#Let me call you sweetheart (Ship tag) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluebeary-jay · 5 months

Text

Face to face

Din Djarin x f!Mandalorian!Reader

Summary: as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment

Tags: just pure tooth-rotting fluff, Din and Reader being insecure, they're sweethearts though and so in love, Din being a supporting husband <3, mandalorian customs are probably half-accurate but i did my best in research 😌

Word count: 3K

A/N: haiii guys!! long time no see 🤗 i had this idea ever since i watched s2 of the mandalorian almost a month ago and i'm finally done! thank you to all who stick around and i really hope you'll enjoy my first attempt at writing din (feel free to let me know what you think 🤭)! i love all of you darlings 🥰 and as always, happy reading!! 💕

Din Djarin wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he always wanted a family. The memories of his parents were hazy, but he remembered how much they loved each other and in the depths of his soul longed for a connection like this someday. Being the bounty hunter didn’t give many opportunities to look for a relationship, however, and with time he abandoned the hope for a place and people he could call home. He convinced himself that he was content being on his own.

But then the Child came along, and with it everything has changed. This little wrinkly womp rat became the most precious being in his life and Din was ready to die to protect Grogu – but he never expected that he’d also meet his future riduur because of the kid.

He did. You, a fellow Mandalorian Din spoke to only a couple of times in the hideout on Nevarro, decided to help him on his quest, and from this moment on he didn’t stand a chance. You were everything Djarin admired – brave, compassionate, skillful and kind – and though you both respected the Way of the Mandalore and never removed your helmets in each other’s presence, he knew in his soul that you were beautiful as well.

It was a long road to come to terms with what he felt for you and gather the courage to actually let you know it. But it was all worth it just for this moment when you exchanged your vows and he officially became yours, and you his. Now you were his riduur and he finally had every right to admire and cherish you like you deserved.

And most importantly, he could finally see you. The pair of you talked about this moment a lot during the nights spent on the Crest, tangling your fingers together when the ship was flooded with pitch-black darkness. Din used to whisper to you of his dreams, how he longed to run his eyes over your uncovered body, taking his time to commit to memory every little detail of your physique and expressions. You, with a giddy and wistful tone, told him how impatient you were to at last find out how his lips would feel on yours and what color his eyes were. Even when you both knew you were going to marry, you didn’t rush things and never removed your helmets until your union became official.

But you did see each other’s faces, once, though not in a conventional way. Din remembered it clearly as a day, though his eyes – as well as yours – were covered by a piece of a material the entire time. Both of you were desperate for each other that night, the tension hanging above your heads straining the resolve about waiting. And then came the moment when you didn’t fight it anymore. Instead, you both sat down on Din’s cot and without your sense of sight spent the next hour talking and trailing fingertips down each other’s faces.

Din reminisced about this moment a lot of times. He tried to remember the shape of your features to create a full picture of you in his mind while he laid alone in his bed, longing for your vicinity. Even if your bodies were separated only by the layers of beskar, it was still too far for him.

He didn’t have to wait any longer now.

It was the day of your wedding and Din Djarin never felt happier than in that moment when you recited Mandalorian vows and he got to touch your bare hand again, not covered by a glove, to put a custom-made ring on your finger. It wasn’t a necessary but he wanted to make this day memorable and meaningful for you. A few tears of joy were shed, but his face was still concealed by the helmet, allowing his emotions to take hold of him.

He hadn’t let go of your hand since the small ceremony (if one could even call it that) ended, and you squeezed his palm every few steps as you walked toward a house that was going to be your home for the next couple of days. The Child was being taken care of by other Mandalorians so that you could be completely alone for this special moment.

You were buzzing with excited energy for the whole week prior to your wedding, but now Din could sense his partner’s nervousness. He wasn’t exactly surprised – after all, it has been years for both of you since anyone saw you without your helmet on. But with every moment that you neared the bedroom, you seemed more insular, more withdrawn and hesitant, and Din started to really worry.

“Are you okay, cyar’ika (darling)?”

You slowed down, not answering right away, which caused Din to furrow his brows with confusion. Maybe you didn’t want to do it after all? Maybe it was too sudden for you? Or maybe he came off as too eager?

“Cyar’ika,” he repeated softly, wanting to put you at ease – but it didn’t seem to meet the target. “If you’re not ready…”

“No. No, I’m ready. I just…”

You trailed off. Din wordlessly guided you to the edge of the bed, cradling your hands in his – one gloved one and one not. The light of the setting sun flowed in through the small window and reflected off the hard beskar you both wore, bathing your figure in a beautiful golden light.

He was already so in love with you. What could possibly be the cause of your hesitation?

“I’m just nervous,” you murmured at last with your head bowed, looking at your joined hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” the Mandalorian repeated before he could think, and shook his head slightly. “What are you… What are you talking about? Why would I ever be?”

You lifted your gaze, and though Din couldn’t see your eyes, he could almost feel the weight of your fears on his own shoulders. The modulator in your helmet was hiding any trace of it, but he knew you long enough to recognize the tiniest shift in your body language.

“Ner kar’ta (my heart). I could never be disappointed with you.” He laced his fingers with yours, once again admiring how perfectly they fit together, and lifted them to his chest. “You own my heart and soul now, and nothing will change that.”

He hoped to soothe your nerves, but you were still silent. It wasn’t at all what Mando was expecting from this evening and he was at a loss for what to do to fix it.

“Would it help if I showed you my face first?” he asked after some time, and your head snapped up.

“No.” Even with the modulator, your voice clearly sounded broken and regretful, and it was wounding Din more than anything else could. “We were supposed to do it together.”

“We can,” he assured quietly, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “But the most important thing to me… is for you to feel comfortable during it. If you want to wait–”

“I don’t.” You untangled your hands from his hold and instead brought them to his chest, placing them on the beskar breastplate. He couldn’t wait to take it off and feel your touch on his skin. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t marry you and make you my riduur.”

You leaned forward and lightly bonked your helmets together, a sweet gesture Din loved since the first time you did it.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum or’atu an mayen. (I love you more than anything.) More than life itself.”

“I know,” he answered simply and delicately brought your hands to the edges of his helmet. It was obvious what he was offering you. “That’s why I’m willing to do it for you.”

You were still, not daring to move, and Din nodded slightly to show you that he’s certain of his decision. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, though, and he could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck.

Showing your face to others was one of the worst crimes in Mandalorian culture, but doing it with your riduur was the highest honor that not everyone was fortunate enough to experience. But Din Djarin was among the lucky ones. Even though it was not in a way he always imagined, he didn’t care as long as you were happy.

You gripped the edges of his helmet tighter and a high hiss sounded, a telltale sign that the metal piece was ready to be removed. And slowly – so very slowly – you did. Din felt a flow of cooler air on his hot skin: first his chin, then his cheeks, finally his forehead…

And lastly, he inhaled shakily before lifting his head to look into the void of your visor.

A second passed by. Then two. Then ten, though Din felt like it must’ve been a full minute now. And still you didn’t move, just watched him silently, motionless as a statue.

The Mandalorian swallowed with difficulty, starting to feel very self-conscious. The crisp air cooled the sweat gathering on the nape of his neck and he had to use all his self-control not to fiddle his fingers nervously. He felt so naked and exposed under your gaze, though he absolutely shouldn’t – you were his riduur and there was no reason to feel ashamed or insecure with you. But he couldn’t help worrying: what if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you didn’t find him attractive at all?

