#but it would be WONDERFUL if they covered it.
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“when they get jealous” | hq
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃
content: haikyuu boys x reader, when they get jealous over someone else
warnings: disgustingly cute, kenma x reader + tsukishima x reader are established relationships, fem!reader, osamu x reader (y/n is perceived as shorter than osamu)
characters: kenma, tsukishima, osamu
a/n: more! bc these also have been stuck in my head... (not proofread sorry!)
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Kozume Kenma
'he would get distracted to the point of jeopardizing a game'
It was a weekend afternoon, and Kenma had carved out some precious time to play solos in the gaming room. His specialty was first-person shooter games, and he stayed absolutely silent to focus; a pin drop could be heard from how quiet it was. Only the sounds of his game controller clicking resonated softly in the soundproof room.
You two shared the room, with back-to-back monitors and a personalized setup on each side. Occasionally, you would enter and play a game or two, leaving when you knew he had a stream scheduled.
Today was one of those quiet days, with Kenma fully immersed in his game. His noise-canceling headphones ensured nothing but the game’s audio reached his ears.
You entered the room, aware of his headphones, and left rabbit-cut apple slices next to his keyboard. The colors from his monitor illuminated the slices, casting a soft glow on them as his slender fingers worked like a well-oiled machine.
As you moved, your figure momentarily blocked his sight, and he glimpsed you holding a phone to your ear, a smile plastered on your face as you talked. Kenma's eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before his monitor demanded his attention again. Usually, you would make some sort of light contact to remind him you were there, a gentle touch or a pat on the shoulder.
But this time, you didn’t.
Instead, you turned to your side and plopped down on the plush chair, fully engrossed in your conversation. Kenma wasn't overly nosy, but he couldn’t help but peek out from the side of his monitor to observe you.
‘Who has your attention?’ he wondered.
Knowing he couldn't keep glancing your way without compromising his game, Kenma adjusted his headphones so that only one side covered his ear, leaving the other exposed to the outside world.
Kenma's focus split in half; he tried to concentrate on his game, yet every time he heard your wholehearted laugh, his eyes darted to you instantly. Your joy was infectious, and it pulled at his curiosity with an unfamiliar force.
“Tomorrow? Yeah, that sounds great!” Your voice rang out, clear and cheerful. Kenma's brows furrowed as he strained to make out more of your conversation. His concentration slowly dissipated, the multiple noises becoming a chaotic blend in his mind.
“I can’t wait to see you!” Your exclamation, followed by another giggle, broke his focus entirely. He turned his head fully for just two seconds, enough time for his character on screen to be targeted and shot.
The screen flashed red with ‘GAME OVER’ in bold letters.
Kenma's eyes did a double take as the realization hit—he had gotten distracted a bit too long.
He never lost a game—ever.
He yanked the headphones off, letting them hang around his neck as he leaned back in his chair. A long sigh heaved out, his worn-out hands finding their way behind his head as his legs spread apart for a more comfortable position.
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, bro. Tell Mom I can’t wait to see you guys!” Now free from his game’s immersive audio, Kenma heard you loud and clear. His eyes squeezed shut, feeling a twinge of annoyance at himself for getting so distracted.
That really cost him a game—yet he couldn't help but feel his heart rate slow down after realizing you were just talking to your brother.
Lost in his thoughts, Kenma didn’t hear you approach until he felt the soft, slightly wet touch of your lips pecking his. His eyes slowly fluttered open to find you staring down at him with a confused look.
“You lost, Kozu?” Your eyes now drifted to his monitor.
He could only softly scoff at himself, a mix of embarrassment and amusement in his tone. “Yeah, I guess I did.” His lips pursed together, noting the twinge of sweetness they tasted.
He would never tell you the real reason, though.
𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼
Kei Tsukishima
'his smile looks indifferent, yet his eyes shot daggers'
The sound of someone’s cough echoed through the museum as you and Tsukishima passed through another grand exhibit. The exhibits grew slightly crowded at times, prompting you to lightly grasp the edge of his coat, careful not to fully grab him. His strides were slightly faster than yours granted his slight eagerness. Tsukishima turned his head, peering down at your hand clutching his clothes.
“Is this your way of trying to keep up?” His light eyebrows raised slightly in amusement before he reached back, taking hold of your hand to guide you instead.
“Excuse me!” a slightly loud voice echoed in the room, causing you to close your mouth before you could respond. You turned to face the source of the shout, only to find a young man staring right at you.
Tsukishima halted with you, turning his head around with a hint of annoyance at whoever was shouting.
“Do people not know when to lower their voices?” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As he was about to finish his sentence, he noticed the man making his way toward you specifically. Tsukishima didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes were solely focused on you.
Turning his attention to you, Tsukishima also noticed how your squinting eyes suddenly morphed into one of pure surprise.
“Y/N? Is that really you!?” the man exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.
As the man launched into an animated recount of his recent adventures, Tsukishima stood by, feeling a pang of irritation.
Soon enough, a few others caught up to your classmate. Tsukishima couldn't miss the way it took them a few seconds to avert their eyes or the eager way they held out their hands to shake yours.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, ‘How shameless.’
“This is my—” you began to introduce Tsukki, but he beat you to it, turning fully to face the group. “I’m the boyfriend.” His smile was anything but genuine.
His tone might have been friendly, but you could tell Tsukki was irritated.
Quickly realizing he might be upset about the abrupt interruption of your date, you hastily said your goodbyes to your old high school friend.
“Aw, c’mon Y/N, how about a reunion selfie before we let you go?” your old classmate nudged, pointing at the phone he was holding.
You awkwardly laughed, trying to think of a way to politely decline. But before you could say no, you felt a gentle but firm pressure on the small of your back, guiding you forward. You turned to see Tsukishima's long fingers splayed out against your back, his touch insistent. The action caused you to straighten up in response, feeling the solid reassurance of his hand.
You quickly took the selfie with your old classmate, offering a polite smile for the camera. Before you could say another brief goodbye, you noticed the three guys in the back all staring in your direction, only to quickly avert their gaze to some random object in the building.
Curious about what had caught their attention, you turned your head to follow their line of sight. Your heart began to race as you saw the reason for their sudden shift in focus.
Tsukishima, now several meters away, was turned slightly to the side, but his eyes were locked onto the guy next to you. His usual could-care-less demeanor was replaced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Tsukishima's glare was menacing as if silently placing a bounty on his head. His hands were comfortably placed in his pockets; his black glasses failed to mask the daggers he shot their way.
There was no mistaking it—he was jealous, and not just mildly so.
You quickly excused yourself, murmuring a final goodbye to your old classmate. You made your way over to Tsukishima, your steps quickening with each passing second.
As you reached him, you hesitated for a moment before gently placing a hand on his arm. His eyes flicked to yours, then quickly shifted away, focusing on anything but you.
“Tsukki,” you said softly, “Sorry that took so long.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, his tone begrudgingly agreeing.
“Were their stares bothering you?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.
Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“They were just...annoying,” he said, his voice clipped. “Like, read the room.”
A mischievous smirk played on your face as you interlocked your hand with his. “Is that why you were death-staring them like they were your sworn enemies?”
“Obviously. Anyone would with how noisy they were,” he replied, trying to sound indifferent.
He would never admit to it, but you could read him all too well.
𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼
Miya Osamu
'wouldn't care if a purchase or two gets put on the line'
One day, Atsumu, his doting twin brother, waltzes into the semi-busy shop with open arms.
“Take a whiff, boys—the infamous Miya blood mixes with success,” he says smugly.
Osamu doesn't even welcome them once he sees who it is—he simply deadpans and shoves the curtains to go in the back.
With a bright smile that reaches your eyes, you quickly greet the customers. The two unfamiliar gentlemen behind Atsumu had a muscular and tall build—likely hungry athletes in need of rewarding food.
‘Time to sell the whole shop,’ you think with determination.
Although you weren’t an official employee at Onigiri Miya, you wanted to help Osamu as much as you could. That included selling his delicious food to hungry customers.
You devise a quick game plan and target the first tall guy, hastily approaching him. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he examines the menu, trying to decide what to eat.
“Hi there! If you’re looking for something delicious, you can’t go wrong with our classic tuna mayo onigiri,” you suggest cheerfully, your enthusiasm catching his attention.
The tall guy’s face lights up at your recommendation. “That sounds perfect, thanks!” he says, his serious expression softening.
Just as you’re about to show him another flavor, Osamu suddenly walks directly between you and the customer, almost bumping into you. “You should try the natto,” he says, grabbing a natto onigiri from the display, his tone a bit sharper than usual.
The customer looks a bit taken aback, clearly put off by the sudden change. “Uh, I’m not sure about natto…” he says hesitantly.
You frown slightly, trying to salvage the situation. “Well, we have plenty of other options too—how about the umeboshi?” you suggest, stepping around Osamu to point at another onigiri.
Osamu, however, doesn’t move, effectively blocking your view. “Natto’s a specialty here. You should give it a shot,” he insists, practically shoving the onigiri into the customer’s hand, his eyes darting briefly to you and then back to the customer.
The customer looks uncomfortable, but Atsumu, ever the opportunist, steps in with a grin. “Look at ya, ‘Samu. Can’t stand to see Y/N sellin’ your onigiri to my pal, huh?” he teases, clearly enjoying the situation.
Osamu’s scowl deepens as he grabs an onigiri from the counter. “Shut up, ‘Tsumu,” he mutters before stuffing the onigiri into his brother’s mouth, effectively muffling his cackle.
Atsumu’s eyes widen in surprise, slightly coughing from practically choking on a rice ball.
Trying to pretend the twins weren’t going at it, mouthing silent threats to each other on each side of you two, you try to make a pitch once again.
“I hope you try out all, but it’s up to you!” you quickly put all three into the man’s hands and in doing so, your hand encloses them and gives it a slight pat.
The shuffling stops as you feel two holes being burned into the back of your head.
You could hear a soft chuckle as Osamu's large hands suddenly and slightly encircled your neck from behind. His weight leaned lightly against you as he crouched down a bit to join the conversation.
"Y/N's putting in quite the effort to sell you these, man. I'd say take them and enjoy," he remarked, his face close enough to yours that you could almost feel his breath against your ear.
With a subtle maneuver, you sidestep out of his grasp and guide the customer towards the register; the mess the very owner put you through just to sell these damn onigiris. You mentally roll your eyes as Atsumu continues to tease Osamu in the background.
As soon as the trio of athletes bid the shop goodbye, the door chiming softly behind them, your attention soon fell on Osamu.
You could feel a slight tension in the atmosphere, the remnants of the earlier exchange still hanging in the air. Osamu stood behind the counter, his back turned to you as he methodically rearranged the onigiri displays. His movements were precise, almost mechanical as if he were trying to distract himself from the task at hand.
"Why the face, Y/N?" Osamu feigned confusion as he went around the stalls to continue his organizing.
You stood by the register with your arms crossed, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. "Oh, really," you began, "I mean, I get Atsumu—you guys always go at it—but that guy was just like any other customer, 'Samu."
Osamu paused in his task, his expression shifting into a thoughtful gaze as if pondering something. His fingers tapped absentmindedly on the counter before he finally met your gaze. "Yeah, but there's always something more to it," he said cryptically, a faint smile playing on his lips.
You tilted your head, intrigued by his response. "More to what?"
He chuckled softly, a glint of something indescribable in his eyes. "More to everything," he replied enigmatically, leaving you with a curious smile as he continued to work around the shop. His words lingered in the air.
𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼
want more?
⤷ masterlist.
#𓇼—haikyuu#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#hq#hq x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu fluff#kenma kozume#hq kenma#kenma x reader#kenma x y/n#kenma fluff#kenma x you#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima x y/n#tsukishima x you#tsukishima fluff#miya osamu#miya twins#osamu x reader#osamu x you#osamu x y/n#haikyuu kenma#haikyuu tsukishima#haikyuu osamu#hq osamu#hq tsukishima
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I was thinking about Danny talking about Dan to the Justice League and all it would take would be a little slip of the tongue for Danny's "he's my evil future self" to be heard as "he's my evil future son." Because it's one thing to have futures where You turn evil, but another thing to have futures where your family members, your KIDS, turn evil.
Phantom was new to the Justice League team. He had been inducted only three months ago and could be seen coming and going at odd hours. No one really knew much about him.
Phantom was recommended by Wonder Woman during the last selection. Apparently, she knew him due to a mutual acquaintance, a woman named Pandora, who had asked the princess to meet the boy—teenager? Man? It was hard to know what to call him because his physical appearance was that of a youth when he was immortal. She rarely nominated anyone for membership, but the person was precious to the team when she did.
And the ghost was.
Although he needed some formal training, Phantom had an excellent grasp of his powers and the cleverness to pull off moves with them, which Batman even praised. Many of the members adored Phantom's willingness to take on any role in a team.
He never complained about letting someone else take the lead, followed orders without much trouble, blended well with anyone as a teammate, and, most of all, had compassion for civilians. Phantom was often the hero who lingered after a battle to help clean up and provide relief aid.
Civilians adored him, and his fans were growing in numbers.
Despite all of this, Phantom wasn't really close with anyone. The ghost rarely lingered after his missions or monitor duty. He flew in, kept to himself, and left out once he was done.
Phantom never started or helped the conversation progress if it was not mission-related. He wasn't as bad as Batman, but he made it hard to connect to him. Diana assured everyone it wasn't because Phantom did not like them—he was only shy.
It was hard to put the being who single-handedly held off Superman the last time he was mind-controlled next to the word shy. Yet they've seen it.
They saw him nervously play with his gloves as someone spoke to him, struggled to think of what to say in conversations, and even ducked his head when he got too anxious.
It was like whiplash to see the ghost go from a shy, nervous teenager to the one that stopped and held Superman in a taekwondo hold until Batman could stab the needle to get him free of mind control.
Then, that same powerful fighter drags himself to the crowd and the smocking city, ready to assist in any way.
Despite being exhausted and covered in wounds, Phantom helped the crew in charge of clearing the debris by lifting heavy objects and scanning the building for people needing medical attention.
Phantom had been more than willing to follow emergency services' commands, personally thanking the EMTs and firefighters once the chaos was over. When a little boy asked for a photo, Phantom told him they could take one when everything settled.
No one expected the ghost to keep to his word, finding the boy and his mother later at a hospital for that photo. He has been awfully apologetic that the camera could only catch a blurry outline of him with his glowing green eyes.
The little boy hadn't stopped grinning despite suffering a broken leg.
He was literally the sweetest little hero—Bruce had to remind himself that he was not an actual child and was, in fact, thousands of years old whenever he saw the ghost fidgeting with something while on monitor duty.
That's why, the day Phantom threw himself into one of the lounges couches with a distressed sigh, everyone in the area surrounded him.
"Everything alright, Phantom?" Asked Oliver as the ghost's glow flickered in and out of his usual glow.
The immortal did not remove his hands from his face but nodded. His glow lowered again as if reacting to his lie.
The heroes gave each other loaded looks before Diana stepped forward. "You seemed troubled, dear friend. Are you willing to allow us to lead an ear to your woes?"
"Dan is just giving me trouble," Phantom mumbled, his words muffled by his hands.
Wonder glanced at the others, but when they shrugged in confusion, she sat next to the teenager. Placing one supporting hand on his shoulder, she rubbed it gently and leaned towards him. "Who is Dan?"
"Me."
Barry blinks. "You?"
"Yeah, the evil me of the future."
Phantom becoming evil? That was inconceivable.
"Did something happen to make you think you're going evil?" Barry asks gently, taking the other open seat on Phantom's left. He places a warm hand on Phantom's hunched-over back and is violently reminded of how tiny the boy must have been when he died.
It breaks his heart. He's smaller than Wally.
"The ancient of Time showed me that he destroyed the world. I helped create him, so I had to be the one to stop him. For the good of the world."
Diana sucks in a gasp, making Oliver, Hal, Barry, and Dinah weary at once. She made the hand motion, signaling that she would explain later, making the other heroes nod. "I know you may blame yourself, but that was merely a warning from the gods. You still have time to change the outcome."
Phantom glances up from behind his fingers. "You really think so?"
"Yes, of course."
The ghost offers everyone a small smile before vanishing from sight. There are gasps and a desperate cry for his name, but eventually, they realize the ghost has left.
"What was that about?" Hal asks after a moment.
Wonder Woman stands, striding over to the large windows of the watch tower. Her eyes turn to the brightest star visible with a small, sad smile. "Clockwork is the name of the ancient- one of the gods- that controls time. He rarely has champions, but when he does, he often gives them glances of their future. Many claim it's more of a curse than a blessing, for they often see the worse of what is to become."
Dinah straightens. "You're saying Phantom really will go evil?"
"No." Diana closes her eyes. "Ghosts are formed in three ways. The first is death. Someone or something dies, and they are formed from the souls getting attached to ectoplasm. The second is that they are bestowed a duty and are created to keep that duty alive. It often governs a part of our reality- space, dreams, wishes, and even plants. The last is the least common due to how rare it is for ghosts to have powerful enough cores. It is to be born from a stronger ghost, taking pieces of their core and growing into their own person."
Diana turns back to the confused-looking heroes to deliver her blow. "Phantom said it was himself that turned evil, but referred to himself as "Dan". Ghosts do not change their names, for their names are part of what holds their cores together. This means Dan is not him but came from him. His son will grow to be evil, and Phantom will likely have to put him down per Clockwork's instructions for the good of the world."
Hal bites out a curse. "That's sick. How could the time god ask Phantom to kill his own kid? Even if he is evil, Phantom doesn't deserve to have that duty placed on his shoulders. He's just a kid."
"But he isn't," Barry sighs. "Phantom is older than ancient Egypt. He just looks like a kid."
"It does not matter." Wonder Woman declares. "Clockwork's warnings can be overturned. We just need to help Dan off the road of darkness while he is still young."
They call for a Justice League meeting, one that only includes the original team that founded the league, to discuss a strategy plan. At first, some want to change the meeting to discuss how to put down Dan, wondering if being Phantom's son made him just as powerful before Batman stands up.
Bruce does not like the idea that the boy will end up destroying the world, but he is the most outspoken about Dan's innocence in the present day. His scorching words make a few ashamed of themselves for giving up on saving the boy before even meeting him.
The meeting drags on for hours until they eventually agree that they will monitor the child. If they realize he is too far gone to save, they will be the ones to end him. Phantom did not deserve to be the killer.
Clark asked Phantom to bring Dan around and introduce him. They dress the indentation as a league-wide party for the member's family (those in the know). The ghost looked spooked before he agreed to bring his child to meet the team.
A week later, every hero smiles politely at the six-foot-tall man with flaming hair who introduces himself as Dan. He's as bulky as Bane, and his low, dark voice echoes through the room. It's comedic compared to the cracking voice of his father, who has to flout to make them the same height.
As soon as the pair of ghosts fly away to speak to Supergirl and Robin, Barry grabs Bruce's cape. "That's a full-grown man."
"I know"
"Bats, that man is built like a brick house. "
"Yes"
"I thought Phantom said he was three? How in the Speed force is that man three?"
"It seems ghosts age differently. Or they are formed to take on the age they desire. I need to do research."
While the surrounding founding members whisper to each other, more heroes arrive at the makeshift party, some in their costumes and some in their civilian identities.
There are various reactions to Dan. A few consider him Phantom's father or brother, but both ghosts quickly make faces. Phantom reminds someone no less than five times that Dan is his future self.
Wonder Woman has to follow the pair whispering to confuse members about the cultural differences between ghosts and children. She doesn't have to explain that to the magic users or those who have worked with ghosts before.
There were a few who had vastly different reactions.
The members of Young Justice, including Secret, all backed up the claims that ghosts did not change their names and were treating Dan as a Phantom's son without blinking an eye.
John Constantine looked at Dan and cooed. "Aw, a baby core. How old is he?"
Phantom cracks a smile while Dan scoffs. "Three"
"Adorable." He raised his flask in salute, "He's powerful. You must be so proud."
Phantom's smile becomes strained. "Thank you."
Across the room, the founding members swear they will save Dan no matter what, as the larger ghost rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp crossover#misunderstandings#The cinnamon roll's son#Danny is the office (Justice Leauge) sweet heart#They think Dan is destined to destroy the world#So they will baby this full grown man to teach him right from wrong#Dan's core is only three years in that time 's earth#So he does register as a BABY GHOST#Part 1
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Incorrect Quotes (/w Alastor)
* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *
Tried the incorrect quotes shit, it was pretty fun (just wanted to show my results as well haha...)
★⟣—— ——⟣★
Reader: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!
Alastor: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.
Reader: Stop.
xxxxxx
Reader: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.
Alastor: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.
xxxxxx
Alastor: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?
Reader: It was autocorrect.
Alastor: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?
Reader: Yes.
xxxxxx
Reader, looking at a selfie of Alastor’s: I hate this photo.
Alastor: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly.
Reader: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something.
Alastor: Up to kindness.
Reader: ...
Reader: Kindness my ass.
xxxxxx
Alastor: We should be partners.
Reader: You mean like, partners in crime?
Alastor: Yeah... that’s precisely what I meant.
xxxxxx
Alastor: Go fuck yourself.
Reader: Come over here and fuck me yourself you coward!
xxxxxx
Reader: Go to hell!
Alastor: Oh! I’ve been there, thank you. I found it quite lovely.
xxxxxx
Alastor: Father, I have sinned.
Reader: Daddy, I’ve been naughty.
xxxxxx
Reader: Stop doing that.
Alastor: Stop doing what?
Reader: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.
xxxxxx
Reader: How much did you spend on this date?
Alastor: $1400. But all of it's on credit cards, so it's like $5 a month for the next 2,000 years.
xxxxxx
Reader: *nudges Alastor at 3am* Pretty fucked up that we depict the moon as a girl and the sun as a boy. They're just floating rocks in space. Alastor? Wake up, Alastorr! Listen! They're sexless!
Alastor: The sun isn't a rock, go back to sleep.
xxxxxx
Reader: What do you want to be for Halloween?
Alastor: Yours.
Reader:
Reader: …yeah, that would be pretty scary.
xxxxxx
Reader: That was so hot, Alastor.
Alastor: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.
Reader: I'm so in love with you.
xxxxxx
Alastor: Hey, about that love letter you sent me-
Reader: *blushes* What are your thoughts?
Alastor: The fourth sentence-
Reader: Yeah, that’s where I got really emotional and I-
Alastor: It’s “you’re” not “your”.
xxxxxx
Reader: My hands are cold.
Alastor: Here, let me hold them.
Reader: My lips are cold too.
Alastor: *covers Reader's mouth with their hand*
xxxxxx
Reader: So... what would you do if you were in bed with me?
Alastor: Depends. Is your bed comfortable?
Reader: Yes.
Alastor: I'd sleep.
xxxxxx
Waiter: What would you like?
Reader: Bring a milkshake with two straws.
Reader: *blushes*
Alastor: *puts both straws in their mouth* Watch how fast I can drink this!!
xxxxxx
Reader: I'm trash.
Alastor: As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7 work for you?
Reader: ...
Reader: You smooth motherfucker.
Reader: And yes it does.
xxxxxx
Alastor, watching Reader: Ah yes. The mysterious and beautiful Reader, so demure…
Alastor: …I wonder what sort of melodic sounds this wonderful being makes?
Reader: *screaming*
xxxxxx
Reader: We’re getting married, bitches!
Alastor: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.
xxxxxx
Reader: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.
Alastor: Aren't you forgetting something?
Reader: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Alastor's forehead before running out.*
Alastor: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?
xxxxxx
Alastor: Reader and I are so close we even share a toothbrush.
Reader: You brush your teeth?
★⟣—— ——⟣★
cant think if anything to post so just take this!
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Never Shall We Die (1)
«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »»
PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader
PLAYLIST: right here!
pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)
SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?
The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.
Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.
GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk
WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k
Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final]: 15.8k
@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman
masterlist
WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tagin following parts
[AN]: thank you so much to @highvern for betaing for me and helping out with the plot so much, this fic would not exist if it weren't for her!!!! and thank you reader!!! for clicking on this and reading it, this one's been about 7 months in the works and I would love to hear what your thoughts are when you're done, plsplspls leave a rb or a reply with your brainrot lol <3 happy reading
HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground.
No, that’s a branch.
Or is it a plank?
He doesn’t try to find out as he yanks his foot out of whatever stopped him from moving. A tree root, he finds as he kicks the remnants of jungle rubbish from the surface of the shrouded root. He kicks it to satisfy himself.
His crew resides on the beach; where he can see them attempt to build a fire before sundown, the mound of discombobulated twigs making up most of the sad pile of wood. Hoshi trudges up to it and drops another handful of puny branches into the mix.
Exhaling loudly as Mingyu calls for him, he falls to his bottom and sits cross legged on the sand. Mingyu trudges up next to him to inspect his pile, sighing when he realised this was all he had to work with. He picks up two hefty looking stones and begins to strike them together, putting his faith in the primitive fire.
Hoshi stares into the horizon, watching the died down waves drift onto the shore, moving closer by the minute.
Hoshi thinks, which he can’t say is something that he does very often. Perhaps that’s why he was sat on this nature-overrun island as a shipless captain of his shipless crew. He chews on his tongue as he thinks of his Tigress, his beloved hunk of wood and metal; the beloved hunk of wood and metal that he could not see on the shoreline, because she was taken by the royal navy.
He wonders if Tigress would ever forgive him for letting that happen to her, for letting those clean, soft handed soldiers rip her away from his grasp.
Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.
Mingyu is frantic over the small flame that erupts in the middle of his leaves, dropping his rocks to blow into the fire, encouraging it to grow.
“Captain, it’s done! We can rustle up those fish we caught, have supper sorted.”
“Hm.”
The bustle of the entire crew lasts until night has fallen and they’ve gotten food in their stomachs. Hoshi hasn’t moved from his spot for hours, something the others noticed very quickly, but decided not to mention for fear of waking something dangerous. They understood he was suffering from a broken heart.
It isn’t until the first of the crew had begun to doze off that Hoshi speaks. Chan is propped up against a tree while Seungkwan and Jeonghan laugh at the dangerously low coconut that hangs above his head. Mingyu readjusts his trousers after a full meal. Minghao stretches onto the sand, feet facing the water.
His voice isn’t loud, nor is it commanding, nor does it have his usual edge of jest—in fact, it sounds nothing like Hoshi at all.
Or does it?
“Who wants to steal a ship?”
YOU'RE AWOKEN BY THE sound of yelling. Which is never a good sign in any case, but especially not when it’s pitch black outside and you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.
The grogginess is quick to fade as you try to understand what’s going on outside your quarters. Your room isn’t a mess, all the trinkets and royal seals remaining in their places on the walls and shelves. Nor is the ship lurching or moving in odd angles to indicate an unexpected spat from the skies. A quick peek outside the window shows you clear, calm water amidst the mostly dark expanse of ocean.
There is only one other answer in your head that would cause this much commotion—especially on a boat where the admiral resides (and a princess).
Slipping out of the covers, your feet hit the cool hardwood floors of your quarters, a small shiver going through your spine from the cold, with nothing to cover you but your thin nightgown. You’re in the middle of tying your robe to see what the ruckus was about outside when a particularly loud thud hits outside of your door. You immediately freeze.
Staring at the doorknob, you attempt to move backwards in the space, heart beating faster as you watch the knob move slightly. The back of your knees hit the bedside table with a thud, the sound has you gasp out loud. Whoever it was outside your door jiggles the knob harder, the force exerted having you scan the room for something you could use as a weapon.
Spotting the letter opener on your desk, you lurch across the room to grab it, holding it in front of you as you back away from the door. The knob continues to bang against the wood as you refuse to take eyes off of it. There’s sounds of men outside, loud and rambunctious, momentarily halting the grievances.
Until the knob moves again, slower this time, a light click that could be heard as it unlocks itself, opening into the low light of your quarters.
You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door.
“Lieutenant,” you voice in recognition. “What’s going on?”
He eyes the letter opener that you hold defiantly in front of you from across the room, and it has you retracting your force slightly.
“Pirates, your Highness,” he breathes out. “We must get you to lower deck—”
“Where is the Admiral? The Captain?” you ask as you take a couple steps forward.
“They’re handling the situation, your High–”
An arm has come up behind the soldier that pulls him into a headlock, a swift pull to have him dragged away from your vision. You would’ve gasped if your voice hadn’t been caught in your throat, refusing to make itself known as fear brews in the pit of your stomach. Your hold on your makeshift weapon is tighter than ever before, yet you doubt how it’s going to help you as the culprit finally steps over something to appear in your doorframe.
His clothes are in a disarray; slashed, torn and covered in grime. There’s a deadly looking machete in one hand, the blood that coats it has you eyeing the trail that drips onto his hand and on the floor. His forearms are perched up on the doorframe as he inspects you, tongue to cheek as he stares.
Threatened as you feel, there was less hunger in his gaze as you had expected, more like he was trying to figure out who you were. He eyes your tiny letter opener you hold like a knife and lets out a little exhale you think might be a laugh. It has you gripping the handle impossibly tighter. The man moves his face into the hallway, to where you know the staircase to the main deck is.
“Hoshi!” he yells loudly. “How’s this for bait?”
Your back is pressed inexplicably against the wall, wanting to sink into the wooden boards as you attempt to gain your bearings amongst the nauseous bouts of mortification that surge through you. Your only exit is blocked.
No. You have one more option.
The sound of more men bounding down the hall has you praying there were more soldiers here, but the calm regard the man has for the approaching people has your heart sink to the depths of this very ocean itself.
More faces peer into the room, men with the same haphazard, grimey clothing complete with equally sinister weapons in their grasps. One of the men breaks out into the biggest grin as he lays his eyes on you. You nearly throw up.
For the first time in your life, you wish you’d listened to your father.
“Jun, you savvy motherfucker,” the grinning man explodes, slapping the man who found you on the back.
Another voice speaks from behind him, “Ships cleared, captain.”
“Perfect. Bring a spring upon ‘er. Get as far away from those cleans as you can, let them fend for themselves in a tiny boat for once.”
Captain. The grinning, stupid looking one is their captain.
He regards the rest of his crew as he finally steps through the threshold, waving them away as he enters your quarters.
It was taking everything out of you to not buckle your knees as you stood, every step he takes is turning your strength into dust. He keeps his eyes on you, eyes on your sorry excuse of a weapon. He registers the mix of fear and determination in your eyes.
He stops a few feet away from you, looking directly at you past the makeshift knife you hold.
He says nothing as he drops the knife in his own hand to the ground with a loud clang. He removes a pistol, a couple more knives, a grenade and a sword. Weapons drop to the floor one after the other, emerging from all over his body and clothes. All in a pile on the wooden floors. He puts his hands in the air.
“No weapons on me. I merely wish to talk.”
The look on his face is not ordinary, some strange combination of mock innocence and jest. You don’t answer him.
He continues, “You can keep your… scalpel… if you so wish.”
“What did you do to the soldiers?” you finally rasp out.
“They’re not dead, if that's what you’re asking.”
“Yet?” you ask with a slight tremble to your voice.
“They’ve been shoved into a boat with a map and a compass to fend for themselves. I’m not entirely ruthless,” he adds with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “Admiral, were they calling him? You must be his wife.”
“W-what?”
“Oh, guess not. Daughter? Captain’s wife, Captain’s daughter?”
Your previously stagnant brain is now running a derby with all the thoughts galloping across your mind. He doesn’t know who you are. Yet, anyway.
He’s scanning the room now, nodding at the trinkets and trophies scattered across the place. “Can’t imagine giving a lieutenant’s anybody quarters like this.” He circles back on you, eyes sharp. “Who are you, darling?”
You don’t think you have anything that should give you away, but the way he starts pacing the room has your anxiety going through the wooden roof.
