his side. Warmth and the scent of salt mixed with something woodsy radiated off of him and you could admit this wasn’t the worst position to be in. “Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company.”

“That is hard to believe, you’re right.” You cocked your head in suspicion. “Normally you do everything to get under my skin, so what changed?”

“Hmm, I wonder why that is,” Keigo’s melodic timbre lilted before transitioning into his typical pearly laughter. Then, as if sharing a secret, he leant down so his lips were dangerously close to your ear, his voice dropping low. “You know, you weren’t the only one visited by a siren. As tempting as that version of you looked, I must say I prefer the real deal.

“Do you think I could get you to sing for me as well?”

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[simonalkenmayer]

There’s a small story I haven’t told, about when I first came to where I currently reside. If you’ve read some of my short stories about my life history, then this would follow directly after “The Suits”.

Back in those days, the place I currently live was almost entirely devoid of women who weren’t already married. It was a very manly man place of wild forests being logged, natives being colonized, and all sorts of hurdy guedy. A man by the name of Mercer began a transplant of women, who were to be educated and married off to the men of the area, so as to “civilize” the place.

After that plan was enacted, women began doing this in their own. And incentives galore existed, including reduced fares, housing, sheltering so forth. When I came up, I switched genders, because of this advantage. I had won myself a deed to some property here, in a poker game. I then pretended to be my own sister, sent to set up the stead and “marry myself off”.

So I came as a woman, and set myself up in a residence hall for young ladies. Why? Because of the proprietress, who kept a secure and tight ship for propped “gels”. I wanted that security, as there is no watchdog better than a large woman with a rolling pin looking out for virtue. My room was essentially Fort Knox. But I didn’t move around town as a woman! Heavens no. Such would be impossible, especially given the condition of the city, which was mud half the time and not set up for skirts.

I worked out of the lumber mill. Dressed as a man. I made friends with a batch of German and Austrian immigrants, because I could understand them. One in particular seemed very taken with me. Probably because he wasn’t much of a talker and I was mute. But then one day he turned up at the boarding house, and I realized he had figured me out, perhaps because he’d followed me home from the drinking hole we all frequented.

I suspected he’d come to the conclusion that I was a woman masquerading as a man to obtain employment. I suspected I’d have a difficult moment ahead.

One night he came to my window at the boarding house, after I’d just quitted the nightly meal. He was drunk as a skunk, and singing love songs at me. I knew the lady of the house would beat him stupider, so I dragged him inside. Then I noticed he was covered in blood. Apparently hed injured himself on the rough fence outside.

Imagine me, dressed in proper female dinner attire, bodily proppping a giant, German man against a wall, as he gibbers and bleeds at me. I shushed him, and told him he had made a terrible mistake. He said he hadn’t. That his life till then was a mistake. I was brave and wonderful and pretty in all the ways. I told him to stop talking rubbish. He realized he was bleeding and fell onto my bed. I say him up with some difficulty, as he extolled my many virtues. “How amazing,” he sang, “that you can push logs and look so fine.”

I offered to push him into the sea off the nearest cliff. He called me mysterious. It was a very lopsided conversation. I set about patching him up. Which led to the following events.

He, seated on the end of the bed, no shirt, facing away from the door. Me, kneeling in my gown, making plaintive noises. Of a sudden, there came a frantic cry and a bashing sound. In crashes the lady of the house, in her shift and pantaloons, her house dress open and flapping like the wings of a harpy. Her face was a red contortion as she smashed a hole into the wood. Jack Nichlson could have taken a lesson from her as she shrieked out a curse through the splinters.

She got the wrong impression from what she saw. It was an impression that unfortunately led to even more frantic mangling of the door. My gentleman caller hurled himself bodily through the window, chased by the very embodiment of Victorian internalized misogyny, screaming bloody murder. Literally.

I evicted myself. I went into the woods to my property and set up a cabin, where I lived to upset the logging and train operations. I went feral.

My man friend, later was injured in an accident, and died. It wasn’t until I spoke of this series of events with some of you, that I came to a different interpretation than I had all this time. I now believe that he actually thought I was a man, dressing as a woman to obtain housing. The things he said while intoxicated make far more sense if that was his assumption. I now realize I broke his heart in a different way than I’d even realized.

Perspective sometimes comes decades later. Sometimes you don’t even know your own past so well without the future.

I gain perspective like this almost constantly, and I realize more and more that I have never taken in all the information I could have. I’ve viewed the world you made through your lens. Silly thing to do, but how was I to know? It’s not as if I had the genius of Frankenstein’s creation to teach myself the truth of all things with a bible. No. Some of us had incompatibility with humanity altogether and couldn’t make sense of it without your biases.

I think about this often.

[actual-bill-potts]

I don’t understand why the most common interpretation of the battle of Finrod and Sauron I see is that Finrod lost because Sauron had the moral high ground, or even because Finrod felt particularly guilty about Alqualondë.

It's certainly possible that Finrod felt some measure of guilt over the First Kinslaying, whether that be for not stopping it, for not turning back with his father, or for being willing to take the ships of his mother's people. You can certainly argue that he had some sort of moral culpability for not taking a stand with Arafinwë, though I personally think that's taking personal responsibility to a rather absurd length given that Finrod neither killed anybody nor actually ever set foot in a stolen ship.

Rather, I think what defeated Finrod was the invocation of despair. Looking at the relevant passage from the Lay of Leithian:

He chanted a song of wizardry, Of piercing, opening, of treachery, Revealing, uncovering, betraying.

Sauron is trying to figure out who they are.

Then sudden Felagund there swaying Sang in answer a song of staying, Resisting, battling against power, Of secrets kept, strength like a tower, And trust unbroken, freedom, escape; Of changing and of shifting shape, Of snares eluded, broken traps, The prison opening, the chain that snaps.

Finrod is saying, "No, I will not tell you who we are," but look at specifically how he does it. He's saying, "everyone with me trusts me, and I trust them. You can't overcome that."

Backwards and forwards swayed their song. Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong The chanting swelled, Felagund fought, And all the magic and might he brought Of Elvenesse into his words. Softly in the gloom they heard the birds Singing afar in Nargothrond, The sighing of the Sea beyond, Beyond the western world, on sand, On sand of pearls in Elvenland.

ok this part always makes me cry cuz it's so beautiful, but more to the point: Finrod is backing up his statement that Sauron cannot recognize them with power. What power? The power of Elvenesse, of Elvenhome: of Elven strongholds. He specifically invokes Nargothrond - a beautiful kingdom, the symbol of friendship between Elves and Dwarves, and more to the point a place of safety for Elves, whose location Morgoth does not know. And then he invokes Alqualondë. Unwise, perhaps; but he is right that Alqualonde was never touched by Morgoth. It was under the protection of Ulmo and also too far for the light of the Trees to be reached, so Morgoth didn't directly harm the Teleri on the day of the Darkening. Finrod is saying, here: even in the hour of his greatest triumph, Morgoth couldn't harm all Elves. Ulmo is on our side. We will always be able to escape.

Then the gloom gathered; darkness growing In Valinor, the red blood flowing Beside the Sea, where the Noldor slew The Foamriders, and stealing drew Their white ships with their white sails From lamplit havens. The wind wails, The wolf howls. The ravens flee. The ice mutters in the mouths of the Sea. The captives sad in Angband mourn. Thunder rumbles, the fires burn— And Finrod fell before the throne.

To Finrod's argument, Sauron responds: guess what? Morgoth didn't even have to attack the Teleri. The Noldor did that for him. There are no safe places, because the Noldor have set themselves against gods: even if you escape Morgoth, you will fall under the Doom of Mandos. The battle is hopeless, and always will be hopeless. The Noldor are doomed.

Interestingly, he does address Finrod's two points directly. He first points out that even if the Teleri escaped Morgoth, they couldn't escape the malice he had sown among the Noldor. But then he invokes "captives sad in Angband" and "the fires burn," which seems to be a pretty clear reference to the curse laid upon Húrin and the eventual fall of Nargothrond to Glaurung. Sauron is saying: Nargothrond will fall too.

The thing is: he is right. The Teleri were slaughtered. Nargothrond fell. Gondolin fell. Doriath fell. Sirion fell. The Noldor are in a tragedy, and they know it. Finrod knows it, and he cannot argue back.

Of course, the thing that makes The Silmarillion so powerful is that even in Finrod's hour of darkest despair, neither he nor Beren nor his Ten give up their names and their errand. Finrod gives up his life to buy Beren a few more hours; and by his valour the line of Beren and Lúthien was saved, and the Doom of the Noldor lifted.

Endurance beyond hope is a central theme of Tolkien's work, no matter the Age: in Frodo's desperate errand, in Celebrimbor's refusal to give up the Three, and in Finrod's refusal to accept Beren's death no matter the cost. Finrod lost; how could he do otherwise? But even without hope, he kept going. And in the end, he was returned beyond hope to joy: "...Felagund laughs beneath the trees / in Valinor, and comes no more / to this grey world of tears and war."

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

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Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: Some bad habits are hard to break, and despite his best attempts to be kind, Izzy still manages to mess things up between you.

A/N: And we are back with the second chapter! Thank you for giving this fanfiction a chance. Every like and reblog means the world to me.

Content Warning: Self-depricating inner monologues, reference to the Kraken's torment and torture in Season 2, mutual pining and Izzy being a dick. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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It had to be noted that, the First Mate of the Revenge was indeed, a man of few words. And the few words that left his lips, were usually either a command or a curse. Though that was not quite strictly true when it came to addressing someone such as yourself. It had not gone unnoticed by the crew that, there was a certain softening of Izzy's tone, whenever he addressed you directly. His curses were said more in jest, than in true anger and there was something akin to fondness in his gaze, as he stared at you for longer than what was considered appropriate from a friend.

While some called Buttons a Sea Witch, perhaps it was you, who was the true magic wielder. Had you not ensnared the First Mate with your powers of compassion and competency? Though you sang no siren song like Swede, you had managed to captivate the mind and heart of the most austere person on the Revenge. If that were not the work of sorcery, then what else coukd it be?

Even now, as Izzy patrolled the deck, barking his usual commands and vulgar threats, there was no denying he kept glancing at the entrance to the hull, where you would be found within the ship's kitchen, helping Roach plan ahead for the upcoming storm.

"I mean look at him, the man's like a lovesick puppy." Lucius scoffed, as he watched the silver-haired pirate like a hawk, scrutinising over every movement and twitch with a level of surveillance that would put even the keenest-eyed night watcher to shame.

Cringing at the verbal observation, Oluwande dared to look in the general direction of the First Mate, whom had thankfully, not seemed to have paid attention to the scribe's declaration. "Sssh, Lucius. He'll hear you."

"Yeah, babe. I love you but you gotta keep your voice down." Pete agreed, taking the rope from his betrothed and making quick work of the shirked task, seeming happy enough to complete the work for them both.

Smirking at the horrified reactions, Lucius looked like a cat who had gotten the cream. Since his lover had taken charge of securing some nearby barrels, he took the opportunity to light himself a cigarette. "Good. I want him too because then, maybe if he does, he'll grow a pair of balls and actually do something about the situation."

"Have they seriously not confessed anything to each other yet?" Archie questioned, genuinely surprised that it had taken you both so long to finally couple up. In the same amount of time, she herself had managed to acquire two partners. Your dire situation did cause the pirate to question whetger or not you were absolutely useless when it came to the matter of love.

"Not according to (y/n), no."

"I wish they'd hurry up. I've got good money riding on them getting together before the next full moon." Wee John grumbled, as he carried a barrel passed the gossiping group. He had invested several coins into the outcome of your poorly-timed love life and by he'll or by high water, he was going to get a good return on his investment- even if it meant locking you and Izzy in the store cupboard himself. Hell, he'd shove you both into a burlap sack, if he thought it would boost his chances on winning the bet.

"You and me both." Archie scoffed.

He could hear them. Not clearly enough to make out what they were saying but enough to hear the sound of constant nattering. It was incessant, irritating. Like having tge constant buzz of a pesky wasp in you vicinity. Izzy longed for his days on the Queen Anne, where tge crew we focused on work, not idle chatter. Judging by the way that Lucius fellow kept glaring at him, the First Mate surmised that he was the topic of conversation. "Oi! You lot," he yelled, having finally reached the end of his patience. "I told you to prep the ship, not stand around gossiping like washer women!" leaning heavily against the railing, Izzy let out a string of curse words. Whilst not a religious man, he did ask whatever deity was listening, to give him strength and the will power to not throw someone overboard. "Fucking useless."

"Hey, Izzy."

He tensed at that familiar sound, that voice that never failed to stir something dark and wonderful within his soul. It brought to life a part of him he thought permanently dead. Turns out, it was just in a state of dormancy, waiting to be awakened at the right time. Or, at least of Izzy, the right person. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Roach lock down the pantry?" to an untrained ear, his lack of greeting might have sounded barbed and unwelcoming but you knew him better than that. The silver-haired pirate might have even gone so far as to say, you were the only one who knew him as well as himself.

The average person started a conversation with 'hello' but your dear Israel Hands was less conventional in his approach. "Yeah, we just finished. Oh, I brought you some tea. Thought you might appreciate it." you offered him one of the steaming cups of tea in yiur grasp. With a word of thanks, you both took a moment to savour the first sip, letting the warmth run through your veins and stave of tge slight chill in the air. "How's it going up here?"