Then a movement of your hands drew his attention and he watched, transfixed, as you slowly started to take off your glove, tugging one finger off at a time. Once your hand was freed from the confines of the protective material, you flexed your fingers before lifting both of your palms to his face.

Even though Din was acutely aware of your every move, he still somehow flinched in surprise at your touch, causing you to freeze and search his eyes with the air of concern around you. He quickly gave you a small nod, silently begging you to proceed, and, thankfully, you did. Your fingertips traced his cheeks, so delicately it almost tickled, brushing down the path to his stubble, and then back up to the arch of his nose and eyebrows. Djarin’s eyelids fluttered closed and he let out a shaky breath, giving in to the most amazing sensation that your touch was.

“I knew you had to be the most beautiful being in the galaxy,” you whispered from under your helmet with a voice filled with a plethora of raw emotions. Din regretted not being able to see your face at that moment, but if it would help you feel more comfortable in such a memorable and important situation, he was ready to do anything for you.

“I’m sure you’re a million times more radiant, cyar’ika,” he said back. His voice was weirdly weak and raspy, sounding strangely to him – probably because he knew there was another person hearing him without his helmet on. “Even if I don’t see your face, mesh’la (beautiful), today or ever… The love I have for you will never change or waver. That I promise.”

“It won’t exactly be fair to the Creed if I don’t remove my helmet in front of my husband,” you answered, half-teasing, but Din knew there was a real worry behind your words.

“You know very well there’s nothing said about it in the Creed.” He opened his eyes, offering you a small smile. “And I don’t remember our vows mentioning it, either.”

You clicked your tongue with exasperation, but Din also saw your shoulders relaxing, a sign that some of your nerves ebbed away.

“Gev bic (stop it),” you laughed, letting your hand fall down – but before it could happen, Din caught your wrist and lifted it back to his face. He slowly kissed the inside of your palm, down to the veins disappearing under your sleeve, his eyes fixated on your visor the entire time. His smile grew slightly when he felt a shiver run through you.

“I love you, ner kar’ta,” he whispered. “Even if you’re a half-Hutt under your armor.”

“Don’t push it.”

You let go of his hand and Din’s face fell, fearing that he really went too far. He reached for you but stopped when you straightened up and took a deep breath, your hands going to the last thing that separated you from him – your helmet.

He held his breath and his heart beat erratically as he watched you. He tried not to blink, not wanting to miss the moment when he finally got to see your face. Just the fact that you were willing to do this meant so much to him, but…

Slowly, you took your helmet off and placed it down on the mattress right next to his. Then, a pair of irises gazed into the depths of Din Djarin’s heart.

…you were wrong.

Oh, how wrong you were.

There was no mistaking it that you were by far the most breathtaking sight the Mandalorian had ever laid his eyes on.

The Maker must’ve been overly generous, or maybe favored you, for looking at you… it felt like coming home.

You stared at him with gentle, tentative eyes of the most beautiful color in the world, and Din would’ve gladly lost himself in them. Your lips, so tempting and soft-looking, were parted slightly as you awaited his reaction, but he couldn’t move. He just watched, spellbound, and wondered if this truly is reality and not some cruel, elusive dream.

He hadn’t felt such awe even when he saw Grogu doing his magic for the first time. Hadn’t felt such elation even when a new skin made of beskar was forged just for him. Had never before felt such love in his life.

You were a wonder. A miracle.

“Cyare?”

Your voice sounded almost fearful to your ears, but you couldn’t help it – Din seemed unable to utter even a word, and panic started to flood your veins when you noticed tears gathering in his dark, beautiful eyes. “Din–”

But before you could move away, he slipped off the bed and knelt by your feet. You were so taken aback by this action that you didn’t even react when he cradled both of your hands in his and pressed lingering kisses to your fingers, one after another.

“If I could, I’d marry you all over again,” he rasped, meeting your gaze with so much love and adoration in his brown eyes that it took your breath away. “How did I get so lucky…?”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you let out a breathless laugh of relief, your pupils darting across the lines and grooves of his face. “You… you’re not just saying that, right?”

“Cyar’ika, look at me.” He gently tilted your chin up, making your eyes meet his. For a second he faltered, parting his lips in wonder at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, before he swallowed and gazed at you again. “Do you doubt my words?”

No. There was really no questioning his motives. You knew Din was as honest as one could be and there were only your own insecurities at play here. But the longer you looked at him, his expression so full of love and devotion, the less relevant your own doubts were becoming.

You couldn’t think of anything else but him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you whispered instead of answering, and his face broke into a wide, joyous grin. “Can I–?”

The Mandalorian didn’t even wait for you to finish – the second those words left your mouth, he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours forcefully, eliciting a surprised sound out of you, which soon turned into a needy whimper. You didn’t give him a chance to back away and instantly tangled your fingers into his hair, moving clumsily to be closer to him.

But when you attempted to climb onto his lap, your breast plates collided with a metallic clank, forcing the pair of you to put some space between you. Din huffed with frustration, while you laughed and cupped his face in your hands.

“You’re quite impatient for a bounty hunter,” you accused him playfully, nudging your nose with his. You took a deep, calming breath, wanting to surround yourself with the smell of him completely, but your riduur didn’t let you indulge for long.

He moved quickly and, without a warning, kissed you briefly again – and then one more time. It was more like a light peck, and you longed to feel his tongue inside your mouth once more, but at the same time relished in every sensation that his lips brought. Every touch he gave you was something infinitely precious.

“I’ve waited longer than you,” he murmured. His hands were already moving, taking off the beskar on his forearms and shoulders, reaching where he could without removing you from his lap just yet. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, cyar’ika.”

You smiled widely and looked up from his deft fingers to throw another teasing comment, but in one second you lost your train of thoughts.

Because Din was blushing.

The feared Mandalorian’s face – a face you were finally allowed to see whenever you desired – was sprinkled with redness across his cheeks and ears. And you were the cause of that.

The thought of it almost caused your eyes to water.

“What are you looking at, mesh’la?”

Your eyes found him again and you smiled brightly, causing Din’s heart to skip a couple of beats.

You took his stubbly chin in-between your fingers and brought his lips closer, planting a soft kiss there that had the Mandalorian melting. He covered your hand with his, feeling the band on your finger under his own.

A miracle.

“I’m looking at you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fic #this man needs to be PRAISED he needs to be LOVED and CHERISHED !!!!!#imagine having pedro pascal's face and still being insecure 😔 /j

947 notes · View notes

halfvalid · 7 months

Text

the blade daughter, pt. 3

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 7.3k this part

description: you finally soothe the uncertainty you've had surrounding going out and making a life of your own. somewhere inside, you find the bravery to finally tell zoro how you'd feel about him.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, kissing, confessions, a lil suggestive at the end

author’s note: ANDDDD SHE'S DONE!!! this was a wild 8 day long ride of writing, i'm a bit uncertain about the ending so please tell me what you thought of it!! hopefully you liked the fic, thank u so so much for reading.

The two of you emerged from the room a little while later. You’d finished cleaning up, and Zoro had kept you company as you cleaned both his swords and Hiru. The both of you walked together afterwards, wandering into the kitchen where Sanji had whipped up a meal.

“We’re close to the Grand Line,” Nami reported, having apparently steered the ship far enough away from the other pirates to leave the helm alone. “Should reach the mountain by early morning.” She glanced over at you. “Kuraigana Island first, right?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “The Grand Line is… screwed, though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Luffy said brightly. You just shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Zoro! Did you get everything cleaned up?” Zoro had changed into a fresh shirt, one not so bloodstained, and he gave a curt nod. “Good. Come and eat so we can get ready for tomorrow?”