He has his back turned to you. You’re not sure if he’s confident or careless considering you could drive your weapon into his back and make a run for it. But then what? By the looks of it there’s an entire crew of pirates pacing the deck. Perhaps the soldiers haven’t gotten that far; they know you’re still on board, they know it’s their heads on a pike if they leave you here.
He’s reached your desk during your thinking, inspecting your stationary, picking at the bejewelled quills and paper weights as he mutters nonsense to himself.
“Oh!” he announces, a little too enthusiastic. “What’s this?”
He brandishes the loose leaf of paper, and you recognise the print on the back immediately. It was a letter from your father, the King.
“How on Earth did you read this, the writing is illegible.” He flips the paper over, double taking when he sees the royal seal on the back. He looks into the letter closer now.
You wait with baited breath.
“The kingdom needs their princess…your father…ah.”
Should you plunge the knife into him anyway? You almost do it, but stop when he begins to turn around to face you again. His eyebrows are raised, a slight hint of exasperation on his face when he begins to laugh a loud, loud cackle.
It’s mortifying, especially when you don’t understand what on earth was so funny to elicit a reaction like that. The man is downright hysterical. He wipes a lone tear from the corner of his eye as he drops the letter back onto the desk.
“W-what’s so funny?” you try to sound brave.
“It seems, miss princess, that we’ve gotten more than we bargained for,” he says, looking straight at you as he sobers up. “You’re the King’s daughter, now, are you? What are the odds the first ship I hop onto with a royal seal slapped on it, held the crown jewel of the kingdom in its gallows.”
And then he starts walking, towards you, for that matter. Imperative because you know for sure that this is how it all ends.
You know you still have your one last option, the option that is now pressed against your back as you shimmy to it with miniscule movements. The window is cool on your hand that rests on the glass, you know the lamp will be enough to break it, enough for you to push through and fall into the abyss of the dark, dark sea. He knows who you are now, and you’d rather drown than die at the hands of a pirate—or go through whatever it was that’s curling the minds of all the men on this ship.
He takes another step forward, hands on his hips. “He’s not going to like this, is he? His dear daughter in the hands of the Kingdom’s favourite degenerate captain.”
What?
He then adds in a whisper to himself mostly, “Or least favourite with all the wanted posters off the churches and brothels.”
Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi.
The man who had found you had called him Hoshi. Hoshi the pirate. Hoshi the pirate that’s been giving the Kingdom and its court absolute hell for as long as you can remember.
The man that you are now trapped alone with on a ship is the most feared pirate the Kingdom has ever seen.
You don’t doubt your face has gone grey, feeling your breathing turn near erratic. “Oh God.”
He smiles wryly as the life is sucked out of your very soul.
This was bad. Very bad.
“Now, fear not, you will soon be returned to daddy dearest,” he places a mildly dramatic hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honour.”
He paces back to pluck the letter off the table, pocketing it. “All you need to do is relax and tell me a few things so we can part ways as soon—”
“No.” The word blurts out of your mouth before you can stop it, horrified at the thought of giving information to any pirate, let alone this one.
“No?” Hoshi looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He laughs a little incredulously, “Oh, I see, can’t tell all the delicate details to a scary ol’ pirate.”
He smiles a little bit, “Worry not, miss princess, we shall only need a few minor details. Just enough to have your father sprinting to get you out of here. We all win.”
He stares at you almost expectantly, and you wonder if you look as confused as you feel.
“Well, I’ll be bidding you goodnight now, I’m sure we’ve interrupted your beauty sleep enough. Rest assured we won’t be bothering you for the rest of the morning.”
Hoshi begins to make his way to the door, picking up his pile of weapons off the floor before wrenching the door open. He’s calm as ever, but your mind is in a disarray.
A ransom, but whatever for? Gold could’ve been retrieved by raiding any ship, and it sounded like he’d chosen to hop on a ship belonging to the navy. Come to think of it, as much of a nuisance this man has proved himself, you don’t remember a case where he’s directly meddled with the Kingdom. All of this can’t just be for gold.
Steeling yourself, you bet your odds against your voice and asked him, “What do you want from my father?”
You watch as he halts in his tracks, halfway through the door as he finally looks over his shoulder. The look on his face has you wanting to break open the window immediately and let the water flood in, once and for all as you take these bastards down with you.
“Your father has something of mine. And I intend to take it back,” he says, before finally slamming the door shut. You hear a shuffle and a thud, and you do not doubt that he’s locked you in.
Your knees give out almost immediately, dropping to the ground as you breathe in quick, shallow breaths. Trying to look past the dizziness, you try not to think about the last thing he’d said before he left, moreso the look on his face as he did.
The first rays of morning sun are beginning to shine through the windows, casting the beginnings of a glow in your quarters. You think of the supposed assurance he had given you, that they wouldn’t hurt you, that they intended to return you.
The thought leads to a faraway memory, yet one that’s tucked itself into a front corner of your mind, you can almost hear your father's voice as he says it; never trust a pirate.
You remain on the floor, and you remain wide awake.
THE SUN IS HIGH in the sky by the time you put your limbs to work.
The first hours after the pirate locked you in your quarters were spent trying to reign yourself to earth. You can’t be entirely sure your soul has come back to your body, but whatever little of it that has landed is whispering some very dangerous things.
The lamp remains, the ornate jewels glinting almost enticingly in the afternoon light. The flame inside it has long died, but you itch to give it another purpose. You don’t note the trembling of your hand as you reach for it, pushing yourself to your feet as you get a feel for the heavy hunk of glass and metal in your hands.
If there was a level of regard before, it disappears when you set eyes on the bright window and the creases of crystal blue water. With all your strength, you don’t think twice when the lamp makes hard contact, a loud thud erupting as a result, but no damage when you pull away.
You go again, harder this time, and only vaguely register the glass of the lamp that shatters into your hands. Gripping the metal bit tighter, you swing for the third time, pulling back for the strongest blow yet.
A hand wraps around your elbow and you’re yanked backwards, landing on the floor. There’s a kick at your hand that’s flown into the air, the one that holds the bludgeoned lamp. It goes flying across the room as you retract your hand into yourself.
You don’t register a thing as you’re suddenly being pulled back up to your feet. Face to face with the pirate captain, your soul finally clicking back into place.
“Didn’t think I scared you this bad.” He’s made a joke, but all you can see is his face that’s a mask of rage.
The initial instinct is to move away, pulling your elbow out of his grasp in an attempt to flee. You fail as he tightens his grip to a painful degree, hauling you towards the ajar door of the quarters.
It’s only then that you realise that there’s more people in the room.You note another big, burly man next to the window you just assaulted, inspecting it with another shorter man. You don’t get to note more as you’re pulled into the narrow hallway, begging the saints he doesn’t take the turn towards the lower decks. Instead you find he leads you upstairs to where the main deck is.
Walk the plank? Did navy ships have planks to walk on? Not that you’d mind too much, you were trying to drown yourself and this ship in any case. But then there’s a settle of dread in the pit of your stomach, realising death may be the most merciful thing this man could give you.
The pirate captain pushes you against a mast, one of his other minions rushing in with coils of rope on his shoulder. The sun beats down on the deck, not a gust of reprieve from the wind.
“Keep the ropes tight, she’s got less wit than I’d thought,” the pirate captain says with a grunt, huffing as he lets go of you. He takes a few steps away, hands at his hips, the image of vexation.
The person who ties the cords around your hands whispers slowly, “Stop moving.”
But you can’t, not when the panic is near the lip, not when all the possibilities are flashing gore filled images into your vision. It's scary to blink.
“Why won’t you let me die?” you ask to the back that’s turned.
He turns around, not even bothering hiding the exasperation that paints his face, mouth opening furiously before closing again. “Why won’t—Because you were trying to take us all with you!”
“Kill me!” you all but scream. “They won’t know till you’ve gotten what you want, I’d rather be dead than let you try whatever’s brewing in all your sick heads!”
He’s silent for a moment, noting your defiant gaze, your pull against the ropes, the heaving of your chest. Taking a few steps forward, Hoshi seems to be attempting to bring the boil in his blood to a low simmer, “Listen, princess. We’re pirates alright, but me and my crew, we keep to ourselves. If your daddy the king hadn’t decided to meddle and steal my fucking ship, you would’ve been home in your pretty palace, asleep in your bed of gold by now.”
The pirate captain’s face is closer than you’d ever be comfortable with, seething in a way that has you pressing further into the mast. “We may be degenerates but we keep our own morals, as twisted as your people heed them to be.”
When he finally pulls away, you take a breath and thank the air that simply exists, eyes downcast as you attempt to look braver than you feel.
“I’m not pushing you overboard. I’ve duped your people once, they’ll be more prepared next time. We need you alive while you’re in our hands.”
“How are you going to summon a ransom? You sent away your only messengers,” you ask, a sad attempt at a mock, but also because you wanted to know what his plan was.
“Your useless Admiral’s taken up that job.”
“By lifeboat? You’ve left them all for dead, how do you expect this genius plan to work?”
“They could’ve swam to shore if it came to it, we were close enough.”
“How are you so sure?” you spit.
“Do I need to gag you too?” he gives you one last irritated look before stalking off towards the lower deck. You’re left alone in the cooling afternoon heat, the sound of the sea keeping your ears company along with your own slowing breaths.
Everything he said has a good enough chance to be a complete and utter lie. Never trust a pirate. No weapon to cut yourself out of your impossibly tight binds, nothing to protect you or give you reassurance besides a pirate’s word—the worst pirate’s word.
Your battered thinking leads you straight through the setting of the sun, the orange glow of the sky shrouding the ship in the dreamiest backdrop while you live what you can only sum as a nightmare. Perhaps not, for you doubt your mind could ever conjure up a terror like this.
This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all.
Having managed to wiggle your tied hands downwards, you had seated yourself with your head against the wood of the mast, staring into the translucent skies. So much freedom that taunts you in its illusion of proximity, yet so far still.
There’s murmurs below deck, the only semblance of life you’ve heard in the past few hours after the stupid pirate captain stormed off. It seems to be on the stairs, a heated argument.
“Obviously this wasn’t part of the plan, the chances were supposed to be zero to absolutely none. We landed with that scumbag’s successor, that’s just our piss luck and nothing more.”
“You wanted a woman for bait, this should work the same.”
“Hao, I wanted a woman for bait to trigger a lukewarm reaction, this princess could either doom us all or make our job a fat punch easier, and I’m not betting on the latter.”
There’s a pause.
“If only she’d cut it with the random hysterics and creepy-staring-at-the-sky we could actually get something useful out of her.”
“Pray that window holds up or any chance of a miracle is gone to the wind.”
It’s like you’ve woken up with the way the stupid idea begins to form in your head. You think of your father, the kind of man he is, the kind of ruler he is. All the ‘if’s are guiding you to a conclusion. One that gives you a fighting chance, one that may go beyond this massive navy ship and clear into the rest of your life—if you make it that far anyway.
Your father and his men would come, give this unhinged pirate what he desires so dearly, you know that for sure. But you also know it wouldn’t be for you, but for the crown that’s destined to fall upon your cursed head.
If it’s his ship that he wants…
The next time you see one of the pirate captain’s goons on the deck, you ask for an audience.
“DID YOUR STUPID FATHER drop you on your head as a baby?”
Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull.
You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”
He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”
“I can help you.”
“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”
“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant.
“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?”
God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.
“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.”
“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?”
You gulp as discreetly as possible.
“I want something in exchange.”
He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.
“I want you to kill my father.”
If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully, “What?”
“I want you to kill my father.”
“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”
“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone ever has.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest.
He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit.
Is he about to cut your hands off?
You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt.
Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long.
“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level.
“What?”
“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it? Carry out a fucking waltz with Jack Ketch?”
“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?”
“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”
“I’ll protect you.”
He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.”
You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”
The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”
You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard.
“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”
“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”
“I don’t have another choice.”
“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope.
“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”
“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”
“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.”
You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion.
“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”
“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.
“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.”
There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed.
“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused.
“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour.
Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”
So he was considering it.
“But you’re the captain.”
“And?”
THE SKY IS A lighter sheen of blue, leaning towards the premature hours of the morning. He’d left you untied, and as you gaze into the duned waters in the minimal light, the urge to jump in and create a ripple that goes beyond just the water is less tempting than you’d thought. The prospect of having a dead father, and a dead king, was enough to snap you out of your hysteria despite it being a plot of your own devising.
You’ve been alone for a while, little indication that there was other life on this ship at all with the lack of human activity. There wasn’t much that you knew of sailing or ship handling, but leaving the deck unmanned for this long gave you the vague impression that you were on a vessel with poor practising pirates. If they’d thought you’d be equipped to handle any hiccups, they’d either find out the hard way, or whenever it was that you could find the wit to bring it up to the pirate captain and his strangely attached crew.
Something that sounds distinctly like boots are thudding gradually up to the main deck, the unmistakable blond of the pirate captain himself coming into view. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but the low thuds are sending your heart racing, panic overcoming your senses for a brief moment before you recalibrate. It’s only then that you realise it’s been more than 24 hours since the ship was hijacked. Somehow, you could have believed it was a lifetime.
He’s disturbingly nonchalant, hand at the sheathed hilt of the dagger at his hip, a casual glance around at the empty abyss of ocean and sky. When he reaches the far end of the deck, right above the prow, he stops.
“Are you going to push me off the rails?” you ask, half genuine, half trying to fill the silence as you face one another.
“No.” He said it plainly, the single word reply leaving you even more uncomfortable.
“Have you thought about what I said…with your crew?” you ask, hand coming up to grab the railing for support.
“I did.”
“Do I sense an objection?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat
“Not exactly,” he says. “We want to hear your master plan for this heist before we agree to anything.”
He’s asking for a plan, a plan that you do not have.
You aren’t sure how he figured it out, perhaps it was the slight darting of your eyes as you thought of a response, but he seemed to read you like a book. He snorts loudly, “You don’t have a clue, do you?”
“You’ve done this before, you’d know better.”
“And if I led you astray?”
You look at him, this time right into his dark eyes, “Then you lead me astray.”
“Your contentment with death is wildly unsettling.” There’s a ghost of a sneer at his lip.
“I’d rather be lounging in the bottom of the ocean than live with a prospective future with my father.”
“So I’ve heard.”
There’s a huff that leaves you as you steel your voice. “I’m not trying to set you up if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“I doubt you’d have that capability,” he says as he leans his forearms over the railing. You briefly consider pushing him over but think better of it.
As much as you wanted to be a sneaky link, you simply didn’t have that trait. You blame all the dependency your father’s fostered into you, ensuring that you couldn’t rule without his influence.
“Are you willing to brew a plan or not? I need to time my dip in the ocean accordingly,” you say, sounding almost disgruntled.
He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”
He’s made himself familiar with the ship, you soon realise, as he leads you right downstairs to the lower deck towards the war room. When he opens the door, the room is lit with lamps, casting a golden glow on the reddish interior, warmer than the rest of the ship.
“Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid,” he tells you as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin.
You only exhale in response as you turn away from the door, towards the large table in the centre. It’s slightly cluttered, studying the scrawled notes as you realise they’re all from the Admiral, his directions and plans of course littered across the table. Turning towards the map on the walls, you lift a finger to trace the lifted ridges of snow capped mountains, trailing towards the dipped shallows of the blue water.
It was an exact replica of the tactile map in the war room back home, and you’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. Not that you’d been away from home for too long, but the end result of what you're about to do, regardless of the outcome, would change your life forever.
You feel yourself breathing in the lingering scent of mildew, a strange comfort in the warm quarters.
There’s a creak at the door, and you quickly retract to find the pirate captain back at the door, walking in with a trail of men behind him. You recognise them by their faces, watching as they all take their places in the edges of the room. They look relaxed. You note the pirate captain taking his place behind the main drawing table.
“Your throne, miss princess.” He gestures exaggeratedly towards the lone cushioned chair across from him. You’re hyper aware of all the eyes that are trailed on you, and you feel almost embarrassed to take the only seat.
It only lasts for a moment. You walk up to the chair with what you hope exuded confidence and take your place across from the pirate captain. His men circle the edge of the room, and you count five other men.
He sighs, “I think introductions are in order.”
“Mingyu, Minghao,” he points to the two men that had inspected your window right after you tried breaking it open.
“Jun,” he gestures to the one who had found you in your quarters the night it all went wrong.
“Seungkwan and Chan,” you recognize the latter as the one who’d tied you to the mast at his captain’s command.
“They’ll be helping kill your dear father.”
It’s silent for a moment as you attempt to moisten your mouth. You’re reminded you haven’t eaten or drank for hours, not since one of them had come up with a tray of whatever they could find for you from the reserves.
“I know I may not be the most admissible person to trust, or vice versa—” You hear someone snort but choose to ignore it. “But I’m willing to make myself useful to you if it means you would help me too.”
“Would it not be easier to lock him up instead?” someone asks, and you turn to find Seungkwan asking the question from next to the tactile map.
“He has too many people indebted to him, too many that are too loyal for their own good. I cannot truly rule for as long as he’s alive and well.”
“And how do you expect his loyal court mongers to let you bid favour to the people who killed their king?” the pirate captain asks with a raised brow.
“Which is why it needs to look like an accident.”
“How do you reckon we go about that?”
“What message have you given the Admiral?”
“You don’t answer a question with another question—”
“We need to be transparent with each other if either of us wants to make it out relatively unscathed.”
He doesn’t look too happy but he answers anyway, “My ship and five hundred thousand for all our trouble. Two months from now at the Green Islands up north.”
The Green Islands were anything but green, the glaciers being near uninhabitable owed to the ruthless weather. It was smart enough, it’d be near impossible to bring as much violent power that far north, no matter how influential anyone is.
“Is five hundred thousand all I’m worth?” you feel the beginnings of a sneer rise up your mouth. You aren’t sure what prompted it but you don’t want to fight it either.
“Didn’t know I was bartering for a fucking princess’ case, did I?” he snaps. “Now tell us how you want us to commit the undetected homicide of a King.”
“We need to blow up his ship.” To your surprise (and maybe even a little horror), the pirate captain breaks into a slight grin. Neither do you miss other bits of his crew releasing a bit of a snicker.
There’s a flare of defiance within you, “Do you have any better ideas then?”
“No, no. Go on,” he says with his head hung. You’re surprised he has the character to shield his smile.
“He doesn’t frequent the seas but I’m almost sure he’d be present at the exchange.”
“Almost?” he questions.
You hesitate. The combined chance of needing the crown home and seeing to the downfall of his enemies would be enough warmth to send him to the greenlands himself. You were confident, but your father could also be unpredictable.
“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.”
The pirate captain lifts his head, locking eyes with you. You try not to look as weak as you felt, as unsure as you felt, pooling all the remaining confidence into your face.
He swallows before looking away, addressing one of the crew members. “How big are we talking?”
Jun looks up like he’s only just begun to pay attention, fumbling over the revolver in his hands as it thuds to the ground like a theatrical mistake, “What?”
His captain sighs before replying, “Explosion. How big does it need to be to blow up a naval ship with a King on it?”
The man brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his nape. “If it’s anything like this one, we’re gonna need a lot of ammo.”
“Just enough to sink it,” you speak before you could decide not to. “Even better if they don’t realise it’s happening.”
He thinks for a moment. “We could plant it in the bilge somehow.”
“But how do we get on that ship? When they’re giving us a tour of the lower decks?” The man you recall as Seungkwan scoffs.
“Throw a grenade on board somehow?” you hear one of them suggest.
“Real subtle, Chan,” you hear another mock.
The war room is in shambles before you know it, loud voices talking over threats to slit throats and to shove people overboard. The room is humid and it feels as though the light from the oil lamps are fading. You close your eyes amidst the utter chaos, rubbing the heel of your palm on your temple in an attempt to soothe the throbbing vein.
“Enough!” The pirate captain has spoken and you have the urge to ask what took him so long.
Tranquility once again and you almost thank the man. Before anyone can say another word, nausea begins to build in your stomach.
It takes you a minute to realise the room was spinning and that you weren’t completely losing your mind. The ship begins to rock harder as the seconds tick by, everybody in the room seemingly still as they perceive the change.
“Batten down the hatches,” the pirate captain says to no one in particular.
Chan is the only one who moves to the door to leave before he’s interrupted.
“All of you. Those clouds weren’t looking too nice up there, we’ve got a storm on our hands.”
By everyone he surely did not mean you, because as the room rushes out and you hear the thuds of boots clamouring up to the main deck, you’re left alone with the captain. Yet again.
It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady, and you wonder how he’s able to remain balanced while on his feet. It isn’t long before your chair begins to slide as well, the legs croning as they slip on the hardwood. You spring up on instinct, hands coming to the bolted down drawing table to stabilise yourself.
The pirate captain seems unphased, moving the curtains on the far end to try to get a glimpse at where the water breaks. He steps like he knows exactly where the evermoving floor would be, barely glancing below to gauge his footing.
“Shouldn’t you be up there?” There’s effort in your voice, your grip on the table as hard as ever as the ship banks to a hard left. He barely grabs the wall in support.
“Huh? They can figure it out themselves, they’re big boys,” he grunts.
“Your big boys were at each other’s throats a moment ago,” you grunt back, stumbling at a particularly forceful lurch.
“If you weren’t so ill prepared they wouldn’t need to use their brains, that’s always dangerous,” he shoots back. He’s on the other end of the room, pushing the unbolted cabinet back in its place
“I gave you a job and it's up to you to see it done, I’m not—ah— I’m not supposed to be planning at all!”
“Are you?” He’s turned to look at you know, mouth hitched in a snarl as his forehead reflects a light sheen. “Because trying to murder a—”
“Trying to murder a King isn’t a normal task,” you finish for him in a hiss. “Yes, as you’ve reiterated a million times.”
“Great, so you know!” Sarcasm is a deadly look on him, you realise as he walks over from the cabinet to where you were in the middle of the room. The waves have given in, the rocking becoming significantly slower. “Now do you mind telling us about a plan that actually has better odds?”
Your white knuckles have relented, the hands that gripped the table coming loose as you stare back at the pirate in defiance. “I should just hand you over.”
“It’s sweet you think you’re in charge here,” the grit in his voice is evident. “This isn’t your turf anymore, miss princess.”
“You don’t trust me, and you don’t give me reason to trust you—ugh.”
The waves seemed to have decided she hadn’t had enough just yet, this particular lurch sending you hurtling backwards into the wall, back hitting the hardwood as the stable pirate himself loses his footing. You could almost believe you’d landed sideways with the gravity that’s lost its way beneath your feet.
The chair you were once sitting on is hurtling towards you with a vengeance, gaining momentum as you simply watch it approach like a wooden bullet. A boot clad foot kicks it to the other end and you realise the pirate captain’s gotten hold of his bearings before you have.
“What happened to being transparent with one another?” he huffs, breathless and wide eyed as he attempts to pull himself to his feet.
There’s another lurch that sends you both skidding towards the table, just short of grabbing on before you’re hurtled into the cabinet that had moved again, and now slams back into the wall with the weight of the sea and two humans with a bang!
“Fine. You give me your ammo to blow up the bilge, let me on the ship with my dear father and one of you scoops in and saves me before I drown with him,” you yell over the sounds of clanging and banging of everything on this cursed ship, and the whooshing and thunders of the skies, winds and water. “And if I riddled the chances of you letting me drown with my father? Where does that leave me?”
“On the bottom of the seabed,” he deadpans. “But that also leaves me without my freedom.”
You find the opportunity to look at him for a moment, and he’s looking at you too. He looks away towards the door, already making moves to walk out and join his crew above deck. The conversation was over, and it was evident in your lack of reply.
Mother nature, however, sends another one in as a surprise and you're both sent flying to the other end of the ship, yet again.
There’s a cushion to your blow this time as you find yourself landing right into the pirate captain’s chest, hand above his heart in your instinct to save yourself any more bruises. Between your bickering and the staggering of the ship, his shirt had flown open nearly down to his navel.
Your eyes barely register the nasty scar across his left pec, instead moving upwards to lock eyes with him. It’s insanity, how you instinctively dart your eyes towards his half open mouth.
“If you wanted me that bad, miss princess, you could’ve just asked.”
Whatever airborne drug that’d been willy nillying in your noggin seems to spin into a rage as his words register a moment too late. Clenched jaw and a vice grip on his shirt, you spit back.
“I don’t ask for things. They come to me.”
There’s a crash above you and you realise the oil lamp that was suspended above has shattered, raining glass over your forms.
Expect you don’t feel it, because he’s ducked over you and suspended his arms in the air to catch the crystalline.
Before you can decide whether it was instinct or not, you hear a yell at the door.
“Captain! One of the—oh.”
A barely balancing Mingyu, is staring into the now dimly lit war room, his captain and their supposed prisoner pressed against one another in a dark corner of the room.
Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards.
“Get back up,” he snarls, already pushing past you to stalk towards the door. He actually makes it this time, shoving Mingyu into the hall towards the stairs.
Not as much as a glance back before he slams the door shut, leaving you in the tattered war room alone, shards of glass at your feet.
THE STORM SEEMS TO have done its damage as it calmed itself for the rest of the morning and well into the day.
One of them had come down and escorted you to your quarters, Chan telling you that you could keep it while the rest of them adjusted in the other cots and quarters aboard. Changing out of your ragged, days old clothes felt luxurious, the familiar scent of your quarters putting your tense shoulders at ease; or at least a semblance of such.
Neither you nor the captain have attempted to speak to each other after the incident in the war room. Having berated yourself for letting your guard down enough, you chalked it up to the lack of food and sleep and put the matter to rest in some deeply buried chest in your head.
For now you board up the door of your cabin (because you haven’t completely lost it), and burrow under the covers for some much needed shut eye.
You aren’t sure how long the universe lets you rest, because unless you’ve slept all the way to the Green Islands the banging on the door seems incessant enough to warrant an arrest of its own. The sleep is slow to leave, and it’s hard enough to push an entire drawer against a door, the bleariness paired with whoever the fuck was outside the door isn’t making it easier to push it away from the entrance either.
By the time you’ve wrenched the door open, you’re thoroughly annoyed, and met with a very alarmed Seungkwan.
“Oh thank goodness, I was about to try opening it,” he says, looking genuinely relieved. “I thought you might’ve….anyway.”
“You weren’t trying to break in before?” you ask.
He only thrusts a tray of rations and water towards you, “Captain said to give this to you.”
Accepting the tray, you try to balance it in one hand with furrowed brows, “Oh.”
“Um. That’s it, sorry for waking you up.” He makes a move like he’s about to turn around and leave but falters. “If…if you need anything a bunch of us are on the main deck.”
And then he’s gone.
You take it as your cue to shut the door, kicking one of the heftier pieces of furniture against it before moving back inside.
When you peer up your tiny window, it’s late afternoon and the beginnings of orange on the surface tell you the sun is beginning to set. You decide it was a good enough amount of sleep. Setting the tray down on the smaller than usual desk, you find that these pirates do not have a knack for subtlety. Many of your letters and papers are haphazardly stacked and shoved into one corner of the table, very obviously sifted through.
Not that you care too much, there was nothing awfully important that you wouldn't have told them yourself. Ripping off a piece of bread from the tray, you take pleasure in chewing as loudly and as open mouthed as you wished, plucking the parchment at the top of the pile to study.
It’s another one signed by your father, not a question of your wellbeing in sight as he scrawls ink on paper all the incorrect things you did in the Southerner’s banquet last month. If anything, you were glad the stupid Admiral was away from your presence, his incessant habit of reporting your every breath and turn to your father was becoming too much to handle.
This was one of his tamer letters, less insults attached to his criticisms but a pain to read anyway. You don’t brush away the crumbs that fall onto the parchment.
There is not a diplomatic bone in your body. Perhaps move on from drinks and dessert and into more important territories besides the Duke’s son. Our kingdom needs a ruler that’s strong, not one that forgets where she is after a sip of brandy!
If you squint hard enough, it almost reads as a parent scolding a child for a spill, like regardless of what you did, he might just love you the same.
You wonder how good of a mood he was in when he wrote this.
Sifting through the rest of the papers you take a mental note of every reason he’s given you to believe that you’d be a hopeless ruler, a few years ago you even questioned why he kept you around before realising his contradicting intentions. As you read, letter by letter, you think of reasons you know are going to make you a better ruler, better than him and better than his stupid court of old men.
These pirates are a blessing, you think, and you aren’t about to let this chance from the universe drown in these waters.
HOSHI ISN'T IN TROUBLE. No, he isn’t. On his butt on the sleek floorboards of the ship, his own golden dagger glinting in the sunlight as it's held in a threatening hold, except it isn’t in his hands.
It’s pointed right into his jugular vein, held by some grimy sailor who considers himself something akin to a pirate. Perhaps the stench this sorry excuse of a crew carries around may be their idea of a criteria, but as Hoshi remains inches away from death, all he can think about is the atrocious fingers around his dagger, and all the scrubbing he’s going to be doing after this is all over.
Mingyu had warned him, told him to take down the flag of the navy from the mast, the royal seal in the smack middle of the ginormous thing. He brushed it off. He wasn’t quite sure if he was tipsy, hungry or just plain exhausted when he made that decision, because he’d forgotten just how stupid some of these simpleton sailors could get.
They were taken by surprise, their only weapons mops and buckets of soapy water as they were ambushed by some overlooked wherry that had suddenly thrown hooks over their railing and climbed up like uninvited sewer rats.
In the initial confusion, interrupted mid-chorus of some pretty siren and her pirate prince, the first few intruders had simply crumpled over onto the slippery deck, a few slipping overboard completely from the suds and water on the wood. His crew, and Hoshi himself, could only stand and watch as the newcomers sabotaged themselves for a few incredulous moments before they gained their bearings.
Chan and Seungkwan swang their mops right into the necks of a couple, sending them into the ocean without waiting for a splash.
Hoshi slips out his dagger with practised ease, swinging the butt of the hilt over the head of another ambushing intruder, right on the head as he crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. He kicks him over for an indication of where he came from. No ink that shows an alliance, no brooch or jewels with a crest.
New guys, ones that were clearly still learning the ropes.
Hoshi’s crew had better senses than required for him to yell out orders, and it only took a few more disgruntled minutes to disable the remaining extra men aboard.
“Where the fuck did these guys come from?” he asks no one in particular, mostly just annoyed that they were disturbed.
Minghao, who’s peeking over the railing replies, “It’s a tiny thing. They either lost their actual boat or didn’t have one at all.”
He vaguely registers him making a jerking arm movement over the exterior before he hears a wail and a splash. “Disgusting.” Minghao holds his hands away from his body like he didn’t want it anymore.
Hoshi’s mistake was keeping his guard down, because before anyone could warn him, the dagger that he held loosely against his hip had slipped out his palm. The next thing he knows, his neck is in some grimy sleeve’s grip, and the point of his dagger is lodged into his own throat. He holds his breath, afraid he might pass out completely from the stench alone.
“Not a move.” He sounds like a boy more than anything, but his grip indicates a harsher life. “Everybody into that fishing boat. I’ll throw this one in when you’re done.”
He sounds unstable, but that only makes him more dangerous. Hoshi can’t try to wiggle his way out of this one, one wrong move and it’s the end. His crew can’t do anything as they stand with broken mops and empty buckets as their weapons.
It was stupid of him to even allow himself to be cornered like this, not when he’s weaselled his way out of more dangerous situations with more ease than this.
His crew looks at him, and he can only close his eyes in encouragement. He watches as Jun steps over one of the defeated bodies to reach the hooks that’ve lodged into the railing. His movements are slow, and he can tell he notices the unhinged nature of this boy that he doubts is barely over 17.
Chan follows, then Seungkwan as Jun double checks the integrity of the ropes. He’s stalling.