"We'll be dead in the water come daybreak, if this lot don't do their fucking job right!" he all but screamed the final part of the sentence, easily earning himself a chorus of 'fuck off, Iggy' and 'we're doing our best here, dude!'

Your cheshire cat grin only grew, as you relished in the harmless feud between the crew and the First Mate. "Wow, that good, huh?" you teased, nudging Izzy with your elbow.

"Can you go down there and help 'em when you're finished with your tea? I need someone with half a braincell to check the sails are secured properly." he implored, pinching the bridge of his nose, as a migraine already started to form. Already feeling overwhelmed, the last thing Izzy needed was to add 'check the twats had correctly prepped the rigging' to his never-ending list of chores.

Sensing his palpable stress, you were quick to place a gentle hand on his shoulder in reassurance. Though public displays of affection were not common between you both, you speculated that since the pirate had not flinched but in fact, leaned into your touch, that he was comfortable with the gesture. "No problem, boss." his returned smile did not quite meet his eyes but a win was a win. You had at least eased Izzy of one burden. "How bad is the storm looking?"

When your hand eventually dropped from his arm, it took everything in Izzy's power to keep his voice steady, as he gave an answer to your question. Oh, how he longed to take your hand in his and place it back in his arm, so that he may feel your gentle warmth through the material of his shirt once more. "If Ed's calculations are correct, which they usually are, then...bad."

"Sounds like it'll be fun." you sighed, your attention now on the looming, dark grey clouds the besmirched the periwinkle skies with the promise of rain and turmoil.

While you were distracted by the landscape, Izzy was preoccupied by you. That was it, just you. There were not a multitude of opportunities in the day, where the First Mate had the chance to be this close to you. Where he could drink in your appearance, under the guise of merely being invested in your conversation. It felt wrong to him to be so infatuated with someone, who quite frankly, would never return his feelings but he was a starved man. Taking in every moment, every snippet of closeness he could get, until one day, your heart belonged to another.

Sometimes, he liked to delude himself and believe- just for a moment- that your kindness, your patience towards him, were all a hint towards you sharing his adoring sentiments. That perhaps, you could indeed fall for someone so wretched and broken as him.

The illusion never lasted long. Such fairytales of beauties falling so hopelessly in love with a beast were nothing but children's stories. The very same fairytales found in Stede's library, no doubt. And Izzy, well, Izzy was nothing if not a realist. He knew that you only tolerated him because you felt forever in his debt for saving your life. The silver-haired pirate had told you time and time again that you did not owe him anything but being as stubborn as you are, he doubted that you had paid him any mind. "Where are you staying tonight?" he asked, tone softer than he would have liked. Keeping up appearances around you was nearly impossible.

"I'm gonna bunk up with Oluwande, Jim, and Archie. They've got space on the floor of their cabin."

It was a relief, he mused, that at least you would be sleeping somewhere safe tonight, rather than in the communal space with the others. Still, Izzy could not help but wonder what it would be like, to offer you his own cabin to stay in. He would sleep on the floor, of course, he was a gentleman after all- well, that was debatable but he did possess some morals and understanding of social etiquette- and the last thing the pirate would want to do, was force you into an uncomfortable situation but no. Instead, he kept his yearnings to himself and responded in his usually curt manner. "That's good."

"What about you?" you asked, wondering if Izzy had plans on how he was going to ride out the storm. You assumed alone. Although, you felt a pang of jealously towards the non-existent crewmate, who may one day occupy the same living quarters as the man you were hopelessly besotted with. It was silly really, to feel resentment for someone who had not yet joined the team of misfit pirates and yet, it was inevitable that they would soon in the near future, waltz into Izzy's life and give him the love he most deserved. And as much as it pained you to accept your fate, you knew that could never be you.

"What about me?" he shrugged, unaware of your inner turmoil.

Correct, it could never be you who had the privilege to wake up beside him everyday or have the chsnce to call him yours. He would never see you as anything but some wounded creature he had saved from the brink of death. Certainly not worthy of courting the infamous Israel Hands. "Well-"

But before you could answer, Izzy caught sight of something. No, someone watching you both talk. Lucius. Fuck, he loathed that young man. He could not quite fathom what it was about the scribe that made his blood boil but just seeing him standing there, occasionally whispering something to Pete and smirking, as he cast a glance in your general direction, made Izzy see red.

Then it clicked. The oncoming storm. Of course. Those bastards. They knew of his past, thanks to Fang. No doubt they had told you the story too about how as a young sailor, he had not been able to keep down the contents of his stomach during a storm. Fuck, that nicknane too. You must have been revolted by him. Thought him completely and utterly pathetic. "-Look, whatever those twats have been saying, it's not true. I threw up one time-" Izzy began to defend himself, hoping it was not too late to salvage his reputation.

"-Oh, shit. No, I'm not referring to that. Fuck." you were quick to interrupt his rambling explanation. Sure, yeah, you knew the origin of his nickname, Izzy the Spewer but the story had not altered your opinion of the pirate. So, he threw up! Big deal. So had you during your first storm, and no one had bothered to call you, (y/n) the vomiter. "I just know that, storms bring up a lot of memories for some of the crew." you further explained, hoping he woukd catch the underlying meaning behind your words. "If you catch my drift?"

It took a moment but then a flicker of understanding sparked within Izzy's eyes, as he fully understand your insinuation. "Ah."

"Yeah." you smiled meekly, hoping not to trigger any unwanted memories for the pirate. All you wanted was to assure him that, if he needed comfort, you would be more than willing to provide him with comfort and company until the rain ceased and the skies became agate blue once more. "Will...will you be okay? Tonight, that is."

He knew, somewhere deep down. Deep, deep down, that your asking after his wellbeing was not an attack on his character, that you did not view him as weak for what had happened those many moon cycles ago, when the Kraken had stole him of his leg. This was your way of saying, "Hey, I'm here for you. If you need me", right?

Wrong. The poisonous voice of reasoning whispered in his ear, reminding him not to bet soft and be so sentimental. Of course you pitied him. How coukd you not? He was a disgrace. A washed up has been of a legend, who could no longer ride the coat tails of Blackbeard anymore. You were not offering him anything in the way of kindness, you were just reminding him of yet another mistake in his checkered past.

Before he could stop himself, the words left his lips and it was too late to take them back. "I'm not a fucking child, (y/n)." Izzy almost winced at how hurt you looked, as you flinched at his sudden outburst. Each time- and unfortunately, there had been more than one occasion- your pained expression left a lasting scar upon his heart. A fresh wound of regret that bled out over and over again. He did not mean to be this way with you. It was a defence mechanism, not that was much of an excuse really. Izzy should have- no, he did know- better. His sharp tongue was going to drive you away one day and he would only have hinsekf to blame. What's done was done.

There was nothing he could do, except keep up the charade and retire quickly from sight. He did not have to glance in the direction of the crew to know that they had all played witness to the entire exchange. No doubt he would have to sleep with one eye open tonight or maybe Roach would just spit in his food like last time. "Finish your tea and go fucking check the rigging. That's an order."

"Yes, boss." only minutes earlier, that nickname had been fondly used, now it just felt bitter to the taste.

Without another word, the First Mate abandoned your side and disappeared below deck.

Under the guise of work, your friends had been watching the entire exchange through side eye glances or in Lucius's case, just straight up staring.

Though idle hands appeared busy, Pete had in fact, tied the same knot several times. It was important to get everything secured ahead of the storm but in that moment, his mind was distracted. Casting a glance at the love of his life, his suspicions were confirmed, Lucius felt the same way as him- completely and utterly livid on your behalf. "Yeah, you ain't winning that money back, mate." he muttered to a frozen in rage Wee John, who merely stood holding another barrel, looking like he was contemplating throwing it at Izzy.

"Fucks sake, what a dickhead." he hissed, seemingly deciding against the idea, as he placed it with a resounding thud upon the deck.

Lucius could not stand to see you looking so hurt, as you stared longingly after the bastard who had dared upset you. The scribe knew he always teased you about your intense crush on the First Mate but it was during moments like these, where he really had to question what it was that made you so smitten with Izzy the Spewer. The man was volatile and about as pleasant as a cup of cold sick. Worst of all, this was not the first time he had stormed off after saying something cruel, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your hurt emotions. "I'm gonna go and see if they're okay."

"Maybe give it a moment, babe. Look." Pete urged his partner to take pause and watch you down your drink.

Despite wanting to abandon his post and assume the role of comforting friend, Lucius instead watched as you fought back tears and climbed the rigging, towards the crow's nest, no doubt seeking some privacy away from the watchful eyes of your friends.

"He really is the fucking worst. I genuinely do not get why (y/n) likes him so much." Archie mused, as she wondered if it was possible to find a snake at sea and put it in the bastard's bed?

With all the mysticism of a Sea Witch, the conversation was quickly intercepted by Buttons, whom decided to impart a great wisdom upon those in his vicinity. "'Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind. Therefore, is winged cupid painted blind?'"

There was a pause, as the gathered crew ruminated on his words. Well, partially ruminated. Most just sat there, looking confused or proverbially scratching their heads, unsure what to make of his revelation. Not one to admit his lack of knowledge, Lucius made a conscientious effort to nod his head and pretend he had understood the poet musings of the fellow pirate. "Right, yeah. What he said. Makes total sense."

=============================

A/N: Thank you for reading up until the end of the chapter! I look forward to updating you all with a new instalment soon. Before I go, can anyone guess where Buttons's quote comes from?

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Goldenheart choices

1. Pirate or surfer Ambro and mermaid Bal au

2. Tinker fairy bal and human ambro childhood friends au

3. Fae Bal and Hunter ambro, (if you want smut? Top ambro, bottom bal with vines as bondage)

4. Riririkinzi's little mermaid au drabble (angst, fluff, or smut)

Ok so I chose Pirate/Mermaid (movie ver.) And let me tell you this was SO much fun to write!!!! I might continue it into something more long-form on my AO3, is that something anyone is interested in?? Thank you for the request anon! I hope you don't mind all the creative liberties I took ❤️

--

Ballister lifted himself up onto the rocks and sang, his brilliant black tail flicking the water beneath. It was the curse of the sirens that they should be forced to sing, forced to lure the sailors who would linger among them, enraptured, until succumbing to starvation on the barren seabanks of their island. The sirens did not wish to see their beloved muses suffer for them, but if any ship was able to resist their call and pass them by, or if any sailor managed to leave their island, they would all dissolve into the salt of the ocean. So he sang with his brothers and sisters, as beautifully as he could, desperate to lure any ship that came within earshot of their island, to preserve his family. Siren voices carry for well over a mile.

Just as usual, the ship crashed on the rocks and the surviving sailors were thrown to the sea below. They would need to retrieve them. Of course it would be easier to just allow the sailors to drown, but just as the sailors were enraptured by the sirens, so too were the sirens captivated by the sailors. It was nice, sometimes, to have their company, but in addition to that, sirens could not reproduce with one another. To keep their island alive, they needed to rescue the humans.

Diving below the sea, Ballister saw what appeared to be the Captain, based on his attire. He was young to be a captain, with blond hair that whipped and floated in the water. Ballister wrapped his arm around him and carried him to the surface, ushering him to the rocky shore.

Canals ran through this island of boulders, allowing the merfolk to interact with their human pets for however long they had. There was some freshwater springs, but no food. Sirens didn't need to eat.

He rested his hand on the Captain's chest and pressed until all the water was out of him. The man coughed and sputtered. He met Ballister's eyes. "You. Were you the one singing, with the beautiful voice?"

Ballister cradled his head and smiled. "I was singing with my brothers and sisters. We each have our own song. They harmonize when we sing together, but each one is a melody on its own."

The captain blinked. "What was your song?"

Ballister opened his mouth to sing softly. The man's eyes widened. "That's it! Your song is the one that I heard!"

Ballister blushed. "You only heard mine? We were all singing."

"I heard the harmony when we got closer. You all sounded lovely. Are you a mermaid? Or a siren?"

"I'm a merman," Ballister said with an annoyed albeit amused lilt. "But I am also a siren. They're the same thing, you know."

"Oh." The man looked over the stones and into the water, his eyes widening as he caught a glimpse of Ballister's tail. "You don't look like you'll try to eat me."

Ballister laughed. "We don't eat sailors! We don't need to eat. We live forever, unless we are killed or captured. I am a Guardian, I protect the island. You seem to be a pirate, but you don't look like you're going to brutally pillage me."

"Heavens no!" The Captain laughed nervously. "We aren't those kinds of pirates. I was the heir to a corrupt, powerful fishing company. They were exploiting their sailors and stealing from the public, so I rounded up some sailors and now we take down their fishing boats. We don't hurt anyone, we recruit those who want to join us and bring the rest home. Anyway, do you all have names?"

Ballister snorted. "Yes, and mine is Ballister."

"My name is Ambrosius. Hello, Ballister." Ballister just smiled and nodded. They weren't supposed to remember the humans' names. It made things too hard.

The siren's eyes widened when a warm hand, with a skin far more textured than his own cupped his face. "Has anyone told you that you are so beautiful, Ballister?"

He blushed and sank a bit deeper into the water. "I am frequently told I have a lovely voice."

