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eightmakesonebraincell · 2 months

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ateez as pirates who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for hongjoong), fluff, angst, crack, and as always - a brainrot of every pirate trope to exist

length: 10.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, ransoming, verbal abuse, abduction), alcohol, pet names

a/n: maknae line will come yes but who knows when 🤷‍♀️ work has been really testing my dopamine vibes this year 😔👎 thank you @sorryimananti-romantic for keeping a detailed hitlist for me ♡

hongjoong

pov: you're a royal princess rescued by him

“captain, are you sure we can’t toss her overboard?”

jongho and hongjoong watch as wooyoung’s face falls after you pointedly ignore his attempts to make conversation once again

for someone who is technically their guest aboard the arriba, it seems as though you are hellbent on being as difficult as you can be

“unfortunately, we can’t,” hongjoong grouches to the younger, “not unless we want to exchange our payment for a hefty bounty on our own heads”

when jongho sighs, the captain squeezes his shoulder in comfort and adds on, “trust me, i’ve thought about it too”

hongjoong and his crew are privateers - pirates in theory, but technically excused so long as they have their letter of marque to state that they are authorised to attack other vessels

rescuing a royal princess was never explicitly part of the contract, although he thinks that not rescuing you would have pretty much been equivalent to a blatant show of insubordination

you had been taken ransom by one of the merchant ships the arriba had been plundering

needless to say, they had been close to tossing you overboard too; your kingdom had never paid for your ransom

the lack of response from your parents wasn’t anything you weren’t expecting but it’s a sore spot nonetheless

so it’s certainly hard for you to play friendly when you’re quite literally shucked off from stranger to stranger faster than a hot potato

san tugs wooyoung closer towards him and gently says to you, “he’s just trying to be nice - we all are”

the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by you

“i don’t need your pity,” you answer, the only sentence you have spoken today

you’ve lived two decades of your life pretending you don’t see the pitying gazes of your maids and butlers

you certainly don’t need pity from these people - pirates no less

“it’s not-” wooyoung starts to say

but the captain steps in before he can defend himself

“if this is how you’re always acting, i’m starting to see why your kingdom never paid for your ransom”

had hongjoong been less preoccupied by your words, he would have realised that your tone is candid, as if it is only natural for the people around you to pity you

but he’s clouded with his mindset as captain, unable to stand by idly while his own crew put up with your attitude, and so the words come out anyway - shards of shrapnel that bury themselves into your heart

there is only a fleeting second when your eyes dilate with hurt

you conceal it immediately, replacing it with a steely gaze, yet the image has already seared itself into hongjoong’s mind

“maybe you should throw me overboard, then,” you counter, “i’m sure my family will thank you for it”

and even if you have completely neutralised your expression, no one misses the wounded tone of your voice before you disappear down into the lower deck

mingi lets out a low whistle after the resounding slam of the hatch closing

“you fucked up, captain”

hongjoong doesn’t need anyone to spell it out for him

the heavy feeling in his stomach is telling enough

it isn’t until the moon has long since risen that you emerge through the hatch again

you had bypassed the sleeping quarters to the hold, wedging yourself between barrels of grain until you were sure no one would find you

not that they would have tried to anyway - seonghwa had told them all to give you some space

you had run your finger up and down the sides of the barrels repetitively for hours on end, mind simultaneously void and filled with thoughts

the walls you had built around yourself kept you safe, but it had started to become awfully lonely after a while

when it had become a little too suffocating in the hold and you guessed that most of the crew was asleep, you had softly padded back up the stairs and across the main deck

you now sit on the foredeck where the endless expanse of the sea stretches out in front of you, closing your eyes and letting the swaying of the ship lull you into tranquillity

tonight, the moon winks down fondly upon the waters

hongjoong watches you from the quarterdeck

he’s seen you sit at the front of the ship on many nights when you should really have been asleep

he wonders if you’ve always looked so small and fragile with your knees drawn up to your chest, or whether it’s because the flash of hurt in your eyes and voice is still fresh in his mind

“go, captain,” yunho murmurs from where he’s at the helm, “it’s a quiet night”

hongjoong startles at having been caught gazing, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes away

“why should i, if she’s just going to ignore me?” he scoffs

but he knows he’s just being petty at this point and his chest churns in agreement

“maybe,” yunho hums softly in response. “did seonghwa ever give up on you, though?”

it’s rhetorical - hongjoong knows the answer better than anyone

the captain doesn’t say anything but after several beats of silence, he sighs and makes a move to the foredeck where you are

yunho smiles to himself

you and hongjoong may be more similar than his captain realises

your shoulders stiffen when the sound of hongjoong’s footsteps approaches

you’re not sure what to expect and you don’t exactly want to find out and risk getting hurt

but having spent all day swimming alone in your thoughts, you do want to show that you feel apologetic because admittedly, you were being an ass too

getting up to walk away when he’s taken the first step certainly won’t help your case

you hold your breath in awkward silence as he settles down beside you, leaving a respectable distance between your hunched figures

only now is hongjoong realising that he hasn’t actually thought about or decided on what he wants to say to you

but he can feel the confusion rolling off of you in waves, so he grits his teeth and says fuck it

“i won’t apologise for defending my crew, but i’m sorry for how i did it and for what i said”

he hopes you know he is sincere when he continues, “we all have our prickly edges. i can’t fault you for yours”

compassion is a foreign concept to you and so you’re a little stumped for words

hongjoong isn’t sure whether your silence is a good or bad thing, but you have yet to stand up and walk away from the conversation

“there’s only about a week left until we reach port and we’ll leave after you make it back to your kingdom and we receive our payment. i’m not asking for you to be friendly, but let’s at least be civil with each other until then,” he says

you want to nod, agree, anything

and yet you can’t seem to make your head move or the words to come out of your mouth

rome was not built in a day. but neither did its walls fall in a day

hongjoong doesn’t push for an answer when instead, you ask, “how many people have you actually tossed overboard before?”

he resists the urge to laugh at your question, suddenly endeared by the fact that you’re still bothered by his very empty threat

“none, but my offer still stands. you’re welcome to be my first,” he deadpans

you let out a snort and although you quickly turn your head away, hongjoong sees the hint of amusement in your eyes

no further words are exchanged between the two of you and you do not acknowledge him when he eventually stands to rejoin yunho at the helm

but it’s a start

and as with any relationship, be it friend, foe, or lover, there is always that

a beginning.

hongjoong isn’t really expecting much to change immediately so he doesn’t pay you much mind when you walk into the mess hall the following morning

you hesitate at the entrance when you see most of the crew are already present, the conversation you had with hongjoong last night replaying at the forefront of your mind

you chew on the inside of your mouth

wooyoung stops mid-conversation at the scrape of a plate on the table, looking up to find you sliding into the seat beside him with a tight-lipped smile

to your surprise, he greets you with enthusiasm and immediately drags you into the conversation

hongjoong watches as you slowly warm up and add one or two comments of your own in between bites of your hardtack

and when he catches your gaze after staring for too long, he gives you a smile to convey his appreciation; to acknowledge your efforts

you return it with a small smile of your own and unbeknownst to you, it stays on your face for the rest of the day

slowly, there become more and more reasons that elicit a smile out of you

you still sit out on the foredeck when everyone else has gone to sleep, but on most nights, hongjoong will join you even if just for a while

the two of you are content to sit side by side with nothing but the steady pulse of the ocean and intermittent creaks of the ship’s hull to break the silence of the night

tonight though, you find curiosity burning through you

“what’s it like?” you ask

“being a pirate?” he clarifies

you shrug vaguely, unsure yourself either, “being a pirate. being at sea. sailing with your crew”

he takes a moment to gather his thoughts - not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because there is too much he wants to say

when hongjoong answers, his voice rumbles softly from within his chest, tender and heartfelt

“there’s a sense of freedom that you can’t obtain when you’re bound to land and society. sailing the waters, the only limits are those of the open seas and of your own compass… the sunrises, the storms, the moonlight - it all becomes part of your home”

hongjoong leans back to rest on the palms of his hands, tilting his gaze up towards the twinkling sky

he reflects, “you experience brotherhood and gain a family that is worth multitudes more than the treasures you can accumulate, even if you were to live as a pirate for several lifetimes”

you’re enraptured by his words, like poetry that swirls off the pages of a book and drifts into your very soul

“i may be the captain of this crew, but they make me who i am. without them, i am nothing”

his words wash over you and unearth vivid memories

“that’s what the queen always says to me,” you reveal

a small smile starts to grace hongjoong’s face, but it falls just as quickly when he hears your next words

“that without her - without her title - i am nothing”

it’s funny, how the same phrase can hold such different meanings; can evoke such different emotions

you don’t elaborate any further, but hongjoong doesn’t think he needs you to in order for him to understand

he just wishes he had more time to show you that your mother is wrong

he can’t though

tomorrow they reach port and you will return to your rightful place in the palace

“tell me more about your crew,” you attempt to change the topic, “how did you all find each other?”

so hongjoong tells you

he talks for hours and hours and you listen all the while with a heavy heart, clinging onto his every word

on your final night, you two stay like that until the stars disappear and the horizon becomes streaked with the pale hues of sunrise

after the ship docks mere hours later, only hongjoong accompanies you to your kingdom after goodbyes are exchanged

wooyoung doesn’t take it well, and you find yourself holding back tears of your own as you are let through the palace doors with the captain by your side

but you blink them away when you approach the throne room because vulnerability is not an emotion you are willing to display

“y/n”

the queen addresses you curtly when you enter, and hongjoong wonders for a split second whether he has brought you back to the wrong kingdom

he knows your mother does not treat you fondly, but it’s still staggering to see it before his very own eyes

the monarch glances distastefully over him before her eyes flicker back to you

“i did not expect your return,” she states

your eyes remain impassive as you merely answer, “neither am i delighted to be back”

hongjoong recognises this look

he’s seen it when you first boarded his ship; he’s seen it when your hackles were raised

he’s seen it in himself, when he had been a teenager filled with nothing but growing resentment, before he had met seonghwa

your mother sneers, “then you should have made yourself useful and stayed with the pirates. as a whore or a dog, whatever it took.”

hongjoong has understood you since learning of your demons, but right now, he is you

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, standing before a couple who are his parents only by title

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, who doesn’t know what he has done that deems him undeserving of love

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, all alone with no one to take his hand

“or really, you should have died on the ship”

hongjoong is close enough to you to hear the small hitch in your breath at your mother’s final jab

he may not have had someone to save his younger self, but he can do that now

he can be the person he so desperately needed years ago

and so he does just that.

hongjoong grabs your hand and drags you out of the palace

no one stops the two of you from leaving and he is unsure whether his heart hurts for you or sings with relief

you can only stutter in shock as you try to keep up, “hongjoong, what about your payment?”

his determined steps do not slow down, even as he looks back at you with a sure smile, “i told you before. some things are worth more than money”

the comforting squeeze of his hand conveys that you are worth more than any amount of money

the form of the arriba grows bigger in the distance and you think you can see the movement of excitement on deck when the crew spots your figures

hongjoong has slowed down his steps, but he has yet to let go of your hand

“and you deserve to know that. welcome to the crew, y/n”

to a family and love that you never had

you think you like the sound of that

“thank you, captain”

seonghwa

pov: you're a royal navy officer in disguise

you lay awake in your hammock, listening to the soft snores of the crew members around you

sleep doesn’t come easy to you anymore

particularly tonight

you contemplate whether it’s worth the risk to simply not show up

you know what the consequences are if they capture you - a slow and painful death - but you’re unsure whether you want to put ateez on the line too

your ship is currently docked for the night, having made a port stop at alcarres following one of the crew’s wishes to retire the pirate lifestyle and settle in the small town

their last night with ateez had been celebrated with sloshing rum and rowdy jigs, something you had found strange

there’s none of that in the royal navy

when one leaves, it is shameful and through one of three options only; old age, crippling injury, or…death

you had asked seonghwa, the quartermaster, why he and the captain were so accepting when crew members left as they wished

he had simply smiled and answered, “better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew”

his words are like a sharp stone in your shoe as you finally slip out of your hammock and make your way off the ship

as ordered, you head to the tavern addressed

you salute the person in front of you and ease into your seat with a formality only when he disregards you

“admiral jang”

“you’re late,” the royal navy officer raises an eyebrow

“sorry, sir. i had to make sure everyone was asleep”

it’s not exactly the truth, but no one needs to know that you had spent an hour in your hammock questioning your morality

he ignores your excuse, jesting as he asks of your captain, “has the pirate king found the chart’s whereabouts yet?”

the charts

centuries ago, a crew of experienced sailors had travelled the six great seas and created the original navigational charts

the charts had become scattered and lost over time, but its value only increased exponentially as more and more sailors became victims to the sea trying to map its waters to the same detail and accuracy as the original charts

of the six originals, only the whereabouts of five are known, with most of them within the possession of the royal navy

it’s rumoured that hongjoong - the pirate king - has his hands on two of them and is currently tracking down the lost chart of the aurorian sea

the only sea that has yet to be chartered after its original map due to its dangerous and unpredictable sailing conditions

you know that your next words can hold an inexplicable amount of possibilities

“not yet. the last lead didn’t get him anywhere. turned out the last of the ahn clan had passed a decade ago”

his lips flatten at the lack of worthwhile information

“where’s the captain headed to next, then?” he probes

for a split second, the thought of lying crosses your mind

you can’t provide a different location - it would be much too obvious and would raise immediate suspicions

but you could give him a different time frame

after all, it’s not uncommon for navigational routes to be one to two weeks off should the waters be unpredictable enough

you find the truth spilling out of you anyway once you’re looking into his stone-cold eyes

“vlasgar. in about three weeks’ time”

for a moment, time stands still as your heart pounds and you attempt to slow your breathing, the officer staring back at you calculatingly

then he finally hums in satisfaction

you think that he is going to dismiss you, but as you make a move to leave, he leans back in his seat

the split second of hesitation was enough

“remember where your loyalty lies, y/n”

the air feels cold with the underlying threat

seonghwa’s words flit through your mind

better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew

you swallow, “of course, admiral”

and then you’re dismissed with a nod

the unsettling feeling follows you all the way back to the ship and every miniscule creak of the floorboards underneath you seems to be amplified in the silence

you let out a short gasp of surprise when you’re about to climb back into your hammock, only to see seonghwa blinking blearily at you

“couldn’t sleep ‘gain?” he mumbles

you choke out a response, “yeah”

“i’ll make you tea b’fore you sleep ‘morrow,” his words slur with sleepiness

“okay,” you whisper

but you know it won’t make a difference

after all, there’s no remedy for guilt

it continues to fester the next day, as you linger outside the captain’s quarters

you can’t remember why you had come down to the lower deck, but it doesn’t matter now, not with seonghwa and the captain discussing what you think is related to the aurorian chart

“do you think he’s still in vlasgar?”