“Hurry!” It was supposed to come out as a threat, but it sounded more like a plea from the boy.
And then Jun stops completely, his eyes trained on Hoshi. His eyes are wide, his grip on the rope so tight he can see the whites of his knuckles from the other side of the ship.
No, he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking behind him. Before he can register, there’s a loud bang of a gunshot, and Hoshi feels the body of his captor slump against his back, his dagger dropping to the ground with an ominous clang. He falls with him, turning over to push the dead weight of the body off of him.
There’s smoke in the air when Hoshi looks back and it takes him a moment to realise who just basically saved his life.
You stand in your nightgown, shawl over your shoulders, and a revolver, Jun’s revolver, clenched tightly in both hands. It remains frozen in the air, hovering as he takes in your face. Eyes wide, mouth open slightly, the colour drained from your face.
Hoshi scrambles to get up as the rest of the crew swarm both him and you. He grabs his dagger before anything else, looking back to see a bullet lodged in the back of his captor’s skull, blood pooling the deck.
He looks back at you shoving the revolver back into Jun’s hands eagerly, like you didn’t want to feel the warmth of the metal any more than you wanted to make that shot.
He looks back at the cooling body, and then back at you, an undeniable warmth overcoming his chest.
You just saved his life.
“Are you alright?” he hears Chan ask you. You nod slowly, and then quickly.
“Where did you find this?” Jun asks.
“Uh, in one of the quarters. Downstairs. I went down because I thought it’d be safer, you were handling it and I didn’t want to get in the way. But then…all your weapons were there.”
Your voice sounds airy, like you were in a daze. Hoshi comes to the stark realisation that this may have been your first time with a weapon, and then even more horrifying, your first kill.
“I’m sorry, I just thought it was getting out of hand and—”
“It’s alright,” Seungkwan says. He watches as you let him lead you back down the stairs below decks.
It was like the shock turned you into a different person, complacent, less defiant. Seungkwan clearly had more of an emotional range, because it certainly took Hoshi too long to realise you might be on the edge of panic.
Hoshi doesn’t say a word as you disappear, the smell of gunpowder from the singular shot wafting through the deck. He doesn’t realise he’s staring into space until Mingyu interrupts.
“Should we—”
“Throw them overboard,” Hoshi says, voice flat.
“But, this one seems like he’ll come around. We could question him and drop him off wherever next—”
“He’s a shit seaman, if even a pirate, he’s got what came for him. Throw. Him. Overboard.” Hoshi is out of breath, yet grits the words out through clenched teeth. “All of them.”
Hoshi slips his dagger back into its sheath at his hip. All he can think about is your blown pupils and you in your nightgown. All he can think about is how they were almost bested by a child. All he can think about is how you had to make that final shot to save his ass, that he couldn’t do it himself.
Mingyu senses his mood and asks no more questions, simply pushing the remaining bodies out into the water. He vaguely registers Minghao sending the men a prayer into the sea. Mingyu’s already trying to get the stupid naval flag off the mast, stripping off his jacket and disposing of it at the base to start climbing.
Chan pushes a clean rag into his chest, and he looks down to receive it and notes a tinge of blood at his collar. Right, he was bleeding.
They go back to cleaning, except it’s a lot more silent.
Jun walks back up to help, but this time he has both of his clean, black revolvers strapped at his hip.
THERE WERE FEWER PEOPLE in the war room this time around, the captain sits beside Mingyu, Jun and Minghao as they attempt to sketch out a crude rendition of your discussion. The pirate captain does nothing but use his dagger to pick under his nails, barely speaking as he listens in on the conversation.
Not that you cared, you and the rest of his crew seemed to get along better than you did with the captain anyway. Saving the man’s life seemed to hold no weight to him, not that you expected it but a ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.
“Keep the grenade til the last minute if it makes you feel better, so you’ll know I’m not trying to sink the wrong ship,” you sigh as you clarify. Minghao doesn’t reply as he scribbles the details. Jun rolls his eyes at his meticulous nature.
“We need to port in the next couple days if I’m gonna finish this grenade in time,” he says, looking at his captain pointedly.
“We can stop at Port Ash,” Hoshi says.
Port Ash was no man’s land, which also meant it was every man’s land.
Being mostly occupied by pirates and other thieves and criminals it was considered dangerous territory for anyone who didn’t speak in lies, deceit and fists. This crew would fit right in, but you worry for yourself.
“That’s not gonna be till a week and a half,” Mingyu interjects.
Jun frowns as he looks at Mingyu and then back at his captain, “I can’t wait that long.”
“We’ll pick up what we can at Hasry when we stop for rations,” Hoshi replies.
“But—”
“Deal with it. There’s nothing we can do about it.”
Jun looks like he wants to say something, and Mingyu has the good sense to interject again to ask more questions about the plan.
“How much manpower do you think the king’ll have?” he asks.
You sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “I have no idea. Could be five, could be fifty.”
“Not even an inkling?”
“Considering how he wants the lot of you gone, it’s probably on the larger side. But…” you pause.
“But?”
“He’s smart. Always seemingly one step ahead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he catches us blind.”
“I know enough about that,” Hoshi snorts. There’s a glint in his eye that suggests something, but you don’t press.
“I was wondering…we should probably change course even if it takes us longer. My father might intercept—”
“Did that. Didn’t take the obvious alternative route either,” Mingyu replies, and you note that he looks proud of himself. “We can take our time too, the ransom note suggested we took the way past Scarsfield.”
“We should be careful of other boats anyway,” you say, gulping down a lump in your throat before continuing. “Those other sailors could’ve been my father’s men too, for all we know.”
“They were on a smaller boat too,” Hoshi adds, he looks like he’s making connections in his brain. “What’re the odds they were dropped farther back into a smaller boat?”
There’s a pause as you absorb what he’s implying. “Are you saying they’re on our tail?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “He’s done it before. It was a sorry attempt then and it was a sorry attempt now.”
“How did you shake him off last time?”
The panic in your chest is barely there, but as you register the possibility, you find yourself breathing increasingly heavy.
“Circling farther out before going the opposite way so we wouldn’t cross paths.” He shakes his head. “But we can’t do that now, not when we can’t afford detouring. The port stops are as late as I’m willing to go.”
“What if we skip Hasry? It’s our more obvious stop, we’ll just stop at Ash later,” Minghao suggests.
“We’ll starve, we’ve got no food,” Hoshi gruffs.
“Portwater?”
“Too far.”
It’s silent yet again as everyone racks their brains. You feel very useless all of a sudden, you didn’t know the names of harbours or ports this far out.
“We’ll just port at Hasry and be extra careful, there’s nothing we can do.” Hoshi sighs at his own ultimatum.
He gets up and walks around the table to the door, “I’ll update the others.”
You glance as he walks past you, his figure leaving a gust of wind in your face. He smelled nice, which was saying something considering the state some pirates are known to be in. As he brushes past, your gaze is met with the other side of the war room, an empty oil lamp bracket on the wall.
The memory of the storm floods your mind, and suddenly your cheeks are burning. Snapping your head back, you're thankful they’re all absorbed in the papers and plans on the table, oblivious to the memory that’s flashed before your eyes. Mingyu was the one who saw you in your compromising position, and you didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he’d do something as dumb as dish out his captain’s ‘affairs’.
You file out the room with them. They don’t escort you to your rooms, make sure you stay in one place, restrict your wandering anymore. Perhaps they’d realised you weren’t actively attempting to sink the ship anymore, or that if you jumped off the edge it didn’t matter to them that much, but you appreciated the space anyway.
Briefly catching Seungkwan filling Mingyu in on the past couple hours they’d been below deck, you turn over to catch his eye. He waves, and you wave back. You don’t realise what you did till it already happened, noting the smile on his face as he did it. You choose to move past it and find the captain.
There was something you wanted from him.
There’s no trace of him on the main deck, eyes scanning the area to no avail. A movement from above catches your peripheral attention, eyes squinting as you crane your neck up to look. Hoshi has leaned his back against the railing of the crow’s nest, arms crossed, visible hand occupied with a brass telescope that glints in the sunlight.
He isn’t using it though, merely gazing at the horizon with furrowed brows. As though he could see better without the device in his hand. In the few minutes that you’re looking at him, you notice the muraled, multicoloured shirt that blows with the wind, a kaleidoscope of beiges, greens and reds. The crop of his blonde hair blends in with the clear blue-white sky.
Briefly wondering how he’s managing the impossible heat, a hand coming over your own eyes as a visor, you simply look back down. Seungkwan is next to you. You aren’t quite sure how he got there, but he stands next to you, hands on his hips, a pleasant expression on his face.
“Is there anything you want when we dock? We’re trying to make a list,” he says. Somehow, the prospect of pirates making lists boggled you a little. It was a little jarring, not quite sure why he asked a captive anyway.
But then again, were you a captive anymore?
“I don’t think so, no,” you reply and then juggle whether you should push it with another measly formality. “Thank you for asking.”
“That was your first kill, wasn’t it?”
“What?” You knew what he was talking about, but you weren’t expecting him to bring it up in the moment when he’s asking you about restocking supplies. And especially not with a smile on his face.
“That day, when you used Jun’s revolver to shoot the lad.”
A kid. He was a child.
“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”
“What made you do it?” he asks, remaining as nonchalant as ever.
“I—I don’t know, it looked like there wasn’t another option,” you say, not quite sure of yourself either.
Why did you shoot him? You’d never laid hands on a gun before, your father forced you into the category of archery and crossbows, not that you were very good at them either but it was also because you simply wanted to spite your father by being plain bad. It worked, because it only took a year and a half and an arrow straight into his study window to retire from the sport entirely.
Even then, your targets had been apples, barrels and tree trunks. Never a person.
You’d heard of what people tended to do in pressuring situations, and with the way the aftermath unfolded, it didn’t seem like you made the wrong decision to pick up that revolver anyway.
But the feeling lingers, the same one that you saw as you gazed into the back of the boy that held the captain of this ship hostage. It felt wrong. Like watching the pirate captain cornered was a picture you couldn’t quite make sense of in your head.
So you pulled the trigger.
“In any case, we’re glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.”
You don’t know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. “That’s a lot for a pirate to say.”
“I know.”
BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi it’s already the next day, and you’re only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry.
It’s an anxious ordeal, the crow’s nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway.
“I want to learn to use a knife.”
He was piling coiled ropes when you’d said it, pushing the heap to the side, sweating through his clothes. There was a flash of confusion on his face as he registered you.
“Why? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?” he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. He’s too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly.
You ignore the way his previously loose shirt now sticks to him, ignore the way the droplets land on your boots when he shakes his sleeve.
“We’ve discussed what we might be up against, I don’t want to be useless when the time comes.”
“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.”
“Anyone can shoot a gun,” you say, getting the sudden urge to fidget with the front of your shirt. You try to make your voice sound as declarative as possible. “I want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.”
He doesn’t say anything as you look down, fiddling with the tassels on your shirt. Your excuse was the sun and the way it was beating down on the deck this afternoon, getting tired of squinting to simply look straight. When the silence prolongs you look up to push further, juggling with bringing up the fact that you saved his life and that, as Seungkwan very graciously told you, he owes you.
The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back.
The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water that’s somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldn’t make out.
He wrings it as you can only watch, mouth gaping like a fish. Hanging it over one of the suspended ropes to dry, he mutters as he walks to the lower decks.
“Fine,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ll get you a knife at Hasry.”
Hasry. Right.
The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. There’s not much to see but fishermen both returning and leaving for another week's worth of fish supply. Minghao manages to pay and convince the harbourmaster that they were merchants on their way back to the Kingdom, stopping for supplies. The naval make of the ship helped, and then the crew pulled lines and ropes secured from masts in ways you couldn’t quite decipher.
You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed you’d be joining them.
Hoshi deemed it safer, keeping the rest of the crew on board while he, along with you and Seungkwan, ventured into the village to get what was needed and leave before the sun fully set. If they really were being followed, the ship was going to be the first thing they seized.
Pulling the grey shawl further up your head, you attempt to look as blended as you could, Chan pressing down your shoulders to force you into a slouch.
“Stop walking like you're important,” he had said.
“I’m a princess,” you snapped back, but he wasn’t listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebody’s attention.
The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that you’d run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than you’d expected, the faint scent of baked goods in the air mixed with, onion soup, was it? In any case you were glad you were past the fish market, the yelling and the stench nearly sending you to the pavement, gagging.
When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall that’s selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop.
You can only observe from afar, instructed to not interact with anyone while he was gone. Hoshi was gone to get food supplies, but returned empty handed. Systems were in place, that the crates would be on their way to the “big naval ship” at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.
“They said there was a blacksmith up this alley” Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. “We can get your knife there.”
“Knife?” Chan asks, confused.
“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”
“Don’t!” Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows.
“It’s fine, they’re too far,” Hoshi says. “Let’s get this over with.”
You do find a blacksmith, an older man with a greying beard and bloodshot eyes that presents Hoshi and Chan with an array of knives and daggers. Either they were able to give an excuse, or he gave no mind to the third woman that trailed behind, the blacksmith continued to deal with the two men as they haggle over prices.
There’s another seller a ways away, and she’s laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. It’s a woman, not much older than you were, unravelling a long string of leather cord. She cuts it, strings a charm through and seals the frayed end with a candle flame that burns at her side.
The curtain she’s laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you can’t make out any of it from where you stand.
Glancing behind you, the men are still occupied with their bartering, seemingly forgetting of your presence. Taking a step back, you pretend to skim through the neighbouring stalls, glancing breezily at woven baskets, layers of folded fabric and towers of painted ceramic cups.
You stop before the laid out array of more necklaces and earrings, scanning the ground. The vendor looks up and gives you a big, crooked toothed smile, urging you to come forward, to take a look at what she has to offer.
Something does catch your eye, and you immediately crouch down to see it better. Picking up the necklace from the charm, you let the gold and red rest on your fingers as you study the make.
“That one’s new,” the woman says. “Practical too.”
The small brass letter opener that’s looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size.
“It’s quite popular among the busy merchants,” the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. “Easier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers and—and in their cabinets.”
She lets out a laugh, “Quite pretty too.”
You stare at it for a moment, “How much?”
“Ten coin.”
You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again.
“I’ll do seven!”
You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt you’d be recognized just by the sound of your voice.
"I don’t have coin,” you rasp.
“How about that pretty thing on your finger then?” she asks.
The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your father’s court a few years ago. You stare at the band, worth boatloads more than what this woman in an alley was offering you.
But you find yourself moments later, middle finger empty, and pocket lined with the long leather necklace with the miniature letter opener charm.
By the time you return to the blacksmith’s shop front, Chan is handing the man his coin as Hoshi holds an object sheathed in fabric. They turn around just soon enough to make it seem like you never left.
“Why are you standing so far away?” Chan asks. “Come closer.”
You listen, moving closer to the both of them as they get ready to make the trek back to the docks where the ship waits.
“The crates have probably been loaded too,” Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume he’s pocketed the knife somewhere. “Let’s hurry and leave before—”
“Princess?”
It was your mistake that you turned around to acknowledge the title, something you realise as soon as you register the man that spoke to you.
Henley was a stout man, dressed even now in the finest suit of a berry colour, hair white as a ghost. There was no reason for a merchant so rich he had ties with the royal family to be wandering in a harbour market, but he also had every reason to be here.
If it was the recognition in your eyes, or the fact that they were just being smart, you feel one of the pirates wrap their fingers around your upper arm and pull you to walk away from the alley.
“Princess!” Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you aren’t running yet.
Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard it’s deafening any other sound in your ears, you still don’t know which one has a hold of you, but you let them guide you into a speed walk as you exit the narrow alleys of the main market.
The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. There’s nothing in your mind other than Clarence Henley and his rich suit, his gold pocket watch, his trimmed, white hair. His face that you only ever saw within palace walls, always accompanied by your father.
There’s a good chance you’re shaking, because you can feel your body rejecting it with the pain in your palms that you can only consider to be your own nails pressing into your hand.
The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. It’s only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and you’re suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.
It’s immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. You’re led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall.
“Are you alright?”
Snapping your head up, you’re met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze.
“Oh, erm.” Your voice sounds…not like your own.
“It’s okay, breathe.” It helps, because it really did feel like you’d forgotten to breathe.
“We’re leaving in just a few, everything’s been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, don’t worry.”
Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas.
The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless.
When you’ve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean.
“Captain said they couldn’t run because it just would’ve been more suspicious,” Seungkwan informs you as you nod. “Did you…did you recognise him? The man at the market.”
The thoughts come flooding back, the colour of his suit, the jarring nature of a man of such wealth standing in a rundown port market.
“He’s a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my father’s. If he even has any friends.”
You pause as you think about the near blackout you’d had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality.
“I think…” you trail off. “I think I just felt like it was the end. I finally had an opportunity to get rid of that tyrant and seeing something that was from home, felt…it felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.”
Seungkwan doesn’t say a word as you digest your own words, accepting your own fear that had rendered you useless in the time it probably mattered most.
“Do you feel better now?”
“A little,” you answer.
“Maybe a weapon can help.”
At the door stands Hoshi, a stern expression on his face as he looks directly at you on the bed. In his hands, the same fabric covered knife he acquired at the market.
You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known.
“He’s right,” Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. “Blades have a way of calming you in any case.”
You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwan’s sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshi’s own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to.
Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, “Can we start now?”
He smirks.
ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air.
“Your opponent’s baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,” he comments, continuously unhelpful. “Swing faster.”
It’s nighttime, nothing but a few oil lamps on the floor of the deck keeping you and Hoshi in the light. Your shoulder burns, your forearms are liquid, and your non-existent opponent remains forever stronger than you.
“I’m done,” you huff, thoroughly spent. Crumbling to the floor, you bring your non-dominant hand up to your aching shoulder in an attempt to massage it.
It’s been a while, the moon high up in the sky when you finally decide to quit it for the night. He lets you go without a fight, and you doubt you’d have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway.
The following day, he’s tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that you’re finally swinging at something tangible; him.
He leaves himself open, an invitation to strike wherever you want. You feign for his shoulder, but he sees you coming from a mile away, already deflecting your flattened blade that comes for his thigh.
“Don’t look where you want to strike, you’re giving yourself away.”
Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. He’s immediately cocking a brow, telling you to come at him again. You go for his middle, slashing your knife in an arc as he simply deflects.
“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts.
Coming down with your knife again, he blocks you but this time with his forearm, pushing you back by the wrists. It was a battle of strength, as he forces your wrists down. He was stronger than you, and there was no way you could push away, so you dispel your own force. He stumbles from the sudden forward force, and you pull away to take a swing from above.
He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when you’re ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand.
There’s a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away.
There’s an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You don’t get to say anything because he beats you to it.
“Deep enough,” he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. “Keep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.”
Oh.
“Alright,” he says again, moving back into position.
“Are you gonna wrap that?” you ask, referring to the bloody hand.
“It’s fine, I’ve fought with worse,” he says.
You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck.
“You’re getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourself—JESUS!”
You’ve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasn’t expecting it, still talking over your glances at his palm. He had his guard down, and you took the chance. He ducks on instinct, but it could’ve been another scar for him to remember if you’d made it.
You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.
“Nice try,” he says. “Really nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.”
“I lost my footing,” you defend, but even you knew that wasn’t an excuse.
“And I just stabbed you in the back. And now I’ll have to present your corpse to your father and hope he’ll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.”
The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right.
“You’d just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,” you say. “You’re a slippery thing.”
He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. It’s a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. There’s a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands.
“I keep going because I live without regret.”
You can only roll your eyes as a scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You simply turn around, settling to the floor, going back to massaging your still aching shoulder. That last blow only made it worse.
“I don’t regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.”
You remain silent.
“Come on,” he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. He’s washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.
Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”
“Because I don’t ever do things I’d regret.”
“That insinuates you think before you act.”
“Right-O,” he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.
“Funny,” you answer. “Because I dont think I’ve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.”
He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.
“You’ve looked into my eyes?”
The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face might’ve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck.
“I’ll send Jun up, practise with him.”
You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form.
Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass.
But you don’t, mostly because he’d probably manage to deflect that too. So you resort to sitting cross legged on the deck, staring at your dagger while waiting for Jun to meet you upstairs.
Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things you’d already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. It’s quite pretty, you’ll have to admit. It’s plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. You’d gotten used to the handle and how it fit in your palm, Hoshi assured you that the more you used it, the more the hilt would mould into your grip.
Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck.
“Should’ve picked a plain old gun,” he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. “Job’s done and you don’t need to get within ten feet.”
“Don’t have to reload a knife, do I?” you comment, taking the first swing.
Jun may have an affinity for guns and explosives, but his handling with a knife was still nothing below an expert level. He pushes your arm off before spending you into a ballroom spin, flatting his blade at your collarbone.
That could’ve been your throat.
“No, but by now I could’ve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,” he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again.
That could’ve been your throat.
THE FOLLOWING WEEK PASSES with your days and nights muddled into a strange mixture of swinging knives and taking breaks slumped against the deck of the ship, unmoving.
It’s a particularly hot day, the giant glowing orb beating down on the deck with no mercy. Not that it stops you, because the sun remains unwavering, high in the sky, and you remain unwavering in your wide legged stances as you lunge for Chan again.
Chan’s entire being glistens in the afternoon light, the beads of sweat that he wipes off his forehead only seem to reappear every couple minutes. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, taking long breaths through his teeth amidst the difficult, humid air.
You don’t doubt you look the same, one hand in your hair suggesting you just took a bath in your own sweat. But Chan seems accustomed to the heat, and while you weren’t, you couldn’t deny your growing comfortability with it all.
It’d been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. You’re determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what you’ve been doing for the past week or so.
There’s a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing.
One deep breath, a slow exhale.
It’s all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. You’re succeeding, pushing the man further and further back.
“You’re getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,” Chan seethes through his teeth.
“I’m trying,” you grunt through the effort.
You’re set back for a couple minutes before you go back to pushing. Your lungs burn, your entire side is numb from exertion, but you give more than your body is made for, and you succeed—kind of.
Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute you’ve got eyes on Chan’s hands and his blade, and the next he’s gone. There’s a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what you’ve done.
You just pushed Chan overboard.
You scream before you can help it, dropping your knife with a loud, resonating clang. Pushing against the rails, you peer down to find a giant ripple on the surface of the ocean, whipping your head around to the stairs leading below deck to find Mingyu and Hoshi bounding upstairs.
“What? Where’s Chan, he was supposed to be with you,” Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck.
Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know.
By the time Chan’s pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, you’ve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle.
With the way the two men had merely sighed and threw the ladder over the exterior of the ship, you concluded that this must happen enough for them to be beyond the point of concern. It only adds to it when you see Mingyu nudge Chan’s unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense.
You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly.
“Sorry about that, got carried away.”
He’s sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position.
“It’s fine, happens.” He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well.
“Now, Chan,” Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. “What’s the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?”
Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, “Be aware of your surrounding—ARGH.”
Hoshi pushed him into the water.
You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chan’s head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean.
Just as you’re about to say something to Hoshi, he’s stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice.
“One time was a mistake, twice is a problem!”
To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. He’s also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours.
The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding you’ve done enough damage to your body, you announce that you’d be retiring for the day.
“Thank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, I’ve been hearing clanging in my sleep,” Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck.
In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat.
Grabbing a clean washcloth, you fill a bucket of freshwater from one of the barrels on deck and lug it into your quarters. The soaked washcloth does wonders for your overheated body, feeling enormously better after a change of clothes.
Your scalp, however, remains itchy and burning, so you decide to go back up to the main deck, hoping to manoeuvre a hair wash situation without needing to mop the floors of your quarters.
Refilling the bucket of freshwater, you set it down before scanning the empty deck for another spare bucket. You try not to scoff at the unwavering determination of the pirate crew to keep the deck unoccupied for such long increments, that last altercation teaching them absolutely nothing. You wonder how they’ve managed to survive for so long like this.
Shaking the thought, you use the spare bucket as a way to deposit your waste water as you pour cups of clean water over your aching scalp. The feeling does wonders for you, letting the water wash away weeks worth of grime, sweat and stress.
You’re almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones you’d packed for yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you rub them into your scalp. You don't expect the clench that seizes your chest, but you falter when it happens anyway.
It’s nostalgic, and you hate it.
It smells like the palace, like the incense your ladies in waiting always burned, the stench of citrus having made its way into your bones from the years of exposure to the scent. It’s too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes.
The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt hitting your nose. You’re more aggressive when you dunk your cup into the bucket this time, too aggressive as you feel the half full bucket tip over and spill water all over the deck as you cause yet another accident.
Cursing loudly, you try to blink away the suds from your eyes, soap still in your hair as you try to figure out how to get another bucket of water without ruining your fresh change of clothes, mentally kicking yourself at not thinking this through.
“You realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?”
Wet hair still in your hands, you attempt to peer up at the voice, only to find Hoshi standing above you, arms crossed over his chest with a funny expression on his face. Huffing, you grumble out in response, “Can you just get me a fresh bucket?”
“Hm, I don’t know, can I?” He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun.
Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding you’d figure it out yourself if this dumb pirate was choosing to be of no help. But before you could latch your fingers on the handle, the bucket’s snatched away.
At first you think he’s being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. “You—”
Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. “Try not to paint the deck with it this time, I’ve already mopped twice.”
The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you can’t say it to him. So you make a scene of splashing into the bucket with vigour, sending spills over the rim and taking mild satisfaction in hearing him sigh at the sight of more mopping.
He’s already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time you’re done as you remerge with clean hair, wringing your own mop of hair to deposit the excess water. Straightening out your back, you take hold of the spare cloth you brought along with you, patting your hair with it.
The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshi’s grumbling form as he mops up all the water you’ve spilled.
“You know, I should really be making you—” He halts as he makes eye contact with you, your hands still occupied with patting your hair dry, flicking the wet strands. You have a rebuttal already prepared, waiting for him to finish his jab.
“Make me what? you grind.
You can’t make out the look on his face, somewhere between constipated and on the edge of a yelp, he keeps staring at you. You note a slight trickle of water making its way down your neck and chest, bleeding into your shirt as yet another water stain.
“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise.
And with that uneventful climax, you trudge back down to your quarters, a strange brewing in your chest.
[AN]: congrats you made it to the end of part 1!!!!! reblog ur thots and opinions or send me an ask, id love to hear the turmoil in ur minds lol
#svthub#hoshi fluff#hoshi smut#hoshi angst#hoshi fic#hoshi imagines#hoshi x reader#hoshi#soonyoung smut#soonyoung fluff#soonyoung scenarios#soonyoung imagines#soonyoung x reader#seventeen#soonyoung#seventeen flluff#seventeen smut#seventeen angst#seventeen fic recs#svt#svt smut#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt x reader#em.writes
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The Beast Inside Of Me(Incubus!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, AU, Incubus, demons, slight dub-con, oral(fem receiving), slight yandere vibes, creampie finish, mentions of passing out/fainting, vaginal fingering
word count: 3.2k
pairings: Incubus!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader
summary: Kento has been searching for his mate for a long time, and he finds out it's you. Incubi don't usually mate with humans, so he's desperate to make it work.
a/n: not sure if it's the demon who possessed me or the Earthbound OST that made me write this, but here it is and I realllyyy hope you all enjoy!! Some dividers by @/benkeibear
taglist: @beneathstarryskies @an-ever-angry-bi @namikyento
@seireiteihellbutterfly @adharadotcom @heyitsd1yaa
@darkstarlight82 @melisuh123. @galactict3a
@erebus-et-eigengrau @aomi04 @isabelzoldyck
@cinnamon-girl-writes @felixmr @typicalemo. @entirelysein-e
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You’ve seen that handsome face before. In your dreams, where you thought you were just imagining things. But now that you’re awake and looking at the man(or so you think)sitting on the edge of the bed, you aren’t sure if this is just another dream or figment of your imagination. When he looks over at you, he looks so incredibly sad. The sorrow in his features is so apparent, you feel the sadness deep inside you.
“Are you…” your own voice scares you. “Are you real?”
He looks at you once more. His hazel eyes almost seem to glow in the darkness of your room. Then you see his wings expanding, creating an interesting shadowlike surrounding. Your eyes widen a little as he climbs out the window and you watch him fly away. You’re stunned by the sight.
Lying back on your bed, you try to calm your breathing. That was a dream, right? It had to have been. There aren’t handsome creatures with wings that just casually hang out in your room. That doesn’t happen. It really just doesn’t happen at all.
You pull the covers up to your chin, curling it in your fist. You think you’ll never be able to go to sleep again, but soon your eyes flutter shut and your mind is filled with the most pleasant dreams.
When you wake up, you chalk it all up to some silly dream and being extremely tired. You go about your day like nothing happened. Meanwhile, the creature you saw in your bedroom is suffering in silence. He has finally found his human mate, which is you.
He’s suffering because he knows he could never court you properly. He’s suffering because he knows you would reject him if he were to approach you and explain the situation. He invades your dreams as much as possible because it’s the only way he’s able to see you and feel you and touch you and taste you…
Being alive for so long has its perks, but it also becomes so lonely. All the other incubi and succubi from his pack have already found their respective mates. And it’s a little rare for his kind to mate with a human. Kento wonders if he’s just destined to be alone forever. He feels that deep sorrow inside of himself. The same one that he felt when he realized it would take him a long time to find his mate.
Night after night, he’s been chasing after you like some lovesick puppy. He finds it so pathetic too. You could easily find someone better for yourself, and you don’t even know that someone like him is so deeply in love with you. Kento contents himself with just sitting on your bed and watching you sleep. Seeing him that night was a mistake and you shouldn’t have woken up.
The next night that he shows up, it’s only in your dreams.
The room feels hot and stuffy, but it’s pleasant. There’s a slight smell of a candle that’s been burning, and something like a cinnamon and nutmeg scent. It’s enticing and intoxicating. Your skin feels drenched with sweat. You try to open your eyes, but you’re feeling so sleepy and so tired.
“P-please,” you pant out.
Calloused hands caress you, removing the sheet that covers your naked body. You whine as you feel those same hands spreading your thighs. Soft touches from fingertips follow, creeping up your thighs. Then you let out a pathetic whimper when you feel something parting your soaked folds with expertise.
“Fuck,” you whine when you feel a wet, hot tongue pressing against your clit.
The feelings are intense. Your orgasm grows so fast, it hits you hard. You’re panting and moaning loudly, trying to grind against this tongue. But as soon as it appeared, faster did it disappear.
You wake up the following morning wondering if that was truly real and with sheets that are still damp from your dreams. This time, you have a harder time chalking it up to a wet dream.
For Kento, he wishes he could keep the taste of you on his tongue forever. He’s never gone that far with you, but he’s very happy he did. He eagerly jerks himself off to the flavor on his tongue and the memory of your scent until it fades away. It makes him angry that he can’t have you committed to his memory forever.
So he gets a little more daring the next time he visits you. This time, it isn’t just a dream for you. It’s a real encounter with the demon himself.
He casts a deep slumber spell on you, but you are still reacting to everything he does. He takes his time to memorize you; tasting you heavily on his tongue as you gush. Orgasm after orgasm is pulled from you as Kento works your body with expertise. He knows what you like. He could probably bring you to orgasm with the smallest little nudge against your clit by now.
His eyes are glowing as he feasts on you. His cock is rock hard as he begins to rut against the bed. Nothing could be better than this. The room feels so hot and warm, but it only seems to add to your arousal and his. The smell of burning candle, cinnamon and nutmeg fill your senses, even while you sleep deeply.
Kento’s eyes roll back as he gets to taste your essence once more. If he could, he’d gladly drown in the flavor of you for all eternity. It’s not enough to keep visiting you in the dark of your bedroom at night. He needs you always. Now and forever.