"No," said the human-- the Captain-- Ambrosius. "That's not what I mean. Your voice is beautiful, but that's not what I mean. Something about your eyes. You're just the most gorgeous person I've ever seen. Not something I thought I'd ever say washed up on a boulder to a half-fish man, but I mean it."

Ballister laughed, but something inside him twisted. The siren's seductive magic lies solely in his song. He cannot keep a human captivated unless he is singing. He wasn't singing, but this man still looked at him with that look in his beautiful almond eyes.

Ballister had already decided that this human was going to be his. But now, he was starting to feel sure that he didn't want to let this one go.

[maryannecrimsworth]

Angst Pure Angst is my favorite genre besides Pure unfiltered Fluff

Wednesday x Reader

Singer!Reader and Wednesday has an established relationship but Wednesday got shipped to Nevermore, she tries to get out of Nevermore to return to Reader but the murders from the hyde intrigued her and kept busy so much that she neglects to send letters to Reader who keeps sending her letters every week just to keep in touch. For months have Reader hoped for Wednesday to send a response but alas it wasnt meant to be. They thought if they scheduled a concert at Jericho that they could spend time with Wednesday for atleast a month, oh just how wrong they were.. They arrived at Jericho, staying at a local hotel for the rest of your stay and the second thing they do after checking in is to visit Nevermore and ask around for Wednesday and lo and behold she avoids them like they were sunshine personified (you can choose Reader's personality) for 2 weeks and they were heartbroken. Now it's time for the concert, they sing several songs and interact with the crowd but for the last song, not knowing if Wednesday is in the crowd or not but they sang it anyway and you can go off from there (could be any heartbreaking songs but i suggest this)

Good luck! and i hope you have fun with this lil request of mine <3

Honestly...I LOVE YOU

Sequel: Version 1 / Version 2

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Singer! Gn! Reader

Warning: Angst? betray; heartbreak;

Only Silence(Without You)

You said that we would always be

Without you I feel lost at sea

“Hey, hello!” You leaned over the balcony, your feet shifting, slipping on the floor while your fingers rhythmically tapped the wood. “Can you help me a little bit?” The lobbyist was not in a good mood: you could tell by the way she shook her head and sighed before turning to you. 

Her face changed completely when she saw you.

“Y-Y/N.” She stammered. “H-Hi.”

“Hi.” You smiled — and the woman blushed even more. “Can you do me a favor?”

“O-of course!” She basically hugged the balcony, stepping closer to you. “What do you need? I can help you with anything!”

“So, I was hoping to stop by that said school…” You pretended to forget its name. “Evenmore? Something like that. I’ve been told it’s a terrifying place.” Your lips twisted in a scared, exaggerated expression. “Do you happen to know where that is?”

“I do! The Nevermore Academy is only a short walk from here. Unfortunately.” The woman mumbled as she started to look for something on the balcony. “I have a map but…Why would you even wish to know that place?” The map was already in her hands, but she kept it away from you purposely. “These outcasts are wicked. They almost destroyed the town last month. It’s dangerous.”

“Well, but what can I do?” You leaned back with a sigh, pulling your hair as you smirked. “I live for the thrill.”

“Well, but I won’t let you meet these freaks.”

I beg your pardon? You didn’t allow your smile to drop. 

“God forbid anything happens to Y/N L/N during your stay here in Jericho!” She curses teenagers then speaks about God. Yeah, makes perfect sense. “Please, stay away from them.”

“I can’t, unfortunately,” How she didn't notice your sarcasm was a mystery. “Many of them bought tickets to the show, so…” You tapped your fingers on the balcony one last time before stepping back. “Thanks for the help!” 

“But—”

“Have a good day!” You walked away. You left the hotel lounge with quick steps — you are going to find Nevermore, no matter how. 

You’re going to meet Wednesday Addams. You had to — you were here because of her, because of how your hands have been twisting and of how your chest has been aching since she left.

You’ve been sending her letters every single week since she left her home but you’ve got no reply — no note, no message, no riddle or threat, nothing. Then you heard about the mysterious murders in Jericho and you could feel your insides turning upside down. She was in danger — she was sent to Nevermore, taken away from you, to fit in, to belong somewhere, just like her parents did. You could understand that — not agree, but you understood. And she said she would write to you — and Wednesday’s words were like promises. At least you thought they were. You trusted her completely — you wrote to her all the time, your manager scolded you for that, but what else could you do? You love her — and she loves you too, in her own way.

You were sure of it until she entered Nevermore. 

Now, you knew nothing — and the ache, tightness in your chest made you walk faster to the outcast school. You were not supposed to go there by yourself — the teenagers would surround you like a pack of wolves — but you had to see her. You had to talk to her. You needed something — anything. 

Through the darkness you'd hide with me

Like the wind we'd be wild and free

There were so many girls and boys around you that you swore they had emerged from the ground.  It was impossible that the news had spread so fast — you had barely stepped through the gate and they were already surrounding you. Purple uniforms and colorful hairs everywhere — but nothing black. Not even a shadow of the phantasmagorical figure you were looking for. 

You chuckled at all the pleads and compliments — your smile made some teens gasp and scream, and you took your chance to move through the crowd. After taking dozens of photos with your stunning smile and autographing varied and indefinable objects, the crowd stepped back, amazed, contemplating your pictures and signatures and giving you time and space to wander through the school. It truly was a spooky and odd place, and it was no surprise why Morticia and Gomez loved it so much. No normie would endure studying in such an exquisite place — and you were sure Wednesday loved that place. There were references and homages of Edgar Allan Poe everywhere, and the statues and paintings made you hear her voice — made you remember all the nights Wednesday spent reading his tales and poems to you. 

Some parts of the building had been newly renovated — rebuilt after the huge riot at the school. The riot you had to learn about from the news, not from Wednesday. A crazy teacher, a murderer monster and a dead-pilgrim. As long as you were concerned, one of the kids from Nevermore was wrongly arrested, and Wednesday was the one who figured out who the real monsters was. Still, you discovered these things from the news and from a gossip blog ruled by a werewolf from Nevermore. That’s it.

You had to find Enid Sinclair — or then the boy who got mistakenly arrested. You were sure the she-wolf was somewhere between the crowd you had just escaped from, and you would not come back. No, you had to find that Thorpe boy. 

You said you'd follow me anywhere

After asking a few questions, you finally discovered where the artist was. He was popular at school, known for his living-drawings, and he should be in his dorm or in his shed. 

You went to his room, you knocked and you got no reply — then you went to the shed. A small building made of wood — a perfect place for hiding, or torturing someone. Wednesday would like it. 

You knocked and, this time, the door was open for you. 

“Hello.” You held out your hand for him, but he didn’t shake it. His fingers were soaked in paint, so were his clothes. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

“I know who you are.” He said, a frown of confusion between his eyebrows. “I’m Xavier Thorpe. Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for someone and…I was wondering if you could help me.” You smiled. “Her name is Wednesday Addams. Do you have any idea where I can find her?”

His expression of confusion became one of anger. “If she didn't tell you, it’s because she doesn't want you to find her.”

“Do you know her?”

“Yes.”

“Funny.” You smirked. “I never imagined she'd be friends with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“An elitist snob.” Your words made him step back, revealing some of the paints inside the shed. Among all the frames and canvas, there was a painting of a girl with her cello. Wednesday with her cello. The tightness in your chest grew harder. “Now, will you tell me where she is or not?”

The door of the shed was shut in your face. You could hear Xavier cursing on the other side of the wooden wall. 

Who was he to be painting Wednesday? Who was he to be protecting Wednesday?

Wednesday was the last person in the world who needed protection, and behavior like his would make her furious immediately. 

How could they even be friends?

You tried to shake your anger away and walked back to the quad of Nevermore. 

Before the turmoil of teenagers could reemerge around you, you hid in the corner of the hallway and took a deep breath. The tambour your heart had become an artillery of noises in your ears: your own breathing was too loud, and you would've sworn you could hear the blood rushing in your veins if not for a whisper.

A low, worried, gentle whisper. Unlike any you had ever heard before.

“Yeah, but I’m worried about her, Yoko.” You followed the voice with careful steps. “Tyler and Wednesday dated…They kissed. They had something, no matter how much she denies it.”

“But she isn't going to talk about it with you, is she?”

“I dunno…That’s why I’m so worried. She can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I mean, she shouldn't.”

“Do you think she was in love with him?”

You tripped. You tripped and your body hit the wall, revealing to everyone your position. Including to the two whispering girls.

Your mind could not bear the answer of this question, nor could your knees: your whole being was shaking by the idea that Wednesday would have betrayed you. No.

Wednesday Addams would never.

But she also said she would never leave you. 

A chill ran through your body as the outcasts surrounded you again — including Enid and Yoko. They were smiling, gasping, worshiping you, and all you could think about was Wednesday. 

Where was she?

Then you found her. A black shadow who stood in the middle of the purple: a blank, serious face among all the blushed and passionate expressions.

She wasn’t trying to meet you, she wasn’t trying to be near you, she was simply trying to walk down the corridor. The corridor that now is filled with your fans — and her.

Her gaze landed on you for less than a second: the dark orbs you have grown to love and cherish so much; the look that scared everyone else, but not you, it enamored you. And that same look now showed you — and made you feel — nothing but coldness. 

Completely coldness. 

But your eyes Tell me you won't be there

You left Nevermore as soon as possible. 

Now I'm running away, my dear

From myself and the truth I fear

One night. One night and you will leave the hotel with your band to set up in the town square. The stage and bleachers had already been built, and in less than 24 hours the green grass would be filled with young people, normies, and outcasts from all over the region. Hundreds, thousands of people, and there was still only one person you could think about — Wednesday.

You couldn’t forget her look. Her gaze. The way her eyes moved away from you, so coldly — like never before. Something’s changed, something’s happened, and now you know what. Who.

Tyler Galpin — the Hyde, happened. He was the reason behind your dozen unanswered letters; the reason behind her coldness; the reason behind the fire that crawled over your skin until you screamed at the top of your lungs. The pillow isn’t enough to muffle your shouts, your anger, your pain — you had to do something. 

You had to talk to her.

My heart is beating, I can't see clear

How I'm wishing that you were here

You were risking everything. You were risking your career, your band, your reputation, your life, because of her. For her. You were committing a crime, breaking into Nevermore surroundings after curfew, only to see her.

It was not the first you broke the law and any type of common sense for her, but this time was different. This time, it felt wrong.

“Wednesday.” You breathed her name after reaching the balcony of her room. The ledge was quickly climbed over by you, an insignificant climb to reach her — but you did not expect she would be there, on the other side.

As if she was waiting for you. As if your steps, now resounding briefly in the middle of the night, were the beginning of the end; the introduction of your last show; the last concert you both would listen to together. 

“Hi.” You stepped closer. She didn’t move. “I...I've been trying to talk to you.”

Not a word. Not a reaction. Not even a single blink.

Your posture then changed. Your gaze grew wider, firmer, and your shoulders stiffened as you stuck your hands in your pockets. “I've met some of your friends.” You smirked, but the twist on your lips wasn’t one Wednesday knew. This one held anger. “Xavier, Enid…And I've heard about this Tyler guy too.” The twist on your lips became larger: you were smiling. You smiled while trying to not scream again, your whole body burning and your throat itching for relief. For an answer. For a fucking reaction. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Nessie?” Your voice changed again, for a brief moment, it sounded normal, familiar, warm — it sounded sad. Hurt. But you only allowed your pain to show for this briefest moment. “If not, I'll leave. I will leave and you will have only silence from me.” Nothing. Nothing. She did nothing. “No letters, no crystal ball calls, no serenades. Only silence.”

Only silence. That’s what she was already giving you — that’s what she wanted since the very first moment she went to Jericho. Since she met Tyler. Since she forgot you.

You snorted. You snorted so loudly and scornfully that the sound of your laughter made her stomach churn. You were not the only one holding yourself back — you were not the only one trembling, scared, hurt. Wednesday felt frozen as you felt about to burst, she couldn’t move as you couldn’t stay still. You could not wait for her, wait for a reaction, wait for scraps of  her love — not anymore.

“Your wish is an order.” You turned away and climbed the ledge once again. Your head was shaking, so were your hands and so were your eyes; every part of you was shivering in an uncontrollable turmoil, your chest beating so loud that its sound made you dizzy, made you mind pulse with its hectic pace.

It made you feel a pain that you did not even know was possible — it made you suffer like never before, like you’ve never even imagined. It made you blind and dazed, it made you angry and sad, it made you heartbroken. 

And it also made you relieved. Relieved and frayed enough to not notice the look on her eyes. 

To not notice the tear falling down her cheek.

To not notice that she could not bear your silence. That she could not be without you.

I got to learn how to love without you

I got to carry my cross without you

“Ladies and gentlemen, weirdos and freaks, beloved and hatered!” You spoke on the mic, your throat faltering due to the effort, your face covered in sweat as the guitar weighed on your shoulders, your blood rushing through your veins even quicker because of the crowd's screams. Your concert was packed, a complete success — and about to end. “Today, we finish in a different way. Today, the last song is for someone I know.” The crowd screamed even louder. “For someone I loved. For someone that might even be here…” You smirked and took a deep breath, waiting for the crowd to calm down before speaking again. “This song is for you, Nessie.”