“min taesoo? it’s hard to say. but i’m sure he’ll have acquaintances still on the island who may have an idea of where he’s gone”

min taesoo

your brain tries to carefully file the name away, knowing that it’s what admiral jang would want to know, but at the same time, your heart tries to pretend it doesn’t know what you have heard so that you can forget about it

you find yourself scratching the name onto a scrap of paper anyway

unbeknownst to you, at the almost-imperceivable sound of your footsteps walking away, the two men behind the doors share a look

the crew sets sail again in the afternoon towards the next destination - vlasgar - and the scrap of paper in your pocket weighs you down so heavily that you feel off-kilter as you absentmindedly follow jongho up into the rigging to unfurl the sails

you’re near the top of the ropes when a sudden wave lurches the boat to starboard

it’s only a small push, really, but with your mind elsewhere, it catches you off guard and you miss your next step

the feeling of your hand dislodging from the sudden drag of your body weight brings you back to the present with a yell of surprise

(whether it’s your own or jongho’s, you can’t remember)

your sailing experience takes over and you try to swing your body back towards the safety of the rigging

you barely manage to grasp the ropes again but your hands slip down with your weight until they hit the next knot, the hot rush of friction threatening your grip

with adrenaline rushing through your body, you shakily climb back down, where there are several pairs of hands waiting to help you down the rest of the rigging

seonghwa’s hands do not leave you even after your feet are planted on the deck again

dread and shame heat the back of your neck and curl around onto your cheeks, knowing that a mistake like the one you had just made - accidental or not - would lead to a punishment like confinement in the lower deck back in the royal navy

except, when an apology starts to form on your lips, seonghwa bursts out in dismay

“y/n, your hands!”

you let out an unintelligible noise as seonghwa gently turns your palms over and you realise that the ropes have grazed some of the skin off

“it’s fine,” you want to say

but you’re silenced when he leads you to the small sick bay on the orlop deck

even if there is no surgeon on board, there is a small chest fastened to the wall that is home to their few and valuable medical supplies

you sit as he fusses over you with alcohol and strips of cloth

although he does a good job of wrapping your hands, your insides start to bleed with how intensely guilt eats away at you, like a maggot deep inside the core of a festering apple

that night as you shuffle towards your hammock to sleep, you flinch when you find seonghwa already sitting in his

he’s fighting the heaviness in his eyes as he carefully cradles something

upon seeing you, he wordlessly hands it to you with a sleepy smile before he finally sags into his own hammock with a content sigh

you look down and the warmth of it seems to burn through the padded dressing that the man before you has tenderly wrapped around your palms

the sensation travels upwards to burn your heart too

because in your hands is a cup of warm chamomile tea

and yet, despite the emptied cup, you find yourself unable to fall asleep

but in the darkness of the sky, with no witnesses other than the waves and sea foam themselves, a small piece of crumpled paper gets tossed overboard that night

the closer their ship approaches vlasgar, the more distant seonghwa notices you become

he worries

seonghwa thinks he worries for the reasons that he should be

he is the quartermaster; entrusted to protect the crew as the captain’s right-hand man

if that means ensuring no one will compromise the rest of his crew, even if it’s you, then so be it

that’s what he justifies to himself as he walks through the cobbled streets of vlasgar, slinking through the shadows as he follows your figure from a safe distance

(in reality, seonghwa worries for the reasons that he is not quite ready to admit yet)

he follows you into the dim bar of a tavern and carefully situates himself where he can watch over you without being discovered

he orders a mug of common ale as you approach someone

the man is dressed in civilian attire, but seonghwa can tell straight away from his demeanour and expression that he is not as ordinary as he appears

it’s confirmed when he hears you say, “admiral jang”

and then he sees it

the small but striking lapel pin on the breast of the man’s coat - the royal navy’s insignia

seonghwa feels for the sash that’s hidden underneath his own jacket and his fingertips meet the cool metal of the pistol tied inside

“you better have updates for me, y/n. what’s the pirate king’s purpose here in vlasgar?”

seonghwa knows he only has about five seconds to make a decision - one that could jeopardise the crew, or one that could jeopardise you

but you surprise yourself and the both of them when you answer steadfastly, “i don’t know, sir”

despite the din of drunker patrons in the tavern, it seems to fall deathly silent

“am i hearing wrong, officer?” the admiral questions with a disbelieving scoff

to your credit, your voice does not waver when you state again, “no, sir. i believe the captain and quartermaster are lying low. they have not revealed anything to me nor the rest of the crew”

seonghwa suddenly understands why you have distanced yourself

the admiral’s jaw tics

“is that so.”

you do not respond, only focusing on the spot between his raised eyebrows as he leans forward across the table

“where does your loyalty lie, y/n?”

neither the admiral nor seonghwa need to hear your answer to know the truth

a small crew may be outnumbered, but they have strength in loyalty and devotion

there’s a glint of movement from underneath the table as the admiral inches something out from his belt

seonghwa makes his decision

you flinch, eyes wide as there’s a deafening gunshot and the table beside you splinters and scatters the tankards of alcohol onto the floor

instantaneously, chaos erupts

there are drunken yells of fright and weapons clumsily brandished, tables upturned and chairs hurled across the room

it only takes one other misfired shot for the tavern to descend into hellfire as customers who were previously drinking together now turn on one another

nobody notices the two pirates dashing out, not even admiral jang, who is busy wrangling two inebriated men off his arms

your composure dissolves the moment you are dragged into an alleyway several streets away and you look up in shock to discover-

“seonghwa?! why are you here?”

“i could say the same about you,” he counters, hardly out of breath

you’re stunned by the fact that he seems completely unfazed by the mess that he has just dragged you out of

something clicks

“was that you? did you know all along?”

seonghwa smiles, “let’s just say you’re not as subtle as you think you are when you sneak around. plus, it’s uncommon for sailors to have the experience that you do without having had some sort of training”

you curse under your breath and wince, “does hongjoong know too?”

the quartermaster nods and you fear the answer to your next question

“then why has he not…why have you not…”

“killed you yet?” seonghwa chuckles. “i’m sure you’ve realised by now how skewed the royal navy’s beliefs are”

you’re quiet

the royal navy has always been cult-like in preaching the ruthlessness and barbarism of pirates, drilling into the officers the belief that pirates are the scum of the sea

but everything that you’ve known has been proven false since you’ve joined ateez; ironically, the pirates are more humane than the royal navy themself

their crew stand at attention whenever hongjoong or seonghwa walk onto the deck - not out of cultivated fear but genuine respect

when jongho is sore and tired from handling the riggings on a particularly rough and windy day, the others will offer to cover for his chores instead of flogging him into submission

and when mingi is divvying up the shares of the provisions and loot, the others will slip an extra bar of soap for seonghwa, the shiniest ring for mingi, or the largest bottle of rum for yunho, because they want to make each other happy

“hongjoong is the pirate king, yes, but a king should not take the lives of others for his own power. a true king uses his power to change the lives of others for the better…like yours…and like mine”

you frown with a jerk of your head

“what do you mean?”

you can’t see seonghwa as a broken man whatsoever

he gives you a weak smile, “i, too, used to be part of the royal navy”

your jaw drops

everything clicks into place - how he had figured out you weren’t just a common sailor and why he hadn’t confronted you about it

the shame and guilt come rushing back over you in a storm that is much too familiar by now

“i’m so sorry, all i’ve done is betray your trust-”

“but that’s what second chances are for, no?” seonghwa cuts you off, playfully flicking your forehead as he reminds you, “and i’m pretty sure you’ve chosen me over the royal navy”

your cheeks grow hot

“not you. the crew,” you mutter

he laughs and it’s a wonderful sound

“come on, it’s late,” seonghwa beckons. “let’s get some sleep”

when he sees that you’re still rooted to the spot, unsure whether you are deserving to go back, he decides for you and moves behind you to gently nudge you forward by the shoulders

you let him guide you

his hands are warm, you note, even through the linen of your shirt

his hands are also pretty, you observe, when he tries to fluff your hammock once you two have crept your way back to the berth

seonghwa helps you up into the hammock and you watch as he climbs into his

his hands are also teeming with love, you realise, when he wordlessly extends his arm nearest to you in a silent invitation

if you both reach out, you can just entwine your hands together from your respective hammocks

the burns on your palms have healed nicely and without the need for them to be wrapped, you can feel every expanse of his hand covering yours

he doesn’t retract his hand and neither do you, even though it’s not the most comfortable position and you both lose feeling of your arms soon after

but you lay in your hammock, drifting to the soft snores of the crew members around you and the soft tug of seonghwa’s fingers in yours

sleep comes easy to you

particularly tonight

as it will for the rest of your life

yunho

pov: you're the crew's navigator

you know it’s going to happen even before it actually does

you can feel it in the air and from the way the baby hairs around your hairline start to frizz

but you never say anything because you wouldn’t trade it for the moment when the first raindrop hits the back of yunho’s neck and he abandons his duty at the helm to drag you out onto the upper deck

(hongjoong only sighs in defeat before he stations himself at the helm instead)

you don’t like the rain

not like yunho does

you are already looking up from the map spread out in the captain’s quarters, a knowing smile on your face just from the sound of his bounding footsteps alerting you of his presence, when yunho appears with the beckon of rain

you pretend to let yourself be dragged to your feet along to his urges of come on!

but then you dash forward towards the hatch with yunho chasing after your bright laughter

in the short span of time that it has taken him to fetch you, the sprinkle of rain has steadily grown and the weathered planks of the deck are already a dark grey

you feel the coldness of the raindrops hitting the crown of your head and the spreading chill as your clothes start to become damp

but that’s not what makes you feel alive

yunho catches up to you easily and then he is snaking his arms around your waist to lift you up into the air

you barely have time to squeal and steady yourself on his broad shoulders before he is spinning the two of you around, the world blurring away as the spotlight shines on him and he is all that you can see

the deck is your stage and the sea is your audience

rain with yunho is twirling hugs, tiptoed kisses and tinkling laughter. it’s soaked shirts and rosy cheeks and the only thing that matters in the moment

you don’t like the rain, but it’s easy to like the rain when it’s with him

(hongjoong lets the two of you be - so obviously and hopelessly enamoured by each other - because when one sees people in love, one cannot help but watch and smile)

the rain eventually peters out and you and yunho must return to your respective duties, but not until you two have changed out of your drenched clothes and sneaked in a few more kisses

a few hours later, you hear the racket above the deck as a ship pulls up beside the arriba and ropes are thrown across from both sides to lash the vessels close together

hongjoong comes down to join you in his quarters, but he’s not alone

behind him is the captain of the silver light, dae jihoo, and his quartermaster, with seonghwa entering last

you note that this crew doesn’t have a navigator of their own

but you suppose that’s one of the reasons why their captain had implored an alliance for this particular raid

the crew of the silver light are wanting to target the prosperity triangle - an area between three large ports that is frequently trafficked by wealthy vessels transporting valuable goods

it’s a raid that would prove difficult for a smaller pirate crew like your own and the silver light, and especially if they have no navigator

but it’s not uncommon for pirates to form temporary alliances for such purposes, and together, your crews have a good chance of plundering a fortune

you nod your head in acknowledgement when hongjoong introduces you to the two pirates as ateez’s navigator

you don’t miss the way jihoo’s eyes seem to linger on you for a second too long before he flashes a crooked grin and gestures towards the navigational map spread out on the oak table

clearing your throat of discomfort, you step forward and flatten the creases out with your hands

“this is the most open spot within the triangle that the vessel we’re after will pass through,” you tap an annotated spot on the chart, “and this is where we are now”

you slide your finger across, “we’ll follow the rhumb line west to avoid the shallower waters and when we can catch the trade winds, it should be smooth sailing from there”

jihoo challenges you, “how can you be sure we’ll catch the ship within the triangle?”