Sanji passed you a bowl, and you let out a thin breath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how and when this had become your norm—it’d been a week with the Straw Hats, now, and—

You dropped your chopsticks in your hand. It’d been a week. “Fuck,” you said, the word dropping out from between your lips before you could stop them. Your entire body had gone rigid, pink flushing up your arms and face as something burned deep inside of you.

Everyone’s heads had snapped up to look at you, matching concerned expressions on all of their faces. “I, um—” you said, scrambling up from your seat, words too big in your mouth. You opted not to finish them, dropping your sentence as you yanked your shell phone out of your jacket pocket. “Sorry, I—”

You shook your head, hurrying out of the kitchen. The cold gust of the ocean breeze hit heavy on your face, and you let out a breath, the gust of air exhaling out of your chest in a rush. You heard footsteps behind you, but the panic hadn’t bled out of your veins entirely, and your hands shook as you tried to open your phone.

Zoro’s hand was pressed over yours before you could snap the case open. You stared down at it, and your gaze lifted, the tremble of your hands subsiding as his warm grasp sunk deep into your skin. “What’s up?” he asked, low and steady.

“I, um—” you swallowed hard, hitching breath soothing at his touch. “Um. It’s—I have to call my dad.”

Zoro was serene, tone even and still. His words from before echoed around in your head, the proclamation of not having patience. It’d been untrue after all. “Did something happen?”

“I’m supposed to have dinner with him,” you blurted. “Tonight. I’ve never missed it before. Because I’ve always been on the island, in our—I’ve never missed it before. I’ve been with you all for too long.”

“I’m sure he’d understand,” Zoro said, though his hand didn’t fall from yours. He paused, lips parted as his eyes ran along your face. “Or is it something you’re upset about?”

“I don’t have friends,” you whispered, words fierce. “I don’t go places. I stay at home. This life isn’t mine. It’s—”

“I don’t think you should dictate what you do based on what your father does,” Zoro interrupted. His tone wasn’t harsh, exactly—but it was strong, tone firm, jaw set as he spoke. “So you miss one dinner. So you’re out and about for longer than a week. Does it matter?”

Does it matter? Your heart pounded in your chest, and you took in a steady breath, trying to soothe the adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins even now. “I don’t… I’m not used to this,” you admitted, somehow managing to keep the contact of your eyes even as your brain screamed at you to look away. “I’m not used to being away from home.”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Zoro said.

You hesitated. His hand moved carefully away from yours, nudging your fingers to open the phone. Your gaze dropped, staring at the little snail waiting for you inside, nestled in his little bed of velvet. You picked it up, tucking it into your ear as your shaking hands dialed Mihawk’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Hello there, darling,” he said, and you closed your eyes, a soft exhale leaving your lungs at his voice. “Are you calling me about dinner? I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise. Just finishing up over here.”

“No, actually, um—” you cut yourself off, teeth coming down to halt your tongue. You opened your eyes, turning to glance tentatively over at Zoro. Does it matter? he had asked. Which… it did, right? You weren’t a part of the Straw Hats. You hadn’t joined their crew; you’d been insistent on that, pushing away any idea of a life out at sea in exchange for the comfort and familiarity of your home lifestyle. But you’d been making bonds with them despite, and helping them out with their ship, and fighting alongside them in battle. And you’d just patched up Zoro’s wounds a mere hour earlier. You didn’t make friends.

But you were making them.

“I’m not going to dinner this week,” you said, the words all slurred as they spilled from your mouth. There was a pause of surprise on Mihawk’s line before he spoke again. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling Zoro’s gaze on you.

“Finally departed from the nest, have you, darling?” Mihawk said. His voice was soft—tender, almost. “Very well, then. Any idea when you’ll be on the island next, or shall we keep it a suspended date?”

“I should be home in a few days,” you said, voice hitching in your breath. “I’ll—I’ll call you! I don’t know what I’m going to do afterwards, but I’ll—I’m not going to just disappear.”

“Well, of course,” Mihawk said simply. You tightened the squeeze of your eyes, trying to suppress the tingling prickles at your waterline. “I’m glad you’re making friends, dear.”

You made a face, letting out a breathy scoff. A defense mechanism, really. “Don’t get mushy on me, old man.”

“Me? Mushy?” There was a staticky scoff crackling over from Mihawk’s side of the line. It was such a simple conversation, so—why was it driving you to tears? “I could never, darling, do you even know me? I’ve got to fly, anyway—there’s some pesky pirates around here I’ve got to deal with.”

“Bye, dad,” you said, the words choking up your throat, all raggedy at the edges, too big as you shoved them up and through your mouth. They grazed your tongue, but the points weren’t edges; they didn’t draw blood. “I—um.”

The Dracules did not say I love you. Your father was doting, certainly, but he expressed his affection in far more unspoken ways. Presents from all four Blues. A weapon of the highest caliber quality when you were thirteen. Personal lessons in sword fighting. The murder of anyone who dared send an off look in your direction.

“Me too, little hawk,” Mihawk said simply. “Now go have fun.”

The den den mushi let out a soft little croak, signaling that Mihawk had hung up. You let your hand fall, the fingers holding the case of your phone going slack. Air punctured your lungs as you inhaled, the salty, crisp breeze loosening your muscles with every breath.

“Are you alright?” Zoro asked. The words were gruff, awkward. Like he wasn’t used to saying them. You tightened your grip on your case, and then tugged the snail out of your ear, setting it carefully back where it belonged. You met Zoro’s gaze, heart thudding a bit faster as you saw flickers of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I am.”

The sun shone bright on your face, the weather of the Grand Line being more forgiving today as the ship sailed carefully through the ocean. Your route was still towards Kuraigana Island, although you were growing more split about it by the second. You’d just had a conversation with Mihawk a day or so ago about you not being at the house—and the fact that you’d have to choose whether to go home and potentially never see the Straw Hats again was a decision that gripped heavy at your heart.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” You glanced up to see Zoro at your side, forearms propping at the Going Merry’s railing as he gazed out at the ocean. You shrugged, eyes flickering down his side profile before falling back to your hands.

“I don’t know,” you said. “Just thinking about what to do, I guess.”

Zoro fixed you with a look. “You should try not doing that.”

A startled laugh escaped your throat. “What? Thinking?”

“It gets old,” Zoro said with a firm nod, brow slightly creased to shield his eyes from the sun. “I’d recommend dropping it for at least a few hours. You’re getting wrinkles.” One of his hands moved upwards to nudge against your forehead, and you ducked, another laugh gracing the edges of your lips.

“Right,” you said, dubious. “How are your wounds?”

“I’ve taken worse,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Though I guess I’ve still got that one, huh.” He grimaced, lips tugging back to bare his teeth into a scowl. It took him a while to speak again, and you turned your gaze back towards the ocean, waiting for the unspoken words to leave his lips. Minutes ticked by, but you just basked in the sun, trying to air your mind of any thoughts. Maybe Zoro had a point, there—sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to think at all.

When Zoro finally spoke, his words were quiet; muttered under his breath. You had to strain to hear them, as the thin ocean breeze swallowed them up almost immediately. “I really thought I could beat him.”