Stuck in the middle and I'm just about to

Figure it out without you

You sang your heart out:

And I'm done sitting home without you

Fuck, I'm going out without you

@tundra1029 (what an amazing request) Gif belongs to @thesoldiersminute

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Obsessive Wojchek - +18, smut

His sin a woman

A woman on board the Demter if not a witch or a curse then a beauty on board who sang for the men. Who entertained them all and brought them all closer together. But she was more to him from the moment he saw her. His dark eyes never let her go since he had seen her...she had to become his.

The sound of suppressed whimpers and moans came from the woman's cabin, a single, relatively small room set aside for the lady. But it wasn't just her he was there every night since she had been on the ship. Since they had this demon on board, everyone seemed to be slowly going crazy, not knowing if it was an intrusion or not. ,,You are real...your beauty...your smell...your warmth...your taste" he enumerated, tearing her from her lust-filled mind. As she felt his lips continue to run over her body, he kissed every inch of her skin. The bites left behind the colorful spots of his love on her skin. Wojchek didn't seem to hear her worry that someone would see it, the shame, the lust, the sin on a woman's body. ,,Sin-so handsome...you my beauty are no sin," he whispered as he placed his lips on her breasts again and unbuttoned her nightgown. The strings hadn't stopped him, she hadn't stopped him, her eyes watching this was not a caution no. The black-haired man knew she had wanted him ever since he had seen her. It almost made him go "mad" for her. His tongue had tasted her, her lips, her breasts...her flower, her juices addictive, better than any cigarette, better than any opium pipe. If he could stay here forever between her velvety soft thighs, his hands on her pretty body, hearing only her sensual sounds of pleasure, he would leave even the Demeter. ,,Wo-Wojchek...I-I-please" her stammering was barely audible her hand was over her mouth her fear that they would be discovered. But he didn't stop, how could he if she belonged to him. His personal flower, his beautiful angel. ,,This lust is excruciating, I know my darling...let me make it better...for you," he mumbled, kissing her thigh, which was also covered in colorful spots. His beard hair scratched lightly over her skin, the smell of wood, sea and leather emanating from him in the room mingled with the warmth as he began to take her. It wasn't the first time he'd visited her every night, he'd had her flower differently every night. Her moans that sank from his kiss like a defeated ship through the waves of the sea. His rough hands held her body close as he thrust into her again. ,,I know-fuck so well I know you can take me," he grunted, the strands of his weak hair sticking to him from the heat in the room. Their bodies were sweating, the smell of lust lingering in the room, her sweetness meeting his raw. But this was what he needed and he wanted her everything, even if it cost him everything and everyone on the ship if it meant he had her forever. His flower, his sin, no one would take it away from him. Yet she knew that when his dark eyes had lighted on her that she would never escape his obsession.

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

@mask-knife-is-buggys-girl

@oceansrose2002

[ereborne]

1, 2, 4, 8, 12, 15, 17, 20, 26, 32, 44, 46 (weird or genre-defying books), 47, 50

Thank you for so many prompts!! This was so fun to do and now it is so long. I hope it's as good to read as it was to write out!

1) Name the best book you've read so far this year: I answered Aftermarket Afterlife by Seanan McGuire to digs just a moment ago, but I'm glad you asked too, because honorable mention goes to Inheritance by Nora Roberts. It came out in November, not technically 2024, but time is fake and 2024 is just beginning anyway, so I'm counting it. Inheritance starts pretty slow and for a bit I was wondering how it was going to manage a satisfying resolution, and then I realized she was doing something new! (unfair. she's been building to this since 2015, it's just that now is when it's starting to really click with me) Instead of a trilogy with three couples whose romance arcs each get centered in their own book, this is going to be a trilogy focusing on unraveling the family curse/haunting, with the four main characters growing tighter as a unit (and forming their two romantic pairs, of course) throughout. I really like the characters and I am delighted by the curse/haunt storytelling. Cannot wait to see more.

2) Favorite fantasy book(s): this is so hard. okay, okay, brief rundown. brief. I can do this. bookshelf by bookshelf, I think. we'll take as granted everything by Seanan McGuire, sure. Bayou Moon and Magic Strikes by Ilona Andrews. By the Sword and From a High Tower by Mercedes Lackey. Bryony and Roses and Summer in Orcus by T Kingfisher. The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley. Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane. The Long Patrol-Marlfox-Taggerung by Brian Jacques, which I always read in a shot as if they were one book. Similarly, the Protector of the Small and Magic Circle quartets by Tamora Pierce, and the Icewind Dale trilogy by RA Salvatore. Tangled Webs by Elaine Cunningham. The Return of the King by JRR Tolkien (really all the LotR trilogy, but even I cannot say I sit and read them all three straight through as if they were one). The Wee Free Men and Thud! by Terry Pratchett.

4) Favorite science fiction book(s): The Ship Who Sang and Dragonsdawn by Anne McCaffrey. Ancillary Mercy by Ann Leckie. Exit Strategy and Network Effect by Martha Wells. The Galaxy and the Ground Within by Becky Chambers. Rescues and the Rhyssa by TS Porter (also a favored queer fiction book, but I love the alien worldbuilding so much it has to be here)

8) Favorite queer fiction book(s): Humanity for Beginners by Faith Mudge. Nightvine by Felicia Davin. the Harwood Spellbook series by Stephanie Burgis (also a down-in-one-shot series). Holly and Oak by R Cooper.

12) Favorite horror book(s): I haven't read too many horror books, so my pool is limited here, but The Twisted Ones and The Hollow Places by T Kingfisher both gave me the shudders so bad.

15) Which genre(s) are your favorite? Fantasy! I love all the fantasy subgenres, and especially the magical realism overlaps.

17) Favorite finished book series: How finished is finished? A lot of my serieses are made up of several trilogy/quartet subsets together in a world. hmmmm. The Protector of the Small quartet again by Tamora Pierce, I think.

20) Where and how do you find new books to read? I mentioned in my reply to digs that I'm subscribed to a ton of newsletters, but I feel like I undersold their effect on me. I don't know how many I'm subscribed to--just sat here and off the top of my head counted to eighteen that post at least weekly and I'm so sure I'm missing some--and I love having that regular infusion of book progress and reviews and writing thoughts and commentary. I really do recommend that folks subscribe to their favorite authors.

26) Favorite novella(s): Silver Shark by Ilona Andrews. The Seven Brides-to-Be of Generalissimo Vlad by Victoria Goddard. Jackalope Wives by T Kingfisher.

32) Name your favorite author(s): massive overlap with everybody else I've listed here. who haven't I mentioned? Jennie Crusie, Jayne Ann Krentz, JD Robb (which is a Nora Roberts penname but they've got distinct enough works I want to list them out separate). Patricia Briggs, Patricia C Wrede, Max Gladstone, Gail Carriger, Nalini Singh. And Ed Greenwood, about half the time.

44) The book(s) whose stories have become part of your very makeup: The Lord of the Rings trilogy by JRR Tolkien. Watership Down by Richard Adams. Agnes and the Hitman by Jennifer Crusie. Silver Borne by Patricia Briggs. The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett. Phoenix & Ashes by Mercedes Lackey. The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard.

46) I like (weird or genre-defying books), recommend me a book to read, please: First thought was the Humans Are Weird series by Betty Adams, though that might not be what you mean. They're intensely fun collections of 'humans are space-orcs' style vignettes. Maybe more directly books that are weird would be the Craft Sequence series by Max Gladstone and Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw. Very toothy complicated magical realism. And my favorite genre-blending books are always the Elemental Masters books by Mercedes Lackey. A Study in Sable for instance is equal parts a Sherlock Holmes story and a retelling of The Twa Sisters fairytale, and also a coherent installment in an ongoing historical fantasy series about elemental mages in early 1900s England.

47) What are the last three books you read? Indexing by Seanan McGuire, Die in Plain Sight by Elizabeth Lowell, Pirate's Honor by Chris A Jackson

50) What kind of book have you never read but always hope to find at some point in the future? This is such a fascinating question. I don't know that there's anything in particular that I've always wanted and never found, but there are things I'm always looking for more and better examples of. I'm extremely picky about soulmate AUs, so a good one especially captivates me. Oh, or a really well-handled impromptu adoption! Child characters and bureaucracy are both tricky to write and things I know a lot about, and when they're done well they hook me so hard.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Star Born

Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Knowhere

Words: 1967

Warnings: Back to the Future reference because those movies fucking rock! Great Scott!

A woman popped up from behind one of the machines, the sight of her made Peter weak, sending him straight back to a part of his mind he'd almost forgotten. She was wearing a black leather jacket crested with studs on the shoulder parts, the same torn light grey long-sleeve like Peter's, ripped from the collar downwards, revealing a small part of her cleavage, messily tugged into a pair of tight black jeans, the earth style finished off in a knee high pair of Doc Martin boots. While shaved off on one side, the shoulder long strains of her wavy amber hair fell down, covering one side of her face. Peter's eyes were glued on her frame, she looked like she emerged from one of his many dreams about home. He couldn't believe he was seeing someone so beautiful and so strangely familiar in a place like this. His heart raced in his chest, and he didn't want to but couldn't help but stare at her.

"Hi, what brings you guys here?" you asked the Guardians, a mischievous glint in your eyes at the sight of this weird bunch of strangers, especially the human.

Rocket stepped passed Peter, kicking him chuckling as he addressed you directly.

"We need parts for our ship, M class spacecraft," he said, trying to keep a straight face at Quill's drooling love struck expression. You nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

"I might have just what you need or even more," you said, walking towards a shelf full of mechanical parts.

As you bent down to push a piece of machinery aside, Peter couldn't help but stare at your well formed butt, the outlines perfectly highlighted by the tight fabric of your jeans. He felt ridiculous, staring at you like a hormonal teenager but he felt like he was falling in love with, not just your behind, but also you right then and there. You had this special something, a weird spell engulfing Peter's mind completely, rendering him completely defenseless. He still wasn't sure if you could be the earthling the Ravagers had mistaken him for earlier but everything about your outfit and the music coming from that old radio just screamed Earth to Peter and he would know, he was born there which technically made him the sole expert on this matter. You led them to your little junk yard behind the workshop, sifting through the pile when the two Ravagers emerged from behind a pile of spare parts.

“Earthling who names herself Star Born, you come with us!”, they yelled at you, merely earning a chuckle as you tapped on a device wrapped around your wrist.

“Oh this is gonna be good, watch this”, you cackled as you poked Peter, looking up to the intruders, “hey! Why don't you make like a tree and get out of here?”

The song from inside the workshop echoed louder now as the Ravagers ran towards you.

Every time I think that I'm

The only one who's lonely someone calls on me

And every now and then I spend

My time at rhyme and verse and curse those faults in me

As they were almost close enough to fight you, what looked like a glowing pink skateboard flew towards them and hit one of them in the head, before gracefully turning around midair to collide brutally with the other Ravager's face, knocking him out coldly.

And then along comes

MaryMary,

MaryThen along comes Mary

Mary, Mary

You leaped over, activating the rocket attached to your left boot, swinging around in the air, your right foot hitting the last standing Ravager's face hard, throwing him flat on the ground.

“And does she wanna give me kicks”, you sang along to the song as you landed back on your feet, grinning at the Guardians, your hips moving to the tunes.

“Why does this woman remind me of Quill, just with the skills”, Rocket asked, mouth agape in astonished confusion.

“Was that...is that...”, Peter stuttered, walking past you to grab the skateboard, “a flarking hoverboard?!” You laughed, bathing in the glorious moment that someone finally recognised the device you built.

“Yes, I tried to build the exact same as in Back to the Future II”, you beamed, “see it even has the Mattel logo on top. It's just a prototype for now though.”

“Oh my...hang on! There is a second movie?!”, Peter looked up at you, his eyes glowing.

“Oh no... here we go”, Gamora rolled her eyes.

“There are three movies, dude”, you laughed, “have you been living under a rock?”

“I-I-I was abducted when I was eight years old, 88, I-I didn't know”, Quill stammered, nervously fiddling on the edges of the skateboard before handing it back to you.

"Ooooh you missed the best. Sweet 90s baby, hell yeah”, you winked at him, throwing the board on the ground where it hovered a few centimeters above the floor before shoving it away.

You had been a space drifter for years after leaving Earth, trying to make ends meet before you eventually landed on Knowhere. It was a tough life, but it was what felt closest to a home, clinging to what would make it all worthwhile, your earthly treasures, the simple stupid gadgets that reminded you of a more calm time of your life. Neither Peter nor you knew at this very moment how important that connection would be, but the delicate foundations of a very important and fond friendship were laid on the day of this fateful random encounter. You whispered your name into Peter's ears.

“But you can call me Star Born”, your hand playfully tapped his shoulder.

“Peter Quill, also called Star Lord”, he grabbed your hand, swiftly kissing the backside of it.

“Nobody calls him that”, Gamora walked into the workshop, waving her hands dismissively.

“Yeah, nobody even knows his real name”, Rocket cackled, sitting on Groot's shoulder, “we need these wires and relays”, he held up a small box, “how much?”

“You know what?”, a finger moved to your lips, your brows furrowing in a thoughtful expression, “if I can borrow your Earth boy here for the rest of the day, I'll give you the parts for free”, you proposed hesitantly, almost sure that they would never agree to such an offer.

“Yeah alright, you can even keep him forever if you want to”, Gamora laughed, leaving the workshop without even glimpsing at Quill.