So the night finally comes where he decides to see how you’ll react if he introduces himself to you. He sits on your bed, waiting for you to rouse from your sleep. When you do, you gasp softly at the creature at the foot of your bed. He leans closer, and you get a better look at him.
Sharp, angular features for such a beautiful man. Or…is he even really a man? He can’t be a man if he looks this good and has a tail and wings. He smiles softly, his cheeks lightly pink.
“Have I frightened you?” He inquires, leaning in just a little closer.
Your senses are filled with the scent of burning candle, cinnamon and nutmeg. Your thoughts are filled with sensual memories. Something about this makes a throbbing sensation begin between your thighs.
“N-no.” You finally manage to answer. “Who are you?”
He smiles sweetly before reaching out to cup your chin. You get to look into his beautiful eyes. They shine so brilliantly for you. You don’t feel frightened at all, only confused and curious.
“My name is Kento,” his voice is so reassuring and soothing. “I am not here to hurt you.”
Something about that name makes your heart beat faster. You lean in closer to hear more of what he has to say. But instead of talking, he decides to kiss you. It’s so deep and passionate. He holds you close, his wings wrapping around you to keep you securely in his grasp.
“You are my beloved,” he finally whispers against your lips. “I have searched for you for a long time.”
Your eyes widen at the creature holding you. How could someone so beautiful have searched for you for so long? You feel so plain in comparison.
Almost as if he has read your thoughts, “You aren’t plain. You are the most beautiful thing on this earth and within every plane of existence.”
Your heart skips a beat at his words. Your cheeks are redder than a tomato. You aren’t sure how anyone could think this about you. Kento cradles your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. He looks at you like you are the stars in the sky, the colors of a rainbow, a beautiful masterpiece hung on the walls of an art museum.
“How precious you are to me,” he says softly. “I could not say it in words.”
You allow him to lay you down on the bed. His lips are attached to your neck; sucking, nipping, licking and biting. To get that sweet taste of you, he is quite desperate. Everything about you is both beautiful and extremely enticing. He could never get enough of you, even if he made love to you a million and one times.
His hands are calloused as he caresses your body. He slips your pajamas off of you slowly, tantalizingly so. His eyes keep gazing up at you, making sure you know just how much you are loved. He couldn’t be able to continue if he didn’t know for sure that you are indeed enjoying yourself.
The moment his fingers slip against your folds again, you feel that same arousal from the other night. It begins to truly dawn on you exactly what is going on. He’s been the one to pleasure you all these nights, even the ones where you were dreaming.
You pull him in for another kiss; this time it’s sloppy because of how hungry you are for him. He grunts against your lips, his fingers still working at your greedy pussy. But he loves that you’re getting into it. You’re desperate and needy for him, which makes him so happy and very aroused.
“It’s been you this entire time,” you whisper.
He nods. “Yes, does this please you?”
You can’t even begin to think of the right words to answer that question. So instead you reach down and feel his cock through the skin-tight underwear he’s wearing. He moans just for you and you love the sound. You love it so much, you wish to hear it forevermore.
Kento kisses you with a ravenous hunger now. The hunger that resides so deep inside of him as an Incubus is beginning to come to the surface. He needs to try and rein it in if he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you.
Tenderness returns to him as he takes a few deep breaths. He cannot show you the ugly side of him. It’s an animal, a beast that resides inside of him. It’s ugly and carnal and full of sin. And though he’s sure you’d still be able to find it in your angelic heart to forgive him if you were to see that side of him, he would hate himself forever if he were to harm you in any way.
“Please,” he moans softly. “Allow me to taste you once more.”
He spreads your thighs again, grunting when he sees just how soaked you are. You smell divine. Musky and yet so sweet. It makes his cock throb and painfully twitch. For an Incubus, he swears he’s falling into your trap instead of the other way around.
Your little heart pounds in your chest like the fluttering of the wings of a hummingbird. You reach down to push his hair out of his face, and this earns you another grunt from the man between your legs. You aren’t sure if he’s fully a man or he’s a beast, but either way you have come to accept him as your lover.
His tongue feels like warm silk against your folds. He licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, rendering you incapable of speech for a moment. You shudder from head to toe, and a small little gasp falls from your lips. You’re panting already and all he’s done is lick once.
“Oh, you’re so needy for me.” Kento purrs before he dives back into lapping at you.
Your toes curl as his mouth works you up to an exquisite orgasm. Your breath hitches in your throat as his mouth and tongue and lips stimulate you in all the ways only someone from your wildest dreams would be able to. As your body shudders and shakes, Kento grunts against your wet cunt. He’s hungry and growing hungrier by the moment. If he doesn’t pull away soon, you’ll see the beast inside of him.
Thankfully you tug on his hair to pull him away to avoid too much overstimulation. He looks up at you; his once hazel eyes have grown very dark. There’s a look on his gorgeous face that you can’t quite decipher. But soon, it begins to dissipate and you swear his pupils are in the shape of hearts just for you.
“My pretty lover,” he coos softly. “Please…” he swallows hard. “Please allow me the chance to make love to you. The privilege.”
Your eyes widen. How could he even be begging you? He was so beautiful, so handsome, so breathtaking. It should be the other way around. You should be the one begging for a chance to even look at him.
“I understand if you don’t want to tonight, or really if you didn’t want to engage at all, I just want to—”
He’s interrupted by you pulling him in for another kiss. It’s mostly to shut up his insecurities right now. But part of you wants to taste yourself on his tongue and his lips. He grunts as he adjusts himself in his underwear. Your hands reach down to begin tugging them off of his perfectly sculpted body.
“It would be my privilege to make love with you.”
Those words make his head swirl with arousal and lust. His eyes are dark once more. He nips at your bottom lip, making you squeak in pleasure. Kento parts your thighs even more so that he can place himself between them. His underwear is all but ripped off his body.
“Eager for me?” he teases you before kissing you. “I’m just as eager, if not more.”
You sigh as you feel his hands guiding your thighs to wrap around him. The heft of his cock rests on your mound. Kento uses his fingers to open you up, making you drip all over the sheets even more. Slowly pumping them in and out and in and out…
“Just like that,” he coaxes. “Just for me. Open up, my beautiful flower.”
His words go straight to your head, but also straight to your throbbing clit. You’re more than aroused and ready for him, but the fact that he wants to take such care of you, it turns you on even more. It takes no time for him to slip his fingers out and replace them with the tip of his cock.
“I’ll be gentle,” he whispers in your ear as he pushes more of himself into you. “And I’ll go slow.”
Slow is his pace. Gentle is his touch. You shudder as you feel him leisurely pushing into you. His eyes snap up and down from your face to your little hole trying to suck him in. His tail begins whipping in excitement. He knew it would feel good to finally be inside of you, but he’s having to take deep breaths once again to not lose control.
“My beloved,” he moans against your ear. “You feel heavenly.”
Your cunt spasms around him as he eventually bottoms out. His balls are plush against you and you finally get a sense of how pent up he is by how heavy his testicles feel. Your hands come around to rub his back as Kento starts up at a very loving and tender pace.
“Pretty, beautiful, exquisite…” he spouts off as he begins rocking his hips. “So warm, so wet.”
When you look into his eyes again, you see tears. He’s relieved but also so overwhelmed. He’s trying his best to hang on to the shred of sanity he has left. It’s so difficult when you keep squeezing and clenching around him. It’s all too much for him to keep going without losing a little control.
“Forgive me, beloved.”
You barely have time to comprehend what he means when he pushes your knees up to your chest. His hips begin to snap as he fucks into you harder, faster and deeper. Oh he is just so deep inside of you, you swear you can feel him in your throat. It’s all too much for you to even begin to understand. You cling to him as his cock rams into you over and over.
“Kento!” You gasp, trying to hold on.
He grunts and growls like a ferocious beast. Inside, he’s cursing himself for allowing himself to show you even just a fragment of who he truly is. His tail comes up to curl around one of your breasts. His head dips down to take the nipple into his mouth. He sucks on it harshly as he fucks deeper and harder into you.
“Need to fuck you,” he grunts. “Need to breed,”
His words are a bit of a shock, but you’ve been piecing parts of this together in your head this entire time. He, of course, is not a regular man. And the way he’s pumping into you now, you know it’s because something else is possessing him to do so.
Your legs begin to shake as his cock keeps pushing against that sweet spot deep inside of you. Stars speckle in your vision as your peak becomes imminent. It’s such a deep feeling inside of you. You can barely contain your moans, whimpers and sweet breathy whines. Kento tries to stop himself, but the more you squeeze around him, the less control he has.
“Going to breed you,” he growls. “You are mine.”
Every word is punctuated with a deep and harsh thrust. His balls rest plush against your ass every time he’s completely deep inside you. His eyes are growing darker. And the tail wrapped around your breast has now begun to tug a little bit on your nipple.
“May I…Can I…” He growls loudly. “Need to breed!”
It’s no longer a question. It’s a demand. A command for you. You are so willing to allow him this privilege. He never even told you the outcome of this coupling. You just wanted to soothe him and his needs, all while falling in love with this man; no, he’s no man. He’s a beast. A beast that you wish to tame.
“Cum,” you struggle to tell him. “Inside.”
He barely hears you, but something inside his brain clicks. It’s all that he needs to be sure that he is more than allowed to do this. Before either of you can register what’s happening, his tail wrapped around your breast squeezed harder. His wings come around the both of you, shielding you from the rest of the world.
With a loud roar, he begins emptying himself into your tight little hole. Shots of thick, potent cum spill deep inside of you. Kento reaches down to begin rubbing your clit in slow, tantalizing circles. A soft gasp escapes you as your orgasm hits you hard. Your legs are shaking and your heart is pounding harder than it ever has before.
You feel your vision beginning to tunnel…
You awaken several hours later. Your hole is sore and abused, dripping thick cum. You’re disoriented as you try to understand what is happening. Kento isn’t here, but his scent lingers on everything. You look at the nightstand and notice a bottle of water and a piece of paper folded in half. You take a drink of the water and then you unfold the paper. It’s a note from your otherworldly lover.
See you this evening. Same time as last night. Be prepared, my love. I have lots more to show you.
Xoxo,
Kento.
#bacon.writes#nanami x reader#nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami x reader smut#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#jujutsu nanami#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento smut#kento nanami#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#kento nanami x y/n#kento nanami smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk nanami x reader#nanamin x reader#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you#nanami smut#anime smut
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🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞
I'm back with a fic I've written that was inspired by the wonderful @home-for-wayward-fawns
Edited by the lovely @the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes
Alastor x Reader
Reader is AFAB
CW: Stuck trope, dub con, semi public sex, penetration, oral, porn no plot
Help Me Mr. Radio Demon, I'm Stuck
It had been a long day. There had been lots of things to do: Charlie's bonding exercises, helping Husk restock the bar supplies, and taking an inventory of everything that was running low around the hotel—some general day-to-day tasks to keep it running. The only thing left on your list to do was your least favorite: laundry.
It had already been started, the melodic chime of the washer alerting you that it was time to move things along. With a sigh, you head to the laundry room and open the lid to the washer. Pulling your wet clothing out carefully, you ascertain what pieces need to be hung up to dry first. Humming softly as you work, you pull all the special care items out and hang them one by one.
Finally, all that needed extra care are hung to dry. Now you can focus on putting the rest in the dryer. You reach into the washer, grabbing a handful of wet clothes and chucking them into the final machine when you hear a loud clunk. Wondering if you had left another lipstick in your pocket, you bend down to investigate.
Getting down on your hands and knees before the dryer, you reach around, trying to find whatever had landed in there, but without success. You quickly decide to stick your head in the metal contraption to see if you could find whatever had dropped inside. Popping your head into the dryer’s opening, you immediately see exactly what you thought you would find: a forgotten container of lip color.
Grasping it firmly in your hand, you move to pull yourself out, only to find that you can't. You jerk yourself backwards, using more force this time, only to hear the faint ripping of the fabric of your blouse. Unwilling to ruin your shirt even more, you realize you are stuck—inside the dryer of all things. You groan in frustration, and it echoes in the small metal chamber. Briefly, you consider yelling for help, before deciding against the embarrassment that it would bring. "Fuck." You utter in frustration.
Alastor walks at a leisurely pace through the halls, lamenting the lack of occupants in the hotel today; they are off on some ridiculous adventure, providing for a less than entertaining afternoon. Mulling over his thoughts as he passes the laundry room, he wonders what everyone was up to, what amusements they were entertaining themselves with. Lost in thought, he almost misses the faint sound of your groan, quickly followed by an unladylike curse. Alastor halts, pivoting around in immediate curiosity. He steps through the door, only to be met with a sight that causes his trousers to feel too tight as his cock hardens within them.
You are currently bent in half and low to the floor, your plump ass barely covered by the short skirt you wear. Your top is bunched up, exposing the luminous skin of your lower back as you appear to be caught on something inside the dryer—trapped and waiting for him just like prey. How would your skin feel under his hands? His name would sound so sweet falling from your pretty lips. The thoughts came unbidden into his mind as an image of him rutting into you follows immediately afterwards.
Alastor had never dealt with these kinds of urges before—at least, until you. Your quick wit and kind smile had him yearning to spend time with you. The fact that you were the most breathtaking creature he had ever seen was only a bonus. He reaches his hand out, as if to touch your perfect posterior, before he seems to think better of it, letting his arm fall back down to hang at his side. He’s plagued with the desire to take you right then and there. Driven by his need, he takes a step closer so he is close enough to reach out and grab you. His cock twitches eagerly in his suit pants.
The Radio Demon's lips quirk into a sinister grin as his eyes rake over you hungrily. Feeling his licentious gaze, you call out helplessly, "Is somebody there?" Your voice echoes in the metal drum you find yourself captive within.
"It seems you've found yourself in a bit of trouble, my dear." Alastor remarks in his radio-filtered voice.
"Oh, I'm so glad you’re still here, Alastor. I seem to be stuck on something and I don't want to rip my shirt too badly; could you help me?" You ask, trying not to let the rising panic you feel at being trapped seep into your voice.
"I would be delighted to help a beautiful damsel such as yourself, pet." Alastor purrs, his radio voice filling the silence of the room. Using a shadowy tendril, he pushes the door shut, the echo of it closing loudly before sliding the lock into place with a snap. His feet bring him even closer to you, the heels of his boots clicking loudly. Close enough to touch, he stops, his large frame towering powerfully over you. He can feel the heat radiating off your body. "You silly girl; how did you even get stuck in there?" He chuckles deprecatingly.
"I wanted to remove the lipstick that fell in here so my clothes wouldn't get ruined." You answer, your voice muffled from the machine surrounding your upper body. You can feel him standing close to you and your heart races, pulse quickening. You've always found Alastor extremely charming, with his protective nature, dangerous aura, and hilarious jokes. Hips moving as you wiggle, jittery under the weight of his gaze, you try to free yourself once more.
Alastor watches as your shapely rear gyrates back and forth in your futile attempt to free yourself. He represses a groan, pondering what it might feel like against his throbbing cock. Bending at the waist, he leans down to place a clawed hand on your exposed lower back. "Calm down my dear; I'm sure I'll have you out in no time. I'm here to assist." He says, the static in his voice crackling dangerously, a direct contrast to the words the demon is saying. "Although, I don't see why I shouldn't have a little fun while I'm here." Alastor says, his usual smile taking on a predatory edge.
He kicks your right leg to the side, giving himself a clear view of the tiny strip of fabric barely covering you. You should feel the sting of embarrassment, but instead you can feel your pussy clench with need. "Alastor, I don't see how this could possibly help." You argue feebly, not really meaning for him to stop.
Not listening to the words he knows you don't mean, Alastor grabs your waist. His hands are on either side of your hips, claws digging lightly into your skin as he pulls on you, hoping to get you free. The material of your undergarments clings to your pussy, slick with want. As he tugs on you, your ass grazes against his barely constrained hardness and you bite your lip, aware of how big he feels against you.
"I plan to help myself first. Then I'll help you." The tall demon growls, his voice thick with his radio filter. You can hear static crackling and popping as he grinds into you. Using his power, he wills a cold tendril to pull your panties swiftly to the side. You don't protest, feeling a pleasurable jolt every time he humps and rubs his covered manhood against your backside. You find yourself desperate to feel him bare against your needy quim. As he pulls away momentarily, you find yourself holding back a whimper of disappointment.
Before you have too long to feel discontented, you feel his hot breath fanning against your bare cunt. Alastor's tongue darts out of his mouth, eagerly lapping at your clit and you can't help the gasp that wrenches its way from your mouth. He moves slowly, as if he's savoring a meal, each stroke sending pleasurable tingles through your body.
Alastor loves the taste of your juices, unable to think of a sweeter treat he's had in his life. Sliding his tongue down your slit, he plunges it deep within your cavern without warning. You let out an obscene moan as you feel his lengthy, demonic tongue reach just the right spot inside of you. Curling and slurping it, Alastor attacks your pussy with an intense vigor. He brings a hand up to your sensitive bud, massaging it with his digits in steady, circular, motions.
As he continues his ministrations for quite some time; you can feel pleasing tingles travel increasingly through your body and you know you won't last long. "Alastor, please don't stop!" You cry out, not caring about your volume as long as he doesn't cease his movements. Increasing his pace, his finger and tongue move in unison to bring you closer and closer to that edge you feel quickly approaching. With a loud scream of ecstasy, you feel your orgasm crashing, waves of pleasure flowing over you.
Holding onto you as your legs quiver, he continues to lick as you quake through it, his fingers still moving against your over-sensitive nub. You feel the creeping of shame as your post-bliss fades away. You can't believe you enjoyed this while trapped in this infernal machine.
With one final swipe, the overlord collects one last taste of your saccharine nectar. Pulling himself off of your sensitive flesh, he licks his lips with an indecent smacking sound. "You taste simply divine, darling." He coos delightedly at you. "You simply must let me sample that again sometime."
"I would love to do this again, but I still need help out of this dryer." You murmur, embarrassed. "Please Alastor." You tack on at the end pleadingly.
"Ah, I still intend to free you my dear, but I'm not quite finished. What kind of hunter would I be if I turned away such a gift, my prey already trapped and laid out deliciously for me?" He says with a tsk, tsk, tsk. Bringing his hands to his belt, he undoes it with a hurried, urgent pace. Sliding it through the loops on his trousers he pulls it out, discarding it recklessly, and you hear it clatter against the linoleum.
You hear a metallic zipping sound before his colossal cock is springing free, hitting your ass with a hard thwack. Alastor slides his considerable length along your already soaked hole, teasing you playfully. "I'd like to hear you beg again, pet." He decides, and you can hear in his tone that this isn't a request.
"Please, please, please, Al; I need this. I need you inside of me." You beg prettily, desperately. Without even waiting for you to finish, he's shoving himself inside you, his thick hardness stretching you almost painfully. Your slick walls grip his hardened member perfectly and he lets out a throaty groan.
"You are just as warm and tight as I always imagined, my doe." He praises, thrusting into you, driven by his overwhelming desire to feel you come apart around his aching cock. His hips move at a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over again, his tip hitting your cervix every time. The dryer shakes with the force of each thrust as he chases his own release.
"Before I reward you with my seed, I want you to cum for me one more time. No holding back those beautiful noises you make." He says authoritatively, not stopping his movements.
"I don't,” you pant out, “know if I can." Pleasure overwhelms you as he drills into you over and over again.
"You can, and you will. I'm not asking, darling." He commands, snapping his hips into you, hitting just the right spot as he does. You can sense another orgasm creeping upon you, despite saying you couldn't. You focus on that feeling as his cock moves in and out of you, producing a wet squelching sound. With a loud shout, you're pushed over the edge a second time. You shake as the force of your climax causes your knees to go weak, unable to hold yourself up any longer.
Alastor supports you as your body goes limp, your last bit of energy spent. His thrusts become erratic and sloppy as he follows his own high, the tightness of your soft cavern milking him. With a loud, guttural cry, he releases ropes of cum inside you, his cock twitching with every spurt. He calls out your name, his member deflating as the cooling mess of his seed slides out of you.
With a frustratingly easy snap of his fingers, you are freed from the dryer. In an instant you are on your feet in front of him, your blouse repaired, and your clothing all back in its rightful place, his suit fresh and pristine like nothing ever happened. "You could have just done that this whole time?"
"Ah, but where would have been the fun in that? We both enjoyed our time here tonight, after all." Alastor responds, patronizingly smug. A blush blossoms on your face as you think about the sex you've just had with the man you’ve been distracted by for quite some time. With a smug grin, he slides the lock on the door back open with a click. Grasping the knob, he holds it open for you, ever the charming gentleman. "Ladies first." He says holding his other hand out to help you. Together, you both leave the laundry room behind.
#alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#hazbin alastor#alastor x you#alastor x reader#alastor smut#alastor x you smut#alastor x reader smut#smut#stuck trope#semi public sex#hazbin hotel smut#the radio demon smut#alastor hazbin hotel#SeleneZQ#help me step alastor
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Hey king how do u think blood tastes to vampires lmao
also, seeing how often drow is covered in the stuff, would he enjoy the taste? Or is it about the sensation/murder urge satisfaction
I'll be honest I've spent more than one shower thinking about this LOL
I assume that vampires" palates are different from mortal, humanoid palates in a similar way that a human's and a wolf's are. Except that while wolves and predators in general have evolved to enjoy the taste of bland, raw meat and not be at all compelled at by - lets say - a lovely arugula salad , in the case of vampires it's just a symptom of their curse and something that sets in overnight.
Astarion describes the rich wine at the tiefling party as tasting like vinegar, so, unless he's lying, he is able to taste normal food and beverages in a vast array of flavors - they just so happen to be very unpleasant to him, and probably impossible to digest since his system doesn't function as it should.
He also compares blood to wine and even suggests that it tastes and smells differently depending on the person it comes out of. Obviously I don't think that the comparison is literal, but I think what he is saying is that blood has different notes, hence there's room for preferences even within his kin. My cats are crazy about food but they will turn their noses at salmon-anything - I know that for other cats that isn't the case.
So, I reckon that it just tastes like whatever a piece of raw steak tastes like to a carnivorous animal. No idea what that would be, though. I would also guess that a young, or starving vampire wouldn't be anywhere near as picky or preoccupied with when or how they enjoy a meal as a 200-year-old spawn would be; one whose survival very much depended on his ability to disguise the fact that he is cursed with literal blood-lust. I often wondered if, while drenched in blood during or after fights, Astarion was ever tempted to suck on a soaked sleeve or lap-up freshly-spilled blood that he just wiped off his face - but I think that he's either too used to wearing a mask of normality, too proud to indulge, or both. Probably both.
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ᡣ𐭩 YOU'VE BEGUN TO FEEL LIKE HOME
FEATURING: pm!dazai osamu
SUMMARY: dazai is not as slick as he thinks he is, and you let him get away with way too much. OR, dazai realizes the only place he feels comfortable enough to sleep is at your side, but god forbid he vocalizes that.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'm on another pm!reader & dazai kick LOL, prepare for an influx of fics about them. i'm starting with this one because it's softer, the classic sharing a bed fic & u guys deserve some lightness after uu6 (warnings: fem!reader, nothing else really, this is light-hearted as promised)
Dazai doesn’t think you notice when he sneaks into your room at night.
To be fair, you don’t think you noticed the first few times. He’s very careful to make sure you’re still sleeping when he lets the door crack open so he can slip in. He shifts the blinds around just enough so that when he lays down and the sun starts to rise, it’ll hit him right in the eye, waking him up before you, so he can slip out unnoticed.
But he messed up two weeks ago. Or, well, it wasn’t really his fault. The hinges of your door creaked just a bit too loudly when he pushed it open, stirring you from your sleep, but he was evidently too tired to even notice. Your first reaction was obviously to tell him to get the fuck out, irate that he’d woken you up, but you found yourself hesitating as he began his swift and efficient process of setting up your room so he can lay there with you to get some rest and disappear before you wake up.
He slept above the covers on the edge of the bed, careful to keep space between the two of you—whether it was because he didn’t want to risk waking you up, or if he just didn’t want to touch you, you didn’t know, but you think it’s the former from the way you’ve noticed his body unconsciously trying to seek you out at night, only for him to startle awake and immediately move away.
You told yourself that you would address it the next morning—ask him what the fuck he was thinking sneaking into your bedroom—but you faltered when you saw how refreshed he was in the morning, bouncing around your apartment, the perpetual bags beneath his eyes mostly faded. You put together then how long he’s been doing this: three weeks, at least. You’d been wondering why he was suddenly so energetic some days, but it was easy to figure out that those days are the ones that he slips into your room to sleep.
You’d known for a while that Dazai doesn’t sleep well. Spends most nights wandering around your apartment looking for things to do if he doesn’t have missions; he only ever does sleep when he’s so drunk that he ends up passing out on your kitchen floor or he’s so tired that he physically can’t keep his eyes open any longer. You’d always wondered if it was because he can’t sleep or if it was because he doesn’t want to sleep, plagued with nightmares, memories whenever he closes his eyes.
So you let it continue—it doesn’t really bother you, he’s always careful to not disturb you and you figure that it’s better he gets at least some decent sleep so he doesn’t get himself killed on a mission because he’s depriving himself of it.
It’s not until a few weeks later that he realizes that you know. You’re half asleep when he tries to sneak into your room, barely conscious; you don’t remember to pretend to be asleep.
The door creaks open and shuts and you instinctively roll over, shifting up onto your elbows and squinting, eyes focusing on Dazai’s figure shrouded by the darkness, halfway across your room to your window. He freezes as soon as he realizes you’re awake.
“Dazai?” you ask quietly, voice a bit rough with sleep, mind moving a bit slow as you try to piece together what’s going on..
“I-” he starts to say—for a second, he’s caught off guard, fumbling for some sort of excuse. But Dazai is Dazai, so he recovers quickly. “Oh good, you’re awake. You see, I was trying to-”
“Shut up,” you murmur, laying back down and pulling the covers back, realizing what he’s here for. “Lay down.”
Dazai doesn’t budge. “What?” he breathes out, caught off-guard and clearly exhausted. You can see the dark bags beneath his eyes—he’s been on a mission for four or five days now, dealing with Mishima out in Tokyo. You figure that he hasn’t gotten any sleep since he left. “What are you talking about?”
His voice takes a cooler tone after the initial ‘what’, a defense mechanism, and you know Dazai is about to bolt to try to avoid this conversation, but it’s been weeks and you think it's about time. You crack an eye open to scowl at him, noticing the closed off expression on his face and the anxiety thinly veiled behind his dark eye. Before he can make a run for it, you push yourself up. You’re quick and Dazai is exhausted, so it’s easy for you to scramble forward and grab his wrist, wrangling him onto the bed with you.
Dazai kicks and flails, you scowl at him when he messes up your duvet and he bares his teeth at you like a wild animal. You tumble on the mattress with him for a few seconds, he bucks you off of him and nearly onto the ground, you spit a few curses at him—wide awake now—and grab his wrists, pinning them above his head and pressing your knee into his lower back. If Dazai wasn’t half asleep, he’d probably have been able to come out on top but you can feel how tired he is with how sluggish his limbs move and how heavy they are whenever one of them lay on you, as if he can barely hold himself up.
“What’s your issue?” you demand, biting back a yawn as you glare down at him.
Dazai twists his head to the side, looking at you from the corner of his eye with an indignant expression. “My issue?” he spits out. “You just manhandled me onto your bed. Let go of me.”
“You’ve been sneaking into my bed for a month, Dazai.”
Dazai stills and you watch as his cheeks instantly flame up. His eye is wide as he stares at you from the corner of it. You’d almost think he’s cute if he wasn’t Dazai.
“I have not.”
He lies. He lies. He lies as if you haven’t literally caught him in the act. You stare at him aghast, you thought maybe he’d try to wiggle his way out of it with a ‘no, you’ve misunderstood,’ not a straight up lie.
“You liar,” you accuse, voice pitched in disbelief. “You just lied right to my face.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Dazai lies again; his face is even more red now, and you think that’s to show just how exhausted he is because Dazai usually wears countless masks to hide himself from everyone. You think you strip him of one, and there are two more there protecting him—like a goddamn hydra, cut off one head and two more grow back.
But it seems like catching him in the act tonight, while he’s already tired and half-dead on his feet, was the equivalent of burning the heads of the hydra. His masks are gone and he’s left embarrassed and fumbling. You almost want to laugh, but you’re so incensed by the sheer audacity he has to blatantly lie to your face that you can’t even bring yourself to.
“You just did it again.”
“I did not.”
“Dazai,” you say exasperated, shifting a bit and he lets out an irritated grunt, tossing you an outraged look as you accidently dig your knee even more into his back. “Stop fucking around. You’ve been coming into my room at night every three days for at least a month.”
Dazai looks mortified.
“You’ve known for a month,” he demands. He wiggles like a worm trying to free himself from your grasp but you double down, pressing your weight down on his back. “You’ve known for a month, and you never said anything. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’ve known for two and a half weeks,” you correct, “but I figured it was a month or more based on when I started noticing your…mood improvements.”
A gentle way of putting that he doesn’t look like he wants to murder anyone that looks in his direction at any given moment, but Dazai obviously understands what you’re getting at and looks even more humiliated.
You almost feel bad.
Almost.
“It’s not-” Dazai starts to say. He stutters. He stutters. A part of you wishes that you could record this, knowing you’ll never get the chance to see Dazai so caught off guard like this probably ever again. “I don’t-”
“I don’t care, Dazai,” you sigh tiredly. “I don’t mind. It doesn’t bother me. Just stop fucking being a creep about it, Christ.”
“No,” Dazai says, voice raised in pitch and petulant as he turns his face to press it down into your pillow. His words are muffled as he continues, “No. No. It’s ruined now. You’ve ruined it.”
Your eyes slide shut, you sigh. You’re suddenly tired again, you decidedly don’t want to deal with Dazai Osamu’s fickle and capricious nature. Because of that, you let go of him. You shake your head as you move off of him, sitting back down in bed and giving him a chance to flee, like he wanted to begin with.
Dazai does not budge.
At all.
You stare at him in disbelief.
Did he fall asleep?
You poke the side of his head and Dazai doesn’t let out a noise of complaint or shift even a centimeter, his shoulders rise and fall slowly and you turn your gaze up to the ceiling, praying for patience.
“You can’t sleep like that,” you say more to yourself than him. “You’re gonna suffocate yourself, you loser.”
You try to push him onto his side, but he startles awake as if he’d only just barely started dozing off. You watch as he jolts, sluggish limbs trying to push himself up, blinking blearily. You think he looks even more mortified when he realizes that as soon as he rested his head down, he immediately started drifting off.
“Dazai, you’re exhausted. Sleep,” you say, amusement dwindling as your brows furrow in concern. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so off-kilter before.
Has he really not slept since he left?
“No,” Dazai says, and even though the exhaustion is clear in his voice, he’s stubborn and trying to push himself up. “I can’t sleep because you had to go ahead and ruin it.”
“I didn’t ruin anything, Dazai,” you say, becoming increasingly more irritated as you lose out on more sleep. You have a meeting with Mori in the morning and you don’t want to head into it half-asleep. “You’ve been sneaking into my bed for a-”
“Stop saying that,” Dazai complains, covering his face with his hands as he sits at the edge of your bed, back turned to you. “It’s not-you’re just selfish.”
You gape. “Excuse me?” you say, even more appalled at this outlandish insult than you were over him lying to your face.
“You’re selfish. You keep the soft blankets and the nice mattress all to yourself. You’re selfish, you leave me with the scraps and then call me a creep for wanting a decent night of sleep,” Dazai says, voice a sulky hiss.