“they’ll need to sail past the equator and i’m almost certain their ship will be slowed down by the doldrums. we can easily gain knots on them”

he squints at the scribbles you’ve made noting down what you’ve gathered of the wind patterns

you know for a fact that it will mean nothing to him, but whatever he sees must satisfy him because jihoo appears to make up his mind

“when do we set sail?” he directs his question to your captain

“three days from now”

he grunts a noise of affirmation and stands, which hongjoong takes as the cue to see them and the rest of their crew off your ship

you trail behind the group as you all head back to the upper deck

you prepare to emerge from the hatch with a playful wink, knowing that yunho will be craning his neck from the helm to get a glimpse of you, when a sudden holler surprises you out of your thoughts

it’s immediately met with the answering cries of several other pirates - none from your crew - and you hurry to clear the hatch to gain your bearings

you’re thrust right into the throes of battle as ateez are forced to unsheathe their cutlasses to defend against silver light’s sudden attack

having been caught off guard, basically none of your firearms are loaded with gunpowder, rendering them unusable

you will have to make do with the short sabre at your waist

there’s no time to account for the whereabouts and safety of your crew members and you just have to pray that you all make it out of this unscathed

especially yunho

but as ateez retaliate, you all notice something is off about the situation

your crew is very quickly overpowering the other pirates - it was a losing fight for them from the very beginning

it makes no sense to you nor the rest of your crew

the losses of breaking the alliance before the planned raid, much less through betrayal, far outweigh any gains they could possibly make from their choice of action

it makes absolutely no sense

until it does.

you are blocking the swing of a sabre with your own when you are tugged backwards harshly by the collar of your shirt

there’s an angry snarl in your throat as you prepare to turn around, but it’s quickly silenced by the warning shot of a pistol right beside your ear

the cold ring of metal is then pressed to the back of your head

you know that firearms require time to reload and there’s a chance that this pistol is now useless

but, like wooyoung has taught the rest of the crew to do, they may have pre-prepared several pistols and you are not willing to play with fire - especially when you are only the flex of a finger away from death

you vaguely hear someone yell out your name in panic, but you’re not quite sure you hear correctly over the clamour of cutlasses clashing, warcries resounding and your own heartbeat pounding

“stand down or your navigator dies,” the voice behind you thunders

it’s jihoo…and he wants a navigator for his crew

“ateez,” one of your men commands, “lower your weapons”

your crew may make decisions fairly, but in battle, only hongjoong has the power to make commands

yunho has never spoken against his captain or disobeyed orders

until now

the words do not come out of your captain’s mouth but yunho’s

the rest of the members hesitate - they will not stand down unless hongjoong commands them to, yet, they are unsure whether they will be able to follow should he demand them to fight on, even if it means endangering your life

but there is no guarantee jihoo will let your crew go unharmed even after you all surrender, and as the captain, hongjoong must make decisions in the best interest for the crew

“captain!” yunho yells desperately

yunho never yells

“stand down,” hongjoong commands

silver light’s captain steps in closer behind you until you can hear and feel the noise of intriguement that leaves his mouth down the back of your neck

“that your loverboy, hmm?”

he smirks

there’s a false moment of primal relief when the press of the pistol is removed from the back of your head, but it is immediately replaced with fear that is irrevocably worse as he aims it in yunho’s direction and shoots

“no!”

you shriek and pull against the tug of his hold, still fisted around your collar, your pupils blown wide with terror at the sight of the clean hole in the mast right beside yunho’s head

“it’ll be pretty boy’s head next if you don’t come with me,” jihoo coos into your ear

the fight slips out of you immediately

because if you can save him, a life for a life, then you will

even if the sight of mingi holding yunho back from lunging forward when the pistol’s barrel returns to your head makes your heart clench painfully

“y/n, don’t you dare,” yunho pleads, voice filled with anguish

you’re barely given enough time to lock eyes with him and say resolutely, “remember what you said to me,” before you are tugged away to the boarding plank

ateez can only watch helplessly as the planks are removed from over the bulwarks and the last of the ropes are untied, releasing the silver light from their ship for good

jihoo tugs you down the hatch as the ship starts to pull away, and just like that, you’re gone from their sights

“fuck!” yunho shouts furiously, unable to contain his emotions as he turns around and connects his fist with the mast

right where the musket ball had made a hole

his hand pulls away with bloodied knuckles from the splintered wood and the sheer force of his punch

a concerned whine leaves seonghwa’s mouth and he tries to approach the taller, but yunho shakes him off and looks determinedly at hongjoong

“we’re sailing to the banver isle just east of the triangle. we’ll ambush them there”

seonghwa looks between the two, hope flickering in his chest at the potential plan, “you think the silver light are stupid enough to try taking on the prosperity triangle alone?”

yunho chuckles darkly, “they were fucking shitbrained enough to take y/n, so yes”

nobody disagrees and hongjoong smirks dangerously

“ateez, ready the sails for banver isle,” he commands. “prepare for battle”

because not only have the silver light taken you away from ateez, but they have also annihilated the light from yunho’s eyes

gone are his warm brown orbs - they are now black holes thirsty for retribution

there will be lives to pay and even that will not be enough for the void

unaware of what your crew is capable of, jihoo looks down at you with a triumphant leer

“you’ll navigate us to the triangle in three days’ time. don’t even think about lying - you’ve already shown me where the location is”

with an even nod you reply, “of course”

it’s true though - you have absolutely no intention of navigating them somewhere else

because you know yunho will be waiting there for you

amidst chaste kisses exchanged between plush lips cold from the rain, yunho tells you in a brief moment of seriousness

“don’t show them where the real location is,” his breath is warm across your cheeks. “you know the coastal island roughly ten nautical miles away? show them that instead”

you tilt your head to look up at him, “you think they’ll betray us?”

“no,” he reassures you with a deeper, slower kiss, “but we can never be too safe”

and even if your vessels miss each other this time, you have complete faith that yunho will sail to the very ends of the world just to find you

two days before the originally-planned raid, the arriba sails as closely to banver isle as possible without risking running aground

yunho has navigated the ship around the back of the isle so that the form of the rocky terrain conceals them from sight

once the anchor is lowered, the crew members use every ticking moment to make preparations

swords are sharpened and firearms cleaned

mingi distributes the gunpowder and ammunition, which is pre-loaded into muskets, pistols and swivel cannons ready to be engaged

the ship’s sails and riggings are checked and yeosang keeps a keen lookout in the crow’s nest

and it’s as if the world itself can sense the brewing storm that grows inside yunho

the sea is eerily still and silent, but the sky is an omen to something impending, its rolling clouds dark and angry with the threat of rain leering over the waters

yunho doesn’t actually like the rain

he only likes it because it’s with you

rain with you is barefoot dancing, breathless confessions and bashful giggles. it’s drenched locks and fluttering eyelashes and the only thing that exists in the moment

but as the profile of the silver light finally approaches the isle two days later, the heavens split open and you are not by his side

rain without you is falling pinpricks, frigid winds and flaunting mockery and yunho despises it with his entire being

at yeosang’s call of, “vessel approaching from starboard,” up in the lookout, yunho smothers the fervid desire to barrage the other ship with cannonballs like hail from hell; to unleash an inferno that blazes through their hull as he sadistically watches the crew jump for their lives

he stamps out the hunger to shoot the ones that make it into the sea, not to kill, only to maim and induce a long, painful struggle in the open waters until death becomes inevitable - until there is enough blood spilt that it becomes the only stench in the air that stretches across for miles

yunho leashes his monsters with an iron fist

because he will not do anything that could even remotely endanger your life

even if it means that he has to hold back - to sit and wait like prey instead of advancing on the other ship like a predator

at least not yet.

silver light do not know, but this is the calm before the storm

the heavens may be crying, the winds may be howling and the waters may be roiling

but this is nothing compared to yunho

yunho is a tempest of unparalleled rage and their ship is in the eye of his storm

as the bowsprit of the silver light starts to appear around the isle, the members ready their grappling hooks and yunho draws his cutlass with a menacing whisper of unsheathing metal

you are his treasure, and pirates never lose sight of their treasure

today…you return to him

yeosang

pov: you're a tavern keeper

watching the ale reach the brim of the tankard you are holding, you’re about to step away from the barrel when the voice of a patron sounds behind you

“‘scuse me, could i get a mint-”

you look up and turn around in confusion as their voice cuts off

only to have the question taken right from the tip of your own tongue as you’re met with the face of the person you had loved for years

the same person you have spent twice as long trying to forget

eyes searching each other’s in a surprised stupor, seeing kang yeosang standing right in front of you takes you back to those memories that you have tried to remember and simultaneously bury

it thrusts you headfirst into what used to be of your shared love - like the feathery remnants of a dream, so distant from the fingers of your consciousness, suddenly returning to vivid existence when you least expect it

“hey, mint leaf. i’m back”

yeosang at least has the perceptiveness to appear a little apologetic, immediately pulling you into a hug and pressing soft kisses against your hairline uncaring of the other people in the tavern

it’s been several weeks since you last saw him, and whilst he had warned you he would be gone for longer this time, you hadn’t expected it to mean two whole months

he’s a small merchant who also fishes along the coast to earn enough to make ends meets, so he’s often gone for a few days or a week or two

you knew what you were in for when you first made it official with him, but just because you become accustomed to something, doesn’t mean it gets any easier

and he’s never been gone for this long

something must have happened - something good - because he looks alive, cheeks glowing and eyes fiery

“i met the crew”

“the crew?” you ask, hands reaching for the bourbon to prepare him a drink as he lets himself behind the counter to stand beside you in your workspace

he nods excitedly, "wooyoung’s pirate crew, ateez"

you think you know where this is going to go and you hate that your stomach sinks at the thought of what your future may become, because yeosang looks so happy to tell you about this and a happy yeosang is all that you could ask for

“the captain offered me a position as their lookout”

you pick out your next words carefully as you hand him his finished drink - a mint julep with two sugar cubes, just the way he likes it

"aren't…isn't being a pirate dangerous?"

“not as dangerous as you might think, actually. they’ve been showing me the ropes the last couple of weeks and…and i think i want to join them. officially”

there it is

the forked end of the road

you wonder how far two people can keep walking with their hands intertwined before the distance becomes too great and they have to let go

his words become a little muddled when he goes on to tell you about how they divvied up their recent loot to include his share too

how he’s gained more money than he’s made from the last two years of working as a merchant and fisherman combined

if he joins his old friend and his crew, he could earn enough to buy his parents a proper house; earn enough to build you your very own tavern

you want to tell him that you don’t need the tavern, just him, but you also know just how important his family is to him

his filial desire to take care of his parents was one of the very reasons you fell in love with him in the first place

before you can say anything though, the tavern keeper is interrupting to let you know that your shift is over

yeosang immediately perks up and herds you out of the place, claiming that there is a new fishing spot he discovered that he has to show you

and so you sit while he rows his modest boat, only the splash of his oars disturbing the peaceful stillness that has settled over the waters as the sun dips below the horizon

the waning light casts a soft, warm glow over him, like a gentle kiss against his skin and birthmark

if angels graced the earth, there would be one sitting right in front of you

“i missed you, mint leaf,” he confesses, gaze shyly averted. “i thought about you when i was gone”

“did you think about showing me this place?” you feel a little breathless

he nods, “every single night”

and that’s enough for you

it feels like everything is okay again

it doesn’t matter if you’re standing at a forked road

you think that perhaps, for him, you can walk on an unpaved path - just so that you can keep holding his hand

“y/n”

yeosang’s voice is deep

the word sounds foreign to your own ears but you don’t dwell on it

(because if you do, you’ll wonder whether it’s because you’ve forgotten the sound of his voice or because you want to hear him calling you something else)

“what would you like to order?” you ask

(because it’s easier to pretend that he’s just another patron than to admit that he used to be all that you ever knew)

yeosang fumbles a little but then regains himself, “oh, um- just a mint julep, please”

you turn your back to him to prepare his drink, hands reaching for the barrels lined along the bottom shelves without needing to look

you’ve made this drink too many times to count

half of those times were in the safety of the darkness that midnight offered; when the tears could flow freely without anyone seeing

it’s only when you start to mix his cocktail that yeosang realises he didn’t ask for his sugar cubes, but he figures the drink will taste bitter tonight either way so he opts to watch you instead

he wishes that he could walk past the counter like he used to and wrap his arms around you

he wishes that he could whisper endearments into your ears and press them against your lips

he wishes that he could show you that he still loves you

“do you still love me?” your voice wavers with hurt as you stand in front of him

he’s finally back after being gone for four months this time and you hate this conversation as much as he does, but it was bound to happen eventually

yeosang pleads, “more than anything”

“then why does it hurt so much? loving you…and being loved by you”

he doesn’t have an answer

but god be damned if he doesn’t try to find a way to fix things

“tell me, mint leaf, what can i do?”

you blink back your tears furiously, having already made up your mind while he was still at sea

“let’s break up”

because in the end, unpaved paths have too many rocks, too many thorns and too many arched roots; they were never meant to be walked along

you pass yeosang his finished drink without another word and then move further down the counter to serve a different customer

his eyes linger on you wistfully before he tears them away from you

it’s a good thing his hair has grown long enough to cover his face when he looks down

because his eyes start to grow wet at the sight of the mint julep you have made him

with two sugar cubes in it, just the way he likes it

perhaps, once you’ve loved somebody, you never really stop loving them

yeosang shows up again the next day and seats himself at the bar

you don’t serve him though, actively avoiding his end of the counter and letting another of your staff tend to him

he orders his usual but he leaves out his request for additional sugar cubes

it feels wrong for him to order it from someone that isn’t you

but you’re watching out of the corner of your eye as the worker mixes the bourbon, sugar and water, topping it with a few mint leaves and then sliding it across the counter for him

you let out a little sigh, half amused, when he takes a small sip and smacks his lips together at the bitterness

you take two sugar cubes and drop it unceremoniously into his pewter cup before you realise what you’re doing

yeosang immediately seizes the opportunity to talk to you

“my crew’s docked for the fortnight…” he waits to see if you’ll respond. you don’t, but you also don’t move away, so he continues. “we’re making some repairs to the hull and sails before our next raid”

you have half a mind to walk away after you reply, “i didn’t ask”

he forges on regardless

“we’re going to work with another crew for this one. it’s going to increase our chances of a successful raid because-”

your voice comes out a little harsher than you mean for it to when you hiss again, “i didn’t ask”

yeosang’s mouth closes as he pulls away slightly, back straightening

then he says in a softer voice, “i’ve been doing well. wooyoung still takes care of me, even though i’m not new to the crew anymore. i also saw my parents today and they’re happily retired now…”

you don’t stop him from talking this time

because how many sleepless nights have you spent sitting outside your tavern looking up at the stars; how many times have you served a mint julep to a patron and accidentally added sugar cubes; how many moments have you been consumed by the thought of him, simply wondering if he is living well?

this is everything that you have ever wanted - yeosang in the flesh letting you know that, yes, he has been well

but it is also everything that you have ever feared - that he has been well even without you

you don’t know what to feel

“my parents asked about you,” he says gingerly. “how have you been?”

his voice is barely audible, as if he is afraid of what you might say

or perhaps, afraid that you might not say anything at all

“good. excellent,” you force a small smile, your eyes still focused on the mint leaves floating in his drink. you don’t think you can look at him. “i own this place now”

his body loses its tension, cheeks rounding as he looks at you with genuine relief

