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atlabeth · 9 months

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bad luck - nikolai lantsov

summary: you have little hope after being captured by slavers in the depths of ravka. but then your ship is commandeered, and you get a little more than you bargained for with your privateer savior.

a/n: sorry that it has been a while since ive posted anything on here and sorry about my neglect for my other series but i am a nikolai lover first a writer second and a person third!!! apparently i cannot write a normal length one shot with this man but i hope you enjoy

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, sturmhond!nikolai, reader is captured by slavers but there is no detail, mentions of fighting and killing, mentions of arranged marriages, reader is highkey annoyed by sturmhond lmao, but a fluffy (and lowkey steamy) ending

At first, you’d thought you were hallucinating.

You couldn’t remember the last time your captors had given you, given anyone in the brig, water, and the beginning of a spiral into insanity wouldn’t have exactly surprised you.

Explosions, gunshots, the screams of dying men. You’d imagined the entire crew dropping dead many times so it wasn’t a shock that this was where your madness would begin. You just closed your eyes, tried to pretend you weren’t in chains, and reveled in the sound.

And then the door to the brig was broken down, and your eyes shot open. You moved to the front of your cell, gripping the cold bars as you looked to see what sort of new danger had been brought upon you.

Instead, you were met with a cocky-looking man—though he hardly appeared old enough to be called a man—a pistol in his relaxed grip and another hanging by his side. His bright teal frock coat didn’t belong in a dingy place such as this.

“Hello, all,” he said pleasantly. “I am happy to say this ship has been commandeered.”

Your grip slackened. “What?”

Your question was drowned out by immediate rioting by all the other prisoners, and the man glanced at the woman by his side. She took one of her two axes from its place at her hip and walked over to your cell. Her golden eyes gleamed, and her axe moved in a barely visible flash. She’d chopped the lock clean off, and the cell door creaked open. The whole brig had fallen silent.

You took another step back, eyes still wide. The man walked up next to her, peering inside your cell at all the prisoners bunched in together, but when his eyes met yours, they widened. His entire body went rigid for a moment, so imperceptible that you thought you’d imagined it when he looked away.

“I have no desire to keep you all here against your will,” he said. “Call me your liberator, call me your savior, call me a captain who just hates slavers—it doesn’t matter to me right now. The only thing that matters to me right now is that this is my ship.”

“Are we free?” you asked.

Again, the captain’s expression changed ever so slightly when he looked at you—this time, you knew you hadn’t imagined it.

“Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile. “You’re free.”

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, and the chains around your wrists felt lighter knowing they would be off soon.

The captain cleared his throat as he turned away, looking at the rest of the prisoners. “Now, do any of you know where they keep the keys on this ship? If we can’t find them, Tamar here will use those handy axes on your shackles.”

Someone spoke up and the captain sent one of his men off to retrieve them, then he looked at the golden-eyed woman. Shu, no doubt. “Tamar, get the rest of these cells open then bring them above deck. I’d like to make a speech.”

She nodded and got to work. Soon enough, you were breathing in salty air and reveling in the wind on your face. You’d been below deck for far too long, and the feeling of sunlight on your skin was glorious. You allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and just enjoy it. Your mind blocked out the spilled blood and dead bodies of the crew that you had to walk through. You wouldn’t shed any tears for them, but you weren’t accustomed to the brutality that your parents sheltered you from.

“I’d like to introduce myself to you all.” You opened your eyes and the captain was speaking, standing in front of the orderly line you’d all formed. The Shu woman from before—Tamar, he called her—stood at his left, and a similarly golden-eyed man had just joined them. Between his size and her axes, you were quite thankful they were—at least for now—on your side.

“You can call me Sturmhond,” he said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me, perhaps you haven’t. I don’t particularly care. As you likely saw, each and every man and woman previously aboard this ship is dead, in case you doubted my promises to your freedom. That is what I care about.”

The thought would have normally made bile rise in your throat. You may not have been accustomed, but you liked to believe you weren’t wholly naive.

“But I want to be clear,” the captain said, “this is not a rescue. This is an opportunity.”

Sturmhond gestured with his head and a woman stepped forward, lithe with wispy hair divided into two braids. She moved her hands apart and concentrated, and with a few concise movements, the cuffs around your wrists broke apart and fell to the ground. Your eyes widened, and the exacerbated clatter made you glance down the line, same as some of the others—she removed everyone’s shackles at once.

Sturmhond kept company with Grisha. You knew the captain was Ravkan from his accent, but any connection to the Grand Palace and the King sent unease trickling down your spine. The chances were small, what with how much time Grisha spent in the Little Palace—Saints, the Fabrikator might not even be Ravkan—but there was still a chance. The last thing you needed was to be recognized.

“We didn’t really need the keys,” Sturmhond said with a boyish smile. Again, you were struck by how out of place he looked—he should have been in university, not heading operations like this. “I just wanted to make you all squirm a little. Tamar’s axes are quite terrifying.”

“Who says we want any part of your opportunities?” asked a man from down the line.

“Because I’m allowing you the choice,” the captain said. “Those of you who wish to be free of the sea and her constraints, we are by the Zemeni border. You will be dropped at the nearest harbor, and your fate will be back in your control.”

There were grumblings throughout your fellow prisoners and you glanced at them. It was a better offer than any of you would have gotten, a chance for freedom that you thought was long past you. Novyi Zem had no grief with Ravka, so you would be safe enough there. You could get a job working the fields or in a factory, and once you had enough you could book passage back to Ravka. You could find your family again.

Your throat tightened. You ran from them—that was why you were here in the first place. Maybe it would be better to try and start a new life all together, nameless in Novyi Zem. No one would ask questions, you were sure of it. You would be in control of your fate again.

And then the captain got a glint in his eye. Your spine straightened almost on instinct.

“As for those of you who want revenge,” he tilted his head, “you can earn a place in my crew.”

“Why would we work for you?” a woman from across the brig shouted. “We’ve got our freedom!”

“Because there is little more satisfying than causing the destruction of those who tried to destroy you,” Sturmhond said. “And because the sea is rather lovely when you’re not a captive.”

“That is my opportunity to you all.” He clasped his hands together, the wind ruffling his red hair. “A chance to help those like you, and put slavers at the bottom of the ocean where they belong.”

“Why would we want to work with pirates?” you spoke up. “We have lives to get back to. And half of us aren’t fighters.”

You didn’t know what it was about you that made Sturmhond’s expression shift just so each time he looked at you, but it was beginning to irk you.

“Privateer, actually,” he corrected. His voice was annoyingly smooth, and his unyielding confidence even more irritating. “As I said, it’s your choice. And it will take us three days to reach Novyi Zem, so you will have time to decide.”

You huffed a laugh, but decided to stay silent. You’d dealt with too many men like him, but it wasn’t a bother—in three days, you would be back in the same position you were in before your bad luck struck.

“Now,” the captain said with an equally smooth smile, folding his hands behind his back, “any questions?”

Nobody spoke up. Whether it was out of fear or simple ambivalence you didn’t know, but you didn’t feel like getting on the captain’s bad side. You planned to keep your head down for three days and figure it all out in Novyi Zem.

“Wonderful. We’ll divide our forces between this ship and the Volkvolny,” he said. “Any of you who wish to transfer ships will be allowed.” His lip curled as he looked around the dingy conditions of the slaver ship. “I doubt you want to spend much more time on board this wreck.”

“Some of my crew will get you situated as we prepare to set sail,” Sturmhond continued. “If you find you have any burning questions later, save them or direct them to Tolya here.” He gestured to the Shu man as tall as a tree standing by him, and he only looked slightly irritated to be given up like that.

“I suppose the only thing left to do is officially welcome you aboard.” Sturmhond swept an arm through the air. “I hope you’ve all earned your sea legs.”

He walked off, Tolya and Tamar following him. They must’ve been his first mates—you were immensely glad they weren’t against you, what with his size and her axes.

But as he did, you couldn’t help but stare. The strangest feeling had come over you during his speech, one that was exacerbated every time he passed the slightest glance at you, every time his expression changed. He was just… unnatural. Unsettling.

You allowed yourself a deep breath and shook your head, trying to focus on the crewmember that was speaking to you all. You didn’t care if he was unnatural or unsettling—you would be gone in three days.

All you had to do was keep your head down.

Sleep wasn’t easy after the day you’d had, but your tired limbs won out after an hour or so of staring at the ceiling. The cot you’d been assigned wasn’t much for comfort, but it might as well have been the plushest mattress you’d ever felt after what you’d been sleeping on before.

You slowly opened your eyes, your grogginess fighting against you at every step, because you had the dimmest feeling that something was wrong. When you saw golden eyes above you, you nearly screamed.

You thankfully held it in, but you could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

“Sturmhond wishes to speak to you,” Tamar said, wholly unfazed as if she did this all the time. She probably did.

“Why?”

“My job isn’t to ask questions,” Tamar said. She left it at that, and you sighed as you pulled yourself out of the hammock. You followed her, squinting in an attempt not to bump into anything in the darkness. The Volkvolny wasn’t familiar to you yet, but it was easier once you were above deck. You rubbed the grogginess out of your eyes when she opened the door to the captain’s quarters for you.

She didn’t follow you in, and you didn’t know whether it was a relief or not.

“Ah. You’re here.” Sturmhond turned around from a cabinet, holding a bottle of kvas, a slight smile on his lips. “Drink?”

“You didn’t just invite me here for a nightcap,” you said placidly, “did you?”

“Of course not,” he said. “I thought it would remind you of home.”

You frowned. “You’re Ravkan. Who’s to say I am too?”

“How did you know I was Ravkan?”

“Your accent.”

“Then how do you think I knew you were Ravkan?”

“Maybe I will need a drink,” you said bitterly. “It’s the only way I think I can keep dealing with you.”

Sturmhond sighed as he poured a fair amount into two cups. “Such harsh words for a noble girl. Quite a stroke of bad luck for the daughter of a duke to end up on a slaver’s ship.”

“Who’s to say I’m the daughter of a duke?” you asked.

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you really want to keep playing this game?”

You crossed your arms in response, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“An accent gives quite a bit away,” Sturmhond said. “It’s also obvious to anyone that looks at you—and I assume you have quite a few admirers. You speak Ravkan like a princess, like you were taught in schools rather than the streets. You have a gleam in your eye that says you still have hope. And,” he looked you up and down, “you carry yourself with confidence despite your position. Not the attitude of a girl on the other side of the ditch.”

Your lip curled. “How astute of you.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

“Born and raised in Os Alta,” you acquiesced. You offered a thin smile of your own back. “And I suppose you’re correct. Bad luck seems to follow me as of late.”

“You wound me,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Are you claiming that my rescuing you is a continuation of your bad luck?”

“I thought you said this wasn’t a rescue, captain.”

“Sturmhond,” he said.

Your lips twitched in a momentary smile. “I thought you said this wasn’t a rescue, Sturmhond.”

“It isn’t,” he agreed, taking a sip of kvas, “it’s an opportunity. I’m just curious of what drove your choice.”

You crossed your arms. “Strange of a pirate to be so curious about a prisoner.”

“Privateer,” Sturmhond corrected, “and you’re no longer a prisoner.”

“My point still stands,” you said wryly.

“Is it wrong of me to be curious?” he asked.

“It’s pointless,” you said. “And if you’re done with your little interrogation, I’d like to get back to sleep.”

“I’m not here to be your enemy.” He sat up, taking another sip of his drink. “Surely you understand that.”

“I understand it perfectly well,” you said. “I just don’t see why you care.”

“Fine,” he amended, “I’ll let you be. Just one more question.” Sturmhond sat up in his chair, leaning forward as he looked you straight in the eye. His were the strangest shade of green. “Why did you run?”

You actually recoiled at his question, your reflex winning over any desire to hold back your emotions. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t waver. “I thought my question was quite clear.”

You picked up the cup he’d poured for you and threw it back. The kvas burned your throat—your tolerance never was all that—but it didn’t make much difference with the scowl already on your face.

“You don’t get to ask me questions, pirate.”

“Privateer,” you heard him correct, and it only made you slam the door harder on your way out.

Three days of keeping your head down should have been easy. Sturmhond, however, appeared to have a different agenda.

He ignored you for the entire next day, but that night, Tamar was waiting for you before you could even get to the barracks.

“Seriously?” you asked. “Did he not get my message clearly enough last night?”

She shrugged. “He just asked to see you again. I don’t know why.”

You sighed and made an offhanded gesture. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You opened the door yourself this time when she got you there, not even bothering to shut it as you stared at Sturmhond.

“What are you playing at?” you demanded.

“Good evening to you as well,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“What are you playing at,” you repeated flatly.

“I’m not playing at anything,” he said. “Is it a crime to enjoy your company?”

Your jaw ticked, and your hands clenched into fists. “If you’re after what I—”

“I’m not after anything,” he assured with a frown, “and certainly not what you’re thinking.”

His interruption peeved you, but you found that you actually believed him. The tension eased from your shoulders ever so slightly.

“…Good,” you said after a moment. “But I still don’t understand the need for these meetings. I plan to be gone by tomorrow.”

“Because I know you,” he said. “You may not know me, but I consider myself generally knowledgeable of Ravka and its upper class.”

“What,” you said wryly, “do you want my advice on how best to rob them?”

“Of course not,” Sturmhond said. “I wouldn’t need your advice for that.”

You huffed a laugh. “So what do you want?”

“I’ve been at sea for quite some time,” he said, “and you’ve only just left Ravka. I’d very much appreciate it if you could share some of your insider knowledge on the Lantsovs.”

“You assume I have any.”

“I assume that the woman who used to be Nikolai Lantsov’s betrothed would have some,” Sturmhond replied smoothly.

Your heart stuttered for a beat at the mention of Nikolai. Any doubt Sturmhond might have had over his claim had to have dissolved with your expression.

He arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

You allowed yourself a deep breath before you finally took the seat across from him.