You huffed out a breath, unsure of what to say. Unsure if Zoro even wanted you to say anything. Your grip on the boat’s railing tightening, palm running across the soft wood. You found words falling out of your mouth anyway, though, although you yourself were surprised by them—“You can.”

Zoro glanced up at you, surprised. “Maybe not now,” you hastened to say, not wanting to add to his clearly already-inflated ego. “But you’re good. You’re good enough to beat him, eventually. In a few years, given the proper time and training. I think…” You swallowed down the phlegm in your throat, alarmed by how wet your voice was starting to sound. You took in a breath, steadying your tone, making certain your voice wasn’t quite so thin or reedy. “I think that’s what scares me about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said, all low and hushed. You just shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” you answered. You felt his eyes on you, burning like a sun on fire, like the stars dotting his skin were crisping over your skin, charred and burnt and broken. Or maybe it wasn’t quite so destructive. Maybe it was a tender fire, crowning a pile of wood and cared for with iron stakes, embers glowing deep in the night to keep warmth fueling a pot of soup, or healing ragged hands after a long battle.

“Let me get you a drink.”

Zoro disappeared. He returned with a flask, handing it over to you after unscrewing its cap. You knocked it back—it was rich but bland, all dry and earthy. Sake. You’d pegged him more as a beer guy. “Thanks.”

Zoro’s gaze didn’t move from your figure. It was warm, you decided then. The swordsman was vicious at times, relentless in his fight, sinewy figure slashing cuts into flesh as he sparred with his enemies. But there was a distinction behind the hot, heavy iron of those glares at the look at which he placed upon you now. You couldn’t go as far to say his eyes were tender, or soft. But they were warm. Fire was a calamitous thing, but it had its blessings.

“Let me take you out,” Zoro said suddenly. Your entire body froze, murmurs of warmth and tingling buzzes pricking up and down your spine. Something inside you lurched—no, it didn’t lurch, didn’t have the unpleasant sensation associated with it. It was softer, burning, guttural. Like a sharp knife cutting straight through your abdomen, sliding into your stomach, prying apart the bones like they were putty. Your chest squeezed inwards, heart pulsating with soft pangs of something. Hunger; desire, maybe. Yearning.

“Why?” you asked. Zoro just shrugged, effortlessly casual in his movements. You saw a hitch in his throat, a flicker of something in his eyes, a strain in his jaw. Not so effortless after all. “Actually, more importantly—where?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Zoro answered. “Is that a yes?”

You turned, glancing up at him tentatively. “I’m not used to this sort of thing,” you said carefully. Zoro just shrugged. He still looked effortless, all guarded, but you could see the tremors and quivers underneath.

“Neither am I.”

You pursed your lips, raising your face to let the sun glow down onto your skin. “I have a rule, though,” you said, voice lifting up, more of a tease now. There was a ghost of a smile at the edge of your words, although your mouth wasn’t shaped in one. It was hesitant, careful not to scare you, really; creeping on you inch by inch. “I can’t go out with men who haven’t beaten me in combat.”

Zoro snorted. “I have beaten you,” he said. “But if you want a rematch—”

“Let’s not strain your injuries too much.” Zoro let out a scoff, but it was light-hearted, laced with amusement. You just shook your head, the dawning smile at the edges of your lips now, tugging them softly upwards. “I accept a loss when I get served one. You beat me, fair and square.”

“So I get to take you out now,” Zoro murmured, words careful, hovering in the air just barely out of his lips. He turned towards you, the sun outlining his face with a soft glow of gold and orange. He didn’t smile, but there was that soft, burning look again, lips slightly parted, taking in air. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.”

“Tonight, then,” Zoro said. “Ten. Aftercastle.”

You spent some time contemplating what to wear. You hadn’t brought a very expansive wardrobe along with you, only the essentials, so there wasn’t much to choose from—just some shirts and pants, no dresses or skirts in the bare bones of your luggage. You eventually picked out your favorite of the grouping, sliding your signature jacket on like usual, Hiru fastened securely in its scabbard at the back.

Zoro was waiting at the afterdeck when you arrived, dressed in a dark wrap shirt and his usual green obi. The cloth was nicer, though: his pants were missing their usual wear and tear, and his shirt looked to be made of finer cotton. “Hi,” you said, slipping up next to him. The tangerine tree’s leaves brushed at your ear, and you glanced up at it. The fruit was ripe, round and as bright orange as Nami’s hair.

“Hey,” Zoro replied. One of his forearms was propped against the afterdeck railing, and the other wrapped around the side. You put your hand beside his, pinky just inches away from his. “Do you know any constellations?”

“Some,” you said, squinting up at the sky. You could point a few of them out, but not many—the sky was cloudy tonight, most of the stars blocked out by dull puffs of gray and blue. “You?”

“No,” Zoro answered. “Was never really interested in that kind of thing.” He glanced over at you. You’d turned your attention on the trees, again, plucking one of the tangerines off the branches. The tree trembled, its leaves quivering with soft swaying motions. You dug your nails into the flesh, peeling it carefully. “Why’d you just stay home?”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “My dad used to not let me leave. He stayed with me until I was maybe twelve, for the most part. Then he started going out more, but he didn’t want me to come. Something about it being dangerous. He dropped the ban when I was sixteen, but…” you hesitated, tucking the shredded pieces of tangerine peels in your pocket. “I just kind of stuck with it, I guess.”

“Weren’t you lonely?”

“Kind of.” You broke the orange in half, moving on to pick at the pith with your fingernails. You gathered that up, too, little white lines piling up in the crease of your palm.

“Yeah, me too.”

“He always wanted me to leave, I think,” you said. “To find my own life. I was always happy staying there with him, though. Or waiting for him.”

“You wouldn’t be abandoning him by leaving,” Zoro said.

“Logically, I know that.” You peeled a piece of orange off from a half, offering it to Zoro. He took it, carefully pushing it between his teeth. He broke skin, a burst of piquant citrus juice dripping on his lower lip. Your eyes lingered there a moment too long, but you looked away a second later, speaking again. “I think it’s just a habit, really. I worry.”

“I mean, he’s a Warlord of the Sea. I think he can take care of himself.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” you said with a sigh. You popped a slice of orange in your mouth, sucking at the tart juice. “I don’t want him to get lonely.”

“That’s not really your responsibility,” Zoro answered. His pinky crept closer to your hand, from where you’d returned your grip on the railing. His touch was feather-light, a soft breath of skin against skin that was there and gone again within a moment. “Did you think any more about it?”

“I didn’t,” you said. “Took a page out of your book.”

“It’ll come to you eventually,” Zoro said. “Like that one Shanks guy said—actually, I don’t remember the quote. Ask Luffy about it in the morning. He’ll probably go on for a few hours.”

You snorted. “You’re kind of bad at giving advice, Zoro.” The name came easily, and you stopped, feeling the syllables on your teeth. It was comforting. Natural.

Zoro seemed a tad bit offended by that. “At least I’m trying,” he muttered, voice defensive but not hostile. “Onto lighter topics?”

You popped another tangerine slice in your mouth. “Like what?”

“Nothing light about my life, so I’ve got no idea.” You snorted, choking on the orange that’d made its way halfway down the passage of your throat. You coughed, shaky laughs escaping your lips as you cleared your airways. An amused smile had perched on Zoro’s face, eyes glimmering with warmth as he watched you.

“That was unnecessarily edgy,” you protested. You finished with your tangerine, letting the pith flutter out of your palm, some of the white floss sticking. You didn’t mind it.