“that’s…that’s really good to hear”

his words sting

you are unsure if it stings your ego or if it picks at the wound in the shape of the person you have lost

but it hurts to know that he has worried over you in the exact same way you have over him, the whole time you two have been apart

you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the realisation and hot tears well in your eyes almost immediately

your bottom lip starts to crumple so you rush into the back room to escape

“y/n!” yeosang calls out after you, alarmed

when you don’t stop, disappearing into the storage, he jolts up from his seat and follows

your body shudders with every heaving breath you take, unable to stop yourself from crying even harder when you feel him tug you into his chest

you try to pull away but his sturdy arms tighten around you

yeosang refuses to let you go once more

“i hate you,” you sob, struggling against his hold as you hit his chest weakly

he hushes comforts against the crown of your head, soothing noises as he endures your fists

“you have every reason to”

yeosang holds back tears of his own

he feels your body gradually losing its fight, sinking into his embrace instead, hands desperately holding him close

your voice is so impossibly small when you tearfully confess, “but i still love you”

“oh, mint leaf,” he brushes the stray locks of hair away from your face and cradles your jaw tenderly, “i still love you, too”

he presses a soft kiss against your forehead, pulling away once only to reaffirm, “so, so much”

when he kisses you again, his lips taste salty against your own, but nothing has ever tasted sweeter than this

your breath no longer stutters but the tears continue to run down your face because your heart finally feels right after all these years apart

and yet-

you pull away

“we can’t do this”

yeosang feels his heart shattering

“why not? i don’t understand,” he whimpers

“you know why,” you say distressingly, “my life is here, yeosang. i can’t just leave and return whenever i want. but you, on the other hand? you can. you go where your crew goes - you belong with them”

“but my heart belongs to you. please, y/n,” he begs

his arms are still wrapped around you and you feel his desperation as his fingers cling onto you like a lifeline

you look earnestly into his bloodshot eyes, your own vision blurry, “yeo, you’re not the one who gets left behind here. you’re not the one who waits weeks, months, years on end, just hoping that the next person to walk in is the person that you want to see”

he wants to plead that he waits to see you, too, but he knows that he’s the one who leaves, too

“you’re the right one for me - the only one for me - but it’s not the right time,” you tell him gently

slowly, his arms lower themselves from around you

“it wasn’t the right time then and it isn’t the right time now,” he repeats, “then when is the right time for us?”

you shoot the question right back at him, “when is the right time for someone whose life is to sail the world?”

neither of you know the answer

nobody does, because loving a pirate has no certainties

but yeosang doesn’t give up

“if we can’t ever be sure, why don’t we just make it the right time ourselves?”

you caress his cheek sweetly, and despite having stepped away from you earlier, he leans into your hand, starved of your loving touch and affection

“yeosang…what if we’ve already had it? what if…meeting each other was already it? what if we’re just meant to love from a distance, not side by side?” your voice is poignant but resolute

he brings up a hand to cover yours, still warm and tender against his wet cheek

how is it that he can be touching you yet simultaneously feel worlds apart from you

“okay,” he accepts with a whisper

if loving you silently is the only way he gets to love you, then he will choose it in a heartbeat over losing you entirely

he thumbs away the remainder of your tears

“can i kiss you? one last time?” he asks

you nod

“one last time”

your lips slowly meet, slotting together as they find their home in each other’s dips and curves

his hands cradle the small of your back and neck and your own hands rest against his chest

the kiss you share is steady, longing and bittersweet

it conveys everything that you want to say to each other, and even then, it is hardly enough

thank you

i’m sorry

i love you

goodbye…

you can feel your eyes burning up again, but you focus on the feeling of yeosang’s lips against yours instead

because you know that the moment one of you pulls away, that is it forever

in the world of love, there are people who are ill-fated

they meet the right person, but at the wrong time

and then there are people like you and yeosang

not ill-fated, but star-crossed lovers

the right person…

but just not meant to be

2K notes · View notes

kvnis · 3 months

Note

hellooo! I’ve actually fallen in love with your writing, and I’ve had this idea in my head for wayyyy to long, so here ya go!!

just thinking about scara using shouki no kami to hold the reader in one of its hands, using one of its mechanical fingers to fuck them and fill them to the brink?? (pray for the reader man 🙏🙏🙏)

౨ৎ ﹒ bow before me .

── ୨୧：sub!reader x dom!scaramouche

୨୧﹑ synopsis :; you never noticed how hot scaramouche’s mecha was, until now.

୨୧﹑ genre :; smut, nsfw

୨୧﹑ cw :; fem!reader, shouki no kami!scara, established relationship, size difference, size kink, grinding, fingering ( yes the finger goes inside—just the tip i swear ), creampie, biting.

﹒notes ! ⸜⸜ stopp reader is literally going through it.. #pray4reader — also sorry this took so long i had no ideass then i got a burst of motivation at 2am!!

shouki no kami, originally meant to be the new vessel to house the gnosis in order to assist the balladeer in attaining his so called ‘godhood’ he had been craving ever since his abandonment as a lonesome puppet.

it was simply a hunk of metal, however it was able to heed to scaramouche’s every whim. your eyes stare up in awe as the faceplates click into place, the electro energy resonating within making the machine come to life.

with baited breath, you summon your weapon. this was meant to be a simple spar to test it’s strength. but now, standing in front of it, you begin to have second thoughts.

a yelp comes from you as a large hand swiped for you, and you immediately ducked down. you curse under your breath as you hit the floor, eyes darting around to see where his next attack would come from.

“you’ve got to be more aware of your surroundings, dear…”

in a fraction of a second, you feel a heavy weight on top of you, before being scooped up and lifted off the ground by his heavy hand. you dropped your weapon, making it clatter on the ground which now seemed to be getting further and further away.

you were dangling from the back of your clothes in front of where the control centre would be. grumbling in defeat, as he watched you softly swing side to side.

“look at you, so cute, so helpless.”

his other hand cups a few metres underneath you, acting like a platform as he drops you like a stone. you make a small ‘oomph’ upon impact.

one of the fingers of the machine trail down your body suggestively, only egging you on as it reaches your thighs. your lips part, a silent gesture of protest, which wasn’t missed by scaramouche

“oh, come on—don’t act like you didn’t want this.” his distorted voice rings in your ear, going straight to your thrumming core. your eyes flit up to the mecha, your thighs pressing up against the finger situated between your legs. “please, you were practically fucking me with your eyes. couldn’t even get through five minutes of fighting.”

“i wasn’t!” you tried to fruitlessly defend yourself, but it was hard with the metal rubbing up against your heat.

as the finger presses up against you, you whine, trying to writhe away, but it was much bigger than you were. it was so easy to get you submit to him. he was your god, after all.

you give in, hooking your trembling fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down, throwing them off to the side carelessly. albeit your face burning with embarrassment, you can’t fight the fact your own body is aroused from his touch.

inside the control centre, scaramouche bit his lip so hard it was borderline painful. seeing your legs spreading for him as your needy fingers wandered south to pleasure yourself, he can’t restrain his own arousal. then again, he’ll tease his prey before attacking. he wanted you to grind against the cold metal of the finger like a bitch in heat, and he’d do anything to get it.

“oh? you weren’t? then what’s this i’m seeing,” his eyes narrow at the sight of your form, moving his finger ever so slightly that it presses against your clit. the contrast of the cold metal against your searing arousal set a chain reaction off in your body. “surely you’re not turned on just from some simple touches…”

you didn’t have anything to say to that—as it was true. embarrassingly so, you were in fact turned on by it. your whole body flares up, and your hips cock in a way that presses your wettening folds up against his finger.

you moan out, staining the shiny material with your glistening slick. your hands go to your mouth, muffling any noises you could let out, but you simply couldn’t keep them back and a couple slipped out under your efforts.

“so needy…” he mumbles under his breath, rubbing his finger along your dripping fold. your heartbeat thumps in your ears, breath growing heavier at the amount of slick pooling out of your cunt.

the calculated movement of your hips becomes more instinctual and rapid, grinding your clit against the hard material. the friction sends a surplus of pleasure up your spine, electrifying your whole body.

your mind is plagued with the notion that he could be doing anything up in that control centre. by the sound of his voice, you could already tell that he was equally as turned on as you. he wanted to touch you, but firstly he wanted to see you fall apart.

your eyes water, rolling back in your head. your thighs begin to tremble, struggling to keep up with your frantic motions as you chase your high. your eyes squeeze shut, but they soon widen as you feel something pressing against your cunt.

“n-no, scara… won’t fit…” you babble out, writhing as he pushes the tip in. it was all you could fit; and you already felt so full. your hands claw at the hand underneath, currently holding you, trying to gain some purchase.

it stretched you out completely, practically splitting you in half. you gasp for breath, trying to calm yourself down from the adrenaline shuddering through your body. luckily, scaramouche had enough lenience to give you mercy.

your whole body shakes and you muster all your strength to begin to grind down against his finger. you moan breathlessly, back arching as you continue to pleasure yourself against him.

your hands go down to your clit, quickly rubbing it and adding to the mind-hazing sensation. there was a lewd squelch coming from all your activities, coming from the sound of your slick alongside the desperate rolls of your hips.

“so close… s-so, so close…” you groan, your grinding turning more sloppy and uncoordinated as your orgasm builds up rapidly. your head is thrown back, a loud moan echoing off of each wall of his domain.

“you gonna cum all over my finger? cum for me, then. don’t hold back.”

his words makes your brain haywire, his whole being overtaking your senses and making you drunk on every drop of him you’re surrounded with.

your breath hitches, eyes misting over in a drunken expression of raw lust. your orgasm rips through you, causing a soft cry of his name to leave your mouth as the pleasure numbs your senses. your body stills, before going limp, your shaky arms struggling to support your weight. everything was too overwhelming, and you slowly slip off of the finger, letting yourself rest for a moment and catch your breath.

in the ache of your dulled hearing, you can hear a faint click along with a hiss. it was the sound of the faceplates whirring open, and not long after you can hear the clicking of scaramouche’s shoes against the pristine architecture of the mech.

you feel his cold hands tug your tear stained cheeks, his soft lips pressing apologetic kisses against your face; almost an apology for wearing you out so much.

“you were so good,” he kneels down, resting himself on your thigh in the act of straddling you. “so good… now how about i treat you to something better, yeah?”

he grabs your hand, placing it over his erection through his pants, letting you get a feel of how much you’ve riled him up. his groin unconsciously ruts against your hand.

your eyes flit up to him, a teary, worn out look in them. but even so, you give him a soft smile, pressing your lips against his with all your resolve. you take initiative, palming his throbbing cock, the friction of the fabric making him groan.

he shifts in between your legs, discarding his pants and tugging you close by the thighs. your hips press against his, his cock pressing up against your slick, collecting on the underside of his cock.

he leans down, nestling his face into your neck and trailing wet kisses down to your collarbone, letting his saliva coat your warm skin.

he finally, finally begins to sink into your warmth, letting your cunt suck him in and envelope him in your essence. he’s reeling at the sensations, wholly infatuated with the way your walls clench gummy around his length.

he lets out a few stray noises, giving a quick glance up at you half-lidded before slowly pulling out to the tip and sinking back into your once more. drool pools on the dips of your tongue, lashes fluttering at him, coaxing further into your hex.

he hooks one of your legs on his shoulder, pressing it flush against your chest as he leans over you. with this angle, he can finally hit deeper into you, turning you into malleable putty.

you whine and gasp as his thrust become more intense, his tip grazing against your cervix every time he bottoms out into you. it makes your whole lower body thrum with fire, blazing within your gut.

his free hand comes down to toy with your clit, sending your mind into a spiral. your inhibitions were in the clouds, combining into a senseless fog of unfettered pleasure. your back arches, limbs squirming underneath him as he pounds into you like it were a matter of life or death.

“more… m-more, i’m close again…” you gasp, voice weak and trembling with each thrust. every push of his hips, it leaves you frantic for breath, only to have it taken away again from another one of his powerful thrusts.

“you already have all of me… greedy, aren’t you?” he breathes into the shell of your ear, teeth gnawing teasingly on the supple flesh of your neck. your head lolls back, crushed in brittle euphoria as he sends you into another deserved climax.

you let slip a high-pitched moan, hands tugging on his hair as you came around his cock, your cunt tightening and fluttering around his cock. he pathetically whimpers in your ear at the feeling, your heart fluttering at the noise.

“f-fuck… so tight, i’m gonna cum…” he groans, panting against your ear as hit hot breath fans against your skin. it induced you into a state of warmth, seeking confort in the heat of his touch.

his cock twitches and throbs inside of you, before he lets his cock hit it’s deepest in you as he releases ropes of his cum deep inside of your womb.

your body relaxes into the feeling, chest heaving for breath as scaramouche rests his head against your chest, letting himself hold you in his arms for a moment. he sighs, eyes fluttering shut and a small smirk tugging at his face, feeling his cum leak out of you.

besides, if he lets some get to waste, that means he gets to fuck another load into you again.

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jimvasta · 1 year

Text

Humans aren’t poisonous

It was another canteen argument at the spaceport. This time it was about the new species, the humans.

“I hear they are poisonous. That is why they do not come near and why they cover their skin, so they do not harm others.”

“I heard the clothes are about clan allegiances and you know who they follow from their colours.”

“I thought it was which Gods they follow.”

“No, it is poison.”

The argument had various creatures involved, they were from a crew whose Captain prided themselves on picking as many species as possible to work for them, and who was already attempting to entice a human onboard.

There were so many conflicting stories about the humans. They looked harmless, unarmoured, no claws to speak of, they were not even especially big although further rumour was that they were incredibly strong for their size. But, when the Dran attacked them no one could have predicted how easily the humans sent the dangerous imperialists fleeing back to their home world. How did they do it? No one quite knew.

“They are poisonous. How else did they kill everyone on the Helin outpost without any weapons? With only on scout ship.”

There was a snort from the hooded figure at the bar. “Humans aren't poisonous, trust me, I should know.”

“I learned that from the team who investigated the outpost. I know.”

The hood was lowered to reveal a human with short brown hair and a frighteningly toothy smile. “My knowledge is a little more first hand than yours. We aren't poisonous.” He reached in and patted the speaker's lower mandible, laughing as it recoiled from his touch. “You'll be fine.”

“If you are not poisonous, how did you do it? They were clearly poisoned by something horrific, a biological agent that the investigators swore was somehow alive.”