“I am Groot”, the tree shrugged and followed them, Rocket still sitting on his shoulder, turning his head to wave a middle finger at Peter.

“The vicious vermin speaks the truth”, Drax patted Quill's shoulder, “I'm sorry Peter Quill, but you will have to stay with the weird lady.”

A chuckle escaped your lips at the sound of Peter's annoyed huff, your fingers wrapping around his wrist, directing him to the desk in the corner of the workshop. You rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a small square electronic device. It somehow reminded Peter of his tape player, but instead of a cassette, a tiny floppy disc stuck inside.

"Check this out," you said proudly, pressing a button on the device, handing the headphones over to him, “waaaay better than your prehistoric device.”

To his amazement, he immediately recognised the track that started playing.

“Footloose?!”, his eyes darted to yours.

“Of course! Best dance movie of all times!”, a smile spread across your lips, “during my years moving from one planet to another, I kept telling others that we have this legend on my home planet where the great hero Kevin Bacon teaches an entire city full of people with sticks up their butts that, dancing, well, is the greatest thing there is.”

Peter stood in the middle of this messy workshop on Knowhere, feeling utterly abandoned by his crewmates and friends, leaving him behind, without a second thought, to get the parts to repair his ship for free while he was left to fend for himself. And yet he felt ecstatic, finding someone, not only from his home planet, but also someone with a weird humour that matched his own perfectly, you even twisted the plot of his favourite movie into the same silly tale. As the two of you chatted, he couldn't shake off the feeling that this encounter might have been more than mere coincidence. He never wasted any thoughts on the concept of fate or destiny, but this simply seemed too perfect to be a mere chance. As you continued sharing your memories of Earth, realising that, even though you experienced the planet during two completely different yet similar decades, Peter found himself more and more drawn to you. You were smart, obviously smarter than him, although he'd never admit that in front of the racoon, and definitely funny enough to keep up with his jokes, and by the end of the day, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had known you his entire life. He had scoffed at the ridiculous thought of love at first sight before, yet now he couldn't deny the way his heart raced as he looked into your eyes, that seemed like liquid pools of indigo threatening to drown him. As the day wore on, the two of you found yourselves wandering through the many shops and stalls on Knowhere, your giggles mixing into the steady noise of the bustling marketplace. Finally, as the evening grew late and the two of you reached the Milano, you turned to him, your hand resting on his chest, your mind loosing track for a moment as you felt the warmth radiating through the fabric of his long-sleeve. "I have to go now, Star Lord. But I think we should do this again...sometime." Peter's mind to screamed at him, to do something, kiss you, grab you and hold you back, asking you to join the Guardians, traveling through space with them but his body seemed detached, sabotaging every single wish whirling around his busy brain by simply standing there watching you walk away, his heart feeling the heavy crush of an unfair reality. With every other woman he randomly met during his adventures, he managed to hold up his smooth flirty demeanour which not only ended in him waking up in bed next to said woman but very often also in a lot of trouble. But you rendered him defenseless, all his careless flirts suddenly dissolved into thin air around you. You were more to him, his heart already clinging to you for dear life, leaving no room for anything else. He knew he had to see you again. As he made his way back to the Milano, he frowned at the image of you taking up every little space in his mind, ignoring Rocket's taunting as he went straight to his bunk, slumping down on the bed. Days turned into weeks, and Peter asked around in every port they landed at, hoping to find you after Cosmo told him that you left Knowhere one week after him. But it felt all in vain, it was as if you had vanished into thin air. Finally, as he sat alone on the bridge of his ship while the others roamed the local market, his fingers instinctively went into one of the bottom pockets of his jacket where they found a small piece of paper tucked and neatly folded. He unfolded the paper, not remembering when he ever would have put it there, let alone when he ever held real paper in his hands after he was abducted from Earth.

Meet me at the Quarantine zone in the Andromeda galaxy. See you soon Earthling.

Chapter 3

[reassambled-dragoon]

Shippy Nonsense

(Or: Storm Dancer--the Warrior of Light, Savior of Ishgard, Champion of Eitherys, "Former Scion", Mother of Four Including A Two-year-old Menace and Excluding Her Bajillion Adopted Kids, Grandma of Three Kids, Chaotic Bisexual Extraordinaire...versus Hekaarn, a 4,500+ year old world-hopping dragon who is Done With Midgardsormr's Inbred Lunatic Descendants Except Vrtra Because Vrtra is Sensible)

In the spirit of Dawntrail early access starting TOMORROW HELLO...

   -You'll need to take the ship, with the Toothpicks.- Hekaarn rumbled quietly as he lazily glided above Scholar's Harbor, the sensation like a greatly oversized housecat's purr. Instead of making Storm's chest buzz, her whole body vibrated, which…was actually pleasant. As usual, she was seated at the base of the huge red dragon's neck, comfortably warm from the natural heat radiating from his scales. -I'm sorry, my friend, but this is one fear I can't fly you away from.-

   Storm's hands clenched on her thighs. She knew he was capable of flying damn near anywhere–hells, he'd taken her into “orbit” to watch Eitherys turn–but there were some things he simply would not budge on. She took a deep breath, then sighed. “Any chance y'could explain why?”

   Hekaarn tipped a wing, shifting away from the harbor and gaining altitude to fly over Old Sharlayan. The wind sang over his scales, but though it was snowing, he made sure his Dragoon was in a little bubble of summer. Ah, magic. -Because, in short, I am now augmenting and strengthening your magic and channels, which, need I remind you, is necessary after your little universe-saving stunt and subsequent duel with that Zenos bastard. Congratulations. If any mortal can be called dragon-souled, it's you.-

   Before Storm could do more than twitch, his physical chuckle rolled through her body. -Not that I mind. You haven't a greedy bone in your body; it would never occur to you to take without asking. No, what I am doing is freely given. However, it does limit me somewhat. I cannot carry and shield you, Alphinaud, and Alisaie, in addition to all of your combined gear and your beasts, across that great a distance. Not for the initial flight, at least.-

   “But–Hekaarn, why didn't you tell me this bond was risking–”

   -Because I trust you. And I am not being harmed by this augmentation any more than when we fly together.- He put on a burst of speed and broke through the clouds, ignoring the condensation that immediately froze on his scales. Storm, of course, stayed warm, though she put her sunglasses on; it was bright up here. -Besides, you do realize this makes you a more powerful Dragoon than those Ishgardian fools that took dragonsblood? Most of it was given or taken unwillingly, and their magic suffers as a result.-

   “...like Estinien and Heustienne,” the Roegadyn murmured. Poor Heustienne would always suffer from what the heretics had forced down her throat, and Estinien may be coming to terms with Nidhogg's aether, but the man would probably never know true peace and happiness. “...and Catrine and little Snow have the risk as well.”

   -Existence is a risk.- Without warning, Hekaarn spun into a barrel roll, laughing as Storm cursed and punched him. His shields meant she wasn't going anywhere, and Storm knew that, but knowledge didn't always override instinct. -What's wrong, my dear Dragoon? Did you forget your boast that you can land anywhere?-

   “You are such an asshole.” Storm gave his scaled neck one last wallop, then sat up and stubbornly crossed her arms. “Fine, fine, I'll find other ways to fret about my grandkids. And my kids. And my papa. And–”

   -Windless hell, woman, I am going to eat you.-

   “That's Cid's prerogative.”

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Memories of Happier Times

So for those of you following me at the time, if you remember, I promised an angst fic if Brook won that round's best man titties vote! Well I just finished it, and it's for *drum roll*..... BROOK! 🤣 I bet you were all hoping for one of my more popular characters, weren't you? To be fair, the vote was for Brook and this was just so perfect! Besides, my 3 most popular characters already have plenty of angst and Brook has gotten no love in my inbox! Don't worry though, I still have plenty of other fics for you guys to enjoy coming out asap! mostly Law and Ace.

Warnings: ANGST! no romantic pairing

Word Count: 970 

     Leaning against the ship’s railing, empty sockets staring out at the endless ocean, Brook couldn’t help the aching in his heart. It came and went erratically, seemingly with no rhyme or reason. Sometimes he understood why he felt this pain, other times, he was left wondering why things hurt so much that day. Tonight, he knew why the pain was back. Onigashima had been… difficult. They’d run into so many enemies capable of so many things. One in particular had brought him back, back to his old crew, back to his captain, back to memories of another place and time. He didn’t talk about it a whole lot, but he missed them so badly. He loved being with the straw hats, he loved being a part of Luffy’s crew, especially with how accepting and kind the boy was. But he still missed his old crew. He missed the music that was always playing no matter who was playing it, he missed his golden haired captain, and he missed the liveliness. Luffy and the crew were lively, there was no doubt about that, the boy was energetic and happy and his happiness was infectious. But it was different from how his old crew had been, different from the parties where they all played, sang, and danced, the music carrying who knows how far on the ocean breeze. It had all been so easy back then, so carefree. They’d known the risks of setting out on the Grand Line, they knew what would happen if they became pirates, but they hadn’t expected what had happened. They hadn’t expected their captain to get sick like that, they hadn’t expected the poison, they hadn’t expected that the Rumbar Pirates would be wiped out in its entirety. They’d always thought they’d have more time, another day to play, more time to enjoy life. Except they didn’t and they were gone and on nights like tonight, he missed them more than anything. Nights where the weight of their deaths weighed on him, nights that left him feeling so, so hollow. 

     Looking up at the sky, he let a few tears fall, he rarely cried like this, rarely shed such serious, heartbroken tears, but at the moment, with the memories of his crew fresh in his mind, with their laughter in his ears and their warmth weighing heavy on his heart, he let the tears fall. The women at Onigashima had been a blessing and a curse. They’d used Brook’s crew against him, they'd turned happy memories into a nightmare and brought back painful moments that stabbed at Brook’s heart. But seeing them again, feeling like that again, being able to sit at the piano and play with them again, well, there was a reason why he’d dreamt about it so much in the past. Some nights, on nights when things didn’t hurt so much, he would play his violin and allow himself to get caught up in the memories of his crew, skilled fingers dancing across the strings, eyes closed, and imagining the Rumbar Pirates once more by his side. While he missed them, while it hurt that they were gone, memories like these were a moment of bliss. The memories were less painful now that he wasn’t all alone in the fog, now that the straw hats had driven away the loneliness, and so he’d play and think of his old crew on those nights. A shaky, skeletal hand picked up his violin, letting the bow glide across the strings as he began to play a song for them. His mind wandered as he played imagining the crew around him once more, laughing and singing, drinks passed around while others played with him. His captain singing loudest of all as they played, a moment where everyone was happy. 

     His crew wasn’t here with him, they were gone, they’d been gone for years, but in the moment, with the sounds of another song in his ears and the vibrations of the violin against his bones, his mind conjured the images of his crew for him, letting him enjoy their memory once more. Tears still rolled down the white bone of his cheeks, sniffles still interrupted the song every few notes, but the memories of happier times were far better than the twisted images the women at onigashima had conjured. A moment of bliss in a night filled with pain and sorrow. He missed them more than words could say. Finishing his song, he allowed the ghosts of his previous crew to wash away, the illusion of his old ship and old crew washed away like writing in the sand. It was almost time for his watch to end as the first hints of light began to show on the horizon. Sanji would be awake soon, starting in on breakfast that Luffy would devour in seconds. Still, he stood there, his eyes closing once again as he left the warm morning light caress his cold bones, driving away the chill from the night along with the pain of loss that had taken hold of him for the moment. The faint scent of bacon brought him back to the present, back to the happiness and chaos of the straw hats as his heart became warmer like his bones. The sound of the Thousand Sunny and its crew waking up drove off the loneliness and pain that had gathered as he headed inside. On another night when he found himself thinking of him once more, he’d give the ghosts of his old crew an encore, he’d play another song and hold the illusions close to his heart, but it would be a happier moment than the one brought on this time, it would be one of joy that warmed his heart once more and drove away the cold and chill that surrounded him.

[maple-writes]

WHG 20 - The Big Day

I thought of making a cool title for this but ultimately was not creative enough so standard titles it is lol

whg tag list: @concealeddarkness13 @ratracechronicler @pen-of-roses @grailfish @forthesanityofsome @pied-piper-of-hamlet (let me know if I forgot anyone!)

--

Technically the day of the reaping was supposed to be a holiday, a day off, but here I was at my office anyway. It was still so, strange, that it was my office. That my name was written on the slip of paper lodged in the sign just above the room number. Asher Sang. It was tiny, just big enough for a desk, a couple chairs, and a shelf and there were no windows but it had my name on it all the same.

I unlocked the door, leaving it open behind me for when the student I would be meeting showed up. We wouldn’t likely end up staying long, probably walking together towards the reaping depending on how much she had to talk to me about. I had a few minutes before she was supposed to be here so I quickly took my vitamins with the last of my peanut butter smoothie.

Most years I wouldn’t have agreed to meet someone on the day of the reaping, but this year it wasn’t like I was leaving anyone alone at home. Argent was over with Striker and Kyra, and Ember wasn’t even in the district after her ship was delayed returning from their last fishing run. I hadn’t thought until now what would happen if her name was called. Would they send a craft out to sea to go and pick her up? Or would they quietly remove her name as to not embarrass themselves calling someone who wasn’t even there?

Footsteps echoed in the empty hallway outside and a moment later the student, Nova, poked her head through the door.