“Got a laugh out of you, didn’t it?” Zoro nudged you, the skin of his finger pressing fully against your pinky. This time, he didn’t move away, letting the warmth of his skin bleed into yours.

“You never answered my question.” You raised your pinky, lifting it to brush against Zoro’s knuckle. Carefully, you slipped it into the gap of his interdigit, looping your fingers together so they were intertwined. Zoro exhaled shakily—you glimpsed his other arm moving away from the railing, lowering to his side. “Why you wanted me out here, I mean.”

Zoro pulled up a flask, unscrewing the cap with one hand. He didn’t drink, though, just held the bottle suspended in his hand. He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the soft rush of water from below and the tranquil rocking of the boat fill the silence. For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. To your surprise, though, he raised the flask to his lips, taking a short sip before letting his hand fall again. “You feel different.”

“Care to be a little less vague?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Zoro said carefully. His guard was up, that much was sure. You didn’t exactly blame him. “Things have changed since I joined Luffy. Sometimes I can’t describe it.”

“The crew,” you said. “It makes sense.”

“It does,” Zoro agreed. There was something magnetic about it, about him—something that drew you in. But you weren’t afraid of it, really. The Straw Hats weren’t scary. Their bared teeth weren’t fangs; their canines remained unsharpened at their maw. Their lure was more peaceful than that. “We like you. You fit in.” He paused, mouth slightly ajar, a tremor of something on his lower lip. “I like you.”

Your lungs were empty, devoid of air. Something in your chest clawed at you, trying to climb up your throat, compressing your organs. Zoro’s touch burned into you, interlocked fingers searching an imprint in your skin. You were certain you’d feel it for hours; days; months; years after. “I think I like you too,” you said.

“Well, you like my earrings,” Zoro said easily. “That’s a start.”

You turned towards him, at his open stance, tucking yourself in the space between his figure at the side of the ship. The motion forced Zoro to raise your hands away from the railing, but he slid with the action easily, fingers fully interlacing with yours. His other arm remained propped along the ship, flask in his fingers, the skin of his forearm brushing against your side. Your free hand raised up to skim along his earrings, dull clinks of the metal sounding out at the emotion. “I do like your earrings.”

“Enough to let me kiss you?”

You tugged gently at Zoro’s earlobe, angling your face up to meet his. “Yeah.”

Zoro kissed you square on the mouth, mouth full and open, hand slipping around your back. The edge of his sake flask dug into your spine, but it wasn’t a sharp pain, and you didn’t mind it. Your fingers tightened against Zoro’s, chasing his lips with yours, letting him swallow you whole. He was patient with it, smooth and languid; tongue licking into the crevices of your mouth, firm as he mouthed kisses at the lines of your lips.

You breathed in from his lungs, chest getting tight as he sucked the air clean out of you. Still, you were addicted, utterly devoted as his fingers nudged against your hand and his tongue skimmed along your mouth. He was a good kisser, effortless and smooth, nearly elegant with his motions. He tasted like sake; earthy, woodsy, reminiscent of some sort of mushroom, maybe. It suited him well.

You let out a little whimper as Zoro’s tongue pressed deep to your throat, and he swallowed it up, flicking lazily along the roof of your mouth. You were getting short of breath, though, so you placed a gentle litany of faint kisses along his mouth before tilting your head back and letting the night air puncture your lungs. Zoro’s pupils had gone wide, deep black swallowing the walnut of his irises. His hand pulsed against yours, steady as ever, but he didn’t speak.

“I like more than your jewelry,” you said, staring down at where your fingers tangled with his. They looked like two pieces of a puzzle, extremities manipulated to slot along each other, palms molded together. “I like the way you move, and the way you fight. I like your face.” You hesitated, playing with Zoro’s fingertips to distract you from your words.

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro said.

“No, I think I do.” A ghost of a smile flickered up your mouth; a corpse, really, one that had forgotten it wasn’t really dead after all. “I like you, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s fingers squeezed tighter against yours. There was no click, no noise of finality, no settlement of a suspended thread. You supposed it didn’t work like that. Life didn’t stop and end. You went on. You’d see Zoro in the morning, again, after you’d gone to sleep, and things would continue like normal. “Okay,” he said. “Late enough for you to go to bed, yet?”

“I could go either way,” you answered. “Staying out here wouldn’t be so bad either.”

“Fine by me,” Zoro said, not moving from where he stood. “So, Lady Dracule. Where to next?”

“Wherever the breeze takes me,” you answered, but there was a decision settling down in your chest. One you weren’t so afraid to look at anymore.

Kuraigana Island was just as you’d left it, sky dark as night even in the middle of the day, rotted ground crunching dust and rocks underneath your feet. The Going Merry had docked in one of the number of homemade boat berths Mihawk had made sometime in your youth.

Usopp let out a low whistle as the Straw Hats stepped onto the island, head practically turning around in a 180 degree spin as he craned his neck to look around. “You live here?”

“It’s quaint,” you said defensively.

Nami gave you a sympathetic look. “It really isn’t.”

“Why is the sky black?” Luffy murmured in amazement, casting his gaze upwards to the overhang of rumbling clouds that existed perpetually over the island. “Have you never seen sun in your life?”

You rolled your eyes, leading them through the gravelly path up to your house. Their reactions were, well, nothing short of the expected—Sanji’s eyebrows lifted, and Zoro let out a low whistle as he took in the sight.

“It’s like Kaya’s house,” Usopp breathed. “But… bigger. And more spiky!”

“It needs a paint job,” Nami deadpanned. You snorted.

“I’ve been trying to get him to renovate for forever. Good luck.” You cleared your throat, suddenly awkward as the group walked closer and closer to the house. Your footsteps slowed, until you came to a full stop a few meters off the front door. The Straw Hats grouped around you, curious. “Just… don’t be weird, please. Nami, don’t steal anything unless it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. I only bother to polish the important stuff.”

“Is that an open invitation to rob your house?” Nami asked with a snort.

“Do you have any food?” Luffy asked.

“Probably not. My dad can’t cook for shit. Sanji can make something,” you said. “Our kitchen’s kinda nice.”

“Working in a Warlord’s kitchen? I’d be honored,” Sanji said, with a little flourish of his hand. You rolled your eyes, but Luffy at least seemed satisfied. You glanced over at Zoro, who was the only one of the group who hadn’t said anything up to now—his lips were set into a thin line, but he met your gaze, and they flickered upwards just a quarter of an inch. The action was reassuring, almost, and you were soothed enough to start walking again.

The door flung open before you reached it, although the sudden motion didn’t startle you like it did to your compatriots. Dracule Mihawk stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual hat and jacket, Yoru heavy off his shoulders like usual. “I thought I heard footsteps,” your father trilled, voice wonderfully monotone as he bent in front of you, taking your hand to press a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. “Have you brought your friends along, darling?”

“Clearly,” you said with a soft laugh. It was like all the tension evaporated from your body as soon as your father got near, and you found his hand, giving it a tight squeeze before turning to your friends. “Do you need introductions, or do you know them all already?”

“I only remember the future pirate king and the swordsman,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Oh, and Yasopp’s child. It’s no matter, really. Well, come on in, you’re letting in the cold air.”

Usopp stuttered something incomprehensible about his father, but Mihawk had already disappeared. You glanced over your shoulder at the rest of the Straw Hats. “He’s like that,” you said apologetically. “Just… come in.”