You stare at him—you don’t respond, just stare at the back of his head, willing yourself not to get violent, because there is no way that the boy who has moved himself into your apartment, leeches off your food, shampoos, soaps, and conditioners, has made a home on your couch and in your guest bedroom, who sneaks into your bed without even a small complaint from you, has the nerve to call you selfish.
As if Dazai can feel the rapidly approaching violence coming from you, he turns to look at you over his shoulder, visible eye wide and deceptively sad, head tilted to the side at a demure angle that you know he uses to get what he wants from whatever fool falls for the shitty act. You think he has some nerve trying to use it on you as if you won’t see right through it.
“It’s not fair,” he says. His voice is soft and sweet now, honeyed but you can all but taste the venom of the manipulation in the sweetness. “I just want to sleep too. It’s not fair you get all of the comfortable stuff. You’re making me seem like a creep, but I just want to sleep, and now everything is ruined.”
Therein lies the issue: the mattresses in your bedroom and the guest bedroom are in fact the same, and the sheets are the same brand and style but in different colors. The comfort of the bedroom is not the issue here. So, you choose to play his game.
“Fine,” you agree lightly. “You can take my bedroom. I’ll move into the guest bedroom. Nothing will be ruined anymore. Problem solved.”
“No.”
The sweet expression on his face drops, his gaze sharpens as he stares at you from the corner of his eye. You can barely refrain from rolling your eyes.
“No?”
“No.”
“And why not, exactly?” you ask tightly, the thin smile on your lips strained.
“You’re not allowed in my room,” Dazai says matter-of-factly.
Oh my god, you think to yourself, feeling a headache coming on, the fucking audacity of this boy.
“That is my guest room,” you say slowly. “If I want to go in there-”
“It’s been mine for over a year. It’s mine, and you’re not allowed in, so you have to stay here,” Dazai corrects firmly. “Therefore, everything is still ruined.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No.”
“Why, Dazai?” you ask, becoming frustrated quickly. “What is your fucking issue? Jesus, I’m tired, I-”
“I can’t sleep! I can’t sleep unless you’re yhere and now it’s ruined because you weren’t supposed to know,” Dazai says so suddenly and so loudly that it startles you, and then he looks distressed as if he didn’t mean to say that. “I can’t-I don’t know why-it just happened-I don’t-”
Dazai cuts himself off with a sharp breath when he realizes he can't even talk his way out of the situation, only fumbling over an explanation and making things worse for himself. If he looked embarrassed before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now. His visible eye looks glassy, expression twisted and uneasy. His exhaustion has loosened his tongue too much and now he looks like he wants to rid himself of it entirely. His fingers are curled into fists so tightly that you think his uneven nails must be drawing blood from his palms.
At once, all of the fight left in you disappears.
“I’m going,” Dazai says more to himself than you. “I’m going. I’m just going to go. It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”
You don’t know if by go he means go to ‘his’ room or if he means leave your apartment and hide away in his shipping container for days like he usually does when he’s upset about something. Either way, Dazai is close to dead on his feet—you can see it in the way he sways as he tries to push himself up and you can see it in the way his visible eye droops down, hardly able to hold it open. You don’t think he’d make it to the hall without his legs giving out on him, much less to his shipping container halfway across the city—he’d be easy pickings for the numerous enemies he’s made waiting for a chance like this to finally take him out.
You sigh and before he can get half a step away, you snatch his wrist and tug him right back down into the bed. He shoots you an affronted look.
“Stop manhandling me,” he complains again. “You’re turning into a brute like Chuuya.”
“Shut up,” you say halfheartedly, “and lay down. How is going somewhere else going to solve your sleeping problems? I don’t know how you’re somehow both the dumbest and smartest person I’ve ever met.”
Dazai curls in on himself a bit, and you frown because he’d usually preen and tease you about the compliment, but he only looks unsure now. “It’s ruined-”
“Lay down,” you say, firmer this time, watching as Dazai’s gaze lingers on you for a moment before he averts his attention to the ceiling. He lays down awkwardly, head resting on your pillow; he turns on his side so that his back is to you. He makes no move to pull the covers over him.
You let yourself roll your eyes now that he’s not looking at you, reaching down to pull the covers over both of you. You hesitate for a second, but then you choose to shift closer to him, resting your head down on the pillow as you wrap your arm loosely around his waist. He stiffens instantly, and you give it a second to see if he relaxes. When he doesn’t, you start to push yourself back away from him but before you can, he grabs your wrist to hold you in place, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he relaxes back against you.
“Nothing is ruined,” you murmur, eyes sliding shut now that you can finally rest. “I told you, I don’t care. Just sleep, Dazai. You need it.”
“... Only for tonight, one last time,” he yawns, unconsciously shifting back closer to you. It’s another blatant lie, but this one only makes you smile fondly.
“Sure,” you agree. “Only for tonight.”
When you wake up in the morning, Dazai is tucked right into your side. You’d shifted at some point during the night to lay onto your back and he’d curled right into you, resting his head on your shoulder and slinging an arm around your waist. Your gaze flickers to the clock on your nightstand and you let out a soft breath when you see that you have thirty minutes before you have to be at the main headquarters for your meeting with Mori but…
Your mouth dries when you glance down at Dazai. His bandaged eye is pressed into your body, but you can see the way his visible one is slid shut, lashes brushing his cheek as he sleeps. His face is so smooth and relaxed, breaths deep and even, peaceful in a way that you never really see of Dazai Osamu. You hadn’t fully closed your blinds before falling asleep last night, and you find yourself entranced by the way Dazai looks underneath the early morning sun, breath hitching as he lets out a soft noise in the back of his throat before shifting closer to you.
Fuck.
You let out a puff of air, eyes sliding shut. There’s no way you’ll be able to slip out of bed without waking him up, and you find that you don’t want to wake him up. Dazai is an irritating little shit, and he makes your life as difficult as he possibly can, but you think you’d be cruel purposely disrupting the little bit of peace in his life that he can have.
(You also think that you never give a shit about cruelty unless Dazai Osamu is somehow involved and the recipient of it, but you instantly dispose of that thought.)
Decision made, you reach for your phone and quickly shoot a text to Mori:
Something came up. Meet later.
And you promptly shut your phone off before settling back in bed with Dazai, arm curling around his waist and head falling to the side so that you can bury your face in his soft brown hair. You notice, as you doze back off, that it smells suspiciously like the expensive vanilla shampoo that you specifically told him not to use, but you’re already too sleepy to make a fuss out of it.
You’ll bitch about it later, you decide.
(If you can feel him smile against your shoulder as you fall back asleep with him, you ignore it.)
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you#dazai fluff#bsd fluff#bungo stray dogs fluff
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Who can't afford to pay the delivery driver extra and offers to "take their tip" as a tip?
Culture Shock
Miyawaki Sakura
California, USA
Le Sserafim just finished their second performance for Coachella. Whether it was loved or hated, the girls could only pat on their backs for their performance. A good night rest helps the girls sleep through the thoughts of their whole trip to a foreign country (barring Yunjin). The next day arises, and most of the girls are still sound asleep, but only Sakura was awake, maybe being the mom of the group really awakened her mom abilities to be up early and get a cup of coffee to start the day. Sitting by the kitchen counter, slurping her cup of black coffee as she scrolls through her Instagram, yet the negative comments starts to overwhelm her, making her hands slowly lose grip on her mug. Thankfully she managed to put it down safely before she drops it on the floor, that'll definitely be a mess. Before she closed the app, a post caught her eye. A post compiling a pictures of a bundle at a Target somewhere near California. Excited, she quickly googled the area, and lucky for her it's only 20 minutes away! "Oh, that's not too bad! I could get a taxi to get there." She monologued, but her mind shifted to the other members. Will they be fine without her? Eeeeh, they probably will, she thought. She got up to her room and quickly got herself changed, while her phone still rests on her palm, texting without looking. "I'm off to go shopping for a bit. Be good whilst I'm away okie~ 💜" and sent. She got herself ready, fully changed from her PJs and now in a presentable manner, ready to move out.
Kkura had to recap on how to book an Uber ride, because usually Yunjin does it and she barely focuses what the members do sometimes, so it took her a good minute to get to it. "Oh, that's pretty easy." She smiled, celebrating her victorious achievement by humming to Easy, reminiscing her wonderful time on the big stage. She wanted to scroll on her phone to kill time, but she remembered how crazy her social media feed at the moment so she decides to just fidget around, moving back and forth to look at the cool breezy morning, blowing her hair back as she enjoys the mixture of greenery and concrete. She must've spaced out too much since she didn't realized the Uber driver was already there. "Ahem, miss? Are you, Miyawaki?" A strong Californian accent jolted into Sakura's mind, popping the bubbles of her own world which made her realized she's been daydreaming and spacing out in to the view. "Oh! I'm sorry! Yes yes I'm Miyawaki." Kkura bowed repeatedly as she enters the backseat of the car, covering her face with her palms from the embarrassment. "So....Target right, Miss Miyawaki?" He asked, the taxi driver looking through his back mirror to see the flustered Japanese lady, her pale skin turning red from shame. Sakura only replied with a nod, which was enough for him to shift his gear from neutral back to drive to take her to her destination.
Judging by the way the driver wasn't fazed by the fact a singer that performed in Coachella yesterday made Sakura deduced that he doesn't know her. Cool, less talking needed for her. It's early in the morning anyways, so she couldn't gather enough social energy to be making conversations this early. The 40-ish year old driver seems like he knew the road in the back of his head, taking turns to maneuver the busy city life traffic. It was surprisingly short, a ride that was expected to be 40 minutes long due to traffic turned to a 20-minute leisure drive with the cab driver's help. "Thank you sir, how much did I owe you again?" Kkura asked, taking out her purse from her small handbag. "It's...30 bucks miss." He replied, looking at the meter counter, to calculate how much the lady needs to pay him. "Would you also like to lend a tip?"
"A tip?" Sakura was shocked, nearly jumped from shock from hearing the driver's request. The moment she heard the word tip, her mind immediately shifted to the night where she and Yunjin were sharing a room. Yunjin booted up porn on her laptop for them both to watch while touching each other. The scene included the woman sucking off the man's "tip", which made Kkura assume that's what the driver is requesting. Nervous, Sakura gave a reply, "I-I mean I would. But isn't it a bit too cramped here to be giving you a tip?" Her reply made the cab driver just as confused. "Huh? What do you mean, ma'am?" His confusion intimidated Sakura, making her heart beat faster. "O-oh, we can do it at the backseat of course! I forgot here it has more space."
The Uber driver got himself to the backseat to the backseat after parking his car. He was just trying to get some answers to the lady's answers to him asking for a tip. And this, was not what he expected. The moment he got in, Sakura helped him to sit up on the seat while she adjusted the front seat forward so there's space for her to kneel down. "Wa-wait, ma'am-" he paused as he stares at the japanese doing her thing, taking down his pants and revealing his cock. "I thought you wanted me to give you a tip?" She asked, looking up. Her eyes sprinkles innocence, that convinced the driver to understand that Sakura genuinely believes this is what he wanted. He meant money, but this works too. "W-well Miss Miyawaki, please give it to me." Sakura enjoyed the words that the man gave her, as her mouth starts to envelope his cock, beginning to suck on his growing shaft. The sight of a beauty like Sakura sucking him off made the driver extremely turned on, his cock growing bigger fast, he was ecstatic to see it. Sakura was into it, her lips wrapping around his size whilst her tongue worked his tip. The sensation was too good to hold on. "M-miss, I wa-wanna cum!" He grunted, warning Sakura who's running an assault on his cock. Sakura continues to bob her head back and forth on his cock, until eventually she takes it all inside her throat, taking it to the base as he came deep inside her throat, filling up the sweet japanese singer with cum.
Sakura's inviting lips traps his cock, not letting him free as he starts shooting cum, rope after rope of cum shooting in her mouth, reaching the back of her throat. "Fuuck...Miss. Your mouth game really surprised me." The driver panted, leaning to his seat as Kkura starts to clean her lips, licking the residue of semen and swallow. Sakura grinned as she grabs her stuff, and starts to leave the car. "It was nice meeting you mister, hope you enjoy your tip!" She waved goodbye as her hips sway, spending her day and money joyfully at the mall. Well now the US isn't as scary as she thought, heck she might've enjoyed it too much.
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hiii i absolutely adore ur works and the way u characterize your readers !!! if ur okay w it, would u mind writing anyting 4 choso?? no pressure ofc, it’s all up 2 u ( ˘ ³˘) <3
𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི secrets
࣪𓏲ּ. ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃
in which your older brothers best friend takes a liking to you.
you remember the day choso moved onto the block. him and his brother were the only asian children in a predominantly black neighborhood. most people left him and his family alone, besides from the occasional curious glances and whispers of wonder. they questioned how the family found your neighborhood and what gave them the right to just settle in and replace the previous family that lived there two years ago. the older people were upset that the landlord just forgot about the previous renters just like that.
their house was right beside yours, you sat down on the concrete stairs that connected to your front porch with a caprisun and a babydoll with matted hair in your hands. you watched with curious eyes as their family brought a multitude of things inside their home. with every piece of furniture you imagined where and how they would place. you don’t know how long you watched them, but it was long enough for one of the boys to look up from the heavy looking boxes they were carrying and spare a glance at you.
he had pink hair and freckles placed all over his face. he also seemed to be the same age as you. the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds. your heart thumped in your chest. you were interested, truthfully. you had never seen someone that looked like them. you grew up around melaninated people who resembled you. there was also a good population of mexican kids at your school as well. most of them shared a tan though, there weren’t any that were as pale as the two new kids.
he dropped the box and raised his hand to wave ay you. you gripped your now empty pouch, your eyes are wide. there was a newfound emotion swelling in your chest, it was a feeling you couldn’t vocally describe. it felt like millions of butterflies were flapping their wings inside your stomach, and a superb feeling of happiness exploded through your body, going as far as to reach your toes. with hesitance, you lifted your hand and waved at him as well.
the boy grinned and you’d be lying if you said his grin wasn’t contagious. you felt your lips mimicking the same movements that rested on his face.
your little moment was quickly interrupted when your brother stepped outside. his footsteps echoed on porch like bricks falling down. he sported only a pair of basketball shorts and dirtied nike slides that he generally refused to wear socks with. a red durag wrapped around his head, covering most of his forehead. he scratches the side of his neck while he observes the pink haired boy as well, a scowl rested on your brother’s face as he looked at the little boy. the little boy is freed from your brother’s nonvocal interrogation when his brother calls him to hurry with the boxes.
“mama said come wash up. food’s gonna be done soon.” your brother tells you before going back inside the house.
you look back over at the spot where the boy was but there’s no one there anymore. you frown to yourself as you stand up and walk back inside the house.
it was a random thursday. that day, choso and his brother finally began coming to school. it was their first time riding the bus. even before they came, you and your brother’s bus stop was in front of their house. as you and your brother stood there silently waiting for the bus, your mind drifts back to the boy. and maybe you were thinking about the boy too much because out of the corner of your eye, you seen a flash of pink. you turned your head slightly, and to your surprised he was right there beside you.
you couldn’t help but to flinch and jump back. you shuffle closer to your brother, who only kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes at your antics. in your defense, he snuck up on you! the boy smiled shyly at you, you took notice of the slight red that rested on his cheeks. just as shyly as a few days ago, you wave back to him. he was a little bit shorter than you so he had to look up slightly to look at you. as you looked up, this time you realized his brother is standing beside him. your eyes move away from the pink haired one to the black haired one.
you felt your throat dry as suddenly you became weirdly self conscious of what you were wearing. did you look too childish? you wondered. most girls in sixth grade were wearing this style, and you thought you were pretty caught up in middle school fashion; especially sixth grade fashion. you glanced down at your jordans, light blue jeans, and your favorite pink unicorn shirt. twinges of doubt filled your mind, maybe you did look too childish. you look back up at the black haired boy who was looking around impatiently.
he was very handsome, his face carried a boyish look that his little brother didn’t exactly have. the same feeling from yesterday came back but this one was more intense. so intense that you almost felt sick. you briefly wondered if you should go back inside the house and change into something that screamed big girl, but to your dismay the bus was already coming.
the two older boys were already bolting for the doors the second the door opened. with shakiness you looked at the pink haired boy.
“sit beside me on the bus.” you told him simply. as the two of you climbed onto the bus you counted in your head. you unassigned-assigned seat was five seats away from the bus driver. you’ve been sitting in the same spot since the school year, everyone had already picked their seats so you had slightly saved him from getting yelled at.
as the bus picked up acceleration, the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes until he decided to break the silence.
“hey, uhm what’s your name?” he asked cautiously. and when you gave it to him he repeated it a few times to himself. “my name’s yuji itadori.” he introduced himself.
“hi, yuji.” you smile.
conversation took over the two of you easily. the two of you talked about everything and nothing at all. yuji would occasionally slip jokes throughout the conversation and you’d laugh hard. you had never talked to any boys for this long, all of your friends were girls. usually when a girl and boy became friends in your school they soon became a couple. but as you talked more with yuji, you could tell that wouldn’t be the outcome with the two of you.
when the bus finally approaches your middle school, yuji stopped talking as much and a worried look had graced his features.
you tap itadori on his shoulder, gaining his attention. “i’ll help you around the school today, ‘kay? but pay attention ‘cus i might not be so nice tomorrow.”
as months went by, while your relationship with yuji grew closer, so did choso’s and your brother’s. the two older boys did just about everything together; played basketball, went to the mall, played on the football team together, went to their first high school party together, and much more. all four of you grew closer, it had gotten to the point both your mother and their mother had to buy more food because they now technically had four kids.
months morphed into years and before you knew it, you and yuji were in 10th grade. it was bittersweet because during the summer before the new school year started, you were sitting beside yuji watching your brothers graduate high school together. at their graduation dinner you cried and cried until you couldn’t cry anymore. everyone else thought it was because you were an emotional little sister and while that might’ve been true, you were also crying because you wouldn’t see choso as much.
you had grown an enormous crush for him over the last few years. you had kept your crush a secret but you had a feeling itadori was aware of your crush on his older brother. you couldn’t help it. while yuji was also just as handsome, it was something about choso.
his face had matured, sculpted by time, shedding the soft contours of youth for more defined features. several piercings adorned strategic spots, adding a hint of edge to his appearance. not to mention how taller he had gotten, he had to be 6’ something and every time he stood beside you, you felt like passing out. you would miss seeing him in the halls.
your two years of high school passed just as quickly. and before you knew it, your diploma was in your hands and you and yuji were screaming and hugging each other. proud tears slipped from your face as you watched yuji take pictures with his family. he was no longer short and stubby. no, he was a man now. both him and choso towered over their parents as they conjoined arms to posed. just like choso, his face shedded all of its fat and morphed into something more chiseled. you felt yourself tearing up even more as you realized the two of you were no longer children.
“i’m not a kid anymore.” you mumble against choso’s lips. he hums at your words as his hands rubs up and down on your ass.
it had been a year since you graduated high school and began venturing out into doing new things. your brother was gone to his girlfriend’s house, yuji has began hanging out with this megumi guy, and your parents were gone at a wedding a few cities over. you had gotten the bright idea to invite choso over to watch a movie. you think he got your intentions fairly quickly when you mentioned the house being empty.
“you’re m’best friends lil’ sister, though. he’d kill me if—“ he’s cut off by you pressing another kiss against his swollen lips.
“i’m not gonna tell him anything. ‘nd ‘m sure you’re not gonna say anything, right?” you retort back.
choso bites down on his lip, he’s obviously conflicted. you sigh to yourself as your hands go for his zipper. you look up at him the whole time while you undo his jeans. once his zipper is down, you could see the obvious bulge that rested against his briefs. you could feel your pussy growing wet just from the fact that he had gotten so hard just from kissing you.
you slowly lower yourself onto your knees on the wooden floor. you bring your lips to his tip and begin pressing kisses against it, choso flinches every time you come in contact with another spot. as a final message, you dart your tongue out and lap at the precum that’s beading from his tip.
“you wanna do this?” you ask once you pull away. choso’s looking down at you with his pale skin flushed. there’s a fiery look in his eyes as he stares at you in your eyes.
“remember, you’re not a kid anymore. so take everything ‘mma give you.” he tells you as he guides his dick inside your mouth.
𓍼݀֯८݂𓈒𓏼ིྀ. .𓏼ིྀ ̥১♡
“fuck!” you gasp as choso’s hand strikes your ass cheek. you’re gripping your covers inhumanely tight. you can’t find it in you to close your mouth, you’re usually not as vocal with guys but choso feels like he’s scratching this itch that’s been there for years.
choso huffs out a breath as he slowly pulls his cock out of your creaming pussy, you’re so messy leaving a white base around his cock as well as dripping down your thighs. he slaps his cock against your clit a few times, watching as you shudder with every smack.
he wraps his hand around the back of your neck as he slowly pushes his cock back inside of you.
“this what you wanted, right? hm?” he coos at you. he watches as his cock sinks deeper into your wetness inch by inch.
you can’t stop the loud gasp from leaving your throat as your eyes roll back. who knew someone as skinny as him could be carrying something so long in pants. “chooo.” you whine, it feels like he’s stretching you out all over again.
“i know, baby.” he moans with you. he watches as the fat of your ass bounces against his pelvis. “you feel so good, mama.” he whines.
“only for you, daddy.” you giggle.
“yeah? this pussy mine, baby?” he asks with amusement. he removes his hand from your neck and uses both hands to spread your ass cheeks so that he could watch both holes. seeing your pussy wrapped around his cock like some sort of elastic has him twitching while still inside.
“mhmm. your pussy.” you don’t even know if your own words are truthful or if it’s just the sex that has you talking crazy.
“rub that pussy for daddy, then. cum all over this dick, baby.” he’s picking back up speed, at some point he goes from thrusting to pounding your pussy.
your back is arching even deeper, if possible. everything feels intensified as you rub at your clit. you feel tempted to try to crawl away from his never ending thrusting, but you told him you were a big girl now and you were trying to stand on that.
“shit so wet f’me.” he curses to himself.
he fucks you so well that your breathing gets caught in your chest a few times. you wish he would’ve fucked you earlier, everything about him is perfect. after a few minutes of straight drilling your pussy, he slows down so that it doesn’t hurt too much. you fingers are still slowly rubbing on your clit, some of your sticky arousal leaked from your pussy down to your fingers and palm.
“gonna cum, cho.” you’re gasping as you feel your orgasm approaching. “fuckfuckfuck— ‘m cummin’ cho!” you moan as you begin cumming around his cock, making an even bigger mess. you press your face deeper into the mattress as you begin babbling random words. nothing makes sense right now, all you can think about is his dick sliding in and out of you.
“there we go. goooood girl.” his moans turn into whimpers as his own orgasm approaches. he fucks your faster and harder as his peak builds up. “daddy’s turn now. mhmm, stay still f’me, mama. ‘m ‘bout t’cum too.”
instead of staying still, you begin throwing your ass back against him. choso lets out a breath as he watches your wetness leave little strands every time you pull away from him. “fuck, take it baby.” he groans. instead of rhythmically pulling out, he only shifts his hips a little as his orgasm pours from his cock. strands of white cum escape from his dick, filling your pussy.
the two of you stay still for a few seconds until choso finally pulls out.
“we’re not doin’ this shit nomore, forreal.” you can’t tell if he’s telling you or trying to convince himself.
“we’ll see.” you reply sarcastically.
#asks ! ˚ ༘ ೀ#pwinkprincess ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა#cho ᡣ𐭩 ୨୧ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶#jjk ! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#i imagine yuji and cho adopting a few habits frm growin up wif de#yuji def knowsss looool#daddy chosoo yummm#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#yuji jjk#jjk#choso x female reader#choso x you#choso smut#choso x y/n#choso x reader#jujutsu kaisen choso#jjk x black!fem reader#jjk x black y/n#jjk x black reader#choso x black!reader#choso x black reader
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Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader
Author’s note: Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots!
@lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.
Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.
English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Summary: You haven't been married to your husband Daemon Targaryen for very long - but you've learnt to enjoy your marriage to the Rogue Prince. But unlike normality, you haven't sought out Daemon for a few affectionate visits throughout the day, and that makes him suspicious…
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader
Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Period smut; fingering (f in v), p in v sex - implied
Word count: 2.2 k
Other stories of mine
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Daemon opens the door, but only darkness reveals itself to him. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but steps into your shared chambers. He is looking for his wife, who has been by his side for several moons now.
During this time, he has already become accustomed to you seeking him out throughout the day, sometimes just to get a little peck and sometimes because you want to tell him something - but today you have not sought him out.
His heavy footsteps sound in your chambers as he walks further inside.
"Are you hiding from me, woman?" he murmurs.
He walks over to a small table with fruit and sweet dishes on it. He takes a bunch of grapes between his fingers before letting them disappear into his mouth.
"Has another moon gone by?" he asks into the room and turns to your bed, where he recognises the outline of a figure under the covers. A slight grin plays around his lips before he walks towards the bed.
But as he gets closer, he picks up an unusual scent.
"What's that smell?" he asks.
And suddenly your voice rings out, "It's oak bark tea... My abdomen is a cramp," you mumble from under the covers.
He's still smiling and comes closer to the bed.
"What have we got here? I wonder what trouble could be brewing under here," he says, reaching lightly for the blanket.
"No... Go away," you say quietly and try to hold the blanket tight.
But Daemon pulls the blanket down further and kneels on the bed with one knee.
"Ah... there you are... what a view," he says sarcastically as the blanket reveals your face. Your hair lies dishevelled on the pillow, your face a little sleepily puffy as your annoyed gaze meets his.
"Yes....my beautiful wife," he says and smiles. He pulls the blanket down further and a "Go away," sounds from you again.
He smiles at your words, "Why would I do that when I have such a sight in front of me?" he says, a hint of sarcasm still in his voice again.
You sigh and try to turn away, but you feel Daemon kneel down further on the bed and his hand grips you gently.
"Ah, ah, ah," he says and lies down next to you, his arm wrapped around your middle.
His warm breath brushes the back of your neck as he presses his face into yours, "What's wrong," he whispers.
You sigh again and already feel his large, surprisingly warm hand on your abdomen... a warm touch of your dragon.
"I'm bleeding..." you say almost inaudibly, but Daemon hears your words and smiles slightly. He knows how you feel during your period. You're vulnerable and sleepy. The cramps force you to lie down and only warmth and strange teas from the maesters give you some relief... well, and other things.
But you're his wife and according to him, you should always feel carefree - but he can't refrain from teasing you a little.
"Pardon?" he whispers, smiling slightly, while you sigh lightly again.
"I'm bleeding..." you repeat your words and mumble into your pillow.
"Love..." he whispers again.
You close your eyes and feel this inner tension that tickles your fingertips.
"I'm on my period," you say a little louder into the pillow.
"Love... Sorry, I don't understand," Daemon replies and his lips graze your neck.
His behaviour makes you seethe, why can't he leave you alone?
"Daemon! Seven hells! I'm on my period! I'm in pain and I'm bleeding!", you call out and raise your head slightly.
He chuckles, "It's fine... no need to shout like that..."
You shake your head slightly, wanting to push his arm away, but he has a firm grip on you. His hand slides slowly downwards, his fingers make light, circular movements and you stiffen slightly.
"Daemon, what are you doing," you suddenly whisper.
"I want you to feel good, love... It'll help you relax..." he murmurs into your ear, nibbling lightly.
You gasp and hold his hand back, "Daemon... there's blood... a lot... it's the first day..." you say hesitantly.
He continues to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers sliding along your thigh, not in the least impressed by your words.
"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. A woman's body is a natural, beautiful thing.... It's beautiful because it's you," he kisses your cheek and lets his nose glide gently along it. His hand strokes along your thigh and you feel a slight throbbing between your thighs alongside the numbing pain in your abdomen.
"Do you want me to take care of you?" he whispers, kissing the soft skin behind your ear.
You bite your lip lightly, but you shake your head slightly.
"Daemon... There really is a lot of blood..." you repeat your words quietly.
He chuckles softly again, another kiss landing on your neck, "Love... a true warrior isn't afraid of a little blood..." he murmurs.
His hand slides further, "Just relax..." he whispers and you try. Slowly, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on his touch as a heavy breath leaves your lips.
Gently, he kisses your neck and shoulder as he holds you close."It's nothing to be ashamed of either. Especially not my wife. It's natural," he whispers in your ear.
His fingers pull your nightgown up, very slowly. His fingers leave a fiery trail on your thigh and you try to ignore the dull ache that runs through your abdomen.
You can't suppress it, your hips begin to move in slight circular motions as his fingers glide through your pubic hair, caressing you. You gasp as you can already feel his arousal from behind as he presses himself lightly against you.
His fingers reach their destination, slowly running along your folds, and you gasp again – your legs spread slightly.
"That's it... I'll take care of you..." he whispers in your ear and you nod slightly.
The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers find your pearl and apply light pressure. Your legs spread wider and a smile graces his lips.
"Daemon..." you gasp.
"I know..." he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe again as his fingers rub gently over your clit.
"Your body is natural and beautiful. Even in all its bloody glory," he whispers and you nod, your breathing quickening.
He kisses you on the cheek again as his fingers tease over your glistening entrance, gently spreading your folds.
You feel the familiar stretch as his fingers slide inside you. But not all the way in, he teases you a little and you exhale heavily, your hips moving towards his fingers, longing for his touch. And then he fulfils your craving – his fingers stretch your walls, trying to find a good angle, pushing deeper. He revels in the slickness that coats his fingers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with the blood that flows.
"Feel how wet you are for me," he whispers teasingly, his smile pressing against the back of your neck.
"Daemon!" you gasp, but also a small moan leaves your lips.
He chuckles briefly, but your concentration is once again fully on his movements as his fingers penetrate deeper.
"Gods..." you gasp and he grins. Slowly, but firmly, his fingers push forward. He can feel your walls clench, longing for release.
"You know I love all the sounds you make, but I love your moans the most. I can feel your walls tighten around my fingers as if your body wants to hold me inside you while I make you tremble..." he whispers in your ear.
You moan again as his thumb grazes your pearl. He continues his expert ministrations, he is determined to make you forget the discomfort, to lose yourself in a wave of pleasure that only he can provide.
His fingers curl inside you, beckoning you as his thumb presses against your clit again. You press your arse against his hardness and he moans into your neck. As he feels your hips moving towards his fingers, urging for more, he complies, increasing the intensity of his movements. He curls his fingers, angling them to hit that sweet spot within you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with desire.
"Moan for me…" he commands, his voice laced with dominance, "Let me hear your pleasure, let it echo through these chambers."
And you obey as his fingers thrust deeper. He bites into your neck as his fingers tease your walls. His fingers continue their exploration, delving deeper inside you, seeking out the spots that make you writhe with pleasure. He maintains a steady rhythm, his touch skilled and attentive to your body's responses.
Smacking noises echo in your chambers as his fingers pump in and out faster. His fingers sliding in and out of your wetness with ease. With each thrust of his fingers, he can feel the slickness and warmth of your arousal, heightening his own desire.
He starts to apply more pressure and lets a third finger slide in. He knows what you like and he gives it to you the way you need it. He stretches your walls while they continue to clench around his fingers. Daemon's eyes gleam with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he feels your response to his touch. He revels in the power he holds over your pleasure, his fingers moving with a practiced precision.
"Oh, my sweet wife," he murmurs, the words laced with a mixture of possessiveness and anticipation. "You are so responsive, so eager for my touch."
His body presses against yours, his hard length grinding against your backside as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. His lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your fear of smearing him with your blood is forgotten, you need more.
"Daemon... Daemon," you whimper again and again, your arm reaching back, to the back of his head. Your fingers reach into his silky hair and he grunts. As he continues to drive you towards the peak of pleasure, Daemon's own desire grows, his need for release becoming undeniable. But at this moment, he's focused solely on your pleasure, on taking you to the edge and beyond, on helping you forget your discomfort.