The human licked his lips. “I said we aren't poisonous, I wasn't lying.”

“So you're defenceless.” The insectoid being stood. It was angry at being touched by a soft fleshy creature, it felt dirty.

“Nope. I'm human, I'm never defenceless.”

“It would be so easy to defeat you in combat.” It loomed over the human. “Why is it you do not cower? How do you kill your enemies?”

“You wanna become my enemy and find out?”

“Johnson!” The sharp snap from the across the room made everyone freeze.

The human sighed, his eyes dropping. “Sir.”

“Back off, right now.” This barked order came from a Subeco warrior in the uniform of a merchant vessel.

Johnson grumbled. “Seriously?”

“I don't want another incident, stop baiting people.”

“He called me defenceless.”

“And that is not a capital offence. I have found a trader who has a pallet of what he claims is a human drink called Rum, I need you to help me check it.”

“Rum? It better be dark rum, I don't want any of that Bacardi shit.” Johnson forgot the insectoid to the lure of alcohol, striding to the door.

“Subeco.” the insectoid was not so quickly put off. It respected the Subeco, they were fine warriors, proven in eons of battle across the galaxy. “What do you know of humans? How are they so dangerous?”

The Subeco's head wobbled from side to side as they considered their answer. “They are extremely vindictive with tools and masters of improvised weapons, but mostly they kill their enemies slowly.”

“So they are poisonous.”

“No not poisonous, but they are venomous.”

The entire room's attention was fixed on the Subeco in a moment.

There was a sneer from the warrior who knew one of their best guards was a human with a short temper. It was useful to make sure people were scared of him. “Their fluids are all toxic to some extent, but their saliva is laced with micro-organisms, viruses and bacteria. Death by human is slow and excruciating.”

“I'll be sure to never let one bite me.” the insectoid was not impressed.

“Bite?” the Sebeco laughed, copying the noise used by humans that was so off putting. “If Johnson wanted you dead he would have stayed at the bar and spat into one of your eyes. My survival tip for dealing with humans is be more useful alive than dead or stay out of range.”

“What is their range?”

The Subeco looked at Johnson before turning back to the insectoid. “If you have to ask that question, you're too close. Enjoy your drinks, gentle-beings.”

#humans are space orcs #space australia #venomous not poisonous #if you need to ask you are too close

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no-less-than-a-god · 23 days

Text

“May I ask a question?” The Lamb’s voice carries easily through the Afterlife, and if The One Who Waits hadn’t just watched them die (an attack that they were too weakened to dodge, an arrow piercing their chest), he would have startled at how it echoes around them; Aym and Baal didn’t have such foresight, and both of them jerked, ears flicking and tails fluffing up for only a moment before calming.

“I have told you, Vessel,” The One Who Waits answers, as the Lamb grows close. “You are free to ask anything of your god.”

“Who are these two?” the Lamb asks, and gestures to the disciples on either side of the god. Having been directly referenced, both of their ears prick up, and they stand as straight as they can, alert and curious.

“They’re my disciples,” The One Who Waits replies, “gifted upon me as kits.”

He does not mention his sibling’s name, or the fact he knows it was them. It hurts to think about it, even now.

“Do they have names?”

The god makes a motion with his chained wrist, and addresses his keepers. “Speak freely, and introduce yourself to the Lamb.”

“Baal.”

“Aym.”

“Are you two brothers?”

“Yes,” it was Baal who replies, his brother’s head tilting as he answers. “Twins.”

“Who’s older?”

There is a pause. Both disciples look upon each other silently, before turning back to the Lamb they towered over.

“I think,” it was Aym who speaks this time, as he points his staff towards Baal, “he’s older.”

“Huh…” the Lamb trails off then, before speaking up again. “Who’s better at fighting?”

“I am,” both of them reply simultaneously, and then shoot each other a look.

“I beat you last time we sparred,” Aym says.

“But I had beaten you thrice before that,” Baal counters.

“Twice,” Aym corrects.

“Thrice,” Baal insists.

In a sudden move, Aym pounces on his brother, staff brandished. “I’ll show you who’s a better fighter!” he yells, and the two throw themselves off to the side, bickering and fighting.

Both the Lamb and The One Who Waits watches the brothers for a few moments, before the Lamb looks up at their god.

“Apologies, I seem to have caused that,” they say.

“They fight, it happens,” the god replies. He does not stop his disciples, or reprimand them from fighting in front of his vessel. Instead, he watches with amusement.

“It’s entertaining, most of the time,” he adds. “I’ve been keeping track of who wins.”

“Who’s winning, then?”

Beneath the veil, The One Who Waits begins to smile, and he turns back to the Lamb.

“They’re tied.”

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

“May I ask what happens to the offerings I give you?”

“My disciples eat the fish.”

“You don’t?”

“I cannot.”

“Would you like me to send other things, then?”

“The fish is adequate, Vessel. You do not have to.”

“Do you know what fish they prefer, then?”

“Aym prefers swordfish; Baal prefers tuna.”

“And you?”

“...It’s been too long for me to remember the tastes, but I remember being partial to salmon the most.”

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

“Does it hurt?” they ask, sitting among the ethereal ground. The One Who Waits watches them, as they peer up at him.

They look so small.

“Does what hurt?” he asks in return, although he has a speculation.

“The shackles, the chains. Being bound.”

The One Who Waits remains silent, contemplating, before he speaks honestly. “They have pained me for so long, I take no further notice. I have been forced to grow used to the unbearable agony; it no longer affects me as greatly as it once did. Is there a reason you ask, Vessel?”

The Lamb, The One Who Waits surprisingly finds, is silent. They’ve looked away from him, and suddenly, they’re standing up.

“I’m ready to go back,” they claim, and there’s a tremble at the end of their voice.

Ignoring that they failed to answer his own question, Narinder raises his bony arm, chainlinks clinking together, as he resurrects them.

Later, watching through the crown, he sees the Lamb descend upon the stone statue of Heket with their oversized hammer, smashing it to pieces.

Even as it rebuilds itself, the hammer brings it all down in a fit of rage, until the Lamb is doubled over with fatigue, panting and sweating.

Eligos brings their demise two days later, and neither god nor vessel speak as the Lamb looks upon The One Who Waits.

Thank you, he wants to say, for your rage. For caring. You did not have to do that, but you did.

But he says nothing.

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

“Do you know how to play knucklebones?”

“I’ve watched the rat play it, many times. And I’ve watched you play it, many times more.”

“But do you know how to play?”

“I do not.”

“Can I teach you?

“With what dice, Vessel?”

“I have some in the crown. I can teach Aym and Baal too, if they want.”

“I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.”

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

“Have you always had a veil?” the Lamb asks, resting in their god’s hand. They had requested to lay down, after a painful and quite literal run-in with an explosive fiend. They sit up, a curious tilt to their head.

“I acquired one not long after my ascension to a Bishop,” The One Who Waits replies. Nearby, the sound of staff clacking together continues as the twins spar. “There were complaints of my gaze being uncomfortable. Unnerving.”

The Lamb pauses, before they softly ask, “May I see?”

“The veil?”

“Your face.”

A century ago, a request as such would have given him pause. He would have declined, and sent the Lamb away.

Instead, he slowly brings his arm up, and leans down. The Lamb ducks under the veil, and for the first time, the god and vessel make true eye contact.

Red meets white. The One Who Waits looks, unblinking, as the Lamb stares back into his eyes.

Something touches his nose, and it twitches involuntarily at the unfamiliar sensation. It takes the god a few seconds to realize it’s the Lamb’s hand.

The Lamb smiles, gently. “Your eyes. They’re a pretty red.”

The One Who Waits’ ear flicks.

“Like camellias. Or fresh blood. It’s nice.”

“Vessel,” the god whispers, because they’re so close. “I ask you to stop talking.”

The Lamb leans against The One Who Waits’ nose, and all he can smell is them. “And I ask,” they reply, their smile growing, “is that I can continue praising my god’s bea-”

“Lamb-” The One Who Waits interrupts, and it comes out soft. Something warm curls in his chest, around his unbeating heart.

“What shall become of me, if I don’t stop talking?” the Lamb asks in a whisper.

A purr threatens to rip itself from the god’s chest.

“I’ll send you back to your followers,” The One Who Waits replies.

The threat is empty, and both of them know it.

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

“Was Kallamar your elder or younger brother?”

“Elder.”

“And Heket was younger. Does that mean you were the middle sibling?”

“Yes, I was in the middle. Two came before, and two after.”

“May I ask what it was like, having siblings?”

“I assure you, Vessel, my experience with siblinghood is most definitely different from the norm.”

“I rephrase: May I ask what it was like for you, having siblings? May I know more of my god’s past?”

“Draw close, Lamb, and I shall tell you.”

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

“Shamura spoke to me.”

The One Who Waits flicks his ear, half because of hearing his sibling’s name on his lamb's tongue, half because they sound nervous.

The Lamb continues speaking. “They told me something. A name.”

The god freezes. He stills so suddenly, not even his chains clink. It's silent.

He knows what name Shamura had spoken. He wasn't watching the Lamb during their crusade, but he knows.

He remembers, faintly, his name uttered in vain, in fear and disgust. In hatred, or indifference.

“Were they telling the truth?” the Lamb asks. “Is your name Narinder?”

Reverence. How long ago did someone last say his name with such reverence?

“It is,” he replies, and he pretends his voice doesn’t tremble at the end.

“Can I call you that?”

The answer comes at once, without thought or hesitation, “Yes.”

“Much easier to say than your title,” the Lamb smiles a little, “right, Narinder?”

His own purr surprises him, and he watches as the Lamb’s smile grows into something soft, something fond.

Off to the side, Baal and Aym shoot their master a strange look.

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

“What do you plan to do, once you’re free?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve been trapped for almost a millennium, Narinder, surely you’ve thought of something?”

“I’ve had ideas in the past, but they’ve changed. Now, I’m unsure.”

“I can help you think of something, if you want.”

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

Narinder, The One Who Waits, has dreamed of freedom for centuries. All he’s wished for, as time passed in his eternal prison, is that he could be set free.

The Lamb’s arrival to him, covered in chains and looking ragged, had filled him with ecstatic bloodlust.

They were it, his key. With them as his final sacrifice, he’d be free.

That thought would keep him gleeful, a comfort. With their death, he’ll find his freedom.

But something changed.

Now, the thought fills him with dread.

With their death, he’ll be free.

For the first time since he was shackled, his dreams aren’t filled with revenge, with tearing himself free and escaping.

For the first time, he becomes weary of his own domain.

He doesn’t want the Lamb to die.

He doesn’t want the Lamb to die to free him.

He wants them alive. He wants them to stay, sleeping against his claw and chest, saying his name, peering under his veil.

He doesn’t want the Lamb to die.

Which is why, when they bow to him, his crown in their hands, he cannot find the words he’s dreamed of saying for centuries, the words he’s supposed to say.

It’s why, fists clenching, he says, “No.”

Good afternoon, I woke up and chose violence today! More specifically, I decided today I would write short fragments of interaction between narinder and the lamb during their vessel years

also. lore :)

anyways if anyone's curious I listened to "Home" by Pinkshift while writing this

#loredump #fickle thing #narilamb #cult of the lamb #cotl

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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 6 months

Text

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part III

Welcome to part 3!! It makes me so happy to see all of you enjoying this, I'm so excited to keep writing and sharing with you guys!!! However, I'm going to be putting a content warning on this chapter, everything will be clearly laid out in the warning! Other than that we get some sweet II and III, so enjoy! Again, thank you so much for reading, if you'd like to be added to the tag list don't hesitate to let me know!

WARNINGS: Content warning for a scene with an aggressive man. Some guy is trying to pick up reader, he's gross, he gets mad when reader turns him down, attempted grabbing but nothing actually happens, aggressive language. Brief description of a hand wound and care of said wound. I think that's everything, if I missed any please let me know!

Part II - Part IV

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Thank you as always to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading, ily ❤️❤️❤️

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

Your fingers drummed nervously across the countertop, your face starting to hurt from forcing your rehearsed smile. You felt beads of sweat starting to gather at your temples, your skin growing itchy as one of the droplets slowly trailed its way down your skin. The man at the counter leaned in a little too close to you, his breath smelled of cheap cigarette smoke and stale beer, making it difficult for you not to gag. “Come on, just one date.” His gaze pierced into you, hungry and unwelcoming. You shifted your weight in between your feet, eyes darting away from him as you attempted to plan your escape.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested.” You crack a nervous, apologetic look. His eyebrows narrowed, his whole expression changing in a way that lets you know you hadn't given him an answer he would accept. You nearly jumped out of your skin as the bell chimed above the door. Your gaze snapped over to the entrance to find Vessel, II, and a third man you didn’t recognize slipping inside. II started in your direction, only for Vessel to grab him by the arm and tug him towards the back.

“I promise I’m a nice guy.” He smiles at you with yellowing teeth, despite how friendly he tried to seem, his gaze still locked into you maliciously.

“Ves, I have the case of drinks you asked for!” You call to the back of the store, hoping to catch his attention to signal your state of distress. Before you had a chance to see him react the man snapped his fingers in your face.

“Excuse me, I believe we were having a conversation babe.” Out of the corner of your eye you see the mystery man Vessel brought with him stiffen, his head turning slightly in your direction as he straightens up. “I see you’re exactly like all the other stupid whores in this town, always distracted by guys with muscles.” He sneers, leaning in even closer. "Well I deserve a chance too. I don't deserve to be tossed aside like trash." His voice cracked as he spoke, you noticed his body started to shake as he grew more unpredictable and upset with every passing second. "Now, I've been patient… I'm going to ask you one last time before you and I have a fucking problem, do I make myself clear?"

"I've already answered you. I suggest you see yourself out before I call the cops." The man suddenly screams in frustration, making you jump. You attempted to back away from him, trying to put some distance between the two of you, only for him to try and grab you. As he swiped at you a hand grabbed the man’s wrist, pinning him in place. You watched as he expertly put the man's wrist in some sort of hold causing the man to cry out in pain, almost falling flat on his face as he tried to scramble away.