They followed you into the house, glancing around the lobby to take in the decor. You had to admit, a lot of it was rather gaudy, but it wasn’t like Mihawk cared much about what adorned the walls, and you had little resources to work with. Sanji made quick work moving to the kitchen after you made sure that Mihawk hadn’t prepared dinner.

“So,” Nami said, the words mulling around in her mouth as she lounged by the kitchen island. “Nice place.”

“It’s kinda scary-looking,” Luffy said honestly. “Interesting choice of decoration. I guess if you like it, though.”

“Are you okay on your own for a moment?” you asked, getting up from your seat. “I’m going to go talk to my dad.” Luffy nodded, and the others all hummed their assent. Zoro caught your gaze—soft, curious. You just gave him a reassuring smile and slipped out of the room.

Mihawk was waiting in the living room, long body stretched supine along the couch, booted feet thrown up on the arm. You narrowed your gaze at it. “Don’t put your feet on the furniture,” you grumbled.

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, though he made no move to alter his position. “Did you end up getting that jacket for me?”

“I did,” you said, glancing through the satchel that hung at your hip. You pulled it out, folding it with a solid shake and holding it up for Mihawk to see. His golden eyes flickered up and down the garment, taking in the material. Black cotton twill, with red paisley silk as the lining, delicate red lace at the hem and sleeves. The lapels were wide, buttons shiny and black, and it used red stitching rather than black, giving a sort of exoskeleton look to it. Mihawk sat up, pushing his hat back.

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it.”

You folded the jacket in half, slinging it across the back of the sofa before moving around to face Mihawk fully. “About the crew.”

Mihawk glanced up to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

“I…” you took in a breath, the inhale shaky in your lungs, bones and muscles rattling in your chest. “I think I’m going to stay with them for a little while, if you’re okay with it.”

“The Straw Hat crew,” Mihawk said carefully, shaping the words on his mouth, tasting them on his tongue. “My daughter, part of the Straw Hat crew. Well, it’s not the most terrible-sounding thing to say, I suppose.” He paused. “No idea why you’d think I wouldn’t be okay with it, though, sweetheart. I’m not horrendous.”

“Well, I figured—” you started, voice trailing out into a protesting whine. “You’d be against them? Garp sent you after them. One of them tried to kill you.”

“Oh, you know I don’t hold grudges over such trifling matters,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Roronoa Zoro, right? He was watching you the entire time you entered. Wouldn’t take his eyes off you, darling.” There was a particular glint in his eyes, hunted, like he was searching for a quarry. “Something to tell me?”

“No,” you said, too fast. Mihawk lifted both brows, and you broke almost easily. “Maybe. No. He’s—no.”

Mihawk clucked his tongue, sounding amused. “I suppose your rebel streak was bound to come out eventually. And from what you told me, he did beat you, so I can’t exactly complain.” You flushed, warmth heating up your skin, bringing a rosy blush to your cheeks. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed before I can fight him again, will you, little hawk? I’ve got my eye on that one.”

“Okay, dad,” you muttered, but the tension of your shoulders had gone slack, and your muscles were loose.

“Will you be leaving after dinner, or will you stay until the morning?” Mihawk asked, standing up to his full height. He stretched, sinewy limbs long and supple. He looked nearly odd without Yoru perched along his back. “I’ve missed you.”

“Morning,” you answered. “I’ve missed you too, dad.”

Mihawk smiled at you. “Go make sure our guests aren’t burning down the kitchen.”

Dinner was less of an awkward affair than you’d expected. Usopp spoke the most through it, and Mihawk was fine to goad him on, occasionally switching topics to inquire about the rest of the crew.

Sanji had made a fine meal; a grilled steak and onions with a side of asparagus to some kind of white sauce pasta you didn’t recognize. It felt… nice, really, having them all around you. Mihawk certainly knew how to socialize, and Luffy didn’t seem to mind his acerbic tendency.

“And after I defeated all the enemy pirates,” Usopp was rambling on, “We hit a cannon straight into their mast, and it came crashing down! Oh, you should’ve seen it, man. It was me—well, Luffy—I guess he was the one that chucked the guy into the ship, or whatever. It wasn’t actually a cannon, but the details aren’t that important—”

“What about my little hawk?” Mihawk interrupted, and you had the vague sense to start whining. “I don’t suppose she just sat there throughout the whole fight.”

“Oh, nah, she got some guys too I guess,” Usopp said, lazily waving an arm in the air. “She’s the one who stationed me at the cannon, she knew how great I was at it. She almost died to this one big dude—”

“I did not almost die!” you snapped. Usopp cackled out a hearty laugh.

“No, she totally did. Thankfully for her, the great Captain Usopp came to her rescue—”

“Me,” Zoro muttered, words barely audible as he spoke them into his cup. You cracked a smile, and he glanced up, catching your eye. A tender look crossed his face.

“Okay, yeah, it was Zoro who saved her,” Usopp admitted. “Cut the guy’s head straight off his body. But that’s just because I was busy fighting off the other pirates!” He motioned with his hands, mock-punching the air in front of him.

Mihawk just raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now? I hope you thanked him properly for that, sweetheart.”

You shot Mihawk a warning look. “Dad.”

Mihawk didn’t let that faze him, raising his glass of wine to his lips. “You might want to take him around the island. There are some fairly romantic spots here, ones I brought your mother to while she was pregnant,” he said, mouth around the rim of his glass. You flushed, resisting the urge to lunge over the table at your father—clearly, he could see your vexation, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Zoro didn’t say anything, eyes tilted downwards like there was something particularly interesting in his cup. Nami and Sanji were murmuring things to each other, and Sanji raised his voice to speak.

“I knew there was something between the two of you! Come on, Lady Dracule, you could do so much better than the mosshead here—”

“Shut it—” Zoro started.

“You most certainly did not know, and you owe me fifteen hundred berry for that!” Nami said, offended. She elbowed Sanji firmly in the ribs, and he let out a low cough. Her head spun towards the head of the table, where Luffy was sitting across from your father. “Luffy, tell your cook to honor his bets.”

“You bet on us?” you demanded, a squeak of embarrassment entering your voice as you protested. Nami gave you a look.

“Please. You were obvious.”

“Well,” Sanji jumped in, “Personally I thought you had better taste than—”

“I said shut it, waiter,” Zoro said, finally looking up to fix Sanji with a glare. He tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow raised, and you stifled a laugh. “And if I were you, I’d give Nami her money as soon as possible.”

“This is so unfair,” Sanji muttered, but he fished a wallet out of his pocket and slapped a few bills onto the table. “There you are, madam. I hope you’re happy.”

You groaned. “At the dinner table, really?”

“Money waits for no one,” Nami said with a little wink, tucking her winnings carefully into a pocket of her skirt.

“Sanji, did you make dessert?” Luffy wondered. Sanji rolled his eyes, but the sigh he let out was kind and good-natured.

“Well, lucky for you, I did have the mind to bake some cookies while here.” He got up from his seat. You just gave him a dubious look; everyone had more or less finished with their food, though, so you got up, collecting the dishes to wash.

You did chores, Nami hanging around you and lending her aid while the other Straw Hats got comfortable in guest rooms or whatever else. Zoro hadn’t budged from the dining room, apparently not interested in exploring the different parts of your house—you could just barely see him out of the kitchen doorway, nursing his drink as he stared thoughtfully into the distance.

The familiar shape of your father’s jacket joined his side, and you narrowed your eyes, straining to hear. Mihawk had bent over the table, a pleasant smile on his face as he spoke. He didn’t bother to speak quietly, so everyone in the near vicinity heard his words— “If you hurt her, I won’t show the mercy I did the first time. My little hawk’s more important than finding a worthy opponent.”