"Yes... my love... Come on, come on my fingers, milk them like you always milk my cock when I fuck that delicious cunt," he growls into your neck.
And that pushes you over the edge. You cry out, your walls tightening around his fingers and Daemon grunts out.
You whimper, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he kisses your neck. Your eyes are closed, your breathing rapid as he pulls his fingers out when your walls stop clenching. A pleasant warmth flows through your abdomen, soothing away the pain more effectively than every maester's tea could.
As you catch your breath, you glance slightly over your shoulder and look at Daemon. He chuckles as he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.
"This is a sight I couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the day..", he kisses your neck again, "But I'm going to enjoy it“, he whispers into your ear.
"Daemon, no!" you say with wide eyes.
He just grins as you avert your eyes and blush. You hear the smacking sound as he licks his fingers.
But now you have to laugh as you stare at him again – his eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying it.
"You're impossible..." you say softly as he still licks his fingers.
"Daemon, stop it!" you say and giggle, but he just grins and pulls you closer to him again.
"Delicious," he murmurs.
He starts stroking and caressing your belly again.
His breathing slows down as he holds you close. The sounds and smell of you, your little body in his embrace, it's almost more than he can bear at this moment.
He gently grabs your chin, as if he were holding something fragile and precious, and gently pulls your head upwards. When you return his gaze, it is gentle and tender.
"And you are my wife. You may feel sick, you may bleed, sometimes I may even be the cause of your anger. But that's all part of your body's natural rhythm. So please, my sweet girl, never hide from the pain, never keep your misery a secret. Otherwise, I promise you, it will cause me more grief than your blood..." he says gently. These moments with him are rare, but you savour them – your lovely husband. You lean towards him and let your lips slide onto his. He growls slightly and you feel his hand on your arse. You giggle slightly and feel his smile on your lips.
But the grip on your arse tightens and he pulls you towards him, positioning you perfectly against his crotch. He still can't hide his excitement and you gasp slightly. Your lips are still dancing around each other, you can feel the coppery taste on his tongue as he starts to undo his trousers. He growls again as his hand spreads your cheeks slightly and presses his hardness between your thighs from behind. You whimper as his cock slides along your folds.
"Let's see if we can give you a little more relief, shall we?" he growls against your lips and you moan as the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance.
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#prince daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen smut#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon targaryen x reader#the rogue prince#house of the dragon#daemon targaryen oneshot#matt smith#hotd#hotd imagine#hotd smut#hotd fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon targaryen imagine#fire and blood#daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader#daemon targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x oc#hotd fan fiction#daemon smut#uncle daddy daemon
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toxicex!jj randomly showing up at your place (maybe after having one too many drinks and he can’t stop thinking about reader), cornering you and flipping up your nightgown and kissing all up on your thighs, whispering into them how much he misses you and how you taste and how he’ll do anything for you to let him have you again 😩😫
♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🩶
you could recognise the shape of jj through the stained glass window of your front door anyday. as you squint into the hallway, you glance at the clock on the wall— wondering why on earth he’d be paying you a visit at this time.
you swing the door open, voice hushed as you frown into the dark where he stands leaning against your porch pillar.
“jj? what do you want? it’s literally 3am.” you hiss, annoyance in your tone. he seems unaffected by your frustration, dragging his eyes up and down your body covered by a thin night gown, huffing out a smirk as he fixes his cap before taking a step forward. with doing so brought the stench of alcohol. “you’re drunk.” your face falls a little, taking an instinctive step back as he enters your space in the door way.
“uh, technically no. you can drink but not get drunk, y’know?” he rambles. “anyway, i’m here…for you.” he smiles like it’s a secret between the two of you, the last word of his sentence punctuated by the pad of his finger prodding your chest.
“for me?” you furrow your eyebrows and his smile forces his dimple in as he takes in your reaction. you looked so cute like this, the low light forcing your pupils to stay all blown out as you stare up at him, giving you that doe-like appearance that drove him crazy.
“mhm…” he takes another step inside your house, and you back up against a corner table where you usually leave your keys. it clatters against your body and the blonde quickly reaches around you, hands planted either side of your hips, stilling it with a giggle.
“why are you here?” you try to sound serious, unphased — but the truth was, you both knew why he was at your door at this time, inebriated — and you weren’t totally against it. you missed him.
“can a guy not just stop by his ex girlfriends house in the middle of the night to say hi?” he defends, amusement worn clearly on his face. when you simply blink at him, the mask drops a little. “cant stop thinkin’ about you… ‘kay? miss you, mama.” he tilts his head and you shudder at the feeling of his breath on your neck. as he does so, he gently slots his knee between your legs and widens them.
“jayj…” is all you manage and he closes his eyes, shaking his head in a denial-like state.
“shh… shush… okay, i—i know. just… lemme taste it, yeah? s’been a minute… know you miss it too babydoll.” as he speaks, eyes pleading with you upon opening again, he sinks to his knees slowly, seeking permission. you clear your throat, eyes jumping from the open front door to the stairs where you knew your parents were sound asleep.
you say nothing, so he pinches your night gown and drags it up to your stomach, revealing tremoring thighs and a slicked up pussy. he bites down on his bottom lip as if to suppress the grin that forms as he huffs out a laugh through his nostrils.
“mm. keep it wet for me, huh? man i miss it.” he presses two thumbs along side your folds, spreading them apart to reveal the glossy insides and pulsing clit. “would be rude of me not to kiss ‘er goodbye, right?” he glances up at you only once before moving in, the only sound in the hallway for a few seconds being the wet smacking of your ex boyfriend making out with your cunt.
you realise you’d been holding your breath a few seconds later and exhale, gripping the table you were perched against as the blonde slides a hand beneath your thigh to lift it up, holding it out the way.
you go to grab the hand on you, perhaps to remove it on instinct — but like jj had some kind of spell cast on you, as soon as you lay your hand over his, you freeze and keep it there — relishing in the comfort it brings. he draws his pinkie back, holding you there as he continues to please you with his mouth. you wished you could see past his flaws, because you really, really missed him.
♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🩶
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Could you pretty please do the lin kuei bros x siren reader 🙏🥺
Bad Things to Come for Travelers
Yip notes: Since when were sirens bird women? I didn't know this. Hope we are talking about the mermaid kind.
Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Siren! Afab reader
Warnings‼️: This may be short
It was supposed to be a simple mission. All the brothers needed to do was retrieve an item for Liu Kang. Some jade artifact or something. This mission took them to rocky cliffs and harsh waves. There were points where they had to hug the wall to prevent their deaths. They believed that would be the only challenge they would face while on this journey.
Wishful thinking…
The brothers were reaching the top of the cliff, their bodies somewhat soaked by the waves that were just barely miss them. You hid behind a rock to peek at your new visitors. Three of them? Oooh, this will be a fun challenge for you. Let’s see if you can get all three men.
The brothers got to a spot that seemed relatively safe. A part where there were no waves crashing and the cliffside was flat. They took that as an opportunity to take a breather. You took that opportunity to sing your lovely siren melody. The wind blew your voice into the men’s ears. At first they thought it was the wind itself making that sweet sound. No, that can’t be right. The wind had been blowing nonstop and only made that sound now. Bi-Han was the first to act by covering his ears with his hands.
“Cover your ears.” He commanded.
“Why?” Tomas asked.
Kuai Liang listened and didn’t ask questions, leaving Tomas in a vulnerable place. Bi-Han remembered something that Liu Kang told him before going out. He warned that if he were to hear anything that sounded like singing that he should cover his ears immediately. It’s a sign of a siren trying to lure men to their doom.
That’s exactly what’s happening.
Kuai Liang stared at Bi-Han while in a panic. If they move their hands to cover Tomas’ ears they put themselves at risk. It was too late; Tomas was already in a trance. His pupils were dilated and his eye color barely showed. He walked closer to the edge of the cliff. Kuai Liang called for him to stop. Tomas looked down the cliff and saw you lying on a rock. You looked up at him, giving him a smile. You were happy not because he noticed you but because he was close to his demise.
You don’t know these men, remember? You don’t know what they have up their sleeves. That’s when you saw Tomas pull out his karambit that shined even though it was cloudy. He threw down a smoke bomb and he was gone. You were left confused and wondered what you just encountered. Did you encounter an Enenra that was disguised as a human?
Then you heard the sound of stone being struck. When you looked up you saw Tomas sliding down the cliffside, using his karambit as a way to slow him down. Once he hit the ground he came up to you with that same crazed look you usually see in your victims. Except Tomas was not a victim. Though he was in a trance he was smart enough to not leap off the ledge and be impaled by sharp rocks.
“Wow…you’re even more beautiful up close.” He said with this lovesick tone.
His hand went up to caress your wet hair. You were appalled, astonished, flabbergasted even. Your victims never got this close to you. But now you have a man in front of you who can’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t even comment on your tail. He knelt down in front of the rock you were lying on and had his head in his hands, admiring you like you were a goddess. It was a nice change, you couldn’t lie.
Kuai Liang and Bi-Han stepped closer to the cliffside and stared down. Good to see that Tomas wasn’t dead. Kuai Liang was unsure of what his brother was doing until Bi-Han gave a hint.
“That fool, he fell for the siren’s song.”
“I thought those were myths.” Kuai Liang was surprised.
You noticed that the two were looking down at you. Try your luck again. Maybe this time at least one of them will meet their maker today.
You sang your song once more. Bi-Han was quick to cover his ears again, Kuai Liang unfortunately wasn’t quick enough. Bi-Han knew there was something wrong when he saw his brother wasn’t moving at all. His pupils dilated until there was no more golden brown showing. He tried to take a step forward but Bi-Han used his leg to push him back. He couldn’t trip him because he would accidentally kill him. He tried his best to push him back with his legs or even his whole body. Kuai Liang was fighting back while in this daze. He just had to get a closer look. There was no other option and Bi-Han was so frustrated he decided to grab his brother with his hands and pull him back.
uh oh!
bad decision, bi-han!
The effects of your song immediately got Bi-Han. His eyes grew darker from the dilation of his pupils. The brothers were not fighting anymore but were instead staring at you. You thought this would be the moment you killed two birds with one stone. Nope, you’re in for a surprise.
Bi-Han pushed his brother out of the way before creating steps made from ice down the cliffside. Kuai Liang was not gonna lose to his older brother so he started acting quickly. He stabbed his kunai to the side of the cliff and held onto the rope tightly before taking steps down. You lay there, not angered but disappointed. How did you mess up that badly? When did humans have the ability to do tricks like that?
Before you knew it, Bi-Han slid all the way down to you and Kuai Liang scaled down the mountain. You got three beautiful men in front of you and you have the nerve to complain? Yeesh!
They adored you which was weird. Usually, people look at you with fear but for once you get to see the faces of your victims. Tomas melted every time you placed your hand under his chin. Kuai Liang liked to admire how your scales shine and how flowy the end of your tail is. Bi-Han…he’s already acting up. He’s acting possessive, holding your waist and pressing you against his body. The other two are getting agitated now. They want you just as badly as Bi-Han does.
“I was the first one down here,” Tomas argued.
“I was just as willing to see her up close as you were!” Kuai Liang shouted at Tomas.
“I am your grandmaster! She should be to me!” Bi-Han was shouting right in your ear.
Alright, you see why the other sirens tell you not to let the trance go on for ages. They get possessive and see what they could potentially do you don’t want them turning on you or each other. Nobody wants to handle a burnt corpse or a frozen carcass.
You sighed, knowing that the fun had to end now. Might as well bring them back to shore. You grabbed Bi-Han with your right hand and Kuai Liang with your left. You bit the back of Tomas’ uniform before diving into the sea. One second they were on the rock with you and the other they were being flung up into the air and landing on the wet sand. Kuai Liang rubbed his head after that rough landing while Bi-Han was trying to catch his breath after inhaling too much seawater. Tomas was booking it down the shore and was already jumping in the water to catch you. He grabbed onto your tail and begged you to not leave him. You almost felt bad for doing it but you knew he couldn’t stay with you so you had to push him off. He swam away quickly, leaving them in an uncomfortable situation.
“I think Tomas is still in a trance.” Kuai Liang said.
“No, I just wanted to have her around for a little bit longer,” Tomas replied in a sad tone, the waves pushing his body back to the shore.
Bi-Han finally caught his breath and realized what happened. That was unpleasant and he could not forgive himself for falling for that. He grabbed Kuai Liang and Tomas and started dragging them in the opposite direction of the sea.
“Wait, where are we going?” Tomas asked, “Aren’t we supposed to-“
“I AM NOT GOING BACK UP THAT CLIFF!”
For the first time, the brother will return to Liu Kang empty-handed. Bi-Han can tell Liu Kang to get it himself because he is not going through that again.
Yap notes: I hate posting late I'm sorry. And yes I did make a Mandela Catalogue reference. I don't really have much to say so yeah. Adiós!
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mortal kombat1#mk fanfic#bi han#bi han x you#bi han x reader#bi han mk#bi han sub zero#bi han mortal kombat#mortal kombat bi han#kuai liang x you#kuai liang x reader#mk1 kuai liang#mortal kombat kuai liang#kuai liang#tomas vrbada x you#tomas vrbada x reader#tomas x you#tomas x reader#tomas vrbada smoke#tomas vrbada#lin kuei brothers
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Idk if you’re taking request rn or not but..I just had surgery on my stomach today and feel like absolute doo-doo. Can’t lift anything over 10lbs or really move at all comfortably. If you have the time and want to, I’d love some cod fluff 🫶🏻 no pressure of course, nonetheless, I shall survive without my delulu dreams :p <3
Hello anon! Apologies for the wait! Here's some post-surgery care fluff with the boys
Discharge
(Knife wounds tw, 141 & Reader, GN reader, Fluff)
You don't remember much after you see the knife sticking out of your stomach
It was supposed to be a simple night sweep- an intel retrieval under the cover of darkness in a remote seemingly abandoned village
In and out, simple and easy. Silenced weapons, clean shots, and certainly no close combat
That is, until someone comes at you from the darkness with a knife
You hear Gaz's shout a moment too late, turning and ready to fire, before you feel a dull sort of pain bury itself below your ribs in a shallow wound
You get your shot off, but not before the blade embeds itself next to your stomach
You remember turning to Gaz, unable to see his horror stricken face from behind his NVGs, stumbling towards him...
and then darkness
When you wake up, you're back on base
The pain registers second to the sound of voices, and when you blink open your eyes you find all four members of the team gathered around the foot of your bed
"Having a briefing without me?" You quip, and smile when you see the relief on their faces
Gaz is the first to apologize for not watching your six, but you wave him off despite his downcast brown eyes. These things tend to happen. It could have been him, and you tell him you're glad it wasn't
The tension is dispelled when Soap tells you all the things you tried to say as you were med-evaced and in and out of consciousness, claiming you went as far as to confess your love for him
He gets a sharp look from Price for that, which is eased by the relief on his face. He tells you the blade missed any major arteries, that you'll be in the hospital for a few more days pending release
Of course, when you ask if the mission was a success he raises his eyebrows at you as if there's any other answer than 'yes'
Ghost is quiet as he lingers towards the back, but when the opportunity arises he doesn't miss the chance to make a wry joke at your expense
"Thought you had the stomach for this kind of work." He drawls, and when Soap snorts you roll your eyes. It's the needling kind of humor that he uses to mask the fact that he cares, and rather than offend you it brings for a familiar affection towards your LT
As Price says, it's a few days of boredom before you're allowed to be discharged, and in the time that follows you find yourself scarcely without company from the team
Price is the first to show, excusing his visit with the need for you to sign official paperwork and after-action reports. He gives you the debrief for the mission- but lingers after to smoke a cigar. When you ask if he has other places to be, he tells you he's ignoring the brass for a bit. Why would they complain about him visiting one of his best soldiers in medical?
He leaves a small bottle of whiskey after, with strict instructions to not indulge until you've been cleared by the doctors
Gaz is next, and you watch him in the doorway as he hesitates with a small bouquet behind his back. It's pretty, and he confesses he wondered on the way over if it was too much of a gesture. You can tell he feels bad about the whole affair, but a firm squeeze to his hand makes his shoulders relax
He spends the rest of his time with you sharing memes, and you laugh so hard your monitor beeps
Ghost shows up intermittently, and his first question is always about your pain level. You think he's looking for an excuse to go intimidate some of the nurses into making you more comfortable, but you assure him you're well taken care of
You can't sleep one night, and somehow you find him seated in the chair beside you, comfortable in the silence as he polishes his knives
Soap is the one to sneak snacks in past the nurses, and when you tell him you're under strict orders he only waves a crisp in front of you before you fold. It's always easy chatting with him, and he shares all the happenings around base- the drill sergeant who was busted for hiding a barracks bunny in his quarters, an intelligence officer who was organizing a contraband ring, the idiot rookie who got a black eye during target practice...
He always pouts when he has to leave, texts from Price telling him he needs to get back to duty dragging him away. He promises to come back later, and he always does
A selfish part of you isn't looking forward to leaving the hospital only because you enjoy the visits so much. You knew your team cared for you, but seeing them like this- taking time out of their day to keep you company, to ensure you are comfortable, and to simply spend time with you, is all the reminder you need to know you're exactly where you belong ❤️
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Never Shall We Die (2)
«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »»
PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader
PLAYLIST: right here!
pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)
SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?
The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.
Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.
GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk
WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k
Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k
@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman
masterlist
WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags in following parts
[AN]: part 2 !!!! ty for reading pt1, hope you guys will enjoy this too <3 as always, ty to @highvern for beta-ing and sitting through this entire thing lmao <3 happy reading, and remember to tell me what you think !!
THE FOREVER EMPTY DECK, for whatever reason, was occupied when you trudge up the stairs in an attempt to free yourself from the stuffiness of your quarters.
You make out Seungkwan sitting cross legged on the floors, very carefully pouring himself a bottle of something unmarked into a bowl. Chan is there as well, very meticulously explaining a happening to…Hoshi, who sits by with an interested expression, mouth turned into a frown with his brows furrowed. Chan is using his hands as he continues, unaware of your presence.
“Oh!” Seungkwan calls you out by name, causing the rest of the clique to turn their heads to you. “Come have a drink!”
“What’s this?” Hoshi starts. He’s smiling, but his reddened cheeks give away his very obviously intoxicated state. “Has miss princess decided to grace us with her presence?”
You ignore him, acknowledging Chan when he asks why you were up at this hour as you sit between him and Seungkwan.
“Just needed some air,” you mumble.
“Well,” Hoshi is loud when he spills half the drink out of the cup he was pouring it into. “Air pairs well with rum.”
He holds out a cup of the liquid for you, swaying slightly from the effort of holding it far out towards you.
“I am a lady.” You resist the effort to turn your nose up.
“Okay lady, bottoms up!” he slurs.
When you continue to keep your hands folded, he retracts his hand with what you think is a prominent scowl, but it looks more like a disappointed pout if anything. He takes a dejected sip from the cup.
“Come on, just one!” Seungkwan tries to convince you.
“Leave her alone, Kwan, miss princess is too good to be drinking with pirates,” Hoshi chides.
You aren’t sure if it was meant to be a jab at all, considering the strange switch in behaviour he seems to have adopted as his drunk persona. You watch in silence as he reaches over to plant a big kiss on Seungkwan’s cheek in affection, grabbing his head strongly. He yelps, pushing his captain off with a face.
But regardless of what he meant, the defiance sparked within you anyway, and you find yourself gripping the neck of the poorly dusted bottle that sat in the middle amidst even more bottles, cups and twine. The motion has all eyes on you, even as you bring the bottle to your lips, preparing yourself for one of the dumber things you’ve done.
Locking eyes with Hoshi’s sharp ones over the bottle, you chug it of its remnants, ignoring the fiery burn and the trickles of liquid that trail down the corners of your mouth.
You hear Seungkwan and Chan cheering, Hoshi remaining stoic as he refuses to be the one to look away from above the bottle.
By the time you’ve slammed the bottle back onto the hardwood, you’re struggling to maintain your vision and you’re forced to tear your eyes away from the man that sits across from you, unwavering.
Resisting the urge to vomit, you can only smile weakly at Seungkwan and Chan who are overly excited over your endeavour, clinking their own cups as they down another one in your honour.
It kickstarted your spree in any case as the night commenced, continuing to accept refills as you sip slower than before, savouring the taste that you couldn’t really say you enjoyed. The feeling, however.
Seungkwan and Chan took longer than you’d expected to pass out, noting the way they continued to clink and drink with no regard.
Hoshi seemed to need little to be washed away, something you found yourself silently snorting at, even as both boys continued to snore quietly behind you.
��What’s so funny?” Hoshi asks, taking a sip from his cup.
You snap your head up, drunk and hot. You consider shaking your head to indicate a null, but you can’t say you have much control over yourself at the moment.
“You take so little to get tipsy,” you comment with a little giggle.
“What makes you think I’m drunk?” he asks.
His red face? The uncharacteristic warmth he’d been treating you with all night? Who knows? But right now you ignore his question, zeroed in on something. He’s wearing one of his stupid linen shirts that are always buttoned too low, the ones that make it impossible to keep your eyes on his face.
Your eyes find the distorted slash of tissue that resides on his chest, right over his left peck, right over his heart. You’ve noticed the scar on multiple occasions. Not that he seems to ever try to hide it. You decide to mention it.
“How’d you get that?” you whisper. It feels right to talk like that; the deck is silent, the sea is calm in her regard to pushing the ship where it needs to go. Your legs are pulled up to your chest, cheek on your knees.
He follows your gaze to his scar, coming round to answer you with a drunk, dopey smile on his face. “Got hungry.”
Possible, but you also get the feeling he wasn’t about to give you a straight answer if you pushed anyway. But your gaze remains on his chest, ingraining the ridges of the scar to memory.
And with every moment that passes, it looks less and less like a scary altercation of someone trying to carve his heart out, and more like he may have fallen off his horse while riding. Accidentally cut himself with a steak knife at the supper table. Took a bad blow during a practice sword fight.
And with every moment that passes, the backgrounds of your mind’s pictures turn from the rugged sea to the grassy training grounds of the palace, the hay and brown of the stables, the silver glints of the dining hall. The thuds of rusting cups and cheap sailors rum turn into clinks of wine glasses, Hoshi’s hand wrapped around the stems, skin free of every scar and darkened slash.
And with every moment that passes, you imagine what this deadly, ferocious pirate would look like if his life was a little different. If his life was a little like yours. Would he be able to be a better match against your father, would he have taken every missed opportunity to become a ruler that you only wish you could be? Could he lead a kingdom as well as he leads his beloved band of pirates?
There’s not a thought of what you’re doing in your mind as you find yourself reaching over, not to the bottles that lie empty, but to the pirate captain’s hands, taking his rough calloused palms in your soft, unscarred ones.
He does little to resist, letting his hand fall limp in yours.
“What’s this one?” you ask, tracing over the biggest scar that slashed across his knuckles.
“Piece of wood sticking out of the mast.”
It’s an older scar, clear with the way his skin has settled into the healed wound like it’s always been that way.
“This one?” you ask, tracing over another nick.
“Fell on glass.”
“This one?”
“Punched Mingyu.”
You frown at that, looking up at him and in accusation.
“I apologised,” he defends.
Was it strange that a pirate captain would apologise for assaulting his crew? Slightly, yes. But you liked to think you understood Hoshi a little better than you’d first met him, and that he considered his crew more like his family than anything else.
Never in a million years, in your pirate hating household, would you have thought that the deadliest band of pirates would soon be the ones you’d be sharing drinks with, tracing scars with, feeling somewhat secure being alone with.
Entrusting to save your future with.
You turn his hand over to his palms, now staring at a fresher looking gash that seems to still be healing. It looks painful, the redness yet to fade into its darker hues.
“What about this one?” you ask, being extra careful to not touch the wound.
Hearing him let out a small laughing exhale, you look up.
“Thought you’d recognize your own work.”
And then you remember.
The spray of blood in the air as your dagger made its first ever maim at your hands.
“Oh,” you breathe out.
When you look up from your hunched position, you’re closer to Hoshi than you’d initially thought. He went from an arms length away to brushing shoulders with you, his palm remaining cradled in both of yours.
“Do you regret it?” he asks as he looks at you like he’s gotten lost somewhere in your face.
His breath hits your face in a delicate fan, the smell of alcohol mixing from your own mouth.
Glancing down at his scarring wound, you look back up at him with your lips in a tight line.
“No.”
He smiles, less of disbelief and more of contentment, a pleasant look on his face as he reads your expression.
You felt like you’d passed some kind of test.
“Good.”
And then you’re so close you can barely make out the tip of his nose, his warmth infiltrating your own. You can smell him past the rum, a faint woody scent that makes your head spin. You push up to the alcohol.
Your stomach is on fire as you expect the final push to come, the eager build in your chest becoming near unbearable.
Just as you’re about to flutter your eyes closed, ready to take whatever he might give you, you find his face disappeared.
Hoshi turned his face away, your face infiltrated by the cool breeze once more. Your palms are cooling as his warmth retracts from them as well, leaving you cold and confused.
Blinking, pushing your chin closer to your chest, you attempt to catch your bearings, catch the notes in the air as you feel him move to his feet quickly.
“Get some sleep, it’s late,” he announces in a low, gravelly voice before trudging towards the staircase. He seems to have sobered up.
All that’s left on the deck is your empty palms, the stinging sea spray, and two snoring pirates.
HOSHI SPENT THE REST of the morning trying to sleep off the imminent feeling of spontaneous combustion.
The tingle in his right hand refuses to go away, even when he plunges the darn thing into a freezing bucket of water next to his cot, assuming his wound was acting up.
He sleeps fitfully, the frustration that simmers refuses to let him have a staggering moment of peace. His head is as dense as a whale, throbbing in the seeping light. The sounds of the sea, ones that once brought him calm, were now triggering an irrational reaction from his entire being.
Swinging to his feet is easy, it’s the aftermath of such a reckless action that has him stumbling like a fawn. Slipping into his boots, he thuds to the lower decks, to the storage area where all of the rations are.
And where all of the alcohol is.
He bumps into Minghao on the way down, who’s filling his canteen as he keeps morning watch on deck.
“Go sleep, I’ve got it,” he says to him, and Minghao does little to refute as he makes a beeline for his beloved hammock.
It’s too early for anyone to be awake, despite the afternoon sun that lingers. He takes full advantage of it as he hauls the first crate of rum up to the deck.
There isn’t an inch of hesitation as he lifts the death juice and sends it splashing into the ocean. He stares for a moment as heavy bottles disappear under the water, still full of the very thing he’d shoot his crew for wasting a single drop of.
Even more determined than before, he goes back down into the brig, this time lugging two more crates of rum, all to be met with the same fate, going down to touch the bottom of the ocean.
With every echoing slam of the wood hitting the water, he feels himself freeing.
But you plague him anyway.
Lifting a particularly heavy box, he thinks of how close you had gotten to him on this very deck. How he could breathe in your exhales. How he could feel the tactile of your fingertips tracing over every mauled slash on his hand. How you consumed his mind in ways he couldn’t fathom.
It was the rum. The rum was doing this to him.
At least, that’s what he’d chosen to blame.
Who was he to deny the effect you seemed to have on him?
The answer was that he was a pirate, especially with the way he chalked his muddled brain to not having had a woman around for so, so long.
He’d considered indulging once they reached Port Ash, slipping away for an hour into one of the beaded doors of women ready to give him what he wanted. The thought seemed like an unwanted remedy.
Every solution felt fruitless, a balm that only seemed to make the itch worse. Even as he commits a sin as heinous as feeding perfectly good rum to sea foam, he only does it in the hopes that the sea will take it as a sacrifice, to give him the kind of peace his being has begun to crave.
Hoshi has been moved to insanity.
Even as he feels the cool cylinder of Jun’s revolver on his temple, he pushes the last crate overboard as his final answer.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he hears Jun ask.
When he turns around, the revolver remains stationary as it now points into the smack middle of his forehead. He has an audience, Mingyu’s face has leftover sleep on it, a mildly horrified look on his face. Chan looks like he could slice his own Captain’s throat open.
“Where’s the rum?” Mingyu asks in an airy voice, disbelief prominent.
“The rum’s gone.”
“Why is the rum gone?”
Hoshi doesn’t answer as he moves Jun’s loaded gun out of his face and makes his way back to his cot downstairs, in no mood to squabble with his too sober crew.
There’s calls of his name that follow him all the way to below the deck, even as he snatches a stray hat on the floor, placing it above his face in the hopes that he was relieved enough to sleep.
It’s snatched away as Mingyu stands above him like an angel of death, his hat in his equally deathly grip.
“Did the spirits possess you?”
“No,” he replies begrudgingly. “But good sense has.”
“Captain,” he hears Chan begin, looking about five seconds away from committing a murder on the seas. “You know I can’t fight sober.”
“Learn.”
“What is this about? Where was the rum at fault?” Jun grits.
Hoshi swings up once again. If Mingyu was an angel of death then he was the king of hell.
But he has no threats left to give, his menacing soul left with the rum. There is only a snarl that turns into him dropping his head, sighing a loud, loud sigh.
He tells his crew a sad affair as he expresses his sorrows like a eulogy. Blaming the rum was stupid, but it was what he had done. And now the fruit of his decisions sit forgotten in the reefs so far below.
His crew is not happy when they find out, in any case.
“But what did the rum do?”
“Kissing beautiful women is part of life’s pleasures!”
“I have half a mind to make you fish it all back up.”
Mingyu has simply crumpled onto the floor in his heartbreak, Chan has his face in his hands. Hoshi doesn’t look up to witness Jun’s reaction.
The crew would get over the lack of alcohol on board, perhaps a morbid brawl or two to help them get by, but what was more concerning was whether it did anything for Hoshi at all.
At the very least, he knows he won’t go around kissing people sober, but when it comes to the matter of the war inside his chest…
A phantom ache throbs across the scar on his chest.
Perhaps his heart would finally be the next to go.
PORT ASH WAS A depraved man’s heaven.
One that could easily become his downfall if he doesn’t play his cards right.
Too covered was suspicious, too much of the opposite was an open invitation to all the drunk and debauched population of Ash; pirates, criminals and councilmen alike. You were comfortable enough in what you were given to put on, to become the perfect blend in the rowdy, barely lit streets of the brothels and bars.
Despite everything, Seungkwan assured you that no one would bother a woman flanked by obvious pirates, for whatever reason that may be. If it were up to you, you would’ve remained on the ship, safe and buried in your quarters, but the threat of an ambush on the docks plagued the crew enough to risk bringing you directly into the dragon’s den.
Jun disappeared quickly, ducking behind an unmarked curtain with a nod to his captain. You could only assume this was where he’d obtain his remaining supplies for the explosives he seemed to be so good at creating. You’ve awoken to multiple median bangs during the night, so you can only assume he knows what he’s doing to a certain extent.
“Jun said it might take a while, so we might have to wait on him a little bit.” Hoshi stands at the front of the group, addressing his crew.
“Spread out, do whatever. Don’t linger, don’t drink yourselves to death—” he sends a pointed look at a shifty Chan and Mingyu, “—and meet back at the ship at six bells or we’ll leave without you.”
The announcement doesn’t seem to apply to you. You’re sandwiched between Hoshi and Seungkwan as they lead you into the throng, to wherever it was they were to pass the time till it was time to return.
If Ash was anything, it was alive. Men and women scatter in all states of drunk and sober, arms latched with their partners for the night as they let the oil lamps carry them to their abode for the night. It’s a wilder Hasry, a scarier Hasry.