“Fine,” you said. “You’ve got me. I’m the daughter of a Ravkan duke and I used to be engaged to a Lantsov prince. Did you just want to prove your knowledge?”

“Not at all.” Sturmhond wisely poured an additional glass—brandy rather than kvas, thankfully. You needed something stronger if you were to deal with this. “I want your knowledge.”

“My being betrothed to Nikolai is why I don’t know as much as you think,” you said. You downed half the glass at once and your chest burned less than the memory. “Nikolai and I were to be wed when we were of age, yes, but he disappeared before I got the chance.”

“Disappeared?”

You nodded. “He was meant to come back after his service so we could prepare for the wedding. Instead,” your lips curled in a disdainful smile, “he up and left. The king broke off our engagement and I haven’t heard a word from Nikolai since.”

Sturmhond frowned. “My deepest apologies.”

You shrugged. “He made his choice. Apparently he’s in Ketterdam studying, but I very much doubt that. He was never good at sitting still. But wherever he is, I hope he’s still alive.” You huffed a laugh. “I cannot imagine Vasily taking the throne.”

“I’m sure he is still alive,” Sturmhond said. “And I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten you.”

“How kind of you,” you said dryly.

He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “You say you plan to be gone by tomorrow. Does your plan include returning to Ravka?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I ran from my family and my fate, and that’s why I ended up here. I don’t think I can go back just yet.”

“And what fate did you run from?” Sturmhond asked.

“A marriage I didn’t want,” you said plainly.

“As opposed to the marriage you did want.”

“Are we done here?” you asked. “Because I don’t think you need to know more of my personal life.”

Sturmhond smiled after a moment and nodded. “Yes. But I’d like to see you one more time tomorrow, before we officially part ways.”

“You’re not going to change my mind,” you said.

“And I don’t intend to. There’s just one last thing I wish to share with you.”

“And you can’t do that now?” you asked wryly.

“Patience is a virtue, darling.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He held up his hands. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You’re very strange for a pirate,” you said.

“I’m quite normal for a privateer,” Sturmhond said.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head as you stood. “Enjoy the rest of your night, privateer.”

You felt his eyes on you as you left, and now more than ever you couldn’t shake that feeling. You looked at Tamar as you shut the door.

“How long have you been part of his crew?”

“A few years,” she said.

“Do you ever get used to him?”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “No.”

You sighed as the two of you started to walk. “What a surprise.”

You were at Sturmhond’s door the next afternoon, Tamar by your side. She hadn’t come to deliver you, but on your way there she told you she would be joining you. You certainly weren’t going to refuse her.

As usual, you didn’t bother to knock. As usual, Sturmhond was sitting at his desk. Tamar followed you in and shut the door, not as usual. Your brows knit together slightly.

“You actually came,” he said.

“Consider me intrigued,” you said. “I couldn’t just walk off and never know what you wanted to ‘share with me’.”

The corner of his mouth curled up into an achingly familiar smile. “You’re just as fiery as I remember.”

“We just met,” you said dryly.

“On the contrary.” Sturmhond sat up, and he removed his jacket. A metal pin glinted on his vest, a crowned double eagle. The Lantsov coat of arms. Your frown deepened. “You spent the other day describing our lost time together.”

“I’m…” you blinked and shook your head. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m Nikolai Lantsov,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me say all my titles, though.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. And then you laughed in complete disbelief.

“Is that what this is? You consider me a fool?”

“On the contrary,” he repeated. “It is because of your intelligence that I deigned to reveal myself.” He offered a wry smile. “And because you don’t hate me the way you should.”

“You cannot just say something so absurd and expect to believe it,” you said. “Anyone can rummage up a coat of arms. I have not heard and or received a single word from Nikolai, and now I am supposed to believe that he is right in front of me?”

“It sounds absurd when you put it like that,” Sturmhond said with a frown.

“Because it is absurd,” you enunciated. “I actually thank you for this, because now I know I’m making the correct choice. You may be a good captain, but you are a complete blackguard.”

You turned and offered a tight smile to Tamar. “Please move. I’d like to leave.”

“He speaks the truth,” Tamar said. “I promise you. He’s Nikolai Lantsov. My brother tailored him into Sturmhond at the beginning of all this, when we joined his crew. ”

You paused and looked back at the pirate claiming to be the man you loved. “What?”

“Nikolai Lantsov is much more valuable as a hostage on the seas,” he said. “No one spares a second glance at Sturmhond.”

“Then change him back,” you said, looking back at Tamar. “Get your brother and make him change him back if you want even the slightest chance of me believing these lies.”

“They are not lies,” she insisted. “And I’m not the best tailor.”

“You’re both Grisha,” you said flatly.

“Heartrenders,” Sturmhond (Nikolai?) supplied. “My most trusted crew. Come on, Tamar— I believe in you. Work your magic.”

She rolled her eyes as she walked over to him, and though your immediate instinct was to take the exit you’d been given, you crossed your arms and waited as she did her work. It didn’t take long for his muddy green eyes to change to hazel, his red hair to blonde. A slightly less broken nose.

He… he looked like the Nikolai you knew. It was staggering to just be standing across from him—or at least a mirror image of him—after so long apart. Older, more weathered, but with the same glint in his eye. The same glint that you looked forward to with each day, the glint that you remembered when you didn’t have him anymore.

“That doesn’t mean much,” you finally said, glancing away. “If you can tailor him into Sturmhond, surely you can tailor him into a Lantsov.”

“You overestimate my tailoring abilities,” Tamar said dryly.

“I still don’t trust it,” you said, and you started again for the door.

“When we were seven, I convinced you to sneak out of our etiquette lessons and go down to the river,” he suddenly said. Your hand froze on the door. “You scraped yourself on a particularly sharp rock while we were traversing the waters—you still have the scar on your ankle.”

You turned around. “How do you know that?”

“My father held a party and your family attended,” he continued. “We were ten and it was the most boring night possible. We evaded our parents’ attention and snuck off to the kitchens.” He smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so many pastries in my life.”

A smile of your own, almost subconscious, began to form on your lips. You hadn’t thought of that party in years.

“And when I was fifteen, the year before I enlisted, I did the worst thing I could have done to your father.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I took one of his prized swords and did all sorts of moves trying to impress you—I only managed to dent it and get banned from your home for months.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” you murmured.

“And…” he sighed and opened his drawer, rummaging around for a moment. He held a ring between his fingers when he emerged, and your heart stopped beating for a second. “I still have this.”

Your hand was shaking when you reached beneath your collar and took hold of the string around your neck. You pulled it into view, and the ring hanging on the bottom glinted in the light.

Your engagement rings still matched perfectly.

Nikolai’s smile was bright as you remembered as the realization hit. “And you still have yours.”

“Of course I do,” you said. “It was a lot of work to keep it in my possession.”

“I’m glad you went through it, then.”

“It really is you,” you whispered, letting your makeshift necklace fall back against your skin. “I— I just don’t understand. Why are you here? Why are you playing pretend as a pirate?”

“Privateer,” he corrected. He glanced over at Tamar, still holding her post. “Could you give us a moment alone?”

She nodded and left, shutting the door behind her. The room felt smaller with just you and Nikolai in it, with the man you were meant to marry who left you in the past.

“I do this because I can do much more to help Ravka from the seas as Sturmhond than gallivanting around court as a second son—a bastard son at that. My parents appreciate Sturmhond much more than they would Prince Nikolai.”

“I appreciated Prince Nikolai,” you said. “I appreciated just Nikolai. You could have at least sent a letter.”

“I know,” Nikolai said. To his credit, he did look mournful. “If there is one thing I regret about all of this, it is how I left you. I said what I said the other day because it’s true—I have not forgotten you. I never did.”

“Then why go through all of this with me?” you asked. “Why annoy me into spending time with you?”

“Because I’ve always been quite good at annoying you,” Nikolai said wryly, then his expression sobered. “And because… I didn’t know how you would feel about me after all this time. Everything you said yesterday was true—I did leave you, and I haven’t said a word to you since. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated me, and if you did, I didn’t want to force myself back into your life.” He managed another small smile. “Fortunately for me, you did not hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Nikolai,” you murmured. “I— I loved you. For a long time, and I think I still might.”

“Even more fortunate for me,” he said softly.

“So why didn’t you come back?” you asked.

“I…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Still cut in a military style. “You talked about how you despised your parents for forcing you into a marriage at such a young age. I didn’t want to force you into a life with me. If I had known you—” he chuckled, a boyish smile on his lips— “if I had known you loved me, I don’t know if Sturmhond would have ever come into fruition.”

“You are the reason I was here,” you said. “My parents thought they struck gold when the king agreed to a marriage between us. I thought I had struck gold as well, in you—a marriage my parents wanted couldn’t have been all bad if you were meant to be my husband. But you left that in the dust, and they still wanted a husband for me.”

“A marriage you didn’t want,” he echoed, his eyes soft.

You nodded. “They did all the work behind the scenes—I was going to meet him on our wedding day, some Kerch banker’s son. And I just… couldn’t face a life like that. So I ran. And with all the luck in the world—” you gestured lazily— “I ended up here.”

“Then I suppose it’s only fair that I ended up rescuing you,” Nikolai said.

“I thought this wasn’t a rescue,” you said wryly.

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. It’s still an opportunity— one I think you’ll like much more.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I plan to go back and take the throne someday,” Nikolai said, moving around his desk to be closer to you. “But I don’t want to miss another moment with you, not now. So until then,” he took your hand, encasing it between his own, and the warmth it provided was something you’d sorely missed, “will you do me the honor of sailing by my side?”

“I’m not a sailor,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“I can teach you,” he said eagerly. “I can teach you everything I know until you’re a better privateer than me. And you can teach me everything I’ve missed while being at sea—all the noble things I ought to know for when I return home.”

Your lips quirked in a smile, hardly able to contain the giddiness bursting in your chest. Your life went from destruction at the hands of slavers to renewal with Nikolai Lantsov by your side once more.

“How can I refuse?”

Nikolai grinned, and he tugged on your intertwined hands to pull you into a kiss. It wasn’t the first one you’d shared, but it was surely the best. It felt like a promise of something new—the promise that he wouldn’t let you go like he did before.

You were breathless when you pulled away, and the sight of Nikolai, blonde hair slightly ruffled because of you, his lips slightly red because of you, made you kiss him even harder the second time.

Your back hit the side of his desk and Nikolai was practically on top of you, seven years of lost love pouring through him all at once.

“And if it wasn’t clear,” Nikolai murmured between kisses, “I never stopped loving you for one moment.”

You groaned and pulled him even closer, your hands clenched tight around the fabric of his jacket. “You wear too many clothes.”

“Then fix it.” His voice was sultry in your ear and you didn’t know how you went seven years without him.

You were very thankful that he asked Tamar to leave.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

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fairyhaos · 9 months

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❍ the 2k event: jeonghan + empire

vote for this fic in the poll!

alternative title: burn, palace, burn

pairing: prince!jeonghan x f!empress!reader

genre: historical au, empire au, enemies to lovers, angst

word count: 1517

warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, manipulation, imprisonment (yeah,,, this ended up a little dark)

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War is never something you’ve enjoyed.

Bloodshed is horrifying, and the amount of lives lost, often futilely, make your stomach churn and your heart ache. The effects of war are almost always felt for generations after, staining child after child and traumatising the land beyond belief, the blood of enemies and allies and victims painting nightmares into the soil.

What a shame that your hands are dripping in that very blood.

You sigh, straightening yourself in your throne, brushing at the delicate golden chains dangling from your headdress as they touch your shoulders. However, you’ve been brought up by a tyrannical family, hell-bent on controlling their people. It’s always been your greatest desire to undo that damage, create a prosperous society, but that has proved near impossible.

That was a lesson your advisors had taught you, early on in your reign. As a woman, you’d have little power but to do as the men before you had done.

“Your Imperial Highness! The Great Sun of our land! Your imperial army returns from their latest battle!”

The doors to the throne room burst open, and in strides the head general, helmet under his arm, chest puffed, cheeks splattered with blood. It makes you feel sick.

But what makes you even more ill is the fact that he’s not alone. Behind him, two other soldiers drag in a man, tugging on his chains and forcing him to kneel before you. His head his bent, once-rich robes tattered and torn. There is a crown on his head, but on closer inspection, it looks to be a crude imitation of one, fashioned from tatty cloth and rotten sticks.

“We have returned from our conquest in the East,” your Head General says, proud. “The Kingdom of Thae has fallen to your mighty reign.”

Another kingdom acquired by your crown, you think weakly. Another kingdom for your advisors to lord over. Another kingdom for you to play at being empress to.

“Well done,” you say, and try to hide the discomfort from your voice. Masking it should come easily, given the countless times you’ve done this, but your horror at what has become of you never ceases to fade. “The Imperial Crown thanks you for your service.”

The Head General nods in acknowledgement, and point to the man kneeling beside him. “We have brought the prince of the Thae Kingdom here to you. Though their King and Queen have been slaughtered, Advisor Kim relayed that you would enjoy certain… spoils of war, if there were any left.”

Your head spins. This is horrific. You want to leave.

“Yes,” you manage to force out, as gracefully as possible. “Thank you.” You look down at the man, and his head is still bent, but his chained wrists shake from the way he clenches his fists tightly. “Pray tell, what is the prince’s name?”

The Head General smirks, and steps back. “Would your Imperial Highness like to take a look at him?”

It’s posed as a question, but you have no choice.

You rise from your throne, (lies, it’s not yours, it’s always belonged to anyone but you—) and descend the steps, kneeling before the man, the heavy silks of your skirt fanning out beneath you.

With one finger, you lift up his head, and your breath catches.

He’s beautiful.

“Prince Yoon Jeonghan, Your Imperial Highness,” your Head General introduces for you, and even his name is beautiful.