“Just walk forward and it won’t hurt.” Your savior barks out a command, ushering the man out of the store. II approaches the counter, grabbing the man’s bags and throwing them out the door after him. You watch as the unknown man grabs the attacker by his jacket and throws him to the ground, rolling him off the curb, his cans rattling to the ground behind him. The second the situation was handled II’s eye’s immediately found yours, long strides bringing him next to you impossibly fast.

“Are you okay?” He asks you softly, his large hands engulfing your much smaller trembling ones as he allows you a moment to process that you were once again safe. You nod as you let out a shaky breath. II pushes some stray hair out of your face, giving you a quick once over to inspect for any injuries. He lets out a soft hum of approval as he sees nothing physically wrong.

“I’m just a little shaken up, that’s all.” You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, trying your best to resist the urge to crumble into a mess of panicked tears under his gentle gaze.

“III, is he gone?” Vessel calls over to the other man.

“Yeah he tore out of here pretty quick.”

"I'm sorry I didn't step in sooner." Vessel offers you an apologetic smile.

"It's alright, I'm sorry you had to get involved. But thank you, all of you, for doing something. I didn't expect him to fly off the handle like that." Vessel places a comforting hand on your shoulder, II did one final check to make sure you were alright before stepping away.

The third man slowly approaches the counter, being cautious . He takes your hand firmly in his. "(Y/N)?" You nod in response. "III, nice to meet you, sorry it couldn't be under better circumstances." He smiles in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Thank you for that." His thumb trails over your knuckles as he studies your face for a moment.

"Of course, I can't stand seeing disgusting pigs like that trying to force themselves on women." You feel II's warm hand come to rest in your shoulder.

"Are you going to be okay here by yourself?" He asks.

"Yeah I should be alright, I probably won't get that much sleep, but I'll be fine." You try to reassure him. You found yourself looking around the empty lot nervously as they drove away, expecting the man from earlier to be standing somewhere outside. You sprinted upstairs, slamming your door shut behind you, triple checking that you had locked up tight. You collapsed on your couch with a sigh, turning on your TV to distract yourself. You found yourself sucked into mindless television, your nerves slowly withering away as you let yourself forget about the day's events. You quickly muted the TV at the sound of something tapping against your window. Your pulse immediately began to race as you realized that there was someone outside. You grabbed your phone, dialing emergency services so you were ready. Cautiously you approach the window, keeping yourself out of sight as you look outside. Your body immediately relaxed at the sight of a familiar figure. You were met with the sight of II throwing small rocks at your window to get your attention. You tug at the stuck frame, pushing it up with a groan as it scrapes into place. "What are you doing here?" He drops the small pile of pebbles he was holding, dusting off his hands.

"I didn't feel right leaving you alone after today." He calls back. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his overall demeanor somewhat nervous as you wait for him to continue. "If it's alright with you, I figured some company might help." He shrugs slightly. You blush at his offer, slowly nodding in response

"I'd like that." He straightens up with confidence at your response. "Stairs are around back, I'll let you in." You hurried over to the door, stopping to look in a mirror to fuss over anything that was out of place. You took a deep, steadying breath as you opened up the door. II was just jogging up the stairs as you stepped out into the cool night air. He paused on the landing, the two of you trying to figure out what to say as you awkwardly rocked back and forth on your heels. You didn't know why you felt so nervous. Granted, you had only known II for a couple weeks at this point, but he had always been so kind towards you, if anything you looked forward to seeing him come into the shop day in and day out. "Come on, it's cold." You pull your sweater tightly around you to try and block out the wind, a shiver running through your whole body at the sudden drop in temperature. "Let's go inside, I'll make you some tea." II stands awkwardly in the entryway, almost as if he was waiting for instructions on what to do next. "Make yourself at home." You prompt. He clumsily pulls off his boots, tucking them neatly into the corner. You hummed softly as you worked on starting the kettle, watching as II acquainted himself with your living space. He walked around with his hands behind his back, carefully leaning in to look at pictures or other various items that seemed to pique his interest. You lean over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, your soft chuckle caused him to jump slightly as he suddenly realized how close you had gotten. He motions to the picture, silently asking if he could pick it up. You nodded enthusiastically.

"Which one's you?" He asks, settling close to your side so you could look at the photo together. Your eyes scanned over the group until they landed on the image of you letting out a boisterous laugh just as the photo was taken. You pointed, II studied the picture for a moment before glancing up at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. "You look so pretty." You can't help but blush at the direct compliment. "Where was this?"

"It was taken at the Fall Festival in town, actually." He sets the picture neatly back in place. You found yourself getting lost in his eyes before you jumped slightly at the sound of the kettle singing. "I'll be right back." You grab two mugs, handing one to II as you both nestle into the couch.

"I like your apartment, it's nice." He remarks cheerfully.

"It's not much, but it's home." You respond with a smile. He turns away from you, lifting up his mask just enough to sip at his tea. "Thank you for coming to see me…" you trail off, running your finger around the edge of your mug. "I feel a lot safer with you around."

"I'm glad," he replies softly, fidgeting with his sleeve. "I want to become someone you trust," you both look up simultaneously, your eyes meeting his. "I won't let anything hurt you if I can help it." You smile, your eyes scanning over the contours of his face beneath his mask. You wanted to reach out and take his hand, feeling an overwhelming need to be close to him.

"I really appreciate you coming to check up on me, II." He shifts slightly, bringing himself slightly closer to you.

"Anytime." He breathes out a laugh. "I just… I had to make sure you were alright. When we walked into the store earlier, and I saw that guy harassing you, I don't know what came over me but I just saw red. If Vessel hadn't grabbed me I honestly don't know what I would have done to him." He tentatively reached out, you met him halfway, allowing your hand to rest in his. "Then, when we left, you still looked so scared. I don't know, maybe I'm just being overprotective." He chuckles. You found yourself absentmindedly fidgeting with his fingers as he held your hand, slowly circling your thumb around his own.

"I honestly was still really anxious when you showed up." You admit, a bit embarrassed. "Having you here with me is really nice."

He leans in a bit closer to you in order to whisper, "I'll stay as long as you need." He shoots you a playful wink, making you giggle. The two of you sat talking late into the night. Any worries from the day's previous events are the furthest thing from your mind as II helped to lull you into a state of comfort you weren't sure if you had ever experienced before. You looked over at the clock, you groaned as you realized you'd have to be up for work in a few hours. "I'll take that as my cue to leave." He chuckles. He stands, stretching his arms high above his head with a pleased sigh.

He haphazardly shoves on his boots as you trail behind him to the door. "I guess I'll see you at the store." Despite how hard you tried it was impossible to mask the disappointment in your voice. The truth was you didn't want him to leave. In the fleeting hours you had spent with him this evening you felt like you had finally started to meet the real II. Despite how friendly he always was towards you, there was still something about him that was so guarded. You were hoping that given enough time you would become someone he could trust as well.

"Maybe we could do this again sometime?" He shoves his hands in his pockets, his eyes trailing to the floor as he asked.

"I would love to… I had a great time." You smile at him. You found yourself subconsciously shuffling closer to him.

"I did too." You reach out for the door handle, catching the smell of II's sweet cologne. You look up at him, intense blue eyes already studying you. You swallowed thickly as you froze, you really didn't want him to leave. His gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second before he clears his throat, snapping both of you from your trance-like state. You pull the door open, stepping out with him into the cold fall night. "Be safe, yeah?"

You nod, "you too." You stood on the landing as he headed down the stairs. "Goodnight II." He pauses at the bottom.

"Goodnight (Y/N)." He bows his head slightly before heading around the building. You didn't get much sleep the remainder of that night. No matter how much you tossed and turned you couldn't get the thought of II out of your head. His bright blue eyes, soft voice, your whole night with him kept replaying in your mind like a dream. Luckily, your next day at work was uneventful, the most exciting part of your shift was cleaning bright red food dye off the floor from a kid who dropped their slushy. You clicked off your open sign, propping the door open to start bringing in your stock for the evening. You got to work lugging the crates of produce inside as you waited for your helpers to show up.

"Fuck's sake Charlie, could you have loaded this thing up anymore?" You grumble to no one as you struggled with a particularly heavy crate. You yelped as your foot got caught on a pallet, the handle of the crate splintering apart in your palm as you slammed it and your full body weight to the ground. You winced as you opened your hands. One of them was relatively unscathed, a few minor scrapes from the skin dragging across the pavement. Your other hand, however, wasn't so lucky. A long gash spread across your entire palm, small chips of the bright blue plastic barely visible against the deep red pool. You jumped as someone rushed around the side of the building.

"Are you alright?" It was III, his eyes wide with worry as he rushed to your side. "Can I look?" You gingerly hold your hand out to him, your fingers shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off. He clicks his tongue, "you gotta be careful doll, can't have our best girl getting hurt now, can we?" He smiles as his eyes meet yours. He helps you up, careful not to bump your injured hand, before leading you inside. "You sit here," his hands land on your waist as he lifts you to sit on the counter. "Where's your first aid kit?"

"Just outside of the bathroom in the back. III, I promise I'm alright-" he waves you off before you have a chance to finish your statement.

"I know you can handle yourself, but you're hurt." He calls back to you as he retrieves what he needs. He makes his way back up to the counter, waiting with an outstretched hand for you to present the wound for him. "I was always taught," he continues in a tone barely above a whisper, "that if you're hurt you should probably let someone else help."

"I guess you're right," he looks up at you through his lashes. Striking blue eyes cause you to blush under their intense gaze. "But, regardless, thank you." He gently takes the wrist of your good hand, bringing it over to his arm.

"This isn't going to feel good," he states bluntly, "squeeze as hard as you want. You nod, your fingers instantly digging into his arm as he cleans off the cut with disinfectant. He was quick but meticulous with his work, making sure the bandage was securely fastened before cleaning up after himself. "There you go doll, good as new." His eyes crinkle as he smiles. "But, I will be taking care of the lifting today." He says in a playful tone. He helps you down off the counter, allowing you to stick by his side in order to help him figure out where everything went. You sat next to him on the floor, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. There was a knock on the door, both of you instinctually turning in the sound's direction. III peers above the shelf before fully standing up. "I'll get it." You hear Vessel and II's familiar voices as he opens the door.

"Where is she?" II asks.

"She's over there, she had a bit of an accident earlier so-" before III had a chance to finish explaining II hurried around the shelf to assess the damage himself.

"What happened?" His eyes wide as he knelt down next to you. "It wasn't that asshole again, was it?" You can't help but laugh slightly at his concerned tone.

"I fell and cut my hand on a crate." You explain holding up your bandaged palm. He sighs in relief, his shoulders noticeably relaxing.

"You gotta be careful, dove." He gently pats the top of your head. He stands, offering his hand to help you up. "Come on, IV really wants to meet you."

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

Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @themultiverseofmars @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @jumpcauseimfroggy (I think that's everyone if I missed you or you'd like to be added please let me know!)

#sleep token iii #sleep token ii #vessel sleep token #sleep token vessel #sleep token #iii sleep token #sleep token x reader #ii sleep token #iv sleep token #vessel x reader #ii x reader #iii x reader #iv x reader #my writing #my fanfiction

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typellblog · 3 months

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Illyasviel von Einzbern: The Hole at the Center of Fate/Stay Night

Emiya Shirou is the beating heart of Fate/Stay Night. Every character radiates outwards from Shirou, shapes and is shaped by him. He fights against foils like Archer and Kirei while growing alongside the three main heroines in each route.

There's really only one character who precedes Shirou in influence, who shapes him near-completely but cannot himself be shaped.

Emiya Kiritsugu is already dead, after all.

It's his legacy that drives the novel - but something oft-undiscussed is that Shirou only has half of it. He inherits his father’s justice, and the one that inherits his ruthlessness is Illya. Thus, Illya’s relationship to Shirou is dictated from the start.

She is everything his father left behind, the first gatekeeper of the moonlit world of death and magecraft that Shirou now finds himself in. In this role she transcends routes, appearing at the end of the third day to deliver a near-lethal attack just as the story branches off.

She seems intent to deliver Kiritsugu’s baggage to Shirou, to make him reckon with the past that he himself never experienced; the truth that a hero can only help those he sides with while many others are left alone in the cold.

In this way her very existence is a far more fundamental challenge to Shirou’s ideals than that of any other character - and yet this challenge is met only indirectly. Much of the information regarding her true identity and relationship to Shirou is elided until the end of HF.

She functions similarly to Sakura, a character who totally changes the reader’s perception of the first two routes in retrospect. The reveals about Illya force us to reevaluate how positive her ending in the Fate route really is.

In the narrative of Heaven’s Feel, both Illya and Sakura are considered ‘doomed’ - able to be saved only by Shirou sacrificing his own life to Archer’s arm.

It’s the crux of their characterisation, in the same way that Saber’s pursuit of the Holy Grail leads her into timeless and uncountable doomed battles. In a route based around that character, you would expect fixing it to be the main thrust of the plot.

And so just as the Fate route is focused on Shirou clashing with Saber over her lack of regard for her safety, and Heaven’s Feel is focused on accepting even the ‘impure’ parts of Sakura, there is no route focused on showing Illya that she needn't give up on having a normal life.

Instead all of her scenes in Heaven’s Feel are about accepting that she cannot have one.

This is the hole in the center of FSN that I’m talking about. Its absence is felt keenly throughout the novel, because Illya has another role besides a specter of Shirou's past. She embodies the prize and object of the Holy Grail War itself - the very same wish-granting device.

Many of the characters in this story are not fighting for the Grail specifically, but nonetheless their strong personalities and desires cause them to clash with one another, in a process Kirei sees as comparable to everyday life.

Their wishes, both in the form of the dead’s regrets and victor’s will, enter the neutral, empty Grail in order to produce a miracle. The only one not allowed a will of their own is the vessel of the Grail, who, in absorbing these desires, must completely erase their humanity.

Illya is not intended to have a reason to pursue the Grail, nor any life beyond obtaining it. The war is premised on the sacrifice of the Servants, yes, but nonetheless they enter as contestants. Illya, like Justeaze before her, enters the ritual only as a sacrifice.