“Dad!” you snapped, dropping the plate you were in the middle of washing. Mihawk didn’t even look in your direction, even as you stormed out of the kitchen to stand protestingly by the mouth. “Don’t—”

“Oh, hush, dear,” Mihawk said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m off to bed, then. I’ve got business in the morning.” He came over to you to brush another kiss along your knuckles. “I’ll be gone before you wake up. Safe travels.”

“Good night,” you said with a sigh. Mihawk left, then, disappearing around the bend of the corner to head off to his room.

“...I still don’t really forgive him for almost killing Zoro,” Nami said warily. Zoro got up from his seat, moving over to where the two of you had gathered in the kitchen. “But your dad’s fine, I guess. Not terrible, as far as fathers go.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, then glanced apologetically towards Zoro. “I’m sorry about him.”

“It’s fine,” Zoro said with a careless shrug. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your room.” You nodded, drying your hands on a nearby kitchen towel and prompting Zoro to follow you up the steps. The house was large, a castle, really; all dark and winding, with long corridors and tall ceilings. Your bedroom was grand, on the second floor, with a sweeping balcony and wide windows that bore a full view of the island’s perpetual darkness.

“What’d you say?” Zoro asked, stepping into the room. He glanced around, but didn’t remark in his surroundings, turning instead to look over at you.

“I told him I’d be joining the Straw Hat pirates,” you said. Zoro smiled at that, the edges of his lips curling up.

“Good,” he said simply. You moved towards him, forcing him to back up until he reached the plush of your bed. He sat down, eyes not flickering away from yours, soft brown that held an entire universe in them. Planets lined his cheeks, spatters of galaxies that you thought you might revolve inside. “Living here for years alone doesn’t seem like the most interesting life.”

“It was fine while it lasted,” you said, bending your head down, lips hovering over his. Zoro’s hand came up to press firmly along your waist. “I think I like the ship a bit better, though.”

“Hm,” Zoro murmured, eyes on your mouth. He tugged you down, but the kiss he pressed against your lips was chaste, and he was leaning back again before you knew it. “I decided, by the way. On whether I wanted your dad to like me or not.”

You arched a brow, thinking back to that night so long ago when you’d first heard the words on Zoro’s lips. I’m not sure if I want him to like me. “Well?”

“I do,” Zoro said, nudging against your chest, chin bumping along your shoulder. “It makes sense, with you.”

A comfortable silence filled the space. His thumb ran a tender circle along the skin of your torso. “I should probably pack,” you murmured.

“Eh, you’ll have time for that later,” Zoro said dismissively. You laughed, the sound full, straight out your throat.

“Do I, now?” Zoro’s lip quirked, eyes grazing over your figure. You prattled on as if you didn't even notice. “Did you have something else in mind? You realize after this we have all the time in the world to be together—”

“I told you I was impatient,” Zoro interrupted, and then he was tugging you down, pressing a full kiss to your mouth again. You parted your lips to argue, but Zoro just took that as an opportunity to side his tongue in, and, well—this wasn’t so bad, either. One of your hands came to tangle in his hair, nudging his head just the slightest bit upwards to allow you better access. Zoro’s thumb didn’t stop making lazy revolutions into your skin. “Doesn’t seem like you mind.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his lips. You leaned forward, pushing him back onto the bed, before pausing to lean down and unfasten the straps of his shoes.

“You’re a real charmer.” Zoro didn’t complain, though, seeming more than pleased when you returned to kiss him, allowing him to fall back onto your bed now that you’d shed him of his footwear. “Little hawk, huh?”

You huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s cute,” Zoro said casually, one arm coming to prop behind his head. He drank you in properly, this time, from where you were on your knees on the mattress, unstrapping your own shoes before joining him up on the bed. “You are.”

You met his eyes, and a flicker of warmth crossed over your heart. For a soft, silent moment, you let it breathe. Let it exist there. Let the realization that you may one day love this man fill your soul.

“Come here,” you said, climbing over to Zoro even as you spoke. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

Zoro just grinned.

The Going Merry was just as you’d left it, although Mihawk had provided you with any extra provisions the crew might’ve wanted for the rest of your journey. You’d packed up and brought along your stuff, too, managing to finally decorate your cabin in the ship more to your likeness. Everything was ready, and you stood at the edge of the aftercastle, Zoro to your side as you stared down at the island you’d called home for all the years of your life.

But Kuraigana Island wasn’t your only home anymore, and neither was the hawk eyed man who resided in it whenever he was not busy doing something else. Mihawk had left in the early morning, but the ghost of his presence still warmed you. This way, it was easier to let go, you thought. This way, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

“Casting off!” Luffy yelled, his voice puncturing the stillness of the island air from his usual spot on the goat at the ship’s bow. You turned away from the island, jacket lapping around your legs as the wind whipped against it.

“Ready to go?” Zoro asked carefully.

“Yeah,” you answered, turning away from the island. Zoro stood to your left, one hand perched on the hilt of his sword, the other relaxed at his side. His brows were creased, strong against the shimmer of the glinting sun just barely peeking through the darkness of the island.

The fog washed his features in blue, all blurry around the edges, but you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful man you’d seen anyway.

“I’m ready.”

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

taglist: @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ellisaworld @yeonieesss @sarcastic-sourwolf @rouzuchan @dashcrashbash @blossomedfloweroflove @ fangeekkk @winuvs @katiemrty @asexualimmortal @fayetheenthusiast @freedom-kitty @ren-ni @je4nc4tb0y @dwcode @albedosfiance @13-09-01 @dimplewonie @cellgore @ shabzy1644 @applepie972 @mayo0ma @smoochesfromlevi @ csmbrainrot @intoanothermind @junieloonie @yourlocalgoose @swthrxrry @lovefooi @dailybrekker @taeriffic @xxemmarldxx @alastorswife63 @butterfliesinthenightsky @mukeovernetflix @wonuskie @mysingularitybts @sorasolarium @chaitea-69 @wishyouwere-sober @mchlist @bibi-bieber-winchester @prowkarma @loveyluv7 @hhighkey @jesssssmaybankk @threadofdestiny @hinata7346 @thevampiricprincess @wreckmyimage @prettyinsatiable @fairygirl18 @idcalol @bangtannie7 @carav4l @kookie-doughs @bluesiebirdie @endeaz @q8852p @addisonwilkins1 @louweasleymalfoy @alelovesmitski @fnlyroe @swthxrry @jamieeboulos @scarletrosesposts @jesssssmaybankk @vonpeachy @sincerely-aaronette @tsubaki3192

author's note: i also wanted to pop in and say that i'm not opposed to writing more fics/oneshots of this character and in this universe (hereafter referred to as md!reader) with zoro <3 if you guys have any requests pop them in my box when my requests are open, plus i may write some on my own time too!

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece live action x reader #one piece live action x you #opla fanfic #opla zoro x reader #opla x reader #opla fanfiction #dracule mihawk #kiki writes!