His hair, raven-dark and mussed up, is still velvet-soft as you tuck a lock behind his ear, mesmerised by his beauty. His eyes are like black diamonds, so dark that you could fall into them and yet endlessly bright and sparkling. His skin is pale, and he looks so small and delicate and you wish for nothing more than to whisk him away from this horrible, horrible world.

Jeonghan snarls, and his teeth sink into your wrist.

Immediately, the guards around him pull at his chains and tug him back, tug him so hard that he falls back, head crashing painfully on the cold stone of the floor.

“Oh!” You don’t even register the stinging teeth marks on your wrist, bleeding red beads, standing up and rushing to his side, holding the back of his head, even as he swats angrily at you, chains clinking. “Are you alright?”

Jeonghan stares at you as if you’ve gone insane, wrestling himself from your grip and receiving more harsh tugs for his actions.

“I gather that Your Imperial Majesty is pleased with this prince?” the Head General says, and the sick pleasure in his tone makes you look up.

“Indeed,” you say, with all the authority you can muster. “Now, leave us.”

There are little benefits to being a puppet empress, but at least the people still have to respect you.

Once they all leave, and the room is empty, you fall to your knees beside him once again, brushing at his robes, seeing if he’s alright. But Jeonghan pushes your hands away again, hissing.

“Leave me alone,” he snaps, and his voice is cracked and hoarse but the anger pulsates, ever-present and unable to be hidden. “I refuse to be your boytoy.”

“Let me help you,” you beg, noticing the bruises along his arms, the dried-up blood on his neck. “Please. I could— I could give you a good life here. I promise.”

Jeonghan’s eyes darken, icy flames dancing in his irises, every blink oozing hate. “Your promises mean nothing to me,” he spits. “I refuse to bow down to a bully like you. You’re a killer, a manipulator, and I want nothing to do with the likes of you.”

Every word is a steel shard struck straight into your heart, and it’s startling how much the hate stings you. You’ve conquered countless kingdoms before, albeit not by your own choice, and you know that this is how people must view you. And yet, it hurts, to hear the venom and calculated rage pouring out of this prince’s mouth.

“I’m not those things,” you say quietly, voice echoing meekly within the large throne room.

Jeonghan scoffs, opening his mouth to retort, and you rush to carry on.

“I’m not the one in charge. I have no power, no control here. I’m—I’m as much a prisoner as you are, a prisoner to my people, to my advisors, to my court. They prod me and push me around as they please, and I can’t do anything against them without being killed. Please, I— just let me help you.”

The hate does not waver in Jeonghan’s eyes. His delicate, pale face is contorted into an expression of such loathing that it makes you shiver in fear.

“If you’re all those things,” he says venomously, “then how can you help me?”

“I can keep you alive,” you say. “I can make sure you won’t die any time soon.”

Jeonghan freezes, and then slumps. He’s sitting on the floor of your recently polished throne room, satin robes torn and charred and splattered with blood. The floor shines, and his blackened fingers curl into the stone, fingernails scraping painfully.

“I just want my parents to be alive,” he says, quietly. “I want my life back.”

His words hit too close to home, and your heart constricts. It takes you several deep breaths before you manage to compose yourself again, and you rest a hand gently on his own.

“I can’t give that to you,” you admit, “however much I want to. I… I can’t even do that for myself.”

Jeonghan looks up, and there’s a question there, amongst the flickering flames of derision and fury and sadness.

“But I can give you a life,” you say. “It won’t be your old one, but it’ll be a life all the same. If you work with me, I can… I think I can free you. Free everyone.”

Jeonghan’s brow furrows, and a sheen covers his eyes as he thinks it over. He’s tattered and underfed and probably suffering several wounds, and yet he is taking the time to think of your offer, and part of you wonders faintly if Jeonghan, before all of this had happened to him, had been someone intelligent and calculating and revered by his people.

You feel even more ill for what you've done to him. For what others have done to him in your name.

“Very well,” Jeonghan says finally, and your eyes widen. His chains clatter once again, and he holds his hand out. “Help me, and I help you.”

You smile, and take his hand, gently helping him to his feet. “I promise.” You prod at the chains on his wrists. “I'll free you. I will."

The beginnings of a smile tug at Jeonghan's lips. He tugs at the golden threads of your crown, and you let him, let him push it off, let it crash to the floor in a tinkle of expensive and heavy metal.

"How noble of you, Empress," he says, but there's a light in his eyes, devious and cunning. He's a fighter, Jeonghan is. You can tell. He grins.

"Let's burn this empire to the ground."

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jedimandalorian · 8 months

Text

Ahsoka Episode 6 “Far, Far Away”: The Story, the Symbolism, and the Score

Episode 6 of Ahsoka begins with the sound of distant purrgil calls as Ahsoka and Huyang travel through hyperspace, crossing the void between galaxies. During their discussion of the tales Huyang used to tell the Jedi younglings there is no music.

I loved that Huyang said such an iconic line in this episode, reminding us that this is indeed a fairy tale, a children’s story.

The Title Card for Ahsoka appears, and then the episode title, “Far, far Away.”

We hear ominous music when Sabine is in the brig onboard the Eye of Sion. The window to her cell is shaped like an upside down triangle.

The sinister music continues during the scene with Baylan, Shin, and Morgan on the bridge. Morgan’s Theme (the Nightsister theme) is heard when the Eye of Sion exits hyperspace.

The line “Peridea is a graveyard” reminds us that this is indeed a “descent into the abyss” a stage of the hero’s journey which I have discussed on this blog before. Ominous music plays here.

The characters who are aligned with the dark side are on a quest for more power to dominate others. They have followed the Path to Peridea as a kind of path to perdition as I have mentioned in my previous metas. But Sabine, our heroine, is descending into the Underworld on a more noble quest. She hopes to find her beloved Ezra Bridger, echoing the story of Orpheus, the hero of Greek myth who descends into the Underworld to find his beloved Eurydice.

Morgan’s Theme continues when they board the shuttle and descend to the planet Peridea.

The landscape of J. R. R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth is suggested by the giant statues and the Nightsister fortress, which resembles an evil version of Minas Tirith.

The characters encounter three Nightsisters, analogous to the Three Fates of Greek mythology, the Moirai. (Note the similarities between this word and the name of Ahsoka’s owl, Morai, a creature I predict that we will be seeing again soon.)

The three Fates were the personification of destiny in Greek mythology. The three sisters were known as Clotho (the spinner), Lachesis (the alotter), and Atropos (the unturnable, a metaphor for death). The end credits for this episode name these three Nightsisters as Klothow, Lakesis, and Aktropaw, clearly indicating the intended symbolism of these three characters. As George Lucas said back in the late nineties, “Well, when I did Star Wars I consciously set about to recreate myths and the — and the classic mythological motifs. And I wanted to use those motifs to deal with issues that existed today.” (From billmoyers.com) Lucas’ apprentice, Dave Filoni, has learned this lesson from the master himself.

The music is quieter in this scene, with sounds of low vibrations being heard. Morgan’s Theme continues when Sabine is imprisoned by the Nightsisters’ three orbs, which held her bound within a triangle made of red cords of energy.

Outside of the fortress three wolf-like creatures howl as ominous music plays. Choral music suggesting the mysticism of the fallen Jedi Order is heard as Baylan speaks of Peridea being a realm of “dreams and madness” from old “children’s stories come to life.” Once again, the viewer is reminded that we are being told a fairy tale, a myth. The musical score subtly teases the listener with three notes from Ahsoka’s Ronin theme in this scene.

Sabine is imprisoned inside the Nightsister fortress as the Chimaera arrives with the sound of ominous metallic rumbling. Thrawn’s flagship Star Destroyer was named after the female fire-breathing monster in Greek mythology which was part lion, part goat, and part dragon.

I am no Freudian, but the Chimaera’s open docking bay hovering over the phallic tower of the Nightsister fortress seems to be the most overtly sexual symbolism I have seen in Star Wars in a long time. However, I’m not here to discuss that visual metaphor.

Organ music which anticipates but does not present Thrawn’s theme is heard as the Nighttroopers muster under Enoch’s command. These undead stormtroopers have cracked armor repaired with golden seams suggesting the Japanese art of kintsugi, as well as armor pieces bound with bands of red cloth. They are heard chanting “Thrawn! Thrawn!” as the Grand Admiral makes his dramatic entrance. For me this chant was reminiscent of how the orcs in Return of the King chanted “Grond! Grond!” when using their mighty battering ram against the walls of Minas Tirith. (You can do your own Freudian analysis of that scene. I’m not going there.) What was Grond?

“Grond, also known as the Wolf's Head, was a one hundred-foot long battering ram with a head in the shape of a ravening wolf, used in the arsenal of Sauron in the Third Age. Though named for Grond, Morgoth’s warhammer, it was created in the likeness of the Wolf of Angband, Carcharoth.”—from lotr.fandom.com

Creepy music accompanies the Nighttroopers as they transfer of cargo from the catacombs beneath the fortress. What is inside them? Dead Nightsisters, waiting to be revived by dark magic?

Thumps and low pitched sounds accompany Thrawn’s conversation with Baylan.

Thrawn speaks of Sabine’s desire to be reunited with her long-lost friend. (The word desire is a very intentional word choice, with the connotation that the connection between Sabine and Ezra has potential to be more than just friendship.)

Sabine: I’m sure he’s doing just fine.

Thrawn: You gambled the fate of your galaxy on that belief.

Sabine: You wouldn’t understand.

Thrawn: Perhaps not.

Evil does not understand love and loyalty. (See my previous post about the Path to Peridea.)

Enoch returns Sabine’s weapons to her, and she is provided with provisions and a wolf-like howler for a mount. He tells her to “die well” as she embarks on her “fool’s errand.”

The line about a “fool’s errand” calls to mind this scene from Tolkien’s novel, The Return of the King:

'Tell me,' he said, 'is there any hope? For Frodo, I mean; or at least mostly for Frodo.'

Gandalf put his hand on Pippin's head. 'There never was much hope,' he answered. 'Just a fool's hope, as I have been told…”

“A Fool’s Hope” was also the title of the penultimate episode of Star Wars Rebels final season.

Once again, Thrawn’s theme is only hinted at by the organ music at the end of the scene.

Sabine’s scanner is destroyed during her fight for her life with the red-armored bandits in the wastelands. Her life is saved by her Mandalorian armor and weapons, Ahsoka’s training, and Ezra’s lightsaber in this action sequence.

Baylan and Shin ride out on howlers. Nighttroopers load coffin-like cargo containers onto the Chimaera as uneasy music plays. Thrawn decides to dispatch only two squadrons of Nighttroopers. His disdain for Jedi, light or dark, is apparent: “It matters not whether Wren and Bridger are killed or stranded here. The same can be said for your two mercenaries.” Ominous music plays.

The scene with Sabine and the howler is accompanied by gentle music played upon wooden flutes. Sabine processes her abandonment issues and her complex feelings for Ezra in this scene by taking out her emotions on the howler. “You. You abandoned me. I should have known you are a coward.” She tries to make the howler stop following her, but the loyal animal comes back as soon as she walks away. “Okay. Fine,” she says. “I’ll give you another chance, but you better not bail on me this time.” The gentle flute music continues. A motif of ascending perfect fifths suggests Ezra’s Theme.

The howler stops to drink water and sniffs the air. The thing that Sabine and the audience assumes to be a rock is revealed to be a sentient little hermit-crab-like creature called a Noti. Gentle music plays when Sabine kneels, puts down her blaster, and extends her hand to the creature. The Noti recognizes the Rebel Alliance symbol (an evolution of her own Starbird design) on her pauldron. The creature has a medallion of his own, marked with a similar symbol.

“Do you know Ezra Bridger?” Sabine asks, touching her heart. “He’s my friend.”

Ominous music plays as Baylan and Shin discover the dead bandits. Once again choral music is heard when Baylan reminisces about the Jedi Order.

It is also revealed that the Nightsisters are fleeing from a power that is greater than their own.

Baylan and Shin see the red Bandits in the distance. “The enemy of our enemy is our friend,” says Baylan, “for now.”

Peaceful and noble sounding music is heard when Sabine sees the Noti encampment. She smiles at the mother Noti rocking her baby in a hammock.

With Sabine in the foreground, the camera pans to show a now adult, bearded Ezra Bridger wearing a red robe and leaning against the wall of his home. “I knew I could count on you,” he says as joyful music plays, music which features the piccolo, flute, and other woodwind instruments.

The closed captioning for this episode says that there is captivating music playing when Sabine and Ezra finally embrace. We hear a beautifully orchestrated rendition of Ezra’s Theme on the French horn with a new countermelody in the strings to heighten the emotional impact of this long-awaited scene.

Ezra’s Theme is heard again when he says “Sabine, thanks for coming. I can’t wait to go home.”

When we return to where the Chimaera is docked with the Nightsister fortress, a suggestion of Thrawn’s Theme is heard at a quick tempo suggesting the urgency of the situation that is about to unfold. Ahsoka Tano is coming. “The thread of destiny demands it” is a line that further emphasizes the three Nightsisters playing the role of the three fates. We finally hear Thrawn’s Theme presented in an obvious way as the episode ends.

I have blogged about the magnificent end credits music in previous blog posts, so this time I am going to discuss something different: the alchemical symbolism in Ahsoka.

The central focus of alchemy was to transmute base metals into gold and create the elixir of life, as any aficionado of the lore of the philosopher’s stone knows. The process is a metaphor for the purification and transformation of the human soul to a state of perfection.

Three colors symbolize this process, black, white, and red.

First there is the nigredo (blackening) stage of the alchemist’s work, representing the breaking of the human spirit. This is where both Sabine and Ahsoka are at the beginning of the series.

Second is the albedo (whitening) stage, which involves washing away impurities or vices, and being ready to grow and learn again. This is most clearly illustrated by Ahsoka the Grey’s “death” and transformation into Ahsoka the White.