And yet an outside element is introduced. Illya being part-human, the product of an actual family rather than just a clone allows for her to have personal motivations. She holds on to her resentment of Kiritsugu, despite knowing that it’s pointless, because it’s all she has left.

A parallel can be made to the Grail itself. Supposedly a pure wish-granting device, it becomes corrupted through the influence of Angra Mainyu, one small, perverse wish colouring the whole thing black.

The desired salvation of the Einzberns, their thousand-year project relies on being able to reproduce the miracle, to understand every component part of their attempts in order to draw ever closer to the Third Magic, but Illya is a random factor, born to a human parent.

She’s also their greatest creation since Justeaze. Miracles, after all, exist because they are not understood.

The corruption of the Grail with the darkest desires of the world is just the inevitable result of any wish - the price of becoming a human instead of existing as a machine. Live long enough and anyone would turn into Zouken, higher goals suborned by a base desire to escape pain.

Like Illya the Grail is a failed project, a tool that can only provide salvation of a limited nature & only fulfill its purpose incompletely, proof positive that true perfection does not exist in the world of Fate/Stay Night.

In Illya’s case the bug in her programming comes fundamentally from a desire for family, for someone to be close to her. Despite her dysfunctional initial approaches she’s perfectly capable of living normally alongside Shirou.

The issue, then, is the Grail War itself.

Her two sides, two different origins, come into conflict here, and her role as the Holy Grail consistently wins. Not because she desires it in any real sense, but because she doesn’t believe that she can do anything else.

Consider how the Fate route ends with Saber and Shirou trying to live without regrets, accepting both the negative and positive aspects of the past without dwelling on that which cannot be changed.

Consider how Illya in the Fate route doesn’t say a single thing about her condition, refuses to burden others with that knowledge, accepting the fact of her death and instead choosing to live in the moment.

Consider how the Unlimited Blade Works route is about Shirou trying to live without regrets, accepting that he will not always succeed, that his self-sacrificing nature will hurt him, but nonetheless his pursuit of that goal is worthwhile.

Consider how Illya’s death is used to illustrate this, how she cannot be saved regardless of whether Shirou makes the choice to intervene or not, how his sorrow is used as proof of his brokenness and his ability to move forward regardless is used as proof of his strength.

Consider why the Heaven's Feel route is named after the ritual that materializes the soul, why this is identified with salvation and rebirth by the Einzberns. I would argue that the Third Magic is a metaphor for the process Shirou undergoes throughout the novel.

He evolves from a machine into a human, gaining his own desires and the will to live. And just as Heaven’s Feel, the ritual, requires a sacrifice: Justeaze’s blood forms the foundation, so too does Heaven’s Feel, the route: Illya spends her own life to fully realize Shirou’s.

In moving past Kiritsugu’s legacy, he moves past his belief that his life is worth less than others. He wants to live, wants to let Illya save him, wants to let her sacrifice herself for him. In moving past Kiritsugu’s legacy, he moves past Illya.

I don’t blame him. I just want to emphasize how significant to this novel the existence of suffering is, how important the figure of someone who cannot be saved, how necessary a single person’s sacrifice. And how this falls on Illya in every route.

In the latter parts of the Fate route she quickly disappears from story relevance. Her functions as a Grail offer a convenient excuse to have her sleeping for much of the day, as it does for Kirei’s kidnapping of her, stringing her up as a sacrifice to open the gate.

In UBW we have Gilgamesh brutally ripping out her heart. He values her purely for her core, which holds the Grail, tossing aside the rest of her body.

If her role as the Grail is what drives her doom, though, she is at least partially able to overcome this at the end of Heaven’s Feel.

For a brief moment, Illya escapes the bonds of fate by uniting her deeply personal wish with the impersonal functions of the Grail.

She also dies. She fucking dies, okay? I’m so tired of talking about this as though it’s supposed to be a good thing, as though we’re just supposed to accept it as the best possible option.

It works precisely because we know there is another, because we know for a fucking fact that an Illya route could have existed, that her salvation is possible not just from a meta perspective but directly implied in-universe.

Illya’s power is to grant wishes, but she is incapable of giving voice to her own. She needs someone there by her side to tell her that it’s okay to want to live, and yet- Shirou is so fucking broken that he needs her to do that for him instead.

Illya could have lived, but she doesn’t, and in not doing so she carries half the weight of this story’s tragedy on her back.

In a way this is an excuse for the lack of an Illya route. I really do think its blatant absence adds something to Fate/Stay Night, really sells the tragedy of HF, becomes even more beautiful precisely because of its unattainability.

It’s a comment on how the artistic process, materializing your soul on paper if you will, is an inherently restrictive one, rife with failure and things left on the chopping board.

But it does not, not for a second, mean that we should accept the lack of an Illya route. It doesn’t mean the desire for it is a bad thing. It doesn’t mean that its addition would make Fate/Stay Night worse.

It would, however, become a different game at that point, and here I want to pay respect to the one that has lived alongside me for twenty years.

Thanks for reading, and happy anniversary to my favourite story of all time.

#illya #fate/stay night #fsn analysis

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empress-simps · 24 days

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May I please request a fic with James and a tomboy!reader? She’s into sports (namely quidditch, ofc), doesn’t mind getting dirty. Typical tomboy-ish stuff lmao!!! I’m not sure how to describe it. Whatever house you think is fitting will be fine by me :)

Thanks for the request darling! I hope this is what you had in mind! I’m not quite confident on how I wrote the reader but I hope it’s alright, this is my understanding of your request🥹 Thank you!(I was listening to “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees when writing this!)

Bruises and Broomsticks

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

CW: Implied Fem!Reader (uses she/her pronouns), Reader getting injured, Jealous James, and Language. (2.4k words)

James doesn’t know how it happened or when it happened.

He viewed you as a great friend- even going as far as calling you an honorary marauder. James had always seen you as one of the guys, someone who could take a joke and throw a punch. Your laughter was infectious, your loyalty unwavering, and your spirit indomitable. You were the one who would challenge him to a race on brooms, who would formulate the best strategies for capturing the snitch, and who never backed down from a dare as ridiculous as spray painting a random wall in Hogwarts.

Although, there were moments that caught him off guard—like the way the sun caught in your hair during a late afternoon practice, or how your eyes sparkled with mischief before helping them plan a prank. It was in those quiet, unguarded moments that James found himself drawn to you.

James thought it probably was the way you care and defend everyone close to you with everything you got, or how you don’t care what people thought of you. You were confident to be yourself. Whatever it was, he realized his feelings for you ran deeper than he had ever anticipated.

“Marls!” You called, running to her (almost tripping) as you entered the Gryffindor common room, sporting an ever-growing bruise on your cheek. Marlene smiled, but quickly frowned as she spotted the purple-green blob on your cheek. “Godric! What happened to your face, Y/n?!”

James quickly perked u as he heard your name, pulling him out of the conversation he’s having with Remus. He watches as you shrugged, “Dolohov was messing with me again earlier.” Sirius grinned, emerging from the portrait a second behind you. “She was a menace, I tell you!” The tall boy barks out a laugh, backing you up as a toothy grin appeared on your face.

Poor James, one of these days he’s bound to have a heart attack if he hears another news of you getting into a fight.

James watched one of his best mates throw an arm around your shoulders, hyping you up. His jaw clenched, trying to mask the growing pit of jealousy in his otherwise calm demeanor. He couldn’t help the flare of jealousy that sparked within him each time Sirius got too close, each time his laughter mingled with yours in a way that made James’s heart race for all the wrong reasons. He knew Sirius meant no harm, that your friendship with the marauder was just that—friendship. But as James’s eyes followed the casual way Sirius’s hand rested on your shoulder, he felt a possessive urge to sweep you away from everyone. He thinks he should be the one who’s on your side.

Remus tried his best not to laugh; he leans to Peter beside him, whispering “Looks like Prong’s about to burst a blood vessel,” his voice low, laced with amusement and humor as Peter looked up from his essay.

James shot Remus a warning glance, but it was softened by the half-smile that betrayed his true feelings. “Shut it, Moony,” he said, though his eyes never left you.

“What happened?” Peter asked, most students lounging in the common room looked at you, awaiting your reply.

You placed your hands in the pockets of your worn-out wide legged jeans. “I beat the shit out of that fucker.” You shrugged, a triumphant smirk on your features.

As the common room erupted with laughter at your bold proclamation, James couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. There you were, fearless and fierce, and utterly oblivious to the way he hung on to your every word, to the way his world seemed to orbit around you.

And perhaps, he thought, that was exactly as it should be. For now.

Remus looks at him with a mirth present on his face. “You know, Prongs, one of these days you’ll have to accept that Y/n can handle herself,” he said, nudging James with a knowing smile. James, however, couldn’t shake off the concern he felt. “It’s not about her handling herself, Moony,” he muttered, his gaze still fixed on you. “It’s about her getting hurt.”

Oblivious to James’s inner turmoil, you continued your tale. “So, I was minding my business when Dolohov suddenly appeared and was uttering how a muggle born like me shouldn’t be walking around and tainting the wizarding world.” You started, “His wand was pointed right at me, probably about to hex me. You know what I did?” You paused for dramatic effect; your eyes twinkling. The common room was silent, everyone hanging on your every word. “I grabbed the nearest ink pot and chucked it right at his nose. Got him square in the face!” You laughed, the sound rich and carefree. Sirius joined in, slapping his knee in amusement. “It looked like a squid inked him in the face!” he adds, “This sod charmed the ink, so it’ll stay for a week!” Sirius pointed at you.

"Sirius and I were laughing so hard, he managed to hit me in the face—can you believe he forgot to even use magic? I got him back; pretty sure my converse left a mark on the side of his face.” You couldn't help but grin, recounting the tale. Marlene shook her head, her earlier concern now replaced with admiration. "That's my Y/n right there!" she said proudly, "Never one to back down from a fight."

As the laughter died down, you caught James’s eye. He was trying to look stern, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curving into a reluctant smile. “Just be careful, okay?” he said softly, a rare display of tenderness from him.

You nodded, your smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Always am, Potter.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, your maroon converse thudding against the wooden floor as you made your way to the dorms, leaving a trail of whispers and a certain besotted Marauder in your wake.

“Merlin, Prongs. You never told us to be careful, just to bugger off.” Peter complained, Eliciting a grin from Sirius. “Luck’s not on our side, wormy. James doesn’t fancy us.” James gave Sirius a look.

“Don’t even deny it, Prongsie. You thought I couldn’t see you practically hexing me when I was beside her?” Sirius snorts, sitting beside Remus and leaning onto the boy’s shoulder who wrapped an arm around him.

James couldn’t find it in himself to disagree, nor did he want to. It was the truth, and it was out there now. James realized that this was a turning point, not just in his relationship with you, but in his own life. He was in love, truly and deeply, and it was time to embrace that reality.

Stepping out into the field in your quidditch uniform, you can hear the screams and chants echoing in your ears, the noise never fails you to get riled up. The vibrant green of the grass seemed to pulse with the energy of the crowd, the sky was a clear blue, a perfect backdrop for the game ahead. Feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you gripped your broom tighter, an excited smile appearing on your face. You adjusted your goggles, the leather strap snug against your hair, and swung a leg over your broom.

James took in the sight of you, smiling softly. “Be safe, yeah?”

Shooting him a wink, you replied. “Aye aye, captain.”

The referee's whistle pierced the air, and with a powerful kick, you were airborne. The wind whipped past you, tangling your hair as you soared higher. Below, the field became a patchwork of colors, the players mere specks in a sea of movement. You were in your element, the broom an extension of your body as you weaved through the air seamlessly, air resistance got nothing on you.

The Quidditch match was in full swing, the stands filled with cheers and the sky a blur of players on brooms. You were a force to be reckoned with, dodging Bludgers and racing after the Quaffle with unmatched skill. But in a split second, everything changed. A rogue Bludger, charmed by Dolohov's dark magic, veered off course and struck you with a sickening crack that seemed to echo throughout the pitch.

The game halted as screams and shocked whispers echoed through the pitch. James, who saw the entire thing happen in front of him, stopped dead in his tracks. His heart plummeted and felt his body go cold as he watched you fall, your body limp and vulnerable. Without a second thought, he dove, catching you just before you hit the ground.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on?! Gryffindor’s quidditch star L/n has just been knocked off her broom!” The announcer sputters, also shocked at the event.

In the aftermath of the rogue Bludger's strike, James's instincts took over. With Y/n cradled in his arms, he flew to the ground, the rest of the world a blur. The screams from the stands faded into the background as he focused solely on you. Nothing else mattered, you were his priority. Damn that stupid match, he needs to make sure you’re okay.

"Y/n, can you hear me?" James's voice was steady, but his eyes were wide with pure unadulterated fear. He gently laid you on the grass, brushing away a strand of hair from your face.

Sirius landed next to James, “Prongs, what happened? How’s Y/n?” His voice was laced with worry, checking you for any possible injuries. Your other teammates shot each other worried glances; the match has been called off.

Madam Pomfrey rushed onto the field, her medical bag in hand. “Make way, students!” She yells, but James was hesitant to move away. "She’s going to be okay," the matron assured him, James looked in Madame Pomfrey’s eyes, trying but failing to know if she meant what she said. Other players and the audiences have been ushered out of the field.

James nodded, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Y/n's still face. "I've got you," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "I won't let anything happen to you." Sirius gently pulls him away. “C’mon Prongs, let’s leave Madam Pomfrey to do her magic, yeah?”

The fear that gripped him was real, and it brought a clarity he'd never felt before. He loves you, and he needs you to be okay because Merlin forbid- he wouldn’t know what he’ll do if you aren’t.

He stayed close to you, not letting you out of his sight. Miraculously, Y/n stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She was hurt, but she was alive- that was enough for James for now. “Alright, love. We’ll get you to the Hospital Wing, just hang on.”

Your mind was hazy, you could make out two forms of people whom you guessed was James and Sirius. You groaned, the events earlier somehow getting clearer. “Fucking… Dolohov… I’ll get him back…” You muttered, sleep and exhaustion got the best of you.