The nighttime does nothing to help your nerves, every single face shrouded in the half shadows, seemingly resembling every person you’ve ever met in the Kingdom.
It makes you feel better that both men are pressed against your sides, as strange as the thought sounds in your head. Safe between two pirates.
“Nobody’s tried to kill you yet, I’d call that a record,” Seungkwan comments, but it’s not directed towards you.
Hoshi scowls as you shift your gaze from Seungkwan to him. The usually nonchalant pirate captain looks…cautious. His eyes dart around the crowded streets, like he was looking for familiar faces all the same as you.
Your eyes land on his curled lips and force down a shiver. This was the first time you’d been around him since that drunken night, since you’d promised to never drink again.
He doesn’t mention it, so neither do you.
“Captain Hoshi Kwon? How wonderful of you to show your face again!”
A woman’s voice rings shrill amidst the loud buzz and hollers of the streets, emerging like a white ghost from the throng. Dressed to the nines, face painted intricately, fan clenched in her hand that perches on her hip. She’s joined by another gaggle of women that crown behind her, displaying a rainbow of coloured gown and fans, but holding the same disdained look.
The pirate captain freezes beside you, and you feel Seungkwan’s hand on your back burn.
He seems shaken at the sight of the new woman initially, but puts on a smile you’ve only seen a few times. One that dazzles with his teeth on display, eyes squinted.
“Delilah!” he exclaims, almost too happy to see this mystery woman. “How’ve you been?”
“Who did that? I’d like to send them flowers,” she refers to the scar above Hoshi’s heart.
“Jellyfish don’t really like me, learned that the hard way.”
His answer seems to only annoy her. Delilah has a wicked snarl on her face, threat in her stance. “When was the last time I saw you?”
“Uh,” Hoshi stumbles.
“The Crowded Inn, was it? When I fell asleep to a promise and woke up to an empty bed?”
“Our dear captain seems to have thrown memory at sea,” one of the girls behind her calls out, followed by a collective giggle.
Hoshi looks cornered, at a loss for words as he attempts to save face. Regaining his prior easygoing expression, he continues.
“There’s no promises after I’ve had a drink or two, you know that, Delilah.” It scares you a little how easily he can inject all the sugar and honey in the world directly into his words, flirting his way out of the predicament.
Except, she doesn’t seem to be buying it, because as soon as the words leave Hoshi’s lips, you hear a loud thwack and a blur of colour. You gasp before you can help it, covering your mouth in shock.
There’s a reddenning mark on his cheek in the shape of a hand. Hoshi remains face scrunched, coming round, hand slowly coming up to touch his no doubt stinging cheek.
Your reaction seems to have roused this woman, because she sends you nothing but a look laced with pure venom, completely ignoring Seungkwan who stands aside doing nothing to help his captain.
“Where’d you pick this one up?” She asks, her fan now shucked open, fanning herself even in the pleasant weather. Her pale face, red lips, dark eyes all remain on your shabby form, a hint of a smirk on her face. “Is she as disappointing of a performer as she looks?”
That seems to do it, as you watch Hoshi’s facade of a cheeky bed trotter image drop to something with more depth.
“Delilah,” he says, warning in his voice.
“Ah! Looks like I’ve struck a nerve.”
You watch Hoshi take a step forward and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the crowd of people that continue to pass and linger, reminding yourself of the repercussions of causing a scene in a place like this. Turning slightly, you attempt to push Seungkwan to do something.
“Captain,” Seungkwan says, a casual but careful voice. A starting attempt at calming things down.
“That’s enough,” Hoshi says, ignoring Seungkwan’s warning. “Quit pretending you weren’t warming that privateer’s bed right after I left.”
There was no reason for you to say anything, do anything. But when you find yourself pushing forward, leaving Seungkwan’s hold, you can’t stop. Perhaps he’d have punched Seungkwan, his own crew, if he’d done the same as you were right now, but you’d like to think you know the pirate captain enough to assume he’d react less so with you.
There’s a shift in the woman’s jaw as she watches you wrap your arm around one of Hoshi’s, trying your absolute best to mimic a bright smile.
“We should go,” you announce, the stretch of your cheeks unfamiliar even to you. You turn to catch Hoshi’s stare, he’s looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head. “Right, Hosh?”
“Go on then, Captain. Your little princess awaits.”
You flinch without meaning to. Princess.
This woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about, at least, that’s what you recite in your head as your trio goes back to pushing walking through the streets. She doesn’t know who you are.
“She doesn’t know,” you hear Hoshi say under his breath, but you hear it loud as day.
You exhale, “I know.”
“Sorry about her. And him, “ Seungkwan says, before turning to Hoshi. “I told you not to get involved with that one, she’s a menace.”
You’ve let go of Hoshi’s arm at this point, now simply watching him attempt to calm himself down as you walk. He doesn’t reply to Seungkwan’s jab.
You feel strange, a feeling you can’t exactly pinpoint. You’re too aware of yourself, in a way that’s different than just the fear of being recognized. Shifting your eyes to your attire, your usual linen skirts and corset, an added grey shawl for your own anxious sanity.
The woman’s voice rings in your head. Shabby.
“You didn’t let her get to you, did you? She’s always been vile, she can’t live without being a bitch about something every five minutes.”
Seungkwan’s grumbling goes in one ear and out the other as you don’t answer. He seems to read you better than you thought he could. He sighs.
“Congratulations Delilah, you’ve made a princess feel shabby,” he says in a sarcastically chipper voice, one that earns a hiss from his captain for being too loud.
Before you know it, you’re being led down a flight of stone stairs and you’re informed that it was an underground pub of sorts. Something about his undertone told you it was probably more, but you ignore it as the darkness is let alight beyond the musty curtains of the basement entrance.
It’s a sizable expanse, a bar on one of the long ends of the hall, busy and overflowing with mugs, jugs and plates. Wooden tables and chairs, almost all of them occupied by patrons of all kinds that do nothing to regulate their volumes. It smells like a rancid mixture of alcohol and people, but you push past as you find yourself seated on one of the wooden seatings in the corner.
“I’ll go get us drinks,” Seungkwan announces as he walks up to the bar. You watch as he’s greeted by nearly every passing customer, all smiles.
Hoshi sits beside you like a begrudged toddler, arms crossed and glaring at nothing.
“Didn’t realise how popular you were around these parts,” you comment, scanning the crowd in excruciating detail, blaming force of habit as you do.
He clicks his tongue, and you can’t see him, but you can almost visualise his grimace.
A too clean councilman that has his hands on the upper thighs of an outlandishly dressed woman. A man so grimy and dusty who has nothing but an array of empty jugs for company. Another flock of fan yielding, hair towering, gown exploding women that swarm a man you cannot see past the bodies.
It’s organised chaos, immoral yet is the only thing that seems to work on this island.
Another entrance is being made from the curtains that block the pub from the outside, you steer your eyes automatically.
Looks like he could be a pirate, beyond just the dark hair and chiselled face. He has a girl under his arm, a pretty brunette that giggles at his side as he whispers something in her ear. She’s wearing something similar to you, a corset and a linen skirt, and a pirate's hat that’s too big for her that’s perched on her head.
Subconsciously, you feel better about being so severely underdressed.
Hoshi sits up next to you and you glance over your shoulder to assess his shift. He’s also staring at the couple that’s just walked in. You briefly wonder if this was going to be another showdown.
The man catches Hoshi’s eye from across the room, and you notice how his smile falls a little.
“Who’s that?” you ask quietly.
Your question is answered when the man himself begins to walk towards your table, leaving the girl at his table, a confident strut as he makes his path.
Hoshi rises next to you before you realise what’s happening, and you have the sudden urge to call out for Seungkwan.
“Why are you getting up?” you hiss. He doesn’t answer, yet again.
“Captain,” the man greets.
“Captain,” Hoshi replies.
Captain. So he was a pirate.
“Hm. That’s not gonna go away, is it?” The man comments with a smirk, eyes trained on the scar on Hoshi’s chest.
“Wonder who’s fault that is.” Hoshi’s voice is levelled.
Oh. Was that scar his doing?
“I hope you won’t mind if I don’t apologise?” The smirk on his face remains as he continues, motioning towards his own cheek, eyes trailed on the side of Hoshi’s face. “Looks like you’ve got enough enemies without me trying to carve your heart out.”
Hoshi doesn’t answer as he grimaces, a frustrated blink and a hand that runs over his sore cheek.
“Delilah was quite adamant on having your head on a pike after that,” the stranger adds with a chuckle of his own, before trailing his eyes behind Hoshi. Right where you sat watching the two men interact. “Perhaps she does have some consideration left.”
“Delilah cared more about looking like a fool than she ever did me leaving. You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, Wonwoo?”
There’s a flash of irritation on Wonwoo’s face at the jog of a memory. “Handled it better than you did. At least I wasn’t walking around with a handprint on my face.”
“No, no you weren’t. Just a leash around your neck,” Hoshi’s own eyes darted towards the girl seated at Wonwoo’s table, a silent jab.
Wonwoo’s face morphs into something a little more dangerous than just irritation, his jaw tightening as he takes a step forward. They’re nearly nose to nose.
To your surprise, Wonwoo smiles. “I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all. My mistake.”
For the second time that day, you spring from your position in the shadowed table, giving up on praying for Seungkwan’s arrival. The man seems to have disappeared somewhere along the barline, and you curse both the men that stand before you for their horrid temper management skills.
You don’t have to do much, however, as you find Wonwoo pulling away by himself. At least, you thought so, finding a hand wrapped around his upper arm. The brunette spares neither of you a glance as she simply murmurs furiously under her breath, hand now on her lover's chest as she pushes him to move back from the brewing altercation.
Hoshi doesn’t seem to be breaking, remaining standing with his eyes shooting daggers at the man that’s reluctant to walk away from a budding fight.
Being gentle wasn’t going to work right now, and you weren’t feeling so soft anyway. Instead, you reach over to grab his wrist tight, positively yanking him back as hard as you could.
“Wh—ow!”
He slams into the seat next to you, deadly eye contact with the other captain broken as he winces at the impact. When you glance up, Wonwoo is gone.
“You said to blend in, how is this blending in?!”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“You were two seconds away from drawing knives,” you hiss. “We’re in a pub, for goodness’ sake!”
Despite your irritation, and with the newfound information that rests in the back of your head, it’s difficult to keep your eyes off the scar that stands against the lamplight of the pub.
Someone did try to carve his heart out.
Context for an altercation that could lead to something like that remains unknown, and you doubt you’d ever get a straight answer from him if you asked—as always. Besides, you forget they’re pirates.
Hoshi goes back to simply ignoring you as he festers in his grumbled silence. Choosing to keep his arms folded and staring straight ahead. You make no moves to entertain him.
“I guess brothels don’t teach many manners after all.”
This mystery captain’s left you with enough ammo to keep you wondering for days. What on earth was that?
As if Hoshi’s (and yours) mood wasn’t sour enough, your attention is brought to the front of the room where another entrance is being made, quite loudly so. You very quickly recognise the gowns and fans and shrieking giggles of women as Delilah and her posse.
You note the woman herself is nowhere near.
“Fucking hell,” you hear Hoshi swear under his breath. He’s sitting up, eyes darting around the room, almost like he was trying to find a hiding spot. You doubt he's too excited over another conversation of similar nature, let alone a matching mark on the other side of his face.
The women hadn't seen him yet, and were approaching far too quickly for him to get up and leave anywhere to hide. A quick scan of the room yourself and you realise there’s only one remaining option.
They didn’t seem to recognise you for your title before, and you assume the current extent stays within simply being another seductress in the pirate captain’s company. You push the sickening feeling away as you realise you might have to play the part.
So you do the sensible thing and push Hoshi’s head under the wooden table, forcing him to leave his seat and crouch beside your legs. In a split second, you’ve lifted your linen skirt and draped it over his hunched body.
This would have to do.
And it seems to have been the right move because as soon as the man is out of sight, you find the opposite end of the table more occupied than you ever would have been comfortable with.
“Oh! You’re that Hoshi’s girl aren’t you?” one of the women who's made themselves comfortable asks, fan in front of her mouth and nose as you note her sharp eyes.
“Uh,” you laugh nervously.
“Oh, nothing to be embarrassed about,” she assures, a snap in her voice.
Another woman decked out in a green ensemble speaks in a teasing voice, “We’re all quite accustomed to his…mannerisms.”
The table erupts in a fit of giggles and cackles and you’re forced to laugh weakly along, hyper aware of the man that sits under your skirt right below. You try not to flinch as you feel his clothes brush against the side of your calf.
“So, tell us,” she says, taking your hands in hers, a contact you really wish you could break free of. If only you weren't quite as terrified of the women seated at your table. “How far along in heaven has this man taken you?”
She spares you an answer as you gape with square shoulders. She fans herself in a whimsy as she looks like she’s reminiscing. “He’s almost as good of a pirate as he is a beast in bed, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that night.”
“Quite generous with the tongue too, if you know what I mean.”
The pirate captain’s breath hits your bare knees in its own fan, goosebumps almost immediately erupting across the expanse of your skin. You fail to suppress a shudder.
Goodness, this man stays busy.
“Oh look at her, she’s gotten all flustered!” one of them laughs. You take it as an opportunity to slip your hands out of the tight grasps of the bold ladies. “It seems he’s taken to a newer liking. How innocent.”
These women seem to like talking more than they wish to hear a word from you, of course, you couldn’t tell them anything they already didn’t know. Of which, according to their interests, you knew nothing of it anyway.
“Don’t get too attached now, we’re all mere expendables in this busy pirate’s—”
Slam!
Rum. You smell rum.
It’s like you’ve been transported back onto the main deck, the smell of rum mixed with….with—
“Ladies!” Seungkwan announces, slamming bottles of alcohol on the table with a force unnecessary. “Funny seeing you again.”
For a moment you may have even thought Hoshi had clambered up to the table to announce himself, and you feel a hand fly down to your skirts.
He’s still there, head now actively leaning against your knee. You pray the man hasn’t fallen asleep as you attempt to greet Seungkwan.
“Took you long enough,” you grit through a sickly sweet smile.
With your hand somewhere on Hoshi’s upper back, you guide him with you as you make space for Seungkwan next to you.
“The—oh!” Seungkwan is quick to notice the breathing lump under your skirt as he sits himself next to you, but manages to compose himself with a cough. “Long line. What were you ladies talking about?”
One of them smiles big as ever, slowly lifting themselves from their seats, “We were just…leaving. Wonderful speaking with you!”
And with that, you can finally feel your breath coming back to you, the table significantly lighter with the lack of colours, perfume and humans.
Releasing a long exhale, you let your shoulders drop and lean backwards.
“Are you going to explain why the captain is hidden under your skirts?”
With a jolt, you're forced to consider his presence under the table, scanning the room to find the women gone from the pub altogether.
Hoshi emerges from under the fabric, and shuffles over to the other side of the table to sit down, bringing an instinctive hand towards the fresh bottles on the table. Halting, he instead reaches for the jug of water on the edge and pours himself a helping.
You refuse to look at him. Refuse to acknowledge the red in his face. Refuse to acknowledge the sudden cold under your skirt.
Seungkwan’s stare is burning holes into the side of your head, even as he uncorks one of the bottles as an offer. You also refuse; both to look him in the eye and the drink itself.
Bottle to his lips, he moves his glare to his captain, who sits nursing his water like it was something stronger.
“I haven’t gotten an answer yet,” he finally breaks.
Instinct has your eyes lifting to meet Seungkwan’s inquisitive one’s, answers frozen in your throat.
“Why are you asking like you don’t know who they were?” Hoshi snaps.
“I can understand not wanting a matching handprint on your other cheek!” he refutes. “But how do you decide the solution is to dive into yet another woman’s skirts?”
Your only solace to the heat that prickles your body is the way Hoshi himself flushes.
Seungkwan sighs as he takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Hoshi’s still red cheek. “I’m starting to think you deserved it.”
Hoshi makes a motion like he’s about to send his half full cup flying into Seungkwan’s face but stops short. Perhaps he’s realising he’s become the problem child for today.
You contemplate telling Seungkwan about Wonwoo and the near pub brawl you would’ve had to deal with, but decide it to be a story for another time. Besides, you weren’t about to risk mentioning his name while it was still fresh.
You realise just how unstable this island can turn a person; not just the pirate captain.
Because as you look at Hoshi on the other side of the table, you find how difficult it is to look away.
“YOU NEED TROUSERS.”
“What?”
“Oh don’t look so scandalised, you’ve been prancing around with pirates for goodness’ sake.”
Seungkwan haggles with the stall owner over the price of padded coats, blankets and an array of other things the crew would need. The journey was only going to take the ship further North, and it was only going to get colder as you neared the icy water of the Green Islands.
Seungkwan’s suggestion to buy you trousers came out of the blue, but it seems you couldn’t refuse when you find both Hoshi and Chan (who joined you after he was tired of the others) agreeing.
“You can’t possibly stay warm in linen,” Chan argues. “Trousers are the only way you won’t freeze your limbs off.”
“Too much airflow in a skirt,” Seungkwan agrees, eyes closed, head shaking solemnly. “Captain would know.”
“Hm?” Chan looks at him confused.
“Fine!” You snatch the folded brown lump in Seungkwan’s hands. You keep talking in a louder than necessary voice in the hopes that Chan won’t ask any more questions. “I’ll wear them.”
“Perfect! Now we need to get you boots.”
“I have boots!”
“Warm boots!”
“But—”
It was difficult to argue with Seungkwan once he’s got his mind set on something. But that paired with the loud noises of the Ash port market was sending pulsing throbs across the sides of your head. You simply surrender as Seungkwan leaves Hoshi to pay the vendor before pushing you across the street to where a stall held boots and slippers for sale.
In the midst of his bargaining, Chan had disappeared into the throng, returning with a steaming plate of something that smelled doughy and delicious.
“What is that?” you ask as Chan shoves the tray in front of you.
“Whatever they are, they’re delicious. Try one.”
He was right, one bite of the warm, soft goodness covered in syrup had you taking a moment to ponder. It melts in your mouth, barely registering the rest of the group scarfing down the tray like it was their last.
“God, you can never get them this good on the mainland,” Seungkwan cries. “We’ll get another tray before we leave.”
Speaking of leaving, you turn to ask about the time.
“How many bells has it been?” you ask Seungkwan whose cheeks bulge with the amount of dough balls he’s stuffed in. He looks like a child caught stealing when you ask.
“Oh—”
“Five,” Hoshi answers instead, eyes remaining on the pile of goods that he’s gathered to remain in his line of sight. You suppose there was no delivery system here like in Hasry, and you doubt how secure it is to be walking around with a pile of supplies on this island in particular.
“You need to hurry, I told the rest of them to meet at six bells.”
Seungkwan’s quick to wrap up, but not before shooing Chan away for another tray of those sweet dough balls for the journey. You manage to whisper to him to bring extra.
By the time Seungkwan’s done with the last vendor, dropping the giant coil of rope onto the already large pile of supplies, you begin to wonder how you were supposed to get all of this to the ship.
“Shove those in a bag and carry some of this,” Hoshi says to Chan who has returned, brandishing another steaming tray of the sweet treat. He grumbles as he complies, complaining about how the sticky sweet syrup was going to ruin the inside of the pack.
You look a little lost as you attempt to help, all three men grabbing their share of the load.
“Let me hold something,” you attempt, reaching for a wrapped pile.
You watch as Hoshi snatches it before you can grab it for yourself. “Keep an eye out instead.”
“But—”
“Here.” Chan drops the pack with the now rolling dough balls inside. “Snacks for the walk too, how lucky.”
There’s a light push from behind you as Seungkwan urges you to move forward, face slightly obstructed with the tower he’s holding in his arms. “Go on, straight and then left. We’re close to the port anyway.”
You’re left feeling slightly useless as you remain caged with Chan in front while Seungkwan and Hoshi follow you from behind. The walk is short, but crowded nonetheless.
It’s only later in the night, which means the crowds in the bustling streets and alleys of Ash only multiply, clear with the case you’re pushed into right now. You pause in front of a particularly busy patch, needing to take a breath before following Chan’s fearless footsteps.
It’s immediate suffocation, bodies on all sides as you try your best to not lose Chan in the midst of the crowds. Perhaps they were right to keep your hands mostly unoccupied—it would’ve been impossible for you to not completely lose yourself here.
Gaining a rhythm of walking with the crowd before moving slightly against to near your exit, you’ve almost made your way out.
Just as you find the bend leading to the open air of the port, you hear a distinct rip sound from behind you.
If your skirt was airy before, it was a windstorm now.
Craning your neck at an impossible angle, you find the bottom of your skirt ripped so high up the back of your knees are out for the population of Ash to see.
Gasping loudly, you halt in your tracks. A horrible mistake, because you’re only being bumped and shoved by the evermoving bodies.
“Why are you stopping?” Seungkwan hisses, before realising what’s just happened. “Uh oh.”
“I…”
Both Seungkwan and Hoshi push past the throng making their way out of the crowd, leaving you there frazzled and practically naked
You barely consider that they’ve just left you there as you scramble to cover your calves with what overlapping fabric you had left, registering the threats and curses being sent your way for being the idiot that stops in what is essentially a fast paced parade.
The rational part of your brain checks out, refusing to consider that perhaps the back of your knees were the least scandalous thing this island has seen, especially after the conversations you’ve had in your short time here. But alas, a few months of the pirate life wasn’t enough to push the princess out of you, and you stand like a paralysed fool about to get stampeded.
Just as you’re convinced you’d die here, embarrassed and utterly panicked, you feel a body press up from behind you.
It was too close to be a bystander pushing past, which was saying something since most of these patrons were practically climbing over your form.
You whip your head back to look at the person who’s invading your space more than usual, hands tight around your upper arms in an effort to push you forward.
Hoshi stands behind you as his body covers the ripped damage of your skirt, eyes trained in front to survey the crowd.
“Come on, I’ve got you,” he grunts, pushing to get you to move your legs. You stumble in the beginning, still not registering anything.
He was helping, but with the way you can feel every dip and shallow of his chest and abdomen pressing into you, you can’t help but think he’s only made matters for your already speeding heart worse.
Your legs move automatically, letting him steer you wherever. Trying not to think about how his entire front is pressed onto your back like a mould. He’s so close you can even smell him despite the crowd.
Like your head isn’t spinning enough.
By the time you’ve exited the main rush of people, you’ve begun counting your minutes.
Emerging to the bend that leads straight to the docks, you find the rest of the crew already there, running sprints to get all the new supplies to the ship that remained a few yards away.
Despite having left the crowd behind, your exposure remained, which meant you’d have to be tailed all the way to the ship. You curse your luck as you watch Jun quirk an inquisitive brow at the both of you stuck like you’ve been glued.
You pray you never have to show your face here again, because the looks don’t seem to stop until you’ve reached the ship. Perhaps the crowd where nobody was paying attention was better.
In any case, you respond to Minghao’s questioning noise with half shut eyes and a joint sprint towards the stairs leading to the lower decks.
Hoshi keeps behind until you’ve gotten to the heavenly doors of your quarters, springing inside before Hoshi could register looking lower.
It’s silent for a few sparing moments as you breathe tightly, convincing yourself that you were alone and uncompromised. You're pressed up against the door, almost like you’re afraid the entirety of Ash would barge through to witness your calves.
“I’ll handle the boys, don’t worry about that,” you hear Hoshi speak from the other side of the door.
There’s nothing you could do other than slide down the door in a beyond dramatic fashion, head in your hands as you grip the strands like you were moments away from ripping them off. Every instance of your upbringing flashes before your eyes, every crack of your mentor’s canes on your thighs and calves, every waking pain in your back from the impossible postures, every bruise and nick on your feet from being stepped on and trodden over.
Despite the ridiculous nature of the situation, you feel your eyes grow heavy with tears.
Was this panic?
Taking in the circumference of your cramped quarters; the unmade bed, the strewn clothes, the thrown covers.
It was nothing. Yet, at the same time, it was everything.
Amidst the pile, there’s a glint of metal where your knife lies on your nightstand, the tiniest smear of uncleaned blood on the blade. From your position on the floor, you find the half broken lamp discarded under your bed, shunned from your sight. The desk in the corner is empty, save for the staggering mountain of letters from your father.
The only suggestion of normalcy, yet the one you itch to be rid of the most.
The letter opener necklace that was exchanged for the ring on your finger sits warm against the valley of your breasts, a reminder of the first weapon you plucked from this very room. The weapon that began it all.
The smell of gunpowder fills your nose, the forever echoing bang of Jun’s revolver as you took that child sailor’s life with your own two hands.
You lay like that, on the cold floors of your quarters. Refusing to touch the court appointed comfort of your bed, for fear of reigniting the guilt with a fire stoked.
You aren’t sure if you sleep, but you do dream.
LIDS OPEN, EYES WIDE, but nothing to perceive.
It’s a pit of obsidian, unrelenting and unproposing in its press against your lungs.
The familiar ball of prickling embers makes itself known in the pit of your stomach, rising and penetrating your senses in ways worse than even the darkness. It's alarm, dread and swivet; the concoction sticking to the walls of your lungs, throat and mouth.
And then there’s pressure.
Something envelopes you from behind, an unidentified lump that pulls you into something warm and sturdy. There’s another pressure at your stomach, another pull keeps you grounded between a wall built just for you.
The air is perfumed, something beyond a flower or an incense. You know what it is.
And then you're falling, slipping into nothingness and landing between sheets warm enough to suggest you never left.
The scent remains, and this time, Hoshi towers over your frame in something that might have been domineering. But with the distinct feeling of a wet mouth over your collarbone, a small whisper of words unintelligible, you melt like frost in front of a fireplace.
“What?” you question his muttering, hands hovering just above the expanse of his covered back, barely touching.
He rears his head like a gentle beast, wet lipped and zeroed in on your face. His response comes in the form of his lips enclosing your own.
He tastes like rum.
OPENING THE DOOR TO an expectant Seungkwan, you only wave off his reference to you looking like you have one foot in death’s mouth, grabbing the stack of clothes and boots he delivers.
He leaves you alone, something you cannot decide is a blessing or a curse as you take in the unchanged state of your quarters.
Sleep gives you nothing but more troubling images to keep your mind utterly occupied, so you take what you can control in consciousness.
You drop the clothes on a cleaner corner, yanking one of the thinner pairs of dark brown trousers to change into from your still torn and tattered skirt.
Moving inside the room, you pick the littered papers, ropes and rags on the floor, swerving and crouching with more vigour than necessary.
Hoshi’s scent sticks to you.
Grabbing the pile of letters on your desk, you shove them in a sack and throw them under the bed.
Hoshi holds you like he might die if he doesn’t.
Ripping the covers off the bed, you fold them into a giant ball of fabric, hoisting it into your arms as you strut to the door.
Hoshi’s lips have left a bruise on your chest.
The late morning sun combats the chill in the air, the salt sticking to your hair.
Hoshi’s mouth is hot and wet on yours.
Hoshi stands before you, manning the wheel on the deck.
You halt in your tracks.
He turns to register you with your arms full and shielding most of your body.
Clearing his throat, he states, “You’re up.”
Eyes darting, you respond. “I’m up.”
Somehow, his presence makes you forget the audacity of your own brain to stew the play it did. Depositing the sheets on the floor of the deck, you attempt to look for a reasonably long coil of rope.
In your pointed distraction, you miss how distracted the pirate captain has also become.
His elbows, initially perched on the wheel, slip in a comical manner, unintentionally pushing the wheel to the right.
You don’t expect the minor lurch of the ship, landing on your bum with a yelp when you lose your footing all of a sudden. Your elbows take a worse hit, spiking pain across your upper limbs at the hard contact.
His hands are pulling you to your feet before you can register what’s happened, coming round as you open your eyes to an open mouthed captain.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you grunt, dusting off your brand new pants as you move past him, refusing to make eye contact.
Picking up a coil of rope, you bring one of the ends to a mast on the end of the ship, stepping on a crate to tie it around the pole. By the time you’re stepping off the crate to tie the other end to the opposite mast, you find it already done, the pirate captain tightening the knot from across the ship.
He meets your eyes for a moment, before you step in the direction of your piled sheets, breathing in a heavy inhale.
Untangling the mess, you pull them over to the suspended rope, throwing the sheets over with a grunt. You’d only ever seen the palace maids do this when they’d beat the carpets to oblivion, dusting the ages of dirt.
“I just…”
When you turn around, the pirate captain is closer than you anticipated, hands encased around a smaller slab of wood. He trails off when you turn to face him, like he hoped he could speak to the back of your head instead.
You take an instinctive step back, putting space between the both of you. You bring your expectant eyes up to him.
“I just wanted to tell you to ignore what happened at Ash.”
You flush, stuttering, embarrassed at your previous predicament all over again. “Oh, um—”
“Wait no!” he drops the wood onto the floor, hands flying as he waves them all over, seemingly as flushed as you are. “I meant—what Delilah and the others said. I just– they’re horrendous gossips—”
“What are you trying to say Hoshi?”
He falters.
“I’m trying….” he exhales. “There’s nothing on my roster. Nobody. You aren’t expendable or disposable or whatever it was she said, you aren’t a used rag—”
“What am I then?”
The question is tumbling out of your mouth before you can help it, stoned jaw and tight fist.
“What?”
“What am I then? If I’m not expendable or disposable, what am I then?”
“You’re…”
Taking a step forward, you move back to your initial spot, closer to him, chests almost touching.
“I’m?”
“You’re a princess and I’m a pirate!” he blurts, his previously apprehensive face morphing into something intense.
You huff a short breath, an incredulous stretch to your lips. Of course.
“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask in a low voice.
“Like what it is,” he heaves, chest inflating and deflating like he’d run the course of the deck about thrice. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
If your ears weren’t deceiving you, it sounded more like he was trying to convince no one but himself.
You take a step closer as he takes a step back.
His face is scrunched ever so slightly, eyes blinking quicker than normal. The sunlight blurs the edges of his features; his usually sharp, stinging stare is hazy, the slant of his nose curvier, the ridges of his lips blending into your muddled perception of his face.
The only thing dividing you is the silence, the bore of your stare and the war in your mind. You cannot speak for him, but you also aren’t a fool.
“Everything they say about you is wrong.”
“What?” he asks again.
“You don’t have a deadly bone in your body. You’re a coward that hides behind his knife and his big bad pirate ship that you can’t even defend.”
For once, he remains speechless while you persist.
“To think we spent all these years trying to subdue you, push you to the edge,” you can feel the anger seep into the hottest centre of your bones. “All for you to be some scared sailor all along.”
“Your father ruined my life,” he says. It’s a strange voice he uses, one that’s somewhere between disbelief and a warning.
“And mine with it.”
He laughs, blinking rapidly, backing away even further, running a hand through his hair. Coming around, he looks over his shoulder. He looks like the man you met the day your life fell apart, a strut in his step that runs your blood cold.
“Are you sure this has nothing to do with you simply wishing to spite the man?” He walks back over. “Prance around with the filthy pirate he hates just for the fun of it?”
“Oh and you haven’t just been itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess.”
Your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, spewing the accusation with a vigour you never realised you possessed. Lies. Lies. Lies.
This was your own deteriorating mind’s doing. You were the debauched princess painting lewd pictures of a pirate in your mind. It was your heart that couldn’t stand being near the man for longer than necessary. It was you that had the scripture somewhere in your chest, the tiniest speck of a daydream, that perhaps this inner turmoil didn’t end with just you.
Did you want to be another woman he doesn’t have to remember?
You don’t know. All your mind registers is the unbearable twist in your chest, and how it feels like you can’t do nothing about it.
You’re used to getting your way, and you hate that your mind seems to have drifted away from you.