Third is the rubedo (reddening) stage, which is where we are in the story right now. It represents the purified and awakened spirit reaching its highest and purest form.

“The symbols used in alchemical writing and art to represent this red stage can include blood, a phoenix , a rose, a crowned king, or a figure wearing red clothes.”—Wikipedia.

The color red, of course, is symbolic of Nightsisters and their magic in this series, as well as symbolizing the red thread of fate.

Baylan Skoll’s line about having to “destroy in order to create” is an example of the alchemical concept of “solve et coagula” meaning to separate then join together. Nothing new can be built without destroying the old. Perhaps this is really telling us about the destruction and rebuilding of the Jedi Order.

In the completion of the rubedo stage there must be a union of sulphur and mercury, also known as the wedding of the Red King (the sun) and the White Queen (the moon). Sulphur represents the masculine principle, the soul, and the fire of life. (Remember Ezra’s red robe?) Mercury represents the feminine principle and the mind, flexible and changing. (Sabine is a clever young woman who lives inside her head, sometimes too much. Lately she’s been distracted by her heart.) Mercury also represents a state that can transcend death.

Is the much-discussed Ezra and Sabine hug the union of Sulphur and Mercury? Or should we expect something more than that?

Much has been written about Baylan Skoll and Shin Hati as the mythological wolves who chase the sun and the moon. This episode ends with the pair in pursuit of Ezra (sulphur, the Red King, the sun) and Sabine (mercury, the White Queen, the moon). When Skoll and Hati catch the sun and the moon, Ragnarok begins.

Besides sulphur and mercury, there is another element present at the rubedo stage of alchemical transformation: salt.

Ahsoka the White is coming.

Please reblog and comment on what you think of my musical and literary analysis of this episode of Ahsoka. I am looking forward to reading your replies.

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ikkosu · 23 days

Note

So you know when you wear shorts in summer in a car with a leather seat that your legs stick to it sometimes? I've actually almost fallen out of car bc of that. And because of this experience, may I request this happening to the reader with any autobot of your choice?

THROUGH the glaze of the windshield, traffic churns at a slow, steady pace. Pistons chuff, creak and groan; beaten down by the glare of the sun, little by little the mottled blurs of car start to file out.

Everytime, you think you're going to wrangle out of this hellhole — a wide gap-like opening, blaring out like the heavens for freedom — you find yourself stuck in another junction, relapsing in the same fucking problem.

Stuck in the same place. Between mesh metal of blistering, practically burning from the sun, hot cars.It also doesn't help how raw to the bone hot the weather is.

Heat is seething through the Aircon. You're practically drenched, and the discomfort of having an already wet shirt matted to your wet spine is exacerbated by the goddamn ire before your eyes.

There's a truck, in front of you.

A very old truck.

And, fast?

Not it's greatest virtue.

A lump of irritation bites its way through your teeth. The backside of the truck sputters with black fumes. You're about to relinquish the title of an honorable citizen, when the radio warbles with a staticky breedle.

"You're getting sweat all over the seats, pipsqueak." Comes his sardonic chuff. The insignia lits up with every sass induced spool of his words.

At that you lift up your thighs, a kind of schlap followed after as a result of very sweaty skin latching on leather.

"Suck it cop-bot," You pat the steering wheel. "That's what you get for having shitty air conditioning."

A growl revved up from the engine. The wheel whirls away from your touch three-sixty at max speed.

"You can't expect me to accept the blame, can I? When all there is out there under that— that blisteringly — whatever you call that slag of a weather, is hot fraggin' air."

You blink at the sudden venom in his tone. Prowl's usually, eh usually, the type to keep it down when he's about to lose it : a scowl and a sharp tongue is good enough for lacerating the source of his ire.

For him to snap? Yikes. That takes a lot. A hefty lot. Even with Smokescreen, concierge of shenanigans — worst he's got is a swift chuck to the brig and cleaning duty for a year. And, that's just with a scowl and a low, steady tone.

Guess Cybertronians aren't immune to hot days, either huh. Sun's that bad.

"Is it getting to you too, Prowler?"

"What do you think?" He bites back. "Look at the thermometer. It's exceeding above the usual range of what a normal temperature should be. It's draining up the power in my cooling fans which drains up my fuel, which drains up energon. Which, at this moment, is scarce."

"Hard times, Prowler." You shake your head solemnly. "Hard times."

"You don't get a say in this." He grits out.

The car leers forward with a sudden jerk and your forehead kisses the steering wheel. Not the flat surface where the insignia lies but the edge. You know, the round handle? Bubbles of pain shoot out from the spot and you groan.

"What?" You whined. "It's already hot enough with my ass sticking to your seat — you can't leave me with any more bruises worse than this, alright?"

"Then keep that mouth shut. Or I'm shutting it off for you."

" We're stuck in traffic, though." You grope the steering wheel, grinning at the irritated growl of an engine when he tries to steer it away.

"Will you cut it."

"Hunkering down on a quick brawl in the street doesn't really contribute to the whole," You waggle your hands. " bots in disguise, kind of thing. Not really your style. Doesn't fit you, prowler. Doesn't seem to fit the muse of a..." You trail off, playful and purposeful with your tone. "...law enforcer."

He's quiet for a moment.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

He laughs : a quick sarcastic 'hah' and a chuff.

"Get out."

Yep. There, it is.

"Duly noted."

Your fingers wrangle the door knob. And, as soon as you struggle to pry it open you realize Prowl is keeping it locked.

"Where'd the angry coppa go?" You huffed.

"Oh, you'll see."

"Open the—huh?"

Your fingers grasps the open air, twitching around nothingness. The momentum propels you to slide off your sweat-lathered seat, lurching forward and face first into the hot, concrete road.

#any autobot = my husband prorlotl #transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #idw prowl #prowl x reader #prowl #idw prowl x reader #😭😭😭 its literally so hot here im melting into a fugcking pufdle fam

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persnicketypomelo · 1 year

Note

I just read your James Norrington post. I really liked it, I've been looking for stuff on him. If it's not to repetitive may I please request more romantic Yandere James Norrington with a pirate reader (she's part of Jack's crew), at all his character ark stages. Like commodore, reluctant pirate, regaining his status through betrayal, and finally his redemption (au where he lives). Thank you.

Sure thing--I'm not tired of writing for him. He is my favorite character of the whole franchise, but I get the feeling that the producers did not want us to care about him much. I'm also disappointed that there's little content on him. :(

obsession, spoilers

Yandere James Norrington with a Pirate

Commodore

For obvious reasons, the commodore doesn't think too highly of you initially

He is an idealistic man--fighting for justice, or at least what he deems to be so--and you self-serving pirates represent the antithesis of what he stands for

He worked hard for his position up to lieutenancy, and then his role as a commodore, while you and your kind steal and thieve your way to success

Although Norrington never was able to catch Jack Sparrow, the same cannot be said about individuals of his crew...

Perhaps in his pursuit to save Elizabeth, and his various scuffles with pirates in the process, he manages to imprison you

While you're stuck, imprisoned on the brig, he might as well see if you can be of use and provide him some information about Sparrow

What he doesn't expect, however, is to find you so attractive, especially for a pirate, disheveled and dirty, sitting on the filthy floors of the brig

And once he gets to talking with you, he finds that you have more in common than he would have thought

Despite being a pirate, you have some personal code of honour and sense of loyalty

This is when Norrington's obsession first culminates

He held some physical level attraction to you since he saw you, but now he feels that, after knowing you better, he can rehabilitate you and help you find the err in your piracy

During this phase of his character ark, his intense affection manifests through a saviour complex

He does not want you to hang, as would be his normal policy towards pirates, because he believes you can be saved

(And his stomach lurches at the thought of you dead)

Before he can actually manifest his plans, however, you slip away, unbeknownst to him

After dealing with Barbarossa's undead crew, a strange longing to see you and talk with you

Only, when he checks, your cell, after the whole ordeal, you aren't there

And all the while you're gone, his resentment of the captain Jack Sparrow grows for taking you away

Piracy

Disgraced and burned by his destroyed ship in pursuing Sparrow, he goes into hiding

While his interest in you before, as a commodore, was certainly unusual and intense, now, stuck in the echoes of his own mind, his fixation spirals

The copious amounts of alcohol surely doesn't help either

It is in his desperate enlisting to the Black Pearl that he finds you again--no longer so disheveled as during your imprisonment

Even after so long from your escape, he can't help the jolt in his heart from seeing you again

The fallen commodore's fixation is no longer along that lines that he can rehabilitate you--how can he when he can't even help himself?

Now, he is more honest with himself that he desires you, he wants to be with you, and after losing all his titles, there's no reason he can't now

In this stage of his character, it’s likely that he will be forthright in his intention—flirting with you outright

He is no longer a commodore, and the stoic, strong front he portrays from his experience in the navy is no longer necessary

He dreams of restoring his lost honor, and when he does, you best believe that he will take you with him

And a lucky break comes for him through the heart of Davy Jones

Admiral

This is where he’s most dangerous

Restored to his previous honour, and promoted to admiral, you are helpless to the power he has

And Lord Beckett surely wouldn't mind if he takes one measly pirate for himself

But all the while, he thinks about you...you're clearly not cut for piracy, and likely forced into it

He will take you away from the cruel and unbefitting world of piracy

And once he learns that the man he trusted and dedicated his services to betrayed his trust, his determination to sweep you away blooms tenfold

Lord Beckett had killed Governor Swan, someone Norrington trusted and admired

The incident is enough to send his obsession over the edge

After releasing the prisoners from the brig, he severs the ties between the Empress and the Dutchman

You come with him on a separate dinghy

And if you resist, confused by his actions and your sudden kidnap, he will point his pistol at you, telling you to comply with him for your own good

Norrington doesn't intend to shoot you, no matter what, but it is more to calm your struggles and your confusion

He insists this is for your "own good", but the single-minded and determined look across his face makes you worry if he might be more of a threat to you

Redemption

James Norrington wouldn't marry you--at least in an official manner

You have to remember that marriage serves as a business transaction, not solely for the spirit of love, or at least in this time

He would certainly take care of you as a spouse, just that there's no official records of such

Besides, he wants to hide you from the cruelty of the world as much as possible, and a marriage with you would just herald your existence to the world...to the evil who might wish you harm...

Undoubtedly his betrayal to Lord Beckett would hurt his professional prospects, but perhaps with time, he can regain a position of some valour

His dedication to service and honest work speak for him as much as his accomplishments

And if he ever regains a position of power again, your chances at escape are even slimmer

He is not paranoid, but he would feel at more ease to take certain...precautions...to prevent you from harm...or escape

He will be very dedicated to you, though he isn't particularly adept in expressing the earnest love he feels for you

But, if you ever manage to escape from his grasp...

Then you would truly see the depth of his obsession

#yandere james norrington #yandere #yandere potc #x reader #reader insert #obsessive #james norrington

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heart-of-a-rebel16 · 9 months

Note

For the Angst/fluff Prompt List:

94, Kalluzeb

“I won’t lose you too.”

94: “I won’t loose you too.”

Pairing: Zeb/Kallus, Star Wars: Rebels

requests: open

part 2 here

—x—

They had gone down the wrong corridor. More accurately, an impending squad of troopers had forced the down the hallway. As soon as they had stepped through the blast doors, Kallus knew he had made a mistake.

“The traitor and the Lasat,” Grand Admiral Thrawn drawled. The ghost of an amused smile quirked on his thin lips. “What an exquisite pair the two of you make.”

There were far too many guns in the room. Too many variables at play. Kallus tried to ignore the nausea rapidly crawling up his throat. He had to stay calm, and figure out a plan. There were three other people in the room with him besides Zeb and Thrawn. Governor Price looked down on him with a haughty sneer, flanked by two death troopers. They had fallen right into her web, and she was basking in the glory.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Admiral,” Zeb deadpanned from behind his shoulder. “It’s not a good look on you.”

Thrawn regarded Zeb with a mild look of disgust, then turned his attention fully to Kallus. “I see the rebels have taken to you quite nicely,” he murmured. “Typical. Picking up any pathetic stray on the street so they can play at being an army.”

A deep growl grumbled through the room, courtesy of Zeb. Kallus’s hand on his chest was barely enough to hold him back. The two death troopers shifted in their stance, aiming their sleek blasters at Zeb.

“Please try your best to restrain your animal,” Pryce said with a wicked smile. The upper hand was fully hers, and she knew how to play it. “Or else I might be forced to act rashly. There’s no place in the Empire for such beasts, as you know.”

The smirk upon her lips alone sent red tearing across Kallus’ vision. He forced himself to remain calm; she wanted to poke and pod at his most sensitive parts for some sort of chink in his armor. It was what she was good at. It was why the Empire had kept her around.

Zeb snarled at the governor, but said nothing. Both of their lives were now balanced on a precarious tightrope that was best left unshaken.

A plan was beginning to form in Kallus’ mind. It was a bad one, and Zeb certainly wouldn’t be fond of it. It was the only way out, though. Silently, Kallus breathed a sprayer to the Ashla for luck.

“Escort the lasat to the brig, troopers,” Thrawn said. He took a step forward. Red eyes bored into Kallus with cold ferocity. “And when you are done, you may escort Agent Kallus to my personal quarters. I belive we have much to catch up on.”

It was now or never. Quick as a blink, Kallus drew his blaster and fired a single shot to the hanging light fixture of the room. With a fantastic bang and a lightning storm of sparks, the fixture crashed to the ground. In the split second of confusion, Kallus smashed his fist against the button to the door behind them, then drove his shoulder into Zeb, sending him stumbling back a few steps. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Kallus caught Zeb’s confused eyes right before he fired another bolt into the control panel to seal the door. Before either of them could get a word out, the door crashed shut.

The death troopers recovered quickly. Kallus felt the familiar cold rush of a stun blast enveloping him. Darkness took over in an instant, all his limbs going limp. He had one final though before he fell into unconsciousness’s unforgiving embrace.