I smiled, waving her in. “Come on in.” I nodded at the chair across from my empty desk.

She nodded and stepped into the room. Usually when I saw her in classes she rarely wore anything other than jeans and a hoodie with the logo of some obscure band but today she wore a bright dress and dress shoes she didn’t seem to like walking in. A reminder of what day it was even if nothing seemed out of the ordinary in my quiet office. Did she have anyone she was leaving alone today? Hopefully she wasn’t giving up a morning together with her family, and hopefully if she were it wouldn’t be her last morning in the district.

“What can I help you with?” She hadn’t mentioned many details of what was going on, just that it was potentially urgent.

“Well, and I don’t know if I’m being paranoid but I forgot to properly get everything wrapped up at the end of last week’s tutorial because I was rushing to make an appointment, and I’m worried I’ve picked something up from it.” She rolled up her sleeve to show a small, mostly faded mark of red and irritated skin. “I know I should have been more careful, but, do you think I should be worried about being cursed or something?”

Last week we were working on communication, and techniques to safely open yourself up in order to make contact with a spirit to determine what they would need to move on. I gently took her arm, looking over the red spots. If Nova hadn’t fully shut herself off again from outside influence something might have tried to get at her without her noticing, but whatever tried it looked like it hadn’t been strong enough to get through enough to take hold. The marks looked like they were already fading.

I let go of her wrist and leaned back in my chair. “It looks like you’ll be fine. You haven’t noticed anything else going on have you?” She shook her head and I offered a smile. “That’s good. Hard to say for sure but something might have tried to get to you while you were more vulnerable but either was too weak, or even if you had rushed through the closing process it was enough to deter it. Try not to do that again, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about. If you do notice anything unusual don’t hesitate to le me know.”

She sighed, slumping a little bit in relief. “Sorry to make you come in for nothing.”

I shrugged. “Well, you didn’t know whether or not it was nothing. Better safe than sorry.” I glanced at the clock and stood. We’d have to be heading out soon if we were going to make the reaping, and I didn’t want to find out what happened to people who didn’t make it on time. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the first and you probably won’t be the last to make a mistake like that. I’m glad you came and checked with me instead of waiting to see if it would get worse.”

Her eyes flicked to the clock as well and got up too. “Thanks, and I’ll let you know if anything happens.” She slipped out as I held the door for her. “And I’ll pay more attention next time too.”

I nodded as I locked the office door and turned back to her. It was strange, only the two of us in sight. The below ground floor my office was one didn’t tend to have a lot of traffic but there would usually be some signs of life on any other day. Even the lights today seemed dimmer than usual.

“Have you got anyone waiting for you at the reaping?” My voice echoed through the quiet halls as we walked together towards the exit.

She nodded. “My family’s waiting outside for me.”

“That’s good.” I swallowed as we reached the doors, and a young child standing with a family group by the stairs of the college waved up at Nova. “Good luck today Nova.”

Nova paused for a solemn moment. “Thanks, you too.”

She left for her family and I left for the plaza. We both knew there was a non-zero chance that either of us could be called. Anyone could this year. The Capitol had only announced it last week, the changes to the pool of potential tributes. They hadn’t given much of a reason why and it had seldom been ignored in conversations since.

That meant that this year it could be him, but what were the odds of that? Small, but not zero. What if Striker was called? Or Kyra? I swallowed and lowered my head to watch the ground as I walked. Did I even want to think about that, when it might not happen? If it did though, I’d have to volunteer. I couldn’t let either of them go up there when they’d done so much for me, so much more than I could ever hope to repay them for. Would Argent’s name be in there this year too?

I shook myself out and took a long breath. Odds were that nothing would happen. We would all stand in the plaza and listen to speeches and mourn those who left and go back to our lives for another year. Probably.

[indigowallbreaker]

Dimitri and anette with the giggly kiss? for the rarepair prompt.

This is the perfect prompt for these two. Great choice!

(Currently accepting rare ships! Click here for the info post!)

--

The further on he read, the wider Dimitri smiled. He knew he hadn’t been the only one looking forward to this particular wedding invitation. Shortly after the war, it had felt like everyone he knew was getting married. Now, eight years on, it was finally Felix’s turn.

Dimitri checked the time. The boys would be finishing up their morning studies shortly. He knew Annette liked to take an hour away from her classroom at the School of Sorcery most days to eat lunch with their children. This would be the perfect time to deliver the good news.

“Have lunch sent to the family room,” Dimitri said to his attendant. “Unless anything pressing occurs, I’m not to be bothered until I’m back in this study.”

The attendant gave a somewhat flustered bow. Dimitri took off down the hall, letter in hand. Up a flight of stairs, down another hall, around a corner-- curse the architect who put the King’s study so far from royal family’s rooms-- Dimitri moved quickly, though not so quickly as to alarm anyone.  

At last he burst into the family room with barely contained excitement. “Chanson! Ronen!” He called out. Then he paused.

The room appeared unoccupied. Toys, books, and instruments usually lay scattered between the couches and armchairs. Yet now, all Dimitri could see was a structure made out of blankets and quilts, all arranged over furniture that had been carefully rearranged to hold it up.

Dimitri crossed his arms, grinning. “Is anybody home?” He asked.

Stone blue eyes on a pale, round face peeked out from between two blankets. “What’s the password?” Chanson asked. Static made his blond hair stick up a little at the back.

Kneeling down, Dimitri, recalling what their lesson was to be today, said, “Arianrhod?”

“Wrong!”

“Do I get another guess?” 

Chanson giggled and disappeared back into the blanket fort. 

“What’s going on?” Dimitri looked up to find Annette in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him. “Is something wrong, Dimitri?”

“Only that I failed to guess the password. The boys won’t let me in.” More giggles came from beyond the blankets.

Annette knelt beside Dimitri. “Can I have a try?”

Ronen poked his head out next. With Duscur brown skin and dark hair, he looked almost the polar opposite of Chanson. But somehow the brothers shared the same smile. “One guess!” 

“A flash and then a big boom!“ Annette sang more than said. Ronen gave a whoop and ducked back inside, holding the flap open for them.

Dimitri pressed a kiss to Annette’s giggling mouth. “Thank you, beloved. How did you know that?”

“They’ve been obsessed with that song this week.” Annette laughed when Dimitri peppered more kisses over her cheeks. “Stop that! Let’s go in!”

Inside had probably been roomier for two boys barely 7, but it was a tight fit for two boys and two adults. Annette was able to sit cross legged with Ronen in her lap while Dimitri lay on his stomach with his legs sticking out the flap.

“What’s that?” Chanson asked, tugging at the letter Dimitri still held. 

“An invitation.” Dimitri looked to Annette. “An invitation to Felix and Ferdinand’s wedding.”

Annette gasped and all but tore the letter from Dimitri to read it herself. “Finally! I thought they’d never pick a date!” 

Ronen looked more confused than excited. “Uncle Felix and Uncle Ferdinand aren’t married?” He asked.

“Yes they are!” Chanson protested. “They live together and everything. Right, Mama?”

“They aren’t married yet,” Annette explained. “But they’ve been together a long time, so it felt like they were. Now we have to come up with a wedding gift...”

The boys began throwing out ideas at once, each more ill-suited than the last. Annette listened to them with a patient smile she usually used on her students. Though when Ronen suggested they all perform a song together, she outright laughed. It made Dimitri want to kiss her again.

Someone outside cleared their throat pointedly. Dimitri shuffled backward out of the tent and sat up, looking around. One of the castle cooks stood flanked by two servants holding platters of food. “I was told to bring lunch to the family room?” The cook said with a polite curtsy.

Dimitri looked back at his family-- sitting in their snug tent with big smiles. Grinning himself, Dimitri turned to the cook. “I think we will be eating in the family tent today.”

[kmhnsecretexchange]

Title: Fake it ‘till You Make it

Author: idkleer

For: @SpaceRenegade12

Pairings/Characters: Hinata/Komaeda, Saihara/Ouma

Rating/Warnings: T. No warnings

Prompt: “Non-despair AU, fake dating because one of them (probably Hinata) shot their mouth off and promised a friend they would have a date to their wedding, end up actually confessing (bonus points for the couple who’s wedding it is being SaiOuma)”

Author’s notes: This was really fun to write! I absolutely love the fake dating trope. I’ve written it a lot in the past but never for komahina so I was super excited when I saw this prompt, also I always enjoy getting to include another one of my favourite ships. Hope you enjoy :)

“You’re kidding me.”

“Komaeda, please.” Hinata also wished he wasn’t asking this of his friend, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

Komaeda seemed even less impressed with him the more he begged. Sure, it was pathetic, but it was all he had left at this point. Also, in his own messed up way, Hinata could justify this. It was partially Komaeda’s fault that he ended up in this position. It wasn’t, not really, but as Hinata looked over at that subtle smirk, he only became more annoyed. 

Hinata needed a date. 

In a week, two of his friends were getting married, and for some reason he had been stupid enough to declare that he would have a date to the wedding. He also knew Ouma wasn’t going to let him forget it if he showed up without one. He should have just kept his mouth shut and he wouldn’t be having to worry either himself or Komaeda with this. His pride couldn't take a hit like this. 

He buried his face in his hands, hiding away from Komaeda’s judging gaze as he remembered that fateful conversation so many months back. 

A bunch of his friends were gathered together when Saihara and Ouma announced their engagement. Everyone responded with excitement, saying how happy they were for the couple. When the noise died down, Souda spoke up. “Man, when is it gonna be my turn?”

Iruma was quick to agree with the sentiment, and Hinata joined them. “Right? I can’t help but be a bit jealous of you guys.” 

Saihara tried to comfort them. “Don’t be like that. You’ll all find someone soon enough.”

Ouma did the exact opposite. “No, you should be jealous. We’re obviously the best couple to ever exist so none of you could reach our level. Besides, you guys are hopeless, when was the last time you even had a date?” Saihara nudged him with his elbow, to which Ouma stuck his tongue out in response, kissing him on the cheek right after. 

Souda and Iruma grumbled in agreement, but Hinata wasn’t going to let himself be compared to those two when it came to dating lives. “I could get a date if I wanted to.” He announced, not considering the consequences of making a statement like that to Ouma of all people. 

“Then why are you so hopelessly single?” He asked.

Hinata couldn't exactly give him the honest answer to that question, so instead he said “I just haven’t wanted to.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

Ouma and Iruma both cackled at him. “Someone can’t get a date,” they sang in unison. The unexpected feat of coordination, called upon just to tease him, set Hinata off.

“I can! How about this, I’ll bring a date to your wedding just to prove it.” As soon as the words left him, Hinata was cursing his impulsive mouth.

The smug smile on Ouma’s face curled into something with far more malice, and Hinata felt like he had fallen into a trap. “Alright, I’ll hold you to that. Make sure you don’t back out, Hinata-chan. You know how much I despise lairs.” 

And just like that, Hinata had talked himself into this situation, and Ouma made sure to block off all escape routes. 

Perhaps Hinata was a bit overconfident in his ability to find a date, but he was sure he could have figured something out if it hadn’t been for one, tiny little problem holding him back. It was so stupid and trivial it made him embarrassed just thinking about it. 

Hinata was a grown man and yet he was holding himself back with what could only be described as a schoolboy crush. He wished he could forget about it, even just for long enough to ask someone else out, but just the thought of taking anyone else on a date made his skin crawl. He wouldn’t even be doing anything wrong, and yet the guilt still snuck up on him. 

Part of the reason he was so certain he would have a date was because he thought it would give him a good opportunity to get over these messy, unrequited feelings, but it only served to make them worse. Hinata was a mess through and through, incapable of moving forward with what he felt, but not able to move on. 

Hinata knew full well that there were only two reasonable options to his dilemma. Either ask the person he liked out, or get over it and move on. However, he decided for a third option: pine over them from the sidelines and act like nothing was happening. 

Right now, he found himself looking over at Komaeda, and regretting that choice with everything in him. He shouldn’t have put this off for so long, he should have just given up, he should have just asked out a stranger like people used to do, anything but this. He was going insane, that was the only possible option. The stars were aligning to create the perfect situation in order to scramble his brain into a million pieces

Komaeda was many things. He was annoying, in a way that begged Hinata to fight back even though he would never win. He was smart, that’s exactly why Hinata knew he would never win their countless petty arguments. He was thoughtful, even if he acted like it made him strange; Hinata found it endearing how he always remembered little details about the lives of the people around him. He was funny, although Hinata would never admit that out loud. Most of the time, he didn’t make any sense. He was shameless, but quiet, confident, yet insecure, moody, and still objective. 

It fascinated Hinata. 

Above all, Komaeda was a friend. Only a friend. It didn’t help that he also happened to be the most beautiful person Hinata ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. His hair was soft and fluffy as it cascaded over his face, and his eyes were so bright they seemed to light up whenever he was excited. He always wore low cut shirts that would leave Hinata actively trying not to stare at his collar bones, as well as jeans that were tight enough to make him think thoughts he really shouldn’t be thinking. 

All these things were supposed to represent a simple, fleeting attraction. Hinata had decided from the very start that he wasn’t going to entertain any of it. Komaeda was important to him, and he didn’t want to ruin their friendship by bringing in romantic feelings. He assumed they would go away soon enough, and he would be left pining over someone else in no time. What he didn’t expect was for it to grow into the worst, stupidest, irrational crush he had ever had in his life. 