As consciousness slowly crept back, your eyelids fluttered open, revealing the blurry outlines of the hospital wing. The ceiling came into focus, and a wave of relief washed over you. Well, you were glad you can still get revenge on that Slytherin wanker.

Turning your head, your gaze fell upon James. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his glasses askew, and his hair more tousled than usual. It was clear he hadn't moved from that spot since you’d been brought in.

"James?" Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, making you cringe.

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear. "Y/n? Oh, Merlin, you're awake," he breathed out, a smile breaking through his exhaustion. “That I am, have you been here this entire time?’ You asked, leaning to his direction to fix his glasses, effectively making him blush.

James' pursed his lips, trying hard not to show his hands that were slightly trembling as he clasped them together, trying to gather his thoughts. The sight of you lying there, injured, and vulnerable, had shaken him to the core. "I was terrified," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I saw you fall during the game, my heart just... stopped."

You felt your heart fill with warmth, he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "It made me realize how fragile everything is, how quickly things can change," he continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "And it made me realize that I couldn't waste another moment hiding the truth from you.”

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your hand. His gaze earnest and unwavering, "I fancy you, and not just in some passing way. You mean everything to me, and the thought of losing you, of not having the chance to tell you how I feel... it's unbearable."

He paused, searching your face for any sign of how you were taking his words. "I don't want to wait for another scare to be honest with you. I want to be there for you, to protect you, and to be someone you can rely on. If you'll let me."

The room was filled with a tense silence as James awaited your response, his confession hanging between you like a delicate thread, ready to weave a new beginning or unravel at the slightest touch.

“Is this your way of saying you’re in love with me, Potter?” You smiled, which prompted James to roll his eyes playfully.

“I’m being serious, darling.” His thumb softly caressed the back of your hand, "I love you too, pothead. You’re an idiot for not saying it sooner." You laughed, teasing the boy beside you but your fingers curled into his, holding on just as firmly.

“I am your idiot, darling.” he replied, a soft chuckle escaping him as he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours.

Looking into his eyes, you can see the rawness of emotion he feels, you know everything he had said was genuine. It was a look that cannot be put into words. In that moment, everything that had happened on the Quidditch pitch, every fear and confession, seemed to solidify into something undeniable.

Neither of you needed to speak; your hands entwined with James speak volumes. You gave his hand a weak squeeze, a silent promise that you were there, you were with him, and you weren’t going anywhere.

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james x reader #james potter fluff #marauders fanfiction #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders era #harry potter #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #peter pettigrew

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moments-on-film · 9 months

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Moments on Film: Carmy’s Vital Signs

One of the most fascinating things about The Bear is the full body acting from Jeremy Allen White. As with any performance, as an actor he makes many intentional choices, but there are several that I have noticed that are so in the moment and realistic, his body experiences them as his character. His actual vital signs—body temperature, pulse rate, breathing rate, blood pressure—are all a part of his character and are often visible onscreen, making it very hard to differentiate between the performer and the performance. He is so immersed in the character, you can’t help but worry about him and his health, both as a character and as an actor, to the point where his acting often feels dangerous. He surrenders himself and his body so fully, it is absolutely mesmerizing to watch. Below are several examples from season 1 and season 2.

Season 1:

Carmy and Sydney Meet

The scene where Carmy meets Sydney for the first time immediately struck me. Because of their undeniable chemistry, you very quickly get the sense that they just “get” each other. Sydney glides in and literally gives Carmy the breath of life he’s been missing. She wakes him up and reminds him who he is as much as who he could be. Carmy’s eyes show us everything in this scene and all that he’s been through leading up to this moment. It’s all there. The deep, deep sadness, grief, the exhaustion, how traumatized he is, beaten down, burnt out, sleep deprived, and desperately in need of help. He looks sick. When Sydney says, “I know who you are”, his face cocks to the side and his eyes lock into hers. He looks hypnotised by her. He says “oh yeah?”, but his eyes say, “No, I’ve forgotten. I’m exhausted and beaten down. Please help me remember. Let me be what you see.” And she does. Watch the scene again and listen to his breathy exhalation when she says “you’re the most excellent CDC…”It’s as if by being seen and understood by Sydney, the spell is broken and he can finally, actually breathe again. The relief of this moment, due to her belief in him and how she’s sees him is the first time we ever see him smile.

The Phone Call

This scene really made an impression the first time I saw it and it continues to. Carmy picks up the ringing phone and it’s a call from someone he doesn’t know named Nico. This person asks if Michael is around and in this moment Carmy goes through so many emotions. He is so caught off guard to be asked about Michael that he literally says, “Uh, uh, no. No, no. He’s not here this second.” If you watch closely, when he hears Michael’s name his pulse instantly elevates to the point where you can see the vein on the left side of his neck throbbing. As the scene goes on he starts to tense up and becomes weak and eventually has a panic attack that leaves him with a pounding heartbeat, so severe he has to sit down and then get out of there, as fast as possible. It’s an incredible moment of physical acting where the actors’s body is truly serving as a vessel for the character.

Fights with Richie

In this scene, Carmy is fighting with Richie over the C health code rating The Beef just received. Carmy believes it’s Richie’s fault since he left cigarettes by the burners, when in reality, it was Carmy’s fault. Carmy and Richie scream at each other and it gets physical. He’s so angry in this moment, his face slowly becomes completely flushed red, and his forehead stays pale. His pulse slams against his neck veins. I don’t know how many takes this scene took, but to achieve this level of body acting, even once, is incredible. The actor’s body doesn’t know that they are acting, it responds as if it’s a real moment they are experiencing.

In the scene above, Carmy and Richie are again fighting. This time, because Richie admits to selling drugs out of the back alley of The Beef and Carmy finds out. Is this what Carmy’s dad used to do at The Beef? Uncle Jimmy mentioned they last fought about drugs, among other things. The idea of selling drugs is so triggering for Carmy, it made me think there is a backstory here that has to do with his family. Carmy also finds out it was Michael’s idea to sell the drugs. This revelation both devastates and infuriates Carmy with such equal measure that he simultaneously looks like his going to burst into tears and completely explode. Look at the tears in his eyes. Look at the gripping tension he’s holding in his neck. You can just feel his heart rate rising as the scene progresses. It’s another incredible moment where this actor is literally giving his full body to service the story.

Sydney Quits

One of the worst moments in the series for Carmy is when Sydney quits. She’s calm, but she gets in his face with her final words. Given Carmy’s severe abandonment issues, and how much he needs Sydney and wants her there with him, this moment clearly devastated him. He practically doubles over. When Sydney walks out, so does his ability to breathe. He is struggling for air. His face, which normally becomes flushed and red in moments of extreme duress does something different here. He’s in such agony, his face completely drains of all color. He turns white as a sheet. This response, to me, signaled a different type of deep, deep emotional pain. How the actor was able to control his body to exhibit these internal emotions externally is remarkable.

Al-Anon Share

In acting, a performer always has to be thinking about their moment before—what were they just doing, what moment did they just come from, and how is that impacting them in this particular moment? When Carmen attends Al-Anon in the season 1 finale, he is coming from all the events that took place previously, including a traumatizing nightmare, which he awakens from violently and painfully. He’s regretting everything he did the day before, he’s hearing his brother’s voice, and he hasn’t slept well or rested, maybe in months, or years for that matter. Physically in this scene, it makes sense for him to look dishsheveled. He goes a step further though. In this scene, and often in the series, he literally looks like he’s running a fever. Once Carmy starts opening up, we see sides of him we have never seen before. One striking moment is when he’s sharing that Michael used to tell him “let it rip.” When he shares this, he almost seems a little embarrassed. In this moment of raw and open vulnerability, he blushes, and his face flushes, slowly. He then smiles, so sweetly. The fact that his character feels embarrassment and his actual face will flush, on command, as a performer, will never fail to astonish me. You can’t plan for your body to have that reaction. You can’t fake it either. He is living in all of Carmy’s moments with his own flesh and blood.

Sydney Comes Back

In the season finale, Carmy discovers the money his brother has left for him to pursue their shared dream of opening a restaurant together, The Bear. While Carmy and the team are opening the cans where Michael left the hidden money, Sydney appears. She again glides in and reminds him who he is and who he can be. But this time it’s different, this time she reminds him who she is too. Carmy then envisions what they could do—what they could be—together. Carmy has missed her so much, he regrets their last minutes together, but in this moment, all that fades away. He breathes, easily and deeply at the sight of her. Every cell in his body bends towards her. Carmy’s eyes invite her in to build the restaurant with him as much as his words do. His pupils actually dilate when he first sees her and looks into her eyes. Again, these are not physical acting choices that you can just plan or manipulate. Your body has to be going through these emotions for them to present themselves in the way that they do.

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Season 2

Season 2 of The Bear is different. To me, they have messed with the actor’s face in a way that has taken away a huge part of what makes him uniquely compelling. He lives in the moment, he acts with his whole being. He lets his eyes, body, and skin all tell the story. What they’ve done to his face this season is very noticeable to me. Carmy, as a character is stressed, exhausted and haggard. He doesn’t take care of himself and he’s not vain. It’s a huge disconnect to see him looking flawless in certain scenes, with no color showing through anywhere on his face, like he just had a facial. It doesn’t make sense for the character and it limits him and what he brings as an actor. His skin often looks like glass this season, and whatever fancy stuff they did to him took away his ability to have his emotions show through his skin at the level they did last season, which is a huge reason why the performance felt so visceral and real. They saw his emotive skin flushing and imperfections as a liability, when in fact, they are an incredible asset. He doesn’t look like anyone else, and it’s real and refreshing to see onscreen. I wish they didn’t take that away from him.

Despite what they did, he is such a good actor, he pushes through and can still physically convey the heart of what Carmy is feeling in each moment. Below are several moments that made a huge impression.

Scene with Claire

The first time I watched this scene I had to pause and watch again. Why does it feel so awkward? Among other things, it’s because Carmy is not breathing properly. Watch it again but this time only listen to his breathing. He is so distressed, talking about the fire suppression he can barely get enough air. You would think Claire’s presence would calm him down but she doesn’t. He can’t accept the moment. At times, he is subtly gulping air and his voice is shaky in a way that the scene doesn’t necessarily warrant. This was a huge indicator to me that something is wrong. It feels very off. He is so ill at ease and tense. Speaking of moments before, Carmy later reveals in this episode that the previous night he had a “gnarly panic attack.” So in this scene, he presumably had a very rough night and did not sleep well. He’s very worried about the test, waiting for the other shoe, and is self conscious about if what he’s saying is boring to Claire. All of these anxieties impact him and he’s having a lot of trouble stilling himself and calming down. We now know that Claire is not Carmy’s calm, or his peace, or his safe place—that’s Sydney. We don’t fully know that until the next episode. It’s as if the actor internalized that truth and is giving us a clue to it now. This is subtle, expert character work and an extremely difficult physical action to fake as an actor. He would have to be so keyed into the subconscious emotions of the character to let these nervous ticks run through his body. I’m telling you, watch the scene again and only listen to how much trouble he has breathing in certain moments. It’s not normal how tense he is here and an incredible foreshadowing into what we later learn he needs that actually soothes him and calms him down—Sydney.

Panic Attack in the Alley

In episode 9, cracks come to the surface, what’s done (literally) in the dark comes to the light, and Carmy is forced to physically deal with what he’s been suppressing emotionally. He experiences the worst panic attack we have ever seen him go through. He’s gotten so much worse and because of the incredible full body acting in this moment, it’s painful to watch. The conversation about this scene, rightly so, focuses on how Carmy thinks of Sydney to bring down his panic and breathe, but let’s talk about the physical acting for a minute. He’s shaking uncontrollably, every muscle is tightly wound and coiled. He can’t feel his hands. He can’t breathe. His skin is red and burning up with tension. He looks like a freight train is running through his body. His face contorts like he’s swallowing bile and is about to vomit. His acting is so real it is distressing to watch. Because he puts his body through so much, we are right there with him in every moment. We can truly feel what he’s feeling. He looks like he’s in real pain.

Eventually in this moment, Carmy focuses on Sydney—the first time he saw her face and when she came back to him, affirming words she’s told him about who he is and how she sees him. He’s kneeling at this point and is finally able to suspend his suffering, lower his panic, calm himself down and breathe. The flush on his face starts to lessen. The fever breaks and starts to come down as he focuses on Sydney and only Sydney. This is all conveyed without a single word from the actor. A montage shows us what he’s thinking, but the emotional stakes of this scene rely entirely on the actor’s ability to use his body to let us in so we can feel what he’s experiencing, and he delivers.

Carmy and Sydney Under the Table

The scene under the table is so tender and beautiful it brought me to tears. It’s a moment of truth, reckoning, concern, care, and yes, love, between the two of them. Carmy creates an environment that is gentle and safe, and Sydney softens and blossoms in a way that we have not seen before. There are moments that are so intimate, still and low it’s as if they are speaking to each other softly while laid out across each other’s chests. Sydney shares her fears and Carmy essentially tells her, “it’s ok. I’m here. We’re in this together. You’re safe with me and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Physically, in this moment, Carmy is so attentive, and so at peace with Sydney that time literally stands still. They are in their own dimension. We are so used to seeing Carmy in motion, thrashing around and stressed, that this scene and the way that it’s acted feels like a deliverance. He creates a sanctuary for Sydney to feel safe. The physicality and voice of the actor creates this moment. They are 25 minutes to open, and his eyes are gentle, his voice is as soft as it’s ever been, he’s breathing steady and easy. He’s gently moving his hand but not out of frantic energy. He can’t soothe her with touch so he soothes her with words. This scene is a revelation in how the actor shows us Sydney’s impact on Carmy. In her presence, his entire nervous system is completely and finally relaxed and at ease.

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All of what this actor gives and does as a performer engenders so much empathy for the character that his feelings become ours. We exhale when he does, and it actually hurts to watch him suffer. We worry about him, and his health, and care about his feelings. I think that’s why people have connected with this show so much. The rest of the cast is fantastic, but if we do not feel for Carmy and care about him as a character, the show does not work. He knows this, puts his body on the line, and gives it his all. He deserves the awards he had received for this role and I hope we get to see him continue this character in a season 3 and beyond.

Pay. The. Actors.

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