I won’t loose you too.

#DUN DUN DUUUUUUUNNNNN!!!!!!#star wars rebels #sw rebels #swr #agent kallus #alexsandr kallus #zeb orrelios #garazeb orrelios #kalluzeb #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #governor pryce

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ajwild220 · 9 months

Text

Abord the Captain's ship

(Hero x Civilian-Civilian x Sea Captain)

Summary: A captured and chained civilian finds the pirate ship she is held on overturned by a battle with a sailing vessel. When a sailor mistakes her for a pirate herself, she is drug before the captain for him to decide her fate. She can barely keep her thoughts straight, will she be thrown overboard? Will she be given a fair trial? And oh my word why is the Captain handsome...

Rating: PG

Warnings: Captivity, chained, death (non-MC), battle, blood? Signs of the pirates mistreating civilian.

(I don't know what I'm supposed to put! It honestly isn't too graphic or scary)

The noise above deck was almost deafening, boots stomping on wood, swords clashing violently as shouts reverberated through to the inner bowels of the ship. A full-on war had been waged. Civilian shrunk further into the back of her small cell in the brig. This did not bode well. She swallowed, eyes darting up at the wood-planked ceiling separating her from her enemies’ attackers.

She had been in the brig of these filthy pirates for a week now, a cook stolen from the last ship they had looted. When she refused to aid them, the captain had planned to sell her off at their next port. She could remember the slap she had received for her defiance as she was dragged down away from the light of day and thrown mercilessly into a dirty cell to nurse her bruises.

Her breathing began to quicken as a particularly loud thump sounded right above her. She needed to get out. The short chain pinning her wrist to the side of the ship rattled as Civilian once again tried to pry herself loose. It was useless. She had already tried so many times before.

After she had escaped the first time, the pirates hadn’t spared any precautionary measures.

Civilian slid down the wall making herself small in her corner, perhaps she would be overlooked until the fight was over. However, a tinge of dread settled in the pit of her stomach, with her luck she would be forgotten completely to rot or drowned if whoever was currently battling the pirates decided to sink the ship. With great effort civilian forced the dark thoughts from her mind. Perhaps she would be rescued and released from this misery.

Just then, a great commotion sounded all around her. Her jailor ran down the steps from above deck, beard flying around him, his normally glinting evil eyes alight with fear. He passed in front of her cell, reaching for his sword, which had gotten stuck in his belt, violently trying to rip it from the leather. He never got the opportunity to draw it, however, as another figure rushed down from above. A young sailor clad not in pirate garb but in uniform appeared before her captor and as quick as a flash, the jailer’s body hit the floor lifeless right before her cell.

Civilian stifled a surprised and horrified gasp, her hand reaching to cover her mouth, which was agape at the scene that had just played out before her very eyes. Before she could comprehend what had happened, the sailor was gone, back above deck and into the fray.

A buzz entered Civilian's mind, something between terror and happiness, as she gazed at the man lying still before her when a glint caught her eye. From within the fallen jailor’s pocket, a tiny hint of silver peaked out, shimmering brighter than any diamond. The keys.

Making sure the coast was clear, Civilian began to crawl slowly toward the dead man. As she came up to the cold metal bars, her shackle jerked her back, pulling one arm back and away from freedom. A groan of frustration emanated from her lips as she stretched in vain, her fingertips just short of her goal. Civilian wanted to scream; she was so close.

Another thump from above decks deepened her resolve and without another moment to think, she pulled her chain taunt laying down on her side. Stretching out her leg she poked her toe along the fabric of his pocket and, with some work, managed to drag the keys within reach. Shaking hands made short work of the shackle, which dropped to the floor with a heavy and resounding clunk. She was free.

Civilian flexed her fingers as the key ring merrily jingled with each key she tried in the lock. Wiggling each one with growing confidence as one finally turned in the lock. The heavy cell door swung open with a rusty click, and Civilian risked a step out from her small prison.

This is where she faltered, fingers still gripping the heavy iron door. Even though the fighting from the deck was growing quieter by the minute, it would most definitely not be wise to make a sudden appearance. As she was frozen, pondering her options, a noise tore her from her thoughts, the noise of heavy boots descending the ladder.

Civilian didn’t move, in fact they barely breathed as a rather portly sailor with a stubbled chin and crooked nose practically stomped down the ladder with a fighting gleam upon his sweaty face. He brandished his sword taking note first of the dead man on the floor, then a rather perplexed looking Civilian. Before she could get a word out to explain his sword raised to her a wild grin on his face.

“Prepare to die pirate scum!” His voice was gravelly, and he spoke from his throat.

Civilian instantly paled, “I am no pirate!”

He sneered “That’s what they all say the first time they see trouble.”

Civilian did not know what to do, he blocked the exit. Perhaps bravery, or perhaps it was just pure desperation fueled her as she leaped to the dead man beside her recklessly trying to pull his saber.

In her efforts, she felt a sharp nick in the arm and causing her to let out a loud yelp as she fell back. The sailor’s saber had clipped her bicep. Thankfully either due to her swiftness or the sailor's lack of proper aim, it was nothing more than a deep scratch, yet adrenaline began to surge throughout her causing her breathing to grow quick and her heart to thump rapidly in her chest.

“Please listen to me! I am not a pirate!” She had to throw herself out of the way of his next attack ramming into the wall.

He turned from where he had stumbled, eyes wild.

“You shall die like the lying dog that you are!” he growled, closing in with each step, boxing her in with his sword and body. Civilian couldn’t run, couldn’t move as she felt the cool steel rest against her throat. Her pulse ran wild as her eyes squeezed shut, preparing for the end.

“Wait!”

The end never came.

Instead, the keeper of the saving voice burst into view, pushing away his comrade’s sword and gripping onto his arm.

“Simmons! What are you doing? Take the lady before the captain, he will decide her fate.” The man stood between the two eyes staring accusingly at the man named Simmons.

Simmons wrenched his arm from the newcomer's grip, a deathly fire in his eyes.

“She is a pirate like the rest of them. She should die like one.”

Civilian stifled a whimper as the sword once again found a place on her throat. It was removed instantly as the new sailor once again gripped his comrade’s arm.

“Stand down now or I will tell the captain personally you disobeyed his orders.”

“Gah, his orders were to eradicate the pirate vermin from this ship!”

His rank spittle spewed as he spoke, hatred for every pirate etched in his features. The new sailor spared a glance at Civilian.

“You know as well as I, that killing unarmed maids is not what he meant!”

Civilian’s scared eyes had been darting between the two, hoping whoever this newcomer was, he could keep her from being pinned to the wall by the man Simmons saber. It seemed the goodwill offered by this man was, however, having little effect on the erratic sailor as his eyes continued to bore into Civilian's very soul.

His companion seemed to notice this and added more softly “God help you if the captain hears you have shed blood like this.”

Simmons’s glare seemed to falter at these words causing him to blink out of his bloodthirsty trance as his sword dropped from its place at Civilian's throat.

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

Civilian blinked rapidly in the sunlight, completely unaccustomed to the warm glow. It took a moment for her to finally readjust to the light as she was continuously pulled across the familiar deck, rough seaworn hands firmly on each arm. Simmons on one side, the other man on the other. Her hands were bound firmly behind her with a bit of rope leaving her quite helpless.

Sailors were everywhere shouting, cleaning up any remnants of the battle that had ensued. They were swarming the deck, coming up from below, already in the rigging. Bright blue tunic-like uniforms with silver trim, while others wore simple white sailor’s clothes. It was so much to take in it made her head throb.

This new crew was strong, stronger than any she had ever seen to take down a pirate vessel so easily, so efficiently. After all, this was the second change of ships she had seen in the last week.

As she was pushed past a group of sailors moving weapons; she could feel their stares heavy on the back of her neck and sense the anger on their faces. It made her feel sick. Her captors were practically dragging her unwilling form forward step by step as a shout rang out.

“Hartley!”

Civilian could feel the man who had intervened for her turn sharply on her arm at what seemed to be his name. Almost causing her to trip as her captors abruptly stopped as a man of tall stature and jet-black hair strode into sight.

“Who is this?” his voice was deep and commanding. Surely he was an officer.

“A pirate” Simmons grinned toothily.

“We are unsure of that!” Hartley interjected “We are taking her to the captain.”

The tall man before them nodded solemnly as civilians squirmed in the sailors’ grip. Whoever the captain was, she was not sure she wanted to see him. The officer eyed her before nodding to her the men at her arms.

“Take her.”

They didn’t need another word as she was dragged all the way to the edge of the ship.

Everywhere sailors were carrying supplies, weapons, rope, and the like. It was chaotic as some swung on ropes and others walked across several boards connecting the ships at the sides. It was to one of these boards that civilian was pushed to where she had a sickening view of the beautiful yet steep drop and the lapping blue water below. The breeze blew her hair into her eyes and mouth, but she couldn’t move it with her hands securely behind her. What little she could make out was the ship across was beautiful and well-trimmed. Crimson and blue flags flapped in the wind. It was larger than the barnacley vessel she was currently on and twice as well scrubbed.

Her arms being released sent a shock to her brain as she turned to her sailors. Simmons had begun to lean down as if to heft her on his shoulders like a bag of meal. She stepped back instantly.

“Don’t touch me! I-” She once again gazed at the dizzying drop. “I’ll walk.” She insisted unsteadily. Simmons offered a toothy grin sweeping his arm in the direction of the board.

“Be my guest.”

Shakily she placed a foot on the board, muscles tense as she tested her weight on it. How she wished for her arms to balance. Looking back at Simmons’ frightening expression and she turned instantly, raising her chin. Civilian would do this alone.

And she did... until Simmons stepped out behind her.

The sudden shift of the board was too much for her to compensate for, and the world turned dangerously on its side as she felt her footing leave the board and slip easily into the air below.

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

The cold water was a shock as Civilian’s head went under. Her muscles tightened and her hands fought to be free, but the ropes were too tight. Civilian kicked with all their might, even kicking off their shoes in an effort to rise to back to the surface. Yet it didn’t work. The fabric of her clothes and the inactivity of her arms drug her down. A scream tried to surface yet she smartly held her mouth shut. The more she kicked the more her lungs begged for air, pretty soon she would be forced to take a breath whether or not she had come to the surface.

As Civilian had reached a point of absolute panic, she felt the weight of strong arms around her. They pulled and Civilians head finally broke the surface of the waves. She coughed trying to take in as much salty air as she could.

The rest was a blur as Civilian was heaved aboard the great ship and thrown to the deck, coughing and spluttering. Forced to her knees, her forehead rested against the wood in front of her as she tried to breathe properly again, gulping in deep breaths of blessed air.

Slowly and surely, she began to become aware again. She could feel the sting of her arm where Simmons's blade had scratched her, throbbing from the salt. The ropes that held her hands made her skin smart horribly where it was bound too tightly, but at the moment, that was one of the least of her worries. The lovely sea breeze was bitterly cold now that her clothes were doused with salt water and clung to her body. She could hear the crew as well, some soft whispering, others louder. It seemed the whole ship had drawn its attention to her sopping-wet existence.

Nerves ate at her stomach as she became aware of her vulnerable position, and she gulped down the desire to cry. As if summoned the sounds of boots hitting the deck as if someone had jumped down from a height resounded through the crowd. The crew went almost completely silent.

“What is all this?” A commanding voice challenged.

Civilian closed her eyes, hiding behind the curtain of her dripping hair, praying her fears were incorrect.

“A prisoner, Captain.” A man called.

Civilian mentally cursed her luck.

A slight pause.

“A very wet prisoner.” Several chuckled at the captain's statement and Civilian tensed as she could feel the vibrations of his footsteps tread around her.

Simmons's throaty growl was heard, “She’s a filthy pirate, captain. We were bringing her to you, but she jumped.”

Through the terror, Civilians' blood boiled at the outrageous lie.

“Is that how you speak to a lady after you drop her in the water?”

The captain’s voice was displeased, he must have seen the whole thing and it sent a shiver down Civilian's spine. She didn’t dare look up.

“Sir, beggin’ your pardon, she did it on purpose!”

“Jumped in the water on purpose, arms bound behind her?”

The crew gave a light chuckle at the absurdity. At least Civilian didn’t look the type to do such a thing on purpose.

“I uh, well,” Simmons tried to hobble together his excuses. “Captain, I certainly didn’t do it on purpose. Of any rate she’s a pirate!”

“And that pardons your incompetency?” The captains words resonated cold. The crew grew silent as his voice rang out once more, “I shall deal with you later. But in the meantime-“ Civilian once again could hear his boots as they came into her view and stopped right before her. Civilian swallowed mouth gone dry as she felt eyes burning into her entire body.

The captain spoke, the anger now absent as he looked down on the kneeling captive.

“Hartley. Tell me what happened and why she is bound.”

The nervous voice of Hartley spoke out and Civilian could picture him ringing his hands.

“Well sir, Simmons found her in the brig and was about to kill her for being a pirate. I came upon him and said that we should bring her here for a trial. After all she doesn't look like any pirate I’ve ever seen. So, we did, she seemed like a real slippery thing so we tied her so we could bring her to you.”

The captain must have nodded as Civilian heard no response. “Piracy is a very serious charge.”

Civilian gulped and bit her lip wishing she could melt through the deck and back into the water forever. The captain’s boots took another step forward and civilian’s body tensed in the rope binding in anticipation for what was to come. However what happened was nothing like she expected.

“Miss, would you tell me your side of the story?”

The captain crouched before Civilian elbows on his knees and hands loosely in front of him ducking his head ever so slightly trying catch her eyes.

“Miss?”

Civilian’s eyes however remained firmly fixed on the well-scrubbed boards of the deck, and the ever-growing puddle that came from her wet form. She could feel his warm presence before her, so insanely calm, he was completely in control. Surely if he wanted, he could call Simmons in an instant to throw her back overboard for crimes she did not commit. This thought only aided her shivering, and against her will a single salty tear slipped down her nose joining the water from her sopping curls as it fell and onto the already dark wood.