He couldn’t have asked anyone else to be his date, because the entire time he knew exactly who he would be thinking about. It didn’t feel fair to put anyone through that. So, maybe it was partially out of spite, or desperation, that he was here presenting such a wild idea to the only person who could help him. 

“Please,” he repeated. “It’s just for a night. Pretend to be my date. That’s it, all we have to do is pretend for a few hours, and you’ll even get some free food and drinks.” 

For a moment, Komaeda falted, and Hinata thought he might have the slightest chance. “Won’t you be embarrassed by having someone like me go with you? Maybe I can go as your friend instead.. To save you the embarrassment of pretendng to go out with me.” 

There was that awful, wrongly placed insecurity that made Komaeda all the more confusing. He had been occupying Hinata’s brain for months now and he still had the audacity to say stuff like that. How could he not tell how wrong it was? It was like someone pointing at the sun and saying it was purple. Hinata couldn’t even argue against it; how does one argue against something so obvious? 

“No, we can’t go as friends, that won’t count. That’s why we need to pretend to be dating. Just for the night, I promise, and it doesn’t have to be anything serious. Afterwards I’ll tell everyone it didn’t work out and we went back to being friends. Simple.” It wasn’t.

Komaeda looked down at the floor, then to the side, anywhere to avoid eye contact. “Are you sure people would believe it? I mean someone like you choosing to go out with someone like me…” He trailed off. 

“Damn, you’re right. I’m just so far out of your league, aren’t I?” Hinata responded with a little too much sarcasm in his tone. He knew what Komaeda was implying with what he said, but as soon as Hinata turned the meaning around on himself instead, his friend finally looked him in the eye and huffed as if he were actually offended

Hinata got the exact reaction he had been hoping for. Komaeda wasn’t so simple to understand, but there were some things that Hinata had figured out. For as self deprecating as he was, he was a million times more stubborn, and he would do anything to avoid letting Hinata have the upper hand. 

“Actually, I meant the exact opposite, but fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and looked up at Hinata through long eyelashes, a mischievous smirk on his face. “I’ll be your arm candy for the night. Just make sure to wear something nice so you don’t embarrass me.” 

Hinata chuckled. “Now I’m tempted to wear something stupid just to mess with you.” 

“Actually, I think I’m busy next weekend, you’ll have to find someone el-”

“Okay, I won’t!! Please.” Komaeda giggled at his desperation, and Hinata was left with his head in his hand trying to hide from his humiliation. 

He was really doing this, taking his actual crush on a fake date because he was too much of a coward to ask anyone out for real. He almost considered just admitting the truth to Ouma instead of bothering with a wedding present because he would surely get more amusement from Hinata’s suffering than an actual gift. That wasn’t going to happen, though. He had figured out what was technically a solution to his problem, even if it was making him lose what little was left of his sanity. He wasn’t going to back down now. 

– 

 The week passed slowly, and each day Hinata found himself wondering more and more if this was a good decision. Together, Komaeda and him had come up with a simple backstory to make their fake dating story convincing. Although, now that it was actually happening, Hinata found himself so nervous he was having trouble remembering anything other than how to keep his legs steady beneath him. 

He was waiting outside of Komaeda’s door, pacing back and forth, probably looking like an idiot. He had gotten a text from his friend saying that he would be a few more minutes, but Hinata was far too restless to sit still in the car. What if he accidentally managed to look stupid? The wedding wasn’t particularly fancy, but was a dress shirt and tie enough? Did he make sure to iron out all the wrinkles? His damn hair never did what he wanted it to, and after half an hour of trying to tame the spiky mess on top of his head he had given up and let it do whatever it wanted. 

However, all that worry left him when Komaeda stepped out of his door, and suddenly Hinata’s mind went blank. He knew Komaeda was pretty, but he wasn’t anywhere near prepared to see him dressed up like that. He wore a classic white button down, tucked into slacks that fit him a little too well. On top of that was a vest, which highlighted his figure in a way that Hinata couldn’t help but stare at. Komaeda normally wore big coats that he hid away in, so seeing him in something so fitted was a surprise. 

Had his waist always been that small? There was no way. How was it possible that he somehow managed to look even better than usual? 

It would be insufficiant to say he was pretty, or handsome, or any other silly word that people tried to use in moments like these. Komaeda was stunning, in every single way Hinata could have imagined. He glowed, like the light was admiring his presence just as much as Hinata was. 

Not only did he get himself a date, even if it was a fake one, he was going to this wedding with someone who looked like that. He couldn't tell if this was good or bad luck, it still seemed so impossible. 

His, frankly embarrassing, thoughts were interrupted by a call of his name. “Hinata-kun?” 

Hinata snapped back to reality. “Uh, um, you look nice.” That’s it? That’s all he managed to say? Nice didn’t even cover half of it. Komaeda deserved a string of compliments that went on for so long he would be out of breath before the end of it. 

“Thank you. So do you.” Komaeda looked at the ground as he spoke, and if Hinata’s thoughts were any less scrambled, he would have noticed that he wasn’t the only one blushing right now. 

The car ride there was mostly silent. Komaeda seemed quite focused trying to tie his hair up, eventually giving up and letting half of it stay down. Hinata thought it was cute, and he found himself a little annoyed that he had to focus on the road instead of Komaeda’s adorable expressions.

When they arrived, Hinata had mostly forgotten about his nerves. At least until they began to make their way inside, and Komaeda slid up beside him and grabbed his hand. Hinata halted midstep, and nearly tripped over his own two feet as Komaeda kept going. His friend looked back at him with a raised eyebrow and crooked smile, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “We should hold hands. That’s what most couples do, right?” That mischief in his smile was also evident in his voice, and Hinata wondered if he would be annoyed if he wasn’t so flustered. 

Komaeda’s hand was cold in his, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Somehow, their fingers laced together perfectly, like they were meant to fit just like that. Hinata stared down at their hands, wondering how something that had never happened before could look so familiar. “Yeah,” he muttered. Then, he took a better grip of Komaeda’s hand and led them into the building. 

There were a good amount of people there, and Hinata quickly found his friends grouped together chatting mindlessly. Hinata did his best not to let his nerves show through as he approached. He couldn't tell if it was better, or more difficult, that Komaeda ended up already knowing around half of them. It made introductions go by smoothly, but when questioned on the hand holding, Hinata found himself freezing up. 

He suddenly became very aware of his situation. He was really holding Komaeda’s hand, standing so close to him, and now his friends were excitedly congratulating them for getting together. It was straight out of one of his more self indulgent fantasies. He wasn’t delusional, he was still very aware that it was all fake, but still, it was overwhelming having to live in this reality. 

Komaeda was the perfect partner in crime. He kept up with all the little lies, and acted like he wanted to be there, and didn’t need to be talked into it. He smiled and laughed when Hinata’s friends teased him, and the whole time he kept Hinata’s hand in his, like he actually didn’t mind the closeness. While he was doing all of that, Hinata found himself stuttering and blushing trying to keep himself together. This was his idea after all, but he was still having trouble getting a hold of himself. 

Luckily, their conversation didn’t last for too long. Soon enough, everyone was seated at tables and the night began to fly by. Hinata didn’t consider himself an emotional person, but something about weddings had always struck him as magical. He had never loved someone enough to consider spending the rest of his life with them. He wondered if it really felt like the way they portrayed it in romance movies. Would his heart be stolen away until he was incapable of thinking of anyone else? Would it beat so fast in his chest that he couldn’t hold in his emotions? What would it feel like to kiss someone he cared about like that? It was mysterious, in a way that had him curious, but not impatient, to know the answer. 

Like he said, Hinata wasn’t an emotional person, but he did find himself crying by the end of the ceremony. He was hoping no one would notice, but suddenly he felt a hand on his face. Komaeda’s thumb brushed gently across his cheek, wiping away a tear, and lingering for a little longer than necessary. “I didn’t know Hinata-kun was such a crybaby,” he teased. 

When Hinata whipped his head around, he noticed Komaeda’s eyes were also watering. The lights reflected off of the collecting teardrops, and made his eyes sparkle in a way that seemed surreal. For just a moment, Hinata stopped questioning all of those romantic cliches.

“You’re crying too.” he pouted, turning back away before it could be obvious how much he was blushing. Even after the hand pulled away, Hinata could swear he could still feel the contact. Komaeda’s touch was refreshing, always dragging him back for more, and this was no exception. 

Fake. he reminded himself. This was all just for show, nothing more. 

Time passed, Hinata got his out of control heart back in order, and conversation started back up. The excitement over their dating announcement had died down, and finally he thought he was going to be able to relax and have a nice rest of the night. That was until the newlyweds arrived at their table, and one look from Ouma made him realize that relaxing had never been an option. 

Everyone said their congratulations to the couple, but Ouma was much more focused on cozying up beside Hinata, his eyes darting back and forth between him and Komaeda. “Who is this over here?” He asked without even bothering to address the rest of the table. 

“I’m sure I’ve mentioned my friend Komaeda before-” Hinata began to explain before Ouma cut him off. 

“Awwww, Hinata-chan brought a friend! That’s so sweet.” He mocked. 

 Komaeda spoke up next. He reached for one of Hinata’s hands that was resting on the table, and laced their fingers together like before. “Well actually, we’re not just friends anymore.” It was so natural, so easy, Hinata didn’t even think twice about the way he brought his free hand to rest on top of their joined ones. 

Ouma looked puzzled. His eyes narrowed, his mouth fell open a few times before he actually said anything, and he seemed to freeze for a moment beside Hinata. “Oh? When did this happen?”

Hinata didn’t know if he should be offended that Ouma was doubting him, or if he should be relieved that their lie wasn’t immediately called out. “Not long ago. We’ve only been on a few dates so far.” Hinata did his best to keep his tone even as he responded, trying to avoid making his answer sound as practiced as it was. He kept his gaze on Komaeda, smiling as if they were silently sharing memories. If there was one person who could see through this, it was Ouma, and Hinata would rather avoid looking him in the eye while lying so blatantly. 

However, when he did look back over, Ouma just seemed more perplexed. It was clear he was suspicious, but couldn’t completely tell what was going on. Hinata was going to take that as a win. Even if there was suspicion, fooling Ouma at all was a tough feat, and he couldn't help but feel a bit proud of himself. 

“Congrats guys, it’s really nice to see you finally get together.” Saihara said from the other end of the table where he had been talking to Nanami a moment ago. 

Hinata knew that he should just let it go. Bringing any more attention to them would only lead to more lying, which he would like to avoid, but he couldn’t stop himself. Curiosity got the best of him as he asked. “Finally?” 

Saihara chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, like he had been caught with something he shouldn’t have. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything before, but your crush on Komaeda has been obvious for a while now. I’m glad we’re finally getting to meet him.” 

Hinata couldn’t hide the way his jaw dropped. He hadn’t told anyone about his feelings, specifically with the intention of keeping them secret. He sure as hell wasn’t expecting anyone to bring up his real feelings, not when everything before them was just a display. Saihara meant well, Hinata knew he did, but right now he wanted to grab his shoulders and shake some sense into him. He didn’t even know what he was doing, and Hinata wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“Really? Tell me more,” Komaeda pried, a devilish smile curling on his lips that Hinata wanted to kick himself for finding attractive. 

Saihara kept talking, as if he wasn’t ruining Hinata’s life, as if this was just general knowledge that people learned about in elementary school. “He’s mentioned you a few times, and his face always heats up. Sometimes he looks down at his phone with this big, goofy smile while he’s texting. It’s quite cute, honestly. I figured it was only a matter of time until something happened between the two of you.”

Hinata was certain he was going to explode from embarrassment, and maybe that would have been for the best. Anything would be better than sitting between Komaeda and Ouma both snickering at him like this was the funniest thing they had ever heard. He could only assume that Ouma had figured it out, he could see through almost any farce. Komaeda, on the other hand, looked far too smug as he laughed at the way Hinata hid his head in his arms on the table. 

“Aww, Hinata-kun. That’s adorable. I never knew you liked me so much.” 

He was going to die here. That was the only possible option. There was no coming back from something like this. This was the downfall of Hajime Hinata. He had lived a good life, done things that he had enjoyed. Other than bringing Komaeda here and choosing to be friends with Saihara, he didn’t have any regrets. He had a good run, but all good things had to come to an end eventually. 

In a surprising turn of events, he didn’t actually end up dying. Nanami started talking about something that caught the table’s attention, Saihara and Ouma moved on to talk to the other guests, and by the time Hinata peeked his head back up things had gone back to normal. He was sure Komaeda wasn’t going to let him get away with this, but at least for now he was safe. 

Everything was fine when they were just chatting and wasting time together, and Hinata wasn’t having one of his, apparently, worst kept secrets called out in front of the last person he wanted to know. At some point Komaeda mentioned something about going to get a drink, and Hinata had been distracted by a conversation with Souda for most of the time that he was gone. He noticed his friend had been gone for what felt like too long, and when he glanced over at the small bar set up, he realized exactly why that was. 

Komaeda was standing at the bar, leaning down on his elbows and looking comfortable as could be as he laughed at something that couldn't have possibly been that funny. Beside him was a man Hinata didn’t recognize. He appeared to be telling some story, using his hands to emphasize his words. Then, one of those hands landed on Komaeda’s arm, and stayed there as he kept talking. Komaeda didn’t brush it off, he didn’t even appear to notice it, but Hinata did. He fixated on it, and the longer he did, the less he could ignore it. 