Hoshi’s expression is nowhere in your mind, too preoccupied with sucking in inhales and trying not to begin spiralling right on the main deck.
“You’re projecting.”
Eyes snapping up like he’s proposed to sink the ship itself, you feel yourself hit a mental wall. And a physical one as you feel the brush of the suspended sheets against your hair, having taken an unconscious step back.
He’s cornered you. Yet again.
“Everything about you screams vulnerable,” he says, moving closer. “Not very sharp to show in front of a pirate.”
“Hoshi.” A warning. A sharp, hurtling sting of fear.
“What? Big bad pirate too emotionally removed? Beloved princess trapped and defenceless on unfamiliar lands?”
He’s moving closer, too close.
“I take it back,” he says. “Perhaps drunken Ash does speak the truth—”
Not a familiar plane on his face, like the pirate king had absolved a long held mask. His eyes mortified you, his stance was a walking threat.
Despite the morning sun, the cave of the hung sheets, the shadows of the high masts and the towering gloom of the pirate captain creates enough darkness to throw a shadow in your mind.
It’s like the day his crew dropped on the deck for the very first time. The emotions you wished you’d never have to feel again.
“Stop.” A whisper.
“Itching to ruin the kingdom’s beloved princess—”
“Do not move any closer!” you shout, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisting the suspended sheets so hard you can feel your fingernails dig into your palms. Scarring.
The world halts, and you feel the darkness beyond your eyelids, lighten. The air is forgiving, cool and blowing.
When you open your eyes, you’re alone.
THE WAR ROOM LOOKS the same, but everything has changed.
For one thing, you were significantly more bundled up with coats and lined boots. The cold of the green islands wasn’t the creeping frost you’d anticipated. You simply woke up one day without feeling in your fingers and toes, fog in the air as you breathed.
The coat wasn’t nearly as thick as it needed to be, but you doubt you would’ve found anything better even at the ports. The green islands weren’t meant for life.
“You need to get into the hold unnoticed, and as quickly as possible,” Minghao says. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen after the exchange is made but we know we can’t help you once you’re on that ship.”
Clenching your jaw, you nod tersely. It was high stakes, you couldn’t hurt any of the soldiers to keep it clean; planting a bomb where a King resides was difficult—princess or not.
“Getting you out of the wreckage is our job,” Hoshi says, and you pointedly refuse to look at him. You weren’t quite convinced. “We’ll be on Tigress by the time the bomb goes off. Leave nothing of importance on this thing, we’ll be blowing it up too.”
“You need to get in the water as soon as that bomb goes off,” Jun says. “Their priority is gonna be you and your father. You need to make sure they can’t find you when they realise the ship’s sinking.”
The ship the King should be transported in was the same as the very naval vessel you sat in right now.
“They might be on one of the smaller ships,” you say.
“Why?”
“You know what the ships that hold royals look like, they aren’t risking you having that advantage.”
If your father was bringing out all the guns of deception to take down these pirates once and for all—which you don’t doubt he was—every move you were about to make was based on assumptions. Assumptions that might as well cost this entire crew’s heads.
“Do you know what those ships look like?” Minghao asks.
“I’ve only been on them a few times, but never in the hold,” you say. “I think I’ll figure it out well enough, they’re all the same more or less.”
There’s a blanket of silence, a quiet regard to how utterly unprepared all of you were. Limited information and the most important man’s head at the butt of the target; your bow pulled too taut, too wobbly, your arrow too blunt.
“Are you sure we can’t risk shooting a couple of ‘em in the head?” Chan asks from across the room, running a tired hand across his face.
Sighing, you ignore the burst of fog erupting from your mouth, answering, “I can convince an entire Kingdom their King drowned, but I don’t know if I stop them from trying to find his body. Imagine their surprise if they find a supposedly drowned man with a bullet in his head.”
“It’s fine,” Hoshi interrupts, eyes downcast and arms folded. He leans against the wall of the war room and you can’t help it when your mind flashes to that stormy night. Your hands finding refuge on his chest, the heat of the moment.
Nose flaring, you look away, the rage hurtling up your throat like vomit.
“We’ll just have to figure it out. Stay vigilant, we all know what’s at stake. We all know what we have to do,” he continues, a glance around the inhabitants of the room.
Something about it almost insinuates an underlying question of trust, a confirmation to sweep an unanswering room.
“The bomb’s done,” Jun says, and heat crawls up your entire being. “I made a couple extras, I’m gonna chuck ‘em out into the water for a test and that’ll be it.”
Somewhere on this ship lies the bomb that would kill your father, and if you didn’t do your job like you were supposed to, it might as well kill you all.
YOU LEFT YOUR SOUL on your bedside table the moment Seungkwan entered your quarters with a rapt knock, informing you that the ship was nearing the rendezvous point.
It had only been a few hours since that meeting in the war room, and it felt like only a week since this had all begun.
Seungkwan invites himself in as he continues to talk. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it to calm you down or not, but you appreciate it regardless.
“Keep those trousers on and make sure you look good. You have to look like we cared while we kept you prisoner,” he says, and you can’t help but smile just a little. “Take anything important—pocket it, give it to us. We’re not gonna see this ship after we’re done.”
The idea is strange, that your home for so many months would soon be forgotten, resting on the frozen ocean bed for eternity. You think of what you wish to keep, eyeing the stack of letters on the desk. You won’t be able to keep them on you if you were going to be jumping into the ocean at some point.
Collecting the smaller pile, you hand them to Seungkwan. “You might have to take a dip in the ocean too, but at least you may have a chance to skip that bit if luck’s on your side. Keep these for me?”
Seungkwan smiles as he takes the stack of letters, pressing them to fit inside his coat. “Aren’t these all from your father?”
“Yes, but…” you trail off. “I’d like to remember them in case I forget why I did what I’m about to do.”
Seungkwan stands in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face. “You know this can’t work unless we trust one another. All of us. The entire crew.”
“I trust you,” you say. “Pirates are impatient. If you wanted me gone I wouldn’t be here.”
He sighs, almost like he was dissatisfied with your answer. With a laugh you ask, “Did you want me to say no?”
“No, it’s just,” he starts. “I wasn’t going to bring it up but, since we don’t have time…I don’t know what’s going on with you and Hoshi but…”
You stiffen at the mention of his name.
“I need to make sure you aren’t about to do something rash because of him.”
Your corset lies on the sheets, and you snatch it off, a bite to your movements.Your coat is already off, your linen shirt is the only thing that covers your upper body
“It was my mistake. I misunderstood. I won’t be letting it affect anything tonight.” You push the loosened corset over your head, too frustrated to unlace it and lace it back up. Your fingers are freezing cold, even too much for your palms to bear as they come in inevitable contact.
Beyond yourself, you continue to grit through your chattering teeth, the pulses of irritation in your brain only encouraging you to spill. Turning around, back now facing Seungkwan, you fiddle with the strings on your corset as you rant.
“I can’t say the same for him, but you can ask.” Your arms are bent at a strange angle, but you attempt to make the loops and knots anyway. Having never had to do this by yourself ever, you’d found a practice after your peculiar situation. You were alright, but the cold was making it near impossible to simply loop the string through the existing holes.
“He seems to have a lack of emotional control, of course, you’d know, but I can’t say I find it too charming,” your grunting front he effort as you speak.
Seungkwan seems to have noticed your struggle because you feel a pair of warmer hands replace yours, unlacing the loop you’d just made only to loop it again, tighter this time. He takes the liberty to tie the final knot, tighter than you’d usually have it but you’re too busy to correct him.
“I don’t think I need to explain what happened, your captain seems to be content with the way he is,” you scoff slightly before continuing. “I’m not quite sure what else I was expecting. Actually, I do know what I was expecting, but again, that’s just seems to be my fault—”
“I’m sorry.”
It’s like an entire ocean’s worth of ice water has been poured down your back. Perhaps being buried under the glaciers of the Green Islands would be more forgiving.
Turning around, you find the hands on your waist do not move, Hoshi’s face coming into view instead of Seungkwan’s.
The room is bare besides the both of you, the door to quarters closed. You don’t know when he came in nor when Seungkwan left, but he stands before you now, hands touching you where you shouldn’t let him. But you do.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his eyes locked in on yours.
“W-what?” you breathe.
“I���ve been quite stupid.”
“Have you?”
It sounds like he breathes out a laugh, but composes himself. “I didn’t realise I was cornering you on the deck the other day. I’m sorry for making you feel unsafe. I’m sorry for everything I said.”
Every fibre of your being wants him to suffer, to withhold your forgiveness. But then you realise where you are, in the middle of an ocean that’s been designed by the heavens to kill.
“Thank you for saying that.” You don’t have the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry too. You aren’t…you aren’t what I implied you were. You’re right. I was projecting.”
“I don’t want us to go out there walking on eggshells around each other,” he says as his breath fans your face. Warm. “We have to come out the other side. All of us.”
You nod slowly.
“You have it the hardest out of all of us, I just…” he trails off and you feel his fingers tightening on your waist, even through the material of your corset. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. No matter what you lose, I think it’s safe to say you’ve gained me. All of us.”
The thought of not making it out alive has you flexing your numb fingers in front of you slightly. You might die. This crew might die. Your crew might die.
The man that’s begun to mean more than just a saviour might die.
Not considering your frozen fingertips, or the absurdity, your body moves on its own.
In a split second, your iced lips are in contact with the pirate captain’s warmer ones.
You don’t doubt they’re cold as well, but they differ from yours enough for them to feel like the only warmers you need.
Your hands have grabbed his face, light brushes against his skin as you tiptoe to reach his lips. They’re soft. Softer than you could’ve ever imagined on a pirate, and you find yourself forgetting where you are for a moment as you feel the plush of his mouth against your own.
Pulling away first, your noses still brushing, you whisper to him through the creaks and groans of the drifting ship. “I had to do that. Just in case.”
“In case?” he whispers back.
“In case… we don’t make it.”
It only takes him a moment to remove his hands from your waist. For a heartbreaking second, you think this is him pulling away from you. Again.
And then both of his arms are looping around your waist, pulling you into his chest hard, your lips slamming into each other even harder.
He takes the liberty to move his mouth against your own, hot even in the cold air. Moving with a restrained pace, yet appropriately desperate nonetheless. The cold tip of your nose brushes against his cheek and he pulls away to hiss.
“God, you’re freezing.”
The discovery only seems to urge him to pull you impossibly closer. If your lungs weren’t already occupied, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Despite it all, you find your arms coming up around his neck and shoulders, one hand finding refuge in his light hair.
You might never need a drink of anything ever again, not with the way his mouth alone seems to have you drunk and deranged, begging for time to stop so he’d never stop kissing you, never stop moving his beautiful, glorious mouth against your own.
There isn’t a thought in your mind as you pull away for wretched air, eyes closed and breathing heavily.
Hoshi places his forehead flush against your own, both of you exhaling into each other’s faces, still holding you so tight it hurts. It’s warm, his breath seemingly defrosting the formed icicles on your face.
“Hoshi,” you slip from your mouth instinctively.
“Soonyoung,” he breathes, and it takes you a moment to realise he’s talking. “My name. Soonyoung is the name my mother gave me. I want you to have it.”
Opening your eyes, you register his face so close to yours. His eyes are screwed shut, he’s still breathing heavily.
“Soonyoung,” you repeat, hands finding his face again, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Soonyoung.”
He opens his eyes.
“I like it. It’s very you.”
He smiles and you can’t help but think how beautiful he looks when he does, and when he leans forward to give you another elongated peck, one that has you chasing his lips again. He relents for one more.
“Well, Soonyoung, can I give you something too?”
He looks at you expectantly.
Reaching up to the back of your neck, you find the knotted bind of the leather cord that hangs from your neck. Undoing it, you bring the charm out from under your shirt, leaning forward to tie it around his neck this time.
He stares at the charm that dangles down his front as you give it a light tug, “A letter opener. So that’s what you were getting from that lady at Hasry.”
“You knew when I left?” you ask, brows furrowed.
“I was more worried about you wandering off than I was about anything else, what made you think I didn’t know exactly where you were?” He has a cheeky smile on his face, one that you’ve never seen without an underlying threat or the usual glint of unhinged in his eyes.
You can’t help but grin, of course he knew.
“If you wanted a letter opener as a weapon, you should’ve just asked.”
“Aren’t knives just bigger letter openers?” you ask with a soft chuckle.
He responds with a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before saying, “Since we’re exchanging gifts—”
“You started it.”
“And I’m ending it.”
He emerges from one of his many pockets with what looks like a bracelet in his hands.
“That’s—”
“From Hasry,” he confirms. “I bought it for no real reason, never even wore it.”
He rolls one of the pink and blue beads between his thumb and forefinger, and you remember it sitting at the stall in Hasry like it was yesterday.
“Didn’t realise I only bought it because I saw you looking at it.”
The twist in your heart is the worst it’s ever been, even while he holds you closer than anyone ever has, you feel the need to squeeze him beyond measure hoping it’ll fix the turmoil in your chest.
He attempts to take one of your hands, in an obvious attempt to slip the bracelet on your wrist.
“Wait.”
Hoshi stops.
“Keep it,” you say as you grab his wrist, pushing the beads down his hand so it sits on his wrist instead.
“But—”
You cut him off with a kiss. “A reason for you to come out of this alive.”
There’s a silent understanding between the two of you as you stand in each other's arms.
“We still have much to talk about. But I think this is alright for now,” you say.
“We will,” he confirms. “But when we go out there and put everything on the line, remember you aren’t just a princess anymore. You’re a pirate, too. So fight like one.”
THE COLD HAS COATED the deck in a fine layer of ice, one that makes it a hazard to simply walk on. Your boots feel unstable and it takes a conscious effort to plant your feet firmly on the wood to ensure you don’t fall like Chan almost has the last four times and the one time he did.
It’s less foggy than you’d anticipated, and you can see Mingyu and Minghao working overtime to ensure the giant ship doesn’t hit one of the absurdly large icebergs that float in the freezing water, the crow’s nest occupied by Hoshi himself as he peers through his telescope. It was strange seeing him use it, you’d begun to think he only kept it like an accessory.
He yells something from his place high up; it’s unclear, but you know.
And then you see it, the naval ship with the unmistakable flag that ripples proud in the cold air. Your family crest is barely decipherable, but knowing what lay ahead was enough to have you taking significantly deeper breaths.
Your father’s—the King’s— ship bobs in the water with a near empty main deck, not a soul on board.
You hold your breath, and as one of the blocks of ice are swerved, you find a second ship. The indicative jolly roger is nowhere to be seen, but it's obvious what ship that was.
The Tigress stands proud with her years of darkened wood, the unmistakable figurehead at the prow in the distinct shape of a fanged siren.
And only a smaller sailboat away, lay a flat of ice.
Another white flag with the royal crest, lines of uniformed soldiers that stand at attention like protectors of the ice, a pattern of dotted blues. The admiral stands next to your father, who’s donned his own Naval uniform complete with a purple cape pinned at his shoulder.
The purple cape of a victor that returns home from battle. The purple cape he’s donned before the battle has even ensued.
The King has noticed your arrival, his face becoming clearer the nearer the ship gets to the block of ice that would act as common ground.
And then the ship stops, you turn around and realise the rest of the crew has their eyes on you, expectant.
“We have a message,” Mingyu says, looking at you but handing the thing in his hand to his captain.
In your fixation, you did not notice the small boat that had floated near the ship, bearing a scroll with the royal seal.
Hoshi reads it, lips tight shut and jaw clenched.
In the next few minutes, all seven of you are cramped into a single, tiny wherry to be rowed onto the iced land. None of you speak, none of you acknowledge the other. The canister that Jun had given you presses against the side of your bare hip, your knife strapped inside your boot.
That was it. That was all you had.
But there was some confidence in it, the way the entire crew was asked to present themselves at the exchange was enough to tell you there was truth in what you presumed of your father’s plans.
He had knives of his own up his sleeve, and he intended to provoke his worst enemy while looking him in the eye.
As the boat reached what was a hardened shore, the crew stepped off the boat one by one. Very carefully, you stepped on the block of ice as the group moved forward, reaching a point where you stood parallel to the other rigid party.
In a purposeful attempt, you were kept in the middle of a herded circle, shielded by the crew as Hoshi stood front and centre, the crew’s mouthpiece. You can’t help but swallow, the ringing in your head growing louder than ever.
There’s a loud voice that plagues the sheets of ice, and your stomach flips so violently you lose both your vision and your hearing. You take an unconscious step back before you feel a hand on your back.
It was Chan, who whispered, “Keep it together. Calm down, it’s okay.”
It was the obvious response from him but you find yourself calming in any case.
“The crown commands you, Hoshi Kwon, to bring forth Her Royal Highness, the princess, at once.” Your father’s right hand man, the royal advisor, and his more trusted friend speaks for the throne, his voice recognizable as it rings on behalf of his king.
From standing behind him, you watch as Hoshi simply raises his fist to place at his hips.
“Captain. Captain Hoshi Kwon,” he corrects, before continuing. “And my hostage will not be brought anywhere till I have my money ship.”
“As proposed by Hoshi Kwon, His Majesty, The King will cooperate in the exchange of Her Royal Highness, the princess for said ship.”
“Give me my ship first.”
“Hoshi Kwon—”
Hoshi groans loudly, loud enough for the other party that stands multiple feet away to hear, before continuing, “This is why I despise dealing with you insufferable lot, why must everything be so formal?”
But you knew what game he was playing at, the deadliest pirate on the seas does not comply with government officials so easily, and he wasn’t about to drop his masquerade now.
“You know what,” Hoshi starts, and you see him eye the wooden boat you had just reached the island on. “We do it this way.”
There’s a pause.
“Me and my harmless little crew will sidestep back over, zip our way to our ship and leave you with your precious princess. Is your royal highness majesty in agreement?”
“Hoshi Kwon is commanded once again to bring the princess forward.” There’s less formality in his tone now, and you realise very quickly that there was no other way to separate yourself from the crew.
“Hoshi,” you whisper under your breath, hoping he would understand. Taking the risk, you move forward in the little space you had, hand very gently placed on his back.
There’s a pause before he speaks, “Fine. Have your princess.”
Turning around, back facing the crowd, he makes eye contact with you before moving to discreetly meet the eyes of his crew. “Let them take you.”
That’s the last thing you hear him say to his crew as you find a larger shadow approach from behind Hoshi.
“Ho—”
Hoshi grabs your arm harsher than he usually would, dragging you forward in his attempt to present you, but you find that Hoshi’s turned back was taken as an opportunity, the dozens of soldiers having already made their way across.
If you hadn’t heard what he had whispered to the crew, his shocked face would’ve fooled you too. He looks like he wasn’t expecting the way the crew was immediately surrounded by swarms of armed soldiers, guns perched directly at each member of the crew. He looked like he wasn’t expecting to be cornered.
But you liked to think you knew this man, and he had once told you to never turn your back to an enemy. Too much to be a rookie mistake of his, so you trust him.
And then you’re being tugged by someone who’s not from the crew, the distinct feeling of softer, more respectful hands that wrap around your elbow, urging you forward.
You find it within yourself to not look back, sending a prayer to every entity in the world to keep them safe, to keep the trust in your heart that they knew what they were doing.
Eyes downcast, you know immediately who you’re being led towards, and when you stop, bracing yourself to meet your father’s eye, you find yourself feeling nothing.
“Are you hurt?” he asks in his strange form of greeting. No embrace, no sign of relief that his daughter and only heir was alive and well.
“No, sir,” you reply, shifting your eyes back down to your shoes.
“Go back to the ship with the guards. We leave as soon as I’m done with this lot.”
Your stomach jolts, but you bite your tongue and let yourself be led to one of the smaller boats. The canister burns against your skin.
Seated in the smaller boat, flanked by guards, you can’t stop your neck from craning to look at the scene behind you.
Far away, on the other side of the glacier, the pirates are being ordered to strip themselves of their weapons.
Hoshi’s dagger glints against the sunlight and you spot Jun’s revolvers in the pile.
Hoshi looks up and catches your eye, face unchanged.
“You’re safe now, your Highness,” one of your guards assured you, taking your gaze as a fearful look back instead of one laced with something else.
Please be okay.
As soon as you're led up to the main deck, your eyes dart. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out that your father had not chosen to take one of the smaller ships as you’d expected of him. Instead, you stand in an exact replica of the ship you had just disembarked, except for the flag that fluttered with your family crest.
You’re pushed into one of the quarters in the lower decks, hearing the distinct click of something outside as you find yourself in the mostly barren indoors.
It looks like a colder version of your quarters on the other ship, the same dimensions, the same window that displays the clear waters of the Green Islands. Except it’s only occupied by a single bed that’s pushed into a corner, stripped of its sheets.
It looks like a prison cell.
When you turn around to try for the door, you try to wrench it open but it refuses to budge. You can’t help but question how many times you’ve landed yourself in this exact situation.
Why on Earth would they lock you in? Did they suspect you of something? But whatever for?
You give up, turning to untuck your shirt from your trousers, feeling for the bomb against your hip to make sure it hadn’t slipped. After that, you crouch down to check the inside of your boot, despite feeling the dagger this entire time, you couldn’t help but need to check.
There was nothing you could do, not when you knew nothing of what was happening on the other side of the door. The window gleams, and you find yourself bolting towards it, peering through the glass to check for any bodies that may land in the water, praying your father would keep them alive.
Hang them publicly. Guillotine them and suspend their heads at the gates of the palace. Just keep them alive for tonight.
The sun is proving a sorry resource of time, especially when you can’t tell how long it’s been since you were shoved in here. The sun seems closer to the seas when you hear the jingle of the lock.
Nearing the risk of whiplash, you turn to the door to find your father walking into the room. He walks in, his cape gone, immediately turning to lock the door from the inside once again.
Once he comes around, he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes boring into your soul.
“It seems the pirates have changed you,” he comments, eyeing your new trousers that you sport. It was strange, a woman in trousers, let alone a princess.
“Not at all, sir,” you respond.
“Your newfound friends are strapped into the brigs, finally subdued and ready to stand trial for their crimes.” His voice is rough, and he looks older than when you last saw him months ago.
He acts in less alarm than you would’ve thought, assuming his definition of ‘friends’ was simply a sick way to prod at you than any indication that he suspected an alliance. But you fight the effort to let out a sigh of relief; they were in the brig, they were fine, they’d stay alive in time for you to get to them.
“I thought David less than for a fool,” he refers to the Admiral as he talks. “He proved me quite incorrect when he showed up on some shoddy fishing boat with a message from a pirate. Like some messenger boy.”
You don’t answer as you simply stare at the toes of your boots. It was foolish to dare make eye contact with him.
“A stupid proposal from a stupid pirate,” he chortled in a genuine laugh. “That pirate ship was easy bait. If only you hadn’t gotten yourself roped in like a simpleton.”
His sentence ends with a harsher undertone as he blames you for something you couldn’t possibly have controlled.
“In any case,” he continues, the gruff in his voice clearing out. “What’s a pirate to a King?”
Everything in you screams at you to halt your already moving tongue, yelling about how horrible the idea was.
“He’s more of a man than you ever could be.”
The ringing in your ears becomes a sounding blare, your vision going white at the sides. Your hands shake and you don’t know why you keep staring your father in the eye.
There’s a furrow in his brow, eyes unyielding and face stoic.
It’s silent for goodness knows how long as you wish you could sink in that very moment.
“That load of filth’s done more than just put you in trousers, is it?” he grits through his teeth. He’s seething. “Henley had said you were acting strange when he saw you at that port market, it seems he was right.”
“No matter,” he continues, exhaling loudly. “It only makes my job easier.”
He unclasps his hands, pulling his white gloves at the fingertips.
“Perhaps we may live in a world where princesses prance around with pirates, but that won’t be the reason I fulfil my duty as King today.”
He slips them off his hands entirely.
“I tried shaping you into something worthy of the throne for so many years, and I’d begun to realise that perhaps, not everyone is fit to be ruler after all.”
Was he about to strip of your inheritance? The crown was why you were born. Despite everything your father had put you through, the throne was your god given right.
“Unfortunately, I cannot simply renounce your title. Not without reason,” he continues as he takes a step closer to you, dropping the gloves to the floor soundlessly. “And while perhaps the court may not consider inadequacy as enough reason, I’m quite sure an exchange gone wrong would be enough, even for them.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, dear daughter, that our time together has come to an end.”
And then his hands were around your throat.
[AN]: HEHEHEHEHEHEHE rb or send an ask telling me your thots as always, one part left to go!!!!!
#svthub#hoshi fluff#hoshi smut#hoshi angst#hoshi fic#hoshi imagines#hoshi x reader#hoshi#soonyoung smut#soonyoung fluff#soonyoung scenarios#soonyoung imagines#soonyoung x reader#seventeen#soonyoung#seventeen flluff#seventeen smut#seventeen angst#seventeen fic recs#svt#svt smut#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt x reader#em.writes
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HEYY!! I was wondering if you could do a Leo Valdez x fem Poseidon reader blurb with some smut but fluff in it. It’s the two on the beach and fem reader is just playing in the water and stumbles across a baby sea turtle and just has a conversation but after it’s just her and Leo hanging out together and going back to the Poseidon cabin(Percy isn’t home yet) and they have a quickie and makeout but Percy just walks in on them making out in her bed.. and after a few days Leo would rub it in Percy’s face as a joke.
“𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞! ”
— leo valdez x f!daughter of poseidon!reader
warnings; recommended for +18, smut and nsfw things happening.
★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★
tags; fingering, language, unprotected sex, fluff, some cringy things, sex jokes.
a/n; I think I did better on this one! thanks for your request.
— Really? Oh no, but she was your friend!
The more the conversation went on, the less Leo understood what you were talking about with that turtle. In fact, he didn't even know you could talk to turtles, but the way your breasts looked in that swimsuit when you bent over was enough reason to keep watching while pretending to be interested.
You stood up slightly, and the sand stuck to your legs made him want to brush it off himself, grain by grain, just to be closer to you, or even inside you. Leo cleared his throat and tried to distract himself to avoid those thoughts, not necessarily because he felt bad having them, but because, what was worse than imagining it and not being able to have it right then? Because you kept talking to the damn turtle.
Ten minutes that felt like an hour passed, and he was getting more and more impatient to get you inside until he finally saw the oviparous creature head back to the sea. With a smile that looked more like a grimace of discomfort, Leo stood up and took you by the waist with a familiar expression on his face.
— How about we go inside? — he offered, his hands sliding down your back covered by the still slightly wet swimsuit. Your eyes curiously searched his, and seeing the way he looked at you and the warmth radiating from his body, you raised an eyebrow slightly.
— For something special, Valdez? — you teased, and he smirked sarcastically while intertwining his fingers with yours as he began to drag you to cabin three. — But, what about Percy? Uh– he could show up any moment — you stammered, and Leo turned around to carry you bridal style to avoid you stepping on anything dangerous with your bare feet.
— It'll be... quick — he murmured in your ear, and you squeezed your thighs at the hungry tone of his voice.
Quick as lightning, he pulled down the curtains, locked the door, and lifted you onto the dresser, not stopping kissing your salty skin. Anywhere your skin was exposed, he tried to leave a kiss or a bite.
He pulled you close to his body, and you moaned feeling his hardness against the lower part of your stomach, the thought of doing it this way had you too turned on. The adrenaline had you captive, and Leo was gripped by it. His hands roamed your body, and with a slap to your pussy, your breath hitched. He hummed and struggled with the elastic fabric that covered you to touch you. When he finally managed, he smiled while kissing the curve between your jaw and neck.
— It's always wet in the ocean, isn't it, babe? — his deep voice drew an unthinking whimper from you, followed by more as Leo played with your folds, making wet, slippery sounds that made you lift your hips involuntarily.
— Uh, Leo... — you moaned as he slid a finger into your pussy without warning, still kissing your neck. You impatiently wrapped your hands around him, holding on as he thrust into you, your legs trying to close until he had to place a leg between yours to keep them open.
Your juices ran down his hand, and as he felt you getting closer, he had to stop, drawing a whine from you. He gave you sweet kisses on your cheeks.
— Sorry, mi amor, but I need to feel you inside. Do you want that? — the last part came out as more of a plea, and you understood, seeing the sun setting. Dinner would be soon, and they'd wonder where you were, not to mention some of your stuff was still on the beach. With the same need he seemed to have, you nodded frantically. He roughly pulled you off the wooden dresser, turning you around to face the mirror on the bureau.
In the reflection, you saw Leo with darker-than-usual eyes and a cocky grin, noticing the blush on your cheeks at the sight of you both, hot and bothered. That tightened your walls, and you felt his long hands pushing you to lean on your forearms while nibbling your ear.
— Babe... — he purred in your ear, not taking his eyes off your figure.
One hand started pulling down a strap of your swimsuit while the other massaged your clit over the increasingly annoying fabric. Leo kissed your shoulder, quickly pulling down the other part of your swimsuit to free your breasts. He growled at the sight of your erect nipples and the remaining grains of sand on your body. If he had more time, he would have brushed them off one by one with you lying on the bed, but you were on a fast track.
— That's better — he said, pinching one of your nipples, making you lift your ass towards him, rubbing against his aching dick, already melting to be inside you.
— Damn, this damn swimsuit works wonders for your body — he mumbled, dragging the words as he pumped his dick, barely touching your ass, making you more impatient. His fingers pulled the blue fabric aside again, rubbing your entrance with his pre-cum covered tip.
— Damn, Leo, didn't you say you were in a hurry? — you complained as your hips sought deeper contact. Leo loved to tease and take his time, but you were right, time was short. He buried his length inside you, pounding his hips against yours with no delicacy.
Your velvety walls took him so well he thought he might come right then, but he tried to hold on a bit longer, watching his dick disappear inside you and the way your tits bounced with each thrust. He was on the edge.
— Uh, damn. You squeeze me so good — he growled, leaning more onto your back to get deeper. You stifled a moan, sobbing with your mouth open and eyes glassy, focused on your boyfriend, only making you want him deeper. You were close, babbling nonsense that only encouraged Leo to increase his thrusts.
— Oh, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck me.
— That's what I'm doing, babydoll.
Even in the middle of the moment, he always found a way to be funny. But when you lifted your hips higher, your pussy tightening around him, he was about to see heaven. Your release started dripping down your thighs and his shaft. With that, he painted your insides with his cum, pressing your body tightly against his, as if he wanted you to be one.
The horn signaling it was almost time for dinner sounded, and with breathless lungs, Leo found a bit of air to sigh with a tight smile against your back. Before slipping out of you, he kissed you.
You stifled a small whimper at the emptiness, and your boyfriend smiled tenderly, hugging and turning you to face him again.
— You're so damn hot — he said, kissing you and slowly covering you back with your swimsuit while gently kissing your cheeks and nose. You giggled, and he led you to your bed to sit on his lap.
— We don't have much time but — he kissed you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, making it easier for him to hold your hips. — I adore you.
You smiled, and he kissed you again until the door burst open, making you jump.
It was Percy, his expression changing from a frown to shock and then anger.
— LEO!
— Bro, at least you came when I already had my shorts on.
A yell echoed through the entire camp, and everyone knew Percy Jackson had arrived.
— Want some honey on those pancakes? — Leo asked the son of Poseidon genuinely while holding the jar with a raised eyebrow.
— I don't want anything from you — Percy said sourly, with a twisted smile. Leo grinned, seeing what this was about.
— Maybe a nephew, then.
— YOU!
#percy jackson#leo valdez#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#pjo#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez x you#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez fic#leo valdez smut#leo valdez fanfic#leo valdez one shot#leo valdez imagines#leo valdez x reader smut#heroes of olympus x reader#the seven heroes of olympus#heroes of olympus x reader smut#hoo x reader#hoo x you#hoo x reader smut
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