When she didn’t reply, he tried a different approach.

“Tell me this, are you a pirate?”

Civilian shook her head urgently: no.

She could hear him whisper to himself “I thought as much.”

His voice returned to its normal volume as he queried. “Can you tell me how you came to be abord a notorious pirate ship?”

Civilians mouth opened and closed trying to formulate the words when he interrupted her thoughts.

“You can look at me, I don’t bite. I promise.” He once again ducked his head slightly and dropped to kneeling on one knee. “Please?”

His tone took her off guard. He had been gentle before, a nicer voice than she had heard in months. However, the tone he used as if for a wounded dog or frightened child. To hear such gentleness from someone with such power gave her the courage to lift her head even slightly. Slowly Civilian raised her head, cautiously coming out from her wet curtain of curls to see the man in front of her.

What met her eyes made her pause in wonder. To that moment all she had seen was well kept brown leather boots and a dark brown pair of breeches. When she lifted her eyes, everything seemed in order with a captain of his standing, a well-tailored patterned red vest over a pristine cotton shirt. Well, it would have been pristine if it wasn’t partially wet with salt water and small splashes of blood from the battle. A leather belt was secured around his waist holding his saber which stuck out far behind him, as well as an oiled overcoat and tricorn. What astonished her was not any of this but rather his face.

He could not have been more than several years older than civilian. His face was a deep tan with well arched eyebrows, dirty blond hair sticking out from beneath his tricorn and full lips forming a small smile at her compliance. What told her his age however was not his youthful face but rather his eyes. Dark and warm like the leather of his boots, a deep welcoming brown that showed strength and intelligence, after just a moment of seeing them she understood why the crew entrusted their service to him. For the first time since being thrown to the deck a spark of hope fluttered in Civilians chest. She just might make it out of this mess alive.

“Excellent.” He smiled softly as she looked at him. “Would you mind telling me why you are here?”

She swallowed “My ship was captured a week ago.” Civilian could feel the crew lean in listening to her unsteady words. “I was taken aboard.”

“What about the others?” his head cocked, and you could tell he already had guessed.

“No others. Just me.” Civilians head drooped in remembrance trying not to think about the event which had plagued her dreams for the last week.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His voice was genuine yet not surprised. “I beg your pardon, but out of the whole crew why would they choose you?”

Civilian took a breath once again looking up, her arms aching horribly from her position, but she pushed through. “I’m a cook. A-And-“she paused wondering just what she should include “the brute who grabbed me seemed to fancy me. He advocated to the captain that I could aid them in the galley.” Civilian stole a glance at the young man before her she was met with an expression of understanding.

“She aided the pirates!” A man yelled from the crowd of sailors.

The captain’s head snapped upwards, his face and tone stern as he shouted.

“Silence! Let the lady speak!”

The deck obeyed instantly, and Civilian couldn’t help but tremble with wide wondering eyes at the one before her who could command a ship so young.

“I-I didn’t aid them! I refused. They threw me in the brig where-where” she turned slightly cursing her sore body searching for Simmons. “Where Simmons found me. I have the cuff marks on my wrist to prove it.” She stuttered, voice begging to be believed. Eyes daring to dart to the sailors in sight and back to the captain trying to keep herself from growing frantic. “Believe me I would have rather died with my own before becoming one of them!”

There was a pause as he searched her face for a brief moment, “I believe you.” He finally pronounced, as his eyes flicked over her, noticing the slight panic as her eyes swept over the crew.

His voice lowered so only she could hear “Breathe; they are under me. On my ship we strive for justice.” His tone was serious yet once again calming and soft. “None of them will so much as touch you.”

Somehow his voice cut through Civilian’s fear, and she nodded body relaxing slightly. She believed him.

“One last thing” The captain raised his voice so the crew could hear “what was your ships name?”

She glanced around at all the faces peering at her before she answered loud enough for all to hear. “The Tide Runner.” Civilian paused the sentence feeling incomplete. “Sir.” She added.

The captain’s eyebrow quirked slightly at the last bit, but he shrugged it off to glance over his left shoulder. Civilian followed the captain’s gaze to one of the sailors who seemed to be deep in thought. Suddenly the man’s eyes cleared as if he had finally found what he was looking for and gave a quick nod to the captain.

The captain offered Civilian a small smile as he rose to his full height shoulders thrown back in a stance of authority. Voice booming out to all the crew.

“Listen up lads! It has been confirmed. This young lady is not a pirate but the unfortunate victim of those whom we have just defeated. She will be sailing with us at least until we reach port.” He paused, looking out among the familiar faces. “Until then! She is a lady and shall be treated as such. She is under my protection. Any who dare disobey this order will suffer the dire consequences.” A powerful glint came to his eyes. “Am I understood?”

Instantly a hearty answer of “Aye aye Captain.” Rang out from every sailor, contrasting greatly from the silence of before.

“Alright then lads, as you were!” Immediately the deck was alive and moving again like a well-oiled machine. Just as it was before civilian was the center of attention.

The captain took one look at his handiwork, offering a small nod of satisfaction before once again turning his attention to the girl, whose teeth were now chattering, kneeling on the deck. He took a knee before her as he was moments ago.

“I’m sorry my crew tied you and treated you as they did. Believe me on my honor, it was not by my bidding.” His face was so earnestly concerned Civilian almost forgot about how badly her body ached from kneeling so long…almost.

Her eyes shyly met his, unused to such chivalry. “I accept your apology.” She couldn’t help but smile at the happiness on his face. “But would you mind helping me up? Please?”

He sprung into action looking almost sheepish that he hadn’t done it sooner.

“Of course!” He swiftly came up beside her arm looping under her armpit and easing her to her, rather unsteady, feet. No longer sheltered from the sea breeze, civilian couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering another moment as she subconsciously leaned closer into the captain’s warm grip.

“I don’t suppose you have a dry change of clothes?” The captain questioned.

Civilian just shook her head slightly embarrassed. The captain simply nodded, and you could see the gears turning in his head.

“Can you stand?”

Civilian focused on their numb legs testing their balance before replying. “I think so.” The captain slowly released his grip on her arm, watching to make sure she didn’t fall back to the deck. When he was sure of her footing, he peeled off his over coat and delicately draped it over her shoulders.

“It’s the best I can do at the moment.” He offered her an apologetic smile as he reached for his knife. “Hold still while I remove the ropes.” He moved behind her having to readjust his coat for a good view of her bound hands before he began to saw away at the coarse wet rope. Civilian winced as the cord was pulled taunt to avoid cutting her skin. “Sorry,” the captain’s voice was genuine.

“It’s alright.” Civilian almost whispered, attempting to keep her voice steady. With a bit more sawing, the ropes released Civilian's wrists, eliciting an almost immediate sigh of relief as her shoulders were able to relax once more. She drew her wrists to the front of her body, easing her stiff muscles and gently rubbing over the sore skin.

The captain’s boots thumped on the deck as he once again came into view to stand in front of her and Civilian couldn’t help but heartily thank him with a smile of relief.

He scratched the back of his neck, “No need to thank me, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.” His gaze fell to her now freed wrists, and his brow furrowed in concern. He reached out hesitantly before looking into her eyes. “May I?” She nodded and gave him her wrists. He turned them over, examining how the ropes had rubbed them raw, his callous hands careful to avoid the damaged skin. It also became apparent to Civilian that one could see the bruises and cuts from her shackling in the brig. Apparently, the captain noticed too, as he held up that wrist in particular.

“Iron cuff?”

“Yes.”

His expression was confused as if to ask why they would chain someone like her. “I escaped once.” she offered. His eyebrows raised in surprise causing her to smile.

“Quite impressive.” His face reflected his words as he released his hold on her wrist. “We will treat those, as well as your arm” He gestured to the place Simmons cutlas has clipped her “as soon as we can, I’m afraid our physician can’t be spared at the moment. I hope you understand.”

Civilian nodded with a tight smile. It couldn’t be easy for any physician after a battle of that size.

He interrupted her musings as he jumped into action. “In the meantime, we need to find you some dry clothes.” Civilian watched as he drug his teeth over his bottom lip issuing a shrill whistle. It almost made her want to cover her ears. Before long a young boy with a shock of red hair and peppered with freckles scampered his way up to them standing stick straight and saluting very seriously. Civilian noted the proud smile on the young captain’s face as he turned to her.

“This is Auggie he will help you find some suitable clothes.” His attention turned to the boy. “Take her to my quarters” He paused eyes thoughtfully studying civilians wet form. Normally civilian would have blushed at such an examination. However, the captain seemed good in his intentions. “See if you can find anything in my clothes.” He decided firmly.

His attention once again was on her face, “I’m sorry I doubt anything will fit.”

She tried not to blush and rubbed her arms underneath his borrowed jacket. “That’s alright I’ll manage.” She offered a smile.

“Excellent.” He returned her smile. It was quite dashing now that Civilian had a moment to think about it. Yet she pushed that unwelcome thought away as soon as it entered her mind.

“Well, there was just one more thing I needed to mention before you go. I apologize, I will be brief I know you are cold.” The captain nodded to Auggie as he led civilian a few steps away out of the boy’s hearing.

“I will have you know Simmons will be punished. I can tell there are things that I do not know yet and I intend to find them out.” He was very serious, and Civilian could see a determination in his eyes. “However, I wanted to ask you if there was anything I should know.” Civilian didn’t know what to say. She had gone from being nearly abandoned in a brig to being under the watch of a strong and vigilant, not to mention young and handsome, sea captain, it was almost too much. Her voice came out scratchy, as she looked at the deck beneath her feet.

“No, nothing you should know, sir.”

He chuckled, “Please, you make it sound as if I am my father. You can drop the sir.”

Her eyes rose to his deep brown ones once more and smiled. “If you insist.”

“But honestly, you need not spare Simmons.” He grew grave once more, “You can tell me any wrong he committed against you.”

“None that no one else knows” she answered honestly.

His face was still grave, which puzzled her.

“Your cheek tells a different story.”

He reached up gently, pushing her damp curls out of the way of the bruise upon her cheekbone.

“Oh.” Her eyes broke contact before returning to his, “That was not Simmons’s doing. That was yesterday.”

He nodded and she could see the anger against the pirates simmering behind his gaze.

“I am both sorry and happy to hear that.” He nodded deeply. “Thank you.” He paused, looking over her, over the ship, over his men who were scurrying about as busy as could be before again putting on that stunning smile.

“Well! You should follow Auggie. Tell him to get you something to eat from the galley. I shall see you later.”

With that, he tipped his hat and, upon seeing her safe with the cabin boy, walked away with the proud stride only sailors possess, leaving behind a curious civilian to go down below decks.

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tarableart · 2 years

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Ch.4 Part 17 of Fallen Flowers

*This was actually my original plan for introducing the Tem Pirates- with them shoving the crew into the brig as prisoners. xD I eventually changed my mind, but thought it'd be funny to make a little reference to it here (also why Undyne has always shown wariness/disdain for the Tem Pirates in the comic lolol)

TAPAS | DEVIANTART | DISCORD | WEBTOONS

🌸~*~FALLEN FLOWERS COMIC ARCHIVE~*~🌸

#Fallen Flowers Comic #Undertale #fancomic #alternate universe

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creationsofthepenguin · 1 year

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I just rewatched the end of s2 of the Mandalorian (obviously spoilers ahead) and even though i usually hate the ‘love at first sight’ trope, dinluke makes it work.

I can imagine Din, full of despair and dread, waiting for the darktroopers to storm the brig, when a mysterious figure appears and hacks them all down in a matter of minutes, and the only thing Din can think of is ‘whoever that person is I fucking love them’.

At the same time, Luke enters the brig, already confused out of his mind by the imperial light cruiser and a platoon of dark troopers, only for a Mandalorian to ask him, the poster boy of the rebellion, if he was a Jedi. And if Luke didn’t think ‘oh my stars what an idiot I love him’ then, then he would’ve fallen head over heels for him when Din removed his helmet for Grogu to say goodbye. Even if he knew nothing of Mandalorian culture, the scene was so sentimental Luke’s jeart would’ve melted at the sight.

#luke is a moronsexual and no one can convince me otherwise #he looks at din and goes: him. i want him.#dinluke #din djarin #the mandalorian #luke skywalker #star wars text post #star wars #grogu #my writing

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angelsandarsenic · 1 year

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MASTERLIST OF FICS

Tadaa! Here's an easy way to find everything I've written and possibly will write! (Beautiful banners by CafeKitsune!)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

— Whump Stuff

Dream SMP/Origins/QSMP/MCYT/etc.

Series: Unseelie

--Your Name is Precious (And so are You)

Summary:

Ranboo had heard of the Fair Folk. He left his fallen food for them to take whenever he dropped something, he was careful to avoid potential fairy mounds and mushroom rings when he walked in the woods and he knew you should never ever give a faerie your name.

And now one was standing right in front of him, grinning a fanged (tusked?) smile, with it's hand held out, asking for just that.

--or--

In which Ranboo is a neglected child who stumbles across fae!Techno, inspired by the tumblr post (and anon ask) by anarchy-and-piglins. Family will be found, names will be revealed, and maybe (definitely) some angst in between.

Satus: Completed Words: 24,555

--Stay for a Drink

Summary:

The Quackbur/tnt duo coffee shop au with a twist

--or--

Quackity meets a very handsome barista at his favorite coffee shop who speaks a little weird, but he's nicer than Quackity's boyfriend, who pisses Quackity off enough all the time, that he unknowingly avoids all of Faerie!Wilbur's attempts to steal his name.