A sensation that he could only describe as burning made its way through his body. He was angry, but he couldn’t place why. They weren’t actually together. Komaeda was allowed to flirt with whoever he wanted. Even someone who clearly told terrible stories. 

That anger was quick to manifest as possessiveness that left Hinata with a sour taste in his mouth. Komaeda was his date for tonight, but Komaeda wasn’t his. As much as he wanted that, he couldn’t force it into reality. But, he also couldn’t stop the rage inducing jealousy that was making him get up from his seat and storm over to the bar. 

He did his best to act unbothered when he made it there, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. He wrapped an arm around Komaeda’s waist, and put on a passive aggressive smile. “Hey there, I was missing you.” He said with a sickening sweetness in his voice. 

The stranger looked between the two of them, and took a step back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here with someone.” For some reason, his politeness just annoyed Hinata even more. 

“No worries, I should have mentioned it sooner.” Komaeda responded. Then, as if he was getting revenge for Hinata touching him so casually, he leaned over and quickly kissed Hinata on the cheek. 

The stranger quickly left, but Hinata was no longer focused on that. All of the anger in his body evaporated. He was numb, and the only thing he could feel was the warmth from where Komaeda had kissed him. “What the hell was that?” Hinata hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it slipped past him nonetheless. 

Komaeda giggled, an adorable faux-innocent smile spreading across his face. “I wanted to see how you’d react. You didn’t disappoint.” He laughed some more, and Hinata found himself fascinated by that smile. “You got so flustered, it’s cute.” Cute? Did Komaeda just call him cute? “Did you think I was going to actually kiss you?”

Hinata’s mind was scrambled. The man he had been pining over had just kissed his cheek, and even if it was fake, he needed many more minutes until he was going to be functional again. 

“Uh, um, what?” His eyes were still trained on Komaeda’s smile. 

“Were you jealous, Hinata-kun?” 

“Yes- wait. Uh. Why would I be jealous? That’s stupid.” Had his smile always been this pretty? 

“Could it be that you want me to actually kiss you?”

“Yes- no. I think. No, right?” Hinata didn’t think that counted as a proper response, but he was too busy realizing he was staring at Komaeda’s mouth for far too long. He ripped his gaze away, and instead was met with wide eyes trained on him so intensely Hinata felt a shiver go down his spine. Komaeda was thinking very hard about something, and Hinata wished he could remember what had come out of his own mouth so he could figure out what was going on in Komaeda’s wonderful mind.

Hinata felt a hand wrap around his arm, and before he knew what was happening he was being dragged away from the crowds. He was led out of the main room, and down an empty hallway near the back of the building. 

“Komaeda! What are you doing?” Hinata stuttered out as he tried to keep up. 

Komaeda leaned against one of the walls, and grabbed tight onto Hinata’s tie to pull until he was directly in front of him. They were much closer than they had ever been before, just barely enough space between them to still talk comfortably. Hinata’s eyes darted between Komaeda’s, and the fingers wrapped around his tie. His brain was spinning around so fast he couldn’t make out his own thoughts. 

“You didn’t answer me properly, so I figured I would take you away from the distractions so you could focus.” Komaeda’s voice was clear, confident, and alluring in a way that Hinata couldn’t help but fall for. “Do you want to kiss me?” 

It was at that moment that Hinata’s mind came to a complete stop. He was unable to think of anything else besides the man right in front of him. He realized two things: Komaeda was the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes on, and he would give up everything he had ever owned to be able to kiss him. 

So he did. His body felt like it was in a trance, moving forward without thinking about what any of his actions meant. Even though he asked the question, Komaeda gasped and tensed up the moment their lips met, like anything other than rejection was a surprise he couldn’t understand. It only took a moment for him to relax, and when he did, Hinata felt himself melt into the touch. 

Like their hands, their lips fit together like they were made to do exactly this. Hinata moved forward to press Komaeda against the wall. He needed more contact. He needed their bodies pressed together until any space between them was smothered like all of his own doubts. He had wanted this for so damn long, and he was going to make sure it wouldn’t end after one, simple kiss. 

He kept Komaeda there, against him, and when he didn’t pull away he was met with a smile and sigh against his lips. Komaeda’s arms wrapped loosely around his neck and encouraged him to push even closer.

He couldn’t help himself. His hands wrapped around Komaeda’s waist, and he had to hold back the noise that bubbled up in his chest when he realized he could get more than a good enough grip to pick Komaeda up like this. Instead, he kept him caged against the wall, and kissed him like he needed it to breathe. It felt good in a way he couldn’t even describe. The familiarity of their years of friendship didn’t just dissolve with this new type of touch. That comfort was still there, and with every move, a new sense of intimacy grew. 

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t a little bit surprised by Komaeda’s eagerness. He couldn’t believe that the person he liked so much could really want to kiss him, especially like this, with grasping hands, shallow breaths, a little too much force, and everything that showed a bit too clearly how they both wanted so much more. 

With a light push against him, Hinata pulled away, and gave them both enough space to breathe. He watched Komaeda’s chest rise and wall, as he smiled at Hinata. They were the same height with the way Komaeda slouched against the wall, and that made it all the more easy to lean in for another kiss. 

It was surreal, finally getting what he had wanted for so many months now. Komaeda looked like he couldn’t believe it either. Then, out of nowhere, both at once, the two of them started laughing. They didn’t take their hands off of each other, but they laughed like it was all some big joke, which felt much more likely than reality. Komaeda really was beautiful when he laughed. He rarely ever looked that relaxed, and his hair bounced with his shoulders in the most adorable way. 

When Komaeda’s eyes opened again, they carried every bit of that glee with them. “Kiss me again?” 

Hinata immediately gave into the request. He would do so a million times over if he could feel Komaeda this close, make him look that happy. 

Somehow, by some twist of fate, Hinata had ended up with a real date. 

[storytimewithnova]

Moonlit Dread: The Cursed Voyage of the Miya Siblings"

Summary:The cursed crew sail again for this story in the Run up to halloween. the eerie and macabre tale of "Moonlit Dread," we follow the Miya triplets - Shona, Atsumu, and Osamu - as they are drawn into the chilling lore of the cursed crew, a group of spectral pirates known to haunt the seas under the full moon. While their parents had shared these tales to frighten them, the siblings couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to the legends.

As Halloween approaches, Shona strolls along the moonlit shore with her boyfriend, Tetsurō Kuroo, and begins to sing a haunting sea shanty. Her song triggers the appearance of the ghostly ship of the cursed crew. To Kuroo's shock, Shona reveals that she is the new captain of this otherworldly crew, and her brothers serve as her loyal first mates. Kuroo, torn between love and fear, makes a fateful decision to join Shona in her spectral adventure. Together, they sail through a world where folklore, horror, and the supernatural merge, becoming legends in their own right. "Moonlit Dread" is a tale that blurs the lines between reality and legend, exploring the enduring power of maritime folklore and the darkness that can consume those who venture too far into the unknown.

In the dark and fog-shrouded legend of the Miya triplets, Shona, Atsumu, and Osamu, the young trio found themselves inexorably drawn into the haunting and macabre folklore of the cursed crew—a group of spectral pirates that were said to prowl the unforgiving seas under the blood-red light of the full moon. These sinister tales had been passed down through generations, a grim reminder of the dangers lurking in the depths of the ocean. While their parents had often shared these eerie stories to frighten them into submission, the three siblings couldn't shake the persistent curiosity that gnawed at them, wondering if there was any kernel of truth buried within these unsettling legends.

As the eve of Halloween loomed closer, Shona took a leisurely stroll along the moonlit shore with her boyfriend, Tetsurō Kuroo. Inexplicably, an eerie melody began to flow from her lips, her voice carrying a mournful, bone-chilling tune, seemingly plucked from the annals of a ghostly chant

🎶"The king and his men stole the queen from her bed And bound her in her bones The seas be ours and by the powers Where we will, we'll roam🎶

Kuroo, shivers running down his spine, couldn't help but voice his unease, "Sho, kitten, what the heck are you singing?"

Shona, her eyes reflecting an unsettling fascination, shrugged, her voice never wavering as she continued:

🎶 "Yo-ho, all together Hoist the colors high Heave ho, thieves and beggars Never shall we die🎶

Kuroo's concern deepened, his heart pounding with a sense of foreboding. "Kitten, are you trying to summon the Cursed Crew?"

Shona laughed, but it was a laugh tinged with something otherworldly, dismissing her boyfriend's fears. "Love, do you truly believe these are just childhood stories?"

Deep within her psyche, Shona harbored a clandestine knowledge, an awareness that these stories were far more than mere tales. She envisioned herself as the captain now, with her brothers serving as her loyal first mates.

Kuroo decided to let it go, trying to convince himself that Shona was right. Unperturbed, she sang again, her voice carrying a haunting weight:

🎶 "Yo-ho, all together Hoist the colors high Heave ho, thieves and beggars Never shall we die"🎶

In that moment, as the moon hung like a phantom lantern above, a ghostly ship materialized on the distant horizon. A bone-chilling voice echoed through the night:

The Crew:🎶 "Never shall we die" 🎶

Ahoy, captain," the ethereal voices greeted.

Shona, as though she had been anticipating their spectral arrival, welcomed them with eerie familiarity. "Took you sea dogs long enough. Where's me brother?"

From the mist-shrouded ship, Atsumu emerged, followed by Osamu. "Here, Captain."

"O-hayo, sis," Osamu greeted, his voice carrying an eerie resonance.

Kuroo stood frozen in shock as Atsumu handed Shona her captain's hat, a relic of an otherworldly realm. The puzzle pieces were aligning in his mind, painting a horrifying picture.

With pride, Shona declared, "Darling, are you going to stand there catching flies, or come with me?"

Kuroo, torn between disbelief and the fear of losing Shona to the shadows of the cursed crew, made his choice. "Kitten, you're a member of the cursed crew?"

Shona nodded, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity. "I'm the captain now. Salacia passed it to me officially when she met her end. She was a good captain who taught me everything. People have forgotten about us—the Miya siblings—missing for so long. Our parents even forgot us. We became cold cases. Will you join me, Tetsurō?"

Kuroo, consumed by his love for Shona and the irresistible allure of adventure on the high seas, didn't hesitate any longer. He took a resolute step closer and said, "I'm with you, Captain."

With Kuroo's declaration, a bone-chilling wind seemed to sweep across the beach, sending shivers down their spines. Shona's eyes, now darker and more enigmatic than ever, seemed to pierce the veil between the living and the spectral realm.

"Very well," she intoned in a voice that echoed with centuries of maritime history. "Welcome aboard, Tetsurō. The Cursed Crew sails again tonight."

As Shona donned her captain's hat, the moon above cast an eerie glow upon the spectral ship, revealing its ghastly crew in full detail. These were not the swashbuckling pirates of legend but the cursed souls of mariners who had paid the ultimate price for their misdeeds on the high seas.

The Miya siblings, now reunited, stood together as a formidable and otherworldly triumvirate. Shona, with a commanding presence, gave orders with authority. The ship creaked and groaned as it unfurled its tattered sails, drifting into the inky depths of the ocean.

Kuroo, torn between fear and fascination, watched as the world he had known faded into the distance. The stars above seemed to wink knowingly as they embarked on their dread-filled voyage. With each passing moment, the folklore and horror of the cursed crew became their new reality, and Kuroo was now part of it, for better or worse.The ghostly ship sailed onward, its haunting chorus echoing across the sea:

The crew:🎶 "Yo-ho, all together Hoist the colors high Heave ho, thieves and beggars Never shall we die"🎶

And so, the Miya siblings and their newfound recruit, Tetsurō Kuroo, ventured deeper into the abyss, weaving their own chilling tales of horror and folklore upon the shadowy canvas of the night. It was a journey that would test their courage and reveal secrets darker than any legend had ever told.

As the cursed ship sailed on through the eerie and endless night, Shona, Atsumu, Osamu, and Kuroo became legends in their own right. The tales of their supernatural exploits spread through the folklore of coastal towns and seafaring communities, whispered in fear around campfires and tavern tables.

With each passing year, the memory of the Miya siblings and their cursed crew grew more potent, a grim reminder of the perils of the sea and the darkness that could consume those who dared to venture too far into the unknown. Some claimed to have seen their ghostly ship on the horizon, while others swore they heard their haunting sea shanties carried by the wind.

But for Shona, Atsumu, Osamu, and Kuroo, time seemed to stretch endlessly. They were caught in a timeless purgatory between the realms of the living and the dead, their existence defined by the ceaseless cycle of moonlit nights and shadowy days.

In the heart of this spectral adventure, Kuroo found a strange solace. He had joined this macabre crew out of love for Shona, and in the process, he had become a part of something far greater than himself. He had embraced the unknown, the horror, and the folklore that had once terrified him. With each passing day, his fear transformed into a sense of purpose, and he found a strange sense of belonging among the cursed crew.

And so, the Miya siblings and their spectral ship sailed into the ever-darkening horizon, a haunting reminder that the boundaries between reality and legend are fragile and porous. They had become a living nightmare, a chilling tale that would be told for generations, a testament to the enduring power of horror and folklore that lurks in the deepest recesses of the human imagination.