Status: Completed Words: 38,270

--The Monarch Project

Summary:

Ranboo is half faerie. Somehow stranger, he’s been adopted by a wonderful, loving family after being neglected his whole life. They think they’re starting to get used to it, (and the fact that they live in the faerie world now), but they’ve never had people who care about them before, much less a brother who was willing to die to save him. Of course, things can’t be that easy. The Sootcraft family has a history; now shadows of the past have started cropping up and they don't intend to leave Ranboo out of it.

Status: Abandoned Words: 34,537

—Tales from the Land of the Faeyeryes

A collection of oneshots of Ranboo, Technoblade, Wilbur and Quackity and maybe even Dream and others in the Unseelie universe

Status: (abandoned) Words: 10,065

--(Also related--the official lore book for the au also on Ao3)

Series: Saltwater in Our Veins and Sand in Our Bones

Description: a pirate au! With magic, swashbuckling and characters of every imaginable disposition, but this time featuring Ranboo and Tubbo! However, there is more than meets the eye with the suspicious young captain.

--What Lurks in the Depths

Summary:

Four months ago, Ranboo woke up on a deserted island with torn, bloody clothes, a bejeweled sword in his hand and absolutely no memory of how he got there. Completely unintentionally, he finds himself as the captain of a pirate ship with the king of the biggest continent on the Essempi Seas in his brig and the Royal Navy hot on his tail to get them back. Meanwhile, the king has proposed a deal. Now, Ranboo, along with captains Tubbo and Technoblade and their combined crews hunt for the totem god before the Navy can get them first. If they succeed, vast riches await. If not...well, let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Status: In Progress Words: 14,379

--Eyes on the Shoreline

Summary: Pirate Technoblade never dies (but that's not to say he hasn't come close) ---- A Technoblade prequel to What Lurks in the Depths about the Blood God's past, including some surprise old shipmates

Status: Complete Words: 5,608

--Tesoro Dorado

Summary:

Set before What Lurks in the Depths, Foolish was just a totem trying to live his life. He didn't mess with humans, the merman had already learned his lesson about that. As far as he was concerned, they could all rot at the bottom of the sea. That was, until he met Vegetta.

Status: In Progress Words: 18,250 Pirate AU! Part of the Saltwater in our Veins, Sand in our Bones series, but can be read as a standalone

--As the Fates Decreed --oneshot

Summary:

Sol 17 was the day I died... ------ The three fates of Emperor XD's pantheon have officially declared Tommy a dead man. On the one hand, he'll finally be with his brother again. On the the other… Tommy isn't ready to die yet. The vigilante has given up on any chance of being saved, but Tubbo has always been willing to take a long shot chance if it's to save his best friend and the Antarctic Empire might have exactly what they need.

Status: Completed Words: 13,915 Space au!

--APEX --two shot

Summary:

Has it been days? The blackness darkening the windows up above does a really good job, so there seems to be no discernible change in lighting at all. Ranboo isn’t allowed to have his wrist watch (or his shoes or hair tie or sunglasses). Their captors have no discernible schedule, the boss comes and goes sporadically, here for the longest amounts of time whenever he's actually performing a "surgery". Maybe these hours are just dragging on and it hasn't been the week Ranboo feels like it has. Maybe he still has a chance that someone will find him.

What was the statistic? After the first 24 hours-

Nope.

~~~~~~~

In a time when the black market is flourishing, Ranboo, an enderian college student finally falls victim to the Hunters of non-human species. Tommy and Tubbo won't let their friend go, they're determined to get him back, but will they make it in time to save him?

Based off of the minecraft surgery mod, but make it real life (ish)

Status: Abandoned Words: 15,705

--Say "I Do" --oneshot

Summary:

A Fooligetta wedding oneshot where absolutely nothing goes wrong

Status: Completed Words: 4,697

--Fair Game --oneshot

Summary:

Villains try to take revenge on Superhero!Foolish by attacking his family

Status: Completed Words: 6,984

--Skeletons in the Closet (And Gay People, Of Course) --oneshot

Summary:

Foolish knew that falling for a one night stand was dangerous, but if Vegetta liked him back, then really, what's the harm?

Status: Completed Words: 6,776

--Don't Worry, It's Just Marinara Sauce (ordem paranormal:quarantina)--oneshot

Summary:

The one where we realize Dr Benito is a quack doctor and he wishes he had gone to medical school

Status: Completed Words: 2,128

To Hell and Back --Oneshot

Summary:

The Deathduo Corpse Bride AU!

Status: Completed Words: 17,933

Something About Pretty Pale Skin, Dark Hair and Lips Turning Blue at the Edges --oneshot

Status: draft

The Eyes of Ghosts --oneshot

Summary: The Count of Monte Cristo Deathduo AU!

Status: draft

--Starry Skies, Starry Eyed

Summary:

BadBoy Halo is an awful prince and a worse potential fiance. The mysterious warrior he meets on midnight excursions doesn't seem to mind.

Status: Draft

--Go Tell the Bees

Summary:

The adventures of spiderman-esque superhero!Tubbo, because there aren't enough Tubbo centric superhero AUs and I took that personally. ------ Being L'manberg's only official (and capable) superhero is hard, but even with three of the most powerful supervillains targeting his city, he's managed. Then, in the span of only three days his world turns upside down when new players enter the field, both in his civilian life and alter-ego. Now, he may have to choose between protecting his friends, his family and his city, and he can't do everything alone anymore.

Status: In Progress Words: 32,859

--Diamonds, Emeralds and Other Useless Crap

Summary:

Quackity and Wilbur have been at each other's throats as long as they can remember, both in civilian life and the criminal underworld. With one being a seemingly infallible master thief and the other as the biggest, apparently heartless, mafia boss history has seen, one new client decides it's a fantastic idea to make them work together on the biggest operation of either of their lives. Neither consider that they could be getting in over their heads, but this job has far more in store for them than they anticipated.

Status: Abandoned Words: 31,018 Pairing: TNT duo

--My Father Wasn't Around

Summary:

Fundy was a mistake. His father was never meant to be a father, he didn't know how to be and he didn't try. Sometimes Fundy thinks it's a miracle that he’s still around to see that Wilbur's adopted a new child. As if Fundy wasn't enough. As if he never mattered. Doesn't he deserve love too? --------- Fundy comes home and meets Tallulah. Understandably, he's a little upset. But...maybe having a little sister wouldn't be so bad.

Status: In Progress Words: 24,093

—It’s Not Love, I Swear (It Might be Closer to Despair)

Summary:

After Charlie found out about Mariana’s cheating, his husband swears he regrets it and would do anything to fix his mistakes. The only reason Charlie is giving him another chance is for their daughter, but Mariana doesn’t disappoint. It’s like falling in love all over again

Status: In Progress Words: 8,289

--Maybe This Dream Isn't so Bad -- sleeping beauty!Techno au oneshot that got turned into three parts

Summary:

Inspired by the comic by behrjbehr on tiktok and instagram, orphans Wilbur and his terminally ill brother Tommy stumble upon a mysterious deserted castle, clearly centuries old, yet seemingly frozen in time. Inside they find a prince, cursed to sleep for a thousand years, an immortal dragon and much more.

Status: Abandoned Words: 11,240

--Unforgivable

Summary: A Maleficent au featuring Chayanne and Tallulah! Formerly Emeraldduo, but recently required some changes :/

Status: In Progress Words: 3,650

--Kindergarten is Ruthless --Blood God centric based on this prompt: post

Summary:

The chronicles of the blood god and his devoted followers...a class of kindergartners. -------- In which a long forgotten god is awoken by children, Philza is a tired kindergarten teacher and Dream is very suspicious of the new teacher's assistant and nothing bad ever happens

Status: In Progress Words: 3,244

--Ghosts in my Closet

Summary:

When Tubbo moved into a new house a year ago, strange things started happening. He brushes it off. He doesn't believe in ghosts. Even his best friend, the son of an actual medium, doesn't believe in ghosts. But...maybe there actually is something inside his house. Whatever it is, it's not playing games anymore. It's malevolent and Tubbo isn't the only one it's affecting. With Phil and Tommy's help, he plans to get rid of the spirit and be done with it, however not everything is so black and white.

Status: In Progress Words: 15,578

--Secret Identity

Summary:

There were whispers that The Wolf of Quesadilla Island wasn't human; that he was an actual beast, disguised as a man, or that he was an ancient deity come to wreak havoc on a sinful world. Small groups across the country advocated for him--even idolized him, while most others lived in fear of the villain prowling their streets. Whatever he was, he didn't so much as flinch as flames licked his heels, dragging the senator by his collar. A black suited security guard lay motionless at the entrance, and it suddenly occurred to Foolish that he should call the fire department, or the police. Instead, he stood, frozen, gaping in horror as the supervillain lifted a full grown man with one arm and threw him to the sidewalk, not four yards from where Foolish stood. -------- In which Foolish doesn't realize that the local supervillain is his boyfriend and Vegetta keeps failing successfully to flirt with him

Status: In Progress Words: 22,449

—Scream

Summary:

The Minecraft Youtube Scream AU! Featuring Dream SMP, Origins SMP and QSMP!

Status: Abandoned Words: 4,909

—Dream Smp Top Gun AU

not a written fanfic but I really liked this au and there’s a short story with it

--The Universe Conspired to Help Me Find You

Tnt Duo Cupid AU! (link to og post)

Summary:

Quackity is a Cupid tasked with ending toxic relationships. Wilbur is a…frequent flier. At this point he’s really starting to become a problem, and once more Quackity descends to the mortal realm to work. However, this time, Wilbur acknowledges him.

Status: Abandoned Words: 5,924

Overwatch

—A Lifeweaver battle whump oneshot

Status: completed Words: 2,308

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

This on is going to get way too full so HERES A LINK TO THE NEXT FICS MASTERLIST POST (other fandoms)

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onepiece-polls · 1 year

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Best One Piece Filler Arc (Round 1)

Davy Back Fight filler episodes (ep 213-216): Four episodes that made the Davy Back Fight with Foxy's crew longer by adding three games. The titles are: Round 3! Round and Round Roller Race! / Burning Roller Race! Dash into the Final Round! / The Screaming Speed Serve! Pirate Dodgeball! / Final Match on the Edge! Dharma has Fallen!

G-8 Arc (ep 196-206): The Marines are convinced the Going Merry is a ghost ship after it crashes inside their fortress from above. The crew members are scattered around the premises. In disguise, Sanji shows the Marine chefs the proper way to prepare a meal, and Zoro is taken prisoner as Chopper and Nami assist a nervous doctor in treating injured Marines. Meanwhile, Robin and Usopp both disguise themselves as the same visiting inspector, and Usopp is thrown in the brig with Zoro.

#one piece #tournament #poll #filler arc tournament #round 1 #links in the titles lead to their wiki page (if you want more info)#I'm objective but I swear... if G-8 doesn't win this poll....

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qu0kkarambles · 2 years

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Practise room

Warnings: smut- minors DNI, exhibitionism, finger sucking, mirrors, dacryphilia, degrading, little bit of praise, voyuerism? porn, threesome, squirting, oral, tiny bit of orgasm denial? overstimulation, unprotected sex.

Authors note - wrote this more or less for a specific person so hope you enjoy lol. Also didn’t proofread as per usual

2k words

When you walked through the company halls, you made your way to the practise room, route memorised. You were surprised when you saw the door to the wide room open, since usually the boys kept it closed to keep their noise from disturbing others in the company. The hallway was quiet, raising your suspicions further as you walked into the large room. The 13 men you were expecting were nowhere to be seen, and instead only dokyeom sat in the room, fully immersed in his phone.

‘Hey. Where is everyone?’ Your question startled him, as he hadn’t heard you enter the room. ‘Uh- wh- Um how come you’re here?’ He fumbled over his words, quickly turning his phone screen down as you walked closer. ‘Um hannie asked me to come, I assumed you all wanted my opinion on something but maybe not?’ You chuckled as you sat next to him, the boy clearly very on edge. ‘What’s wrong kyeom? You doing ok?’ You were concerned. Dk had always been very at ease with you, and his sudden discomfort made you uneasy- was it something you’d done?

‘I- I’m fine- I was- I’m just-‘ he could barely get two words together, and he stopped trying all together when you moved to sit next to him. ‘What were you watching?’ You asked hoping to ease his nerves as you picked up a stray earphone that had fallen as you had walked in. ‘Wait y/n’ before he could stop you the sound of the video was already playing through your ears. The loud pornographic moans filled your head as the reason for dokyeoms awkwardness became more apparent- he’d been watching porn. And you had caught him. You pulled the earphone from your ear and stood as his eyes fell to the floor. As if the moment couldn’t get more tense, your boyfriend chose that exact second to walk through the practise room door.

‘Hey baby, hey dokyeomie. How’s it going?’ his voice was cheery, seemingly unaware of the situation he’s walked in on. What neither of you realised though, was that he was blissfully aware of what he had orchestrated. Jeonghan was smart- devilishly so. He knew about dokyeoms practise room porn habit, and he also knew about the major crush the younger had on you. It was all going perfectly according to his master plan. You moved toward your boyfriend, hoping to subtly signal for you to both leave, but jeonghan had other ideas.

‘Hey DK, stand over here a sec I want to show y/n something.’ He signalled toward where you both were standing in front of the large floor to ceiling mirrors. DK was hesitant to stand, the excitement from the videos he had been watching as well as the adrenaline from being caught was all to obvious through his grey joggers. ‘Just a minute’ dk asked, trying his best to hide his growing blush and growing bulge from the two of you.

‘If you’re shy about how hard you are don’t be. That’s why I want you over here’ jeonghan said calmly, earning a small squeak from you and a mixture of mumbled half words from dokyeom. ‘Now come here, before I drag you here.’ With this, DK stood and walked toward the two of you, stood to your left while jeonghan stood behind you both, all looking into the large mirrors. ‘Jeonghan, what’s this all about?’ You asked in a small voice.

‘You see y/n, our friend here is into katoptronophilia’ noting your confused face he explained ‘he’s into watching in mirrors, babygirl. And he’s into you.’ He continued, explaining how he’d noticed for a while now that DKs eyes would linger on you longer than he liked, and he’d known since they were trainees that dk loved to watch porn in the practise room. The thrill of getting caught was always something he’d enjoyed. As jeonghans explanation continued, DKs cheeks stayed the same bright shade of red, embarrassment filling him at the thought of his dirty secrets being spilled, and to you of all people. ‘So babygirl, remember what we talked about a few months ago, about having someone join us in the bedroom?’ your eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror as you realised what all of this was about. Dk also lifted his eyes to meet yours as jeonghan continued. ‘Well it’s dokyeomies birthday soon, and the practise room won’t be used anymore today I’ve made sure of it. Don’t be shy babygirl, show him how you’re a good little slut’ he said to you, finishing his speech with a chaste kiss on your neck.

You hesitated for a moment until jeonghans large hand on the small of your back moved you forward. With this encouragment, you sank down to your knees infront of your boyfriends friend. Looking up through your fluttering eyelashes, you waited for dk to make eye contact before lifting your hands to his waistband, hooking your fingers in the material and tugging them down in one quick motion. DKs lack of underwear meant you were immediately met with his aching member, red and desperate for you. Flicking your eyes to your boyfriend, who stood to the side of you, you held eye contact while you took dk in your mouth for the first time.

The small whine that left his lips spurred you further to take his member further into your mouth, paying special attention to his aching tip. ‘Fuck y/n fu-omg’ his words were broken up by a stream of moans as you continued to tease him. Licking a stripe from the base of his member earned a beautiful high pitched whine, and a look from your boyfriend telling you to stop. You pulled of dk, mouth pulling away with a pop as you rose from your knees to stand infront of jeonghan. ‘Wha-why-why’d you stop? Why did she stop?’ Dk was so close, and it had been ruined. ‘Don’t worry dokyeom. There’s more to come, isn’t there slut?’ he asked, directing his question to you.

When you only nodded, jeonghan gripped your jaw in his hands, turning your face to his and lifting your eyes to meet his. ‘Speak slut.’ ‘Yes more daddy. Need more’ you replied, knowing the consequences of not following jeonghans rules. ‘Good slut. Now open up’ you followed once again, finding your opened mouth suddenly filled with his long slender fingers. The weight on your tongue was exactly what you needed, and as you sucked on his digits you could hear dk behind you moaning at the sight. It was his long time fantasy to see you so sweet and submissive. So needy and desperate. And he was finally able to join in on the fun.

You whined as your boyfriend removed his fingers, gasping as he spun you to look at dk before pulling his hoodie from over your head and yanking your leggings down with force. ‘Now princess, you’re gonna be a good slut today aren’t you’ he questioned, and you agreed immediately, the wetness pooling between tour legs betraying how much you were enjoying the audience you had. ‘Good. Now you’re gonna get on your hands and knees facing the mirror. And dokyeomie, you’re gonna fuck her ok. Make sure you take care of my slut for me’ with these words, you dropped to your knees and dk moved behind you, positioning himself at your entrance. He teased the tip at your core before jeonghan interrupted. ‘We don’t have all day. Are you gonna fuck her or do I need to?’ With this he plunged himself into you, not wanting to miss his opportunity. The stretch was perfect. DK wasn’t as thick as your boyfriend, but he made up for it with length and a brutal pace. Before long you were moaning and whining around his dick, desperate for more.

You started getting tired with DKs harsh thrusts, and as your head fell forward, you felt jeonghan thread his fingers through your hair, using it to pull your head back. ‘Look at dk in the mirror baby. Watch how well he fucks you. How desperate he is for you. But he can’t have you can he baby.’ He teased. ‘No he- he can’t I’m all yours daddy please- need more please’ your begging was punctuated with whines as dk thrust deeper and harder into you. ‘Mm close daddy please wanna cum’ you begged, unsure which man you wanted permission from. ‘Cum baby.’ Dk replied. With another harsh thrust, you were clenching around him, pushing him over the edge with you as you both became moaning messes, shaking through your orgasms.

‘Aw pretty slut cums so well for my friends huh?’ Jeonghan spoke as you caught your breath. ‘But we’re not done yet princess’ with this he pulled you off dk, earning a whine of overstimulation from the pair of you before plunging himself into you. You were so sensitive, and the feel of your tight core full of DKs release felt like heaven to jeonghan as he slowly began to thrust into you. As he did, he pulled your back flush to his chest, kissing along your neck and whispering in your ear. ‘My pretty slut. Such a good whore for us. Perfect little cumdump. Love an audience don’t you. My pretty little exhibitionist. Love how he fucked you for me.’ His words went straight to your core and you were cumming again, the sensitivity overwhelming you as a tear escaped down your cheek. ‘Aw pretty slut crying for my dick aren’t you’ his voice was sweet like honey in you ear, but his devilish hips continued. His pace was brutally fast now, and you knew he was nearing his high when his hips stuttered. The coil in your core was tightening once again, and as yet another load filled your aching hole, you felt it snap.

When you woke you were lying across the practise room sofa, jeonghans hoodie back over your shoulders, ass bare. ‘Hey jeonghan, she’s awake’ you heard dk from the side of you shout, and before you knew it jeonghan was infront of you. ‘Hey pretty baby. How are you feeling?’ He asked, voice full of concern and love. ‘I’m good. A little sore’ you replied, unaware of what had happened. ‘Well baby, there’s a first for us. You can join us again if it means she’s gonna squirt everywhere again dokyeom’ he said turning to his friend, who wore a shy grin. ‘Yeah that was incredible y/n. Although maybe next time not somewhere we have to clean straight away.’ He replied with a cheeky smirk. You were putting the pieces together, a swell of pride filling your chest. You’d tried before, but had never achieved the results you wanted until today.

When you moved to stand, jeonghan was at your side immediately, helping you up and leaning your weight on his shoulder. ‘Come on baby. Let’s get you dressed and home for round 4’ he said with a wink. ‘I think she’s had enough for today hyung’ Dk looked into your eyes, before looking back to see jeonghan dressing you. ‘She’s had enough when I say she’s had enough. Isn’t that right princess’ he looked up to you as he pulled your panties back into place, leaving gentle kisses up your thigh as he went. You nodded, knowing he would always take care of you.

𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷

When you and jeonghan got back to the dorm, you went straight to his bathroom to wash up and get ready for whatever else he had in store. Jeonghan left you to get prepared while he went to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of glasses of water filled with ice ready for the evening activities. Before he left the kitchen, he was stopped by seungcheol, who pulled him into the kitchen.

‘Jeonghan. You know the practise room cameras are linked to all our phones right?’ he said.

#kpop smut #kpop #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen dk #seventeen dokyeom #seventeen seokmin #svt smut #hard hours

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butyoumakemesohot · 2 years

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my first snzfic !! I simply cannot stop thinking about this silly little show

pairing: sick!steve & bff robin (+ implied st/eddie hehe)

word count: 1.2k

When Steve awakens, he isn’t quite sure where he is.

All he sees at first is a hand wildly snapping in his face, chipped blue polish on their nails and a bracelet dangling from their wrist. He forces himself to blink a few times, his bleary eyes still less than halfway open.

“Steve? Steve, if you fall asleep on me one more time, I swear to God…”

The room is dark; the only source of light is from a street lamp outside the window, which he can barely see a sliver of over the tall counter in front of him. Glancing around, he notices the aisles of VHS covers and junk food, a cardboard cutout of Molly Ringwald smiling at him by the front door in a way that vaguely creeps him out.

Oh, he suddenly realizes.

Robin smirks when his gaze finally settles on her face. She stops her frantic snapping, giving his shoulder a tiny pat. “Welcome back, dingus.”

Steve groans as he leans forward in his seat, elbows resting against his knees. The last thing he remembers is dragging a chair out from the breakroom halfway through closing duties and telling himself he’d only sit down if he started to feel like he’d pass out. That couldn’t have been very long ago.

“How long was I out for this time?”

“Only a few minutes.” Robin resumes her menial task of rewinding tapes, removing a copy of Teen Wolf from the device beneath the counter and shoving it back in its case. “I only realized you’d fallen asleep because you stopped –”

Steve hunches forward in his seat even more, swinging the crook of his elbow in front of his face. “Huh’gGSCHhh! Ugh… Heh’SCHhhew! Heh’ESCHoo!”

His sneezes are drawn out and breathy, partially from his exhaustion and partially from the congestion he can feel rattling deep in his chest. He pushes a hand through his hair before wiping his nose against the collar of his shirt as inconspicuously as he can, sniffling wetly.

“... sneezing,” Robin finishes, an amused expression on her face. She turns to face him, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “Are you sure you don’t wanna go home?”

The congestion rolling around in his head is thick enough to make him close his eyes again, pressing the tips of his fingers to the center of his throbbing forehead.

“I’b fide, Robind,” he insists, instantly cringing at the sound of his own voice. Why does her name have to be so hard to pronounce? He clears his throat, dragging a hand underneath his nose.

“Give me a break. It’s not like you’re helping very much, anyways.”

“I thingk you ad I both kndow - “snrf!* - that I’b the ode who brigs the charmb aroud here.”

Robin grins smugly. “That’s great, Harrington, but I’m pretty sure it’s pronounced ‘charm’.”

Steve rolls his eyes, and they both know he’d flip her off if he weren’t so out of it.

He doesn’t especially mind being sick - prides himself on the fact that he's never skipped out on work or school due to a silly cold - but the thing about tonight is that he definitely can’t look as gross as he feels. He’s supposed to meet up with Eddie for a date after work, and while he knows the boy has seen him covered in dirt and grime after traipsing through the Upside Down, the idea of him witnessing Steve turn into a big ball of snot is somehow more embarrassing.

In the moments of silence that follow their conversation, Steve becomes acutely aware of how quiet Family Video is when it’s void of customers. He stands up slowly, too self conscious at the idea of sneezing or even sniffling when you could likely hear a pin drop from across the store. He gives his nose another harsh rub, trying not to focus on the tickly sensation just behind his nostrils.

He joins Robin at the counter, who shoves a pile of tapes in his direction. “If you’re gonna stay, can you at least put these back? They should all be in the horror section.”

Steve mumbles a yes, eyes beginning to water just as he reaches for the pile. He tries to blink the moisture away, but it only seems to encourage the rampant tickle in his nose. He turns away from Robin as quickly as he can, barely having any time to bring his arm up to cover his face.

“Huh’tschHHH! Hehhh… h’UHSCHew! *snrff!* Ugh, gross… Heh’EHTCHH!”

“Steve!” Robin yells exasperatedly. “I just finished wiping off that counter!”

“I’mb sorry, I - hhehhh… He’EHSHHH! … Huh’ETCHHoo! *snrk!* Jesus Christ... Heh'TCHHew!”

Almost positive that his fit is done for now, Steve digs the heels of his hands into his eyes until they stop watering, sniffling back any other potential tickle that might be creeping up on him. He can feel Robin’s gaze on him, and although he knows she’s had to put up with him all day today, he suddenly feels small under her watchful stare. She’s always been a bit too perceptive of him, and it honestly freaks him out sometimes.

“Bless you,” she says softly. He notices something has shifted in her expression when he lowers his hands from his eyes; less teasing, slightly more sympathetic. She reaches out and awkwardly pats his arm. “You look like Rudolph, you know.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Dod’t worry, I’ll - *snrf!* - I’ll clead the coundter. Huhh… hehh’EHSHH! Guh...” He knuckles harshly at his nose, trying to ignore the fact that it's pretty much completely blocked at this point. “God. *snrfff!* I’mb sorry.”

“Bless you,” she repeats, then raises her eyebrows inquisitively. “What are you sorry for?”

He hesitates, and when it’s obvious that he’s unable to come up with a logical answer other than My parents raised me to believe that I should be ashamed of displaying any and all signs of weakness, including the symptoms of an illness I clearly cannot control, he simply shrugs, feeling his cheeks start to warm.

Robin smiles knowingly at him, and instead of pressing the issue any further, she gives his arm another small squeeze. “Don’t worry about the counter right now. I think there’s a Kleenex box in the break room somewhere. For your, you know…" She makes a nonsensical gesture with her hand. "... issues.”

Steve feels himself smile again. “Thangks, Robind. *snrk!*”

“Don’t mention it.”

Sure enough, after a quick trip down the dimly lit hallway in the back, Steve can make out a box of tissues on the table from the break room’s doorway. He flicks on the light switch without thinking, immediately squinting as the harsh fluorescents cause a fresh wave of tears to cloud his vision. The sneezes still manage to catch him off guard, sending a chill that runs up his spine. God damn it.

“H’ehh… Huhh’ESHHOO… *snrff!* Heh'SCHIEW! H'ESCHHew!”

He practically huffs and puffs over to the tissue box, annoyed at his own stupidity for forgetting about his aversion to bright lights, but also at just being sick in general. He does, however, find some relief in finally getting to blow his nose, hoping and praying it doesn’t trigger another series of sneezes.

“Bless you, dingus!” he hears from the front of the store.

He chuckles to himself, grabbing another tissue and trying to blow as much of the soupiness out of his nose as possible. Robin may be acting nice to him for now, but he can only imagine the exaggerated faces of disgust she’d make if she witnessed him blowing his nose.

Her tone is already much more playful by the time Steve makes his way back to the front counter. “I’ve decided that if you get me sick,” she tells him, “you’re buying me a new walkman.”

He smirks, accepting the roll of paper towels and bottle of spray cleaner she shoves into his hands. “Seems fair to me.”

And later, when he’s cleaning the counter as thoroughly as possible and the smell of disinfectant makes him sneeze so many times that Robin declares it a statewide record, Steve realizes there's no way he's going to be able to hide his illness from Eddie.

#not sure how to tag ahhh #snzblr #snzfic #sneeze fic #snzario #st/ranger th/ings #sh #st #my fics

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