810 notes · View notes

okwonyo · 9 months

Text

(7)가격표로 가득해 second prod. okwonyo— do not spam likes >0<

seven

headcanons

why people ship the both of you together ─ REVAMPING

what people that ship you would post ─ REVAMPING

touches full of love ─ REVAMPING

falling in your arms ─ REVAMPING

but not kiss

show you off

pretty hair clips, ruffled hair

like in the movies

bed — REVAMPING

raise your lightstick

kitchen — REVAMPING

airport — REVAMPING

first date

with your younger sibling

spooky day — REVAMPING

where my love passed

heart-shaped mouth

acts of love

never let go of me

once bitten and twice shy

will you keep it secret — REVAMPING

older ( maknae line ) — REVAMPING

highshcool sweethearts ( maknae line )

in your embrace ( maknae line )

boyfriend ! ( hyungline ) — REVAMPING

heels ( huyngline ) — REVAMPING

enamored soul ( hyung line )

hands ( hyung line )

cold hands ( hyung line )

i don't understand but i love you ( hyung line )

princess treatment ( hyung line )

reactions

reacting to fans interactions ( idol au )

playing your love interest in a kdrama ( idol au )

being your mc partner ( idol au )

seeing you perform for the first time ( idol au )

revceiving a peck while with the members ( idol au )

when you refuse their kiss ( non-idol au )

when you call them babe ( non-idol au )

when you are crying ( non-idol au )

when you are jealous ( non-idol au )

you sleeping on another member's shoulder ( non-idol au )

when they are sick ( non-idol au )

when you are sensitive to loud noise ( non-idol au )

when you post them to a tiktok trend ( non-idol au )

introducing you to other members ( non-idol au )

when you are sick ( non-idol au )

when they are jealous ( non-idol au )

when you are being pouty ( non-idol au )

being pulled by the collar for a kiss ( non-idol au )

waking you up ( non-idol au )

under the mistletoe ( non-idol au )

reacting to new piercing ( non-idol au )

making grabby hands while in bed ( non-idol au )

you not saying i love you back ( non-idol au )

seeing you in their clothes ( non-idol au )

being jumped on and not let up ( non-idol au )

when you accidentally hurt yourself ( non-idol au )

when you give yourself as a gift ( non-idol au )

receiving flowers ( non-idol au )

when you are a picky eater ( hyung line )

series

my modern romance ( a boyfriend enhypen drabble series )

events

bonbon fraise event

이희승 ♡ LSH

first love ( thought )

make up ( thought )

bus stop ( drabble )

stan twitter ( smau )

stan twitter II ( smau )

cupid walks right through ( smau )

soft launch ( smau )

박종성 ♡ PJS

i hope i reached you ( headcanons )

brag about it ( thought ) — REVAMPING

naps ( thought )

perfect ( thought )

sugarcoated mouth ( drabble )

hiding in plain sight ( mini smau )

totally my type ( smau )

boyfriend texts ( smau )

soft launch ( smau )

심재윤 ♡ SJY

angelic and dulcet ( thought )

kiss under fireworks ( thought )

how would he initiate cuddles

super shy ( smau )

soft launch ( smau )

social media dump ( smau )

you cheater ( smau )

박성훈 ♡ PSH

ourobos, tragedies & fate ( drabble ) — REVAMPING

kisses and pecks ( drabble )

blooming flush ( drabble )

lovers in seoul ( headcanons ) — REVAMPING

big flirt ( smau )

김선우 ♡ KSN

morning kisses ( drabble )

양정원 ♡ YJW

capture the moment ( thought )

philosophy of love ( headcanons )

photobooth ( drabble )

西村力 ♡ NRK

you'll be my sunlight ( headcanons ) — REVAMPING

gold rush ( drabble )

study session ( drabble )

tracking tag for works: ⠀♡ ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱

#⠀digital - diary !⠀ ୨୧⠀#work layouts inspo byhees + okwons

871 notes · View notes

joedirtymadre · 1 month

Note

Hello 😊 I hope you are having a great day! I would like to request a fluffy Luffy x y/n story please!

The Potion

LUFFY X READER! FLUFF! (PLEASE SEND MORE REQUESTS! PLEASEE 🦫)

“Where is he?” You asked yourself as you continued exploring the new island. You were currently looking for your idiot captain, but adorable boyfriend. Nami thought it was a good idea to stop by an island to restock on some supplies. Nami only planned for a day stop, but Luffy still hasn’t returned… So a part of being his girlfriend is to find and drag him back to the ship. You groaned, “I can’t believe he just ditched me on the ship, why didn’t he ask if I wanted to tag along? Aren’t we dating?”

While walking down the main plaza, you turned and noticed a familiar dark haired man, with the very familiar straw hat on his head. “Luffy!” You called out as you ran over. He quickly turned and grinned once noticing you. “Yo (Y/N)! You found me!” He waved excitedly. “You idiot! I spent the last hour looking for you! How dare you ditch me?” You asked angrily as you smacked his head.

“I’m sorry…” he pouted. “It’s alright, I’m glad I finally found you. So, what have you been up to?” You asked as you rubbed the spot you hit. “Just running around, but I stopped to talk to this granny,” he said, motioning towards the older woman sitting at the stand.

“Oh hello,” you smiled, and the woman smiled back. “Hi sweetheart,” she said. You looked at her stand, and realized that it was simply a table with a crystal ball in the middle, with a small stand with different colored bottles. You noticed one particular bottle that caught your eye, it was a beautiful shade of deep purple. “Would you like one deary?” The woman asked. “Ummm… well what are they?” You asked. “Potions!” She smiled. “Potions? “Really?” You asked suspiciously. “Well of course, I spent years trying to perfect each potion. Which one would you like?” She asked.

“Hmm… Well, what does each one do?” You asked curiously, eyeing each bottle. “Can one of them make me super strong? Or shapeshift? Or fly?” Luffy asked excitedly. “No, my potions don’t do that. They’re small potions, but trust me… they work,” she said. “I see, but what does each potion do?” You asked again. “Ahh… that all depends on you. My potions create whatever you heart desires,” she explains.

“Whatever my heart desires?” You questioned. “So that means I can fly!” Luffy said with stars in his eyes. “Perhaps, if your heart truly desires to fly,” the woman sighed. “Oh wow! Now we have to get one (Y/an)! Just imagine me, like a superhero, or a bird,” he grinned. You laughed at his reaction, “I guess I’ll take two,” you said.

“Only 1 per each group,” the woman said. “Huh?” Luffy pouted. “Well, I can’t have everyone getting their deep desires granted. Plus there are potions that take decades to create, my inventory would disappear if I didn’t limit purchases,” she explained. “I guess that makes sense,” you said. “Well which one sweetheart, I saw that the purple one caught your eye,” she said. “Yeah, it’s a pretty color,” you said softly. “I’ll take this one then,” you said. “Good choice, and remember all potions last for 24 hours,” she said as she took the berries from my hand and placed the bottle in it.

“Wow, a potion! Let’s drink it!” Luffy said. “No sharing, the potion won’t work if two people drink it,” the woman quickly explained. “Awe man…” he pouted. “If you want it, you can have it,” you smiled. “Seriously? Tha-“ Luffy was cut off. “Only the person that I gave the bottle to can drink it, for others it won’t work,” the woman said as she winked at me. “O-Oh… well that sucks,” Luffy frowned. “Sorry Luffy,” you said. “It’s fine, just means I’ll have to keep an eye on you. See if anything changes,” he laughed. You nodded and you both headed back to the ship.

“Drink it, drink it!” Luffy chanted. “Alright, but if I do can we go walk around some of the shops? I really wanted-“ you were interrupted. “That sounds boring…” he whined. “O-Oh… uhh, well alright. I guess we can do something else after,” you sighed. “Oo let’s go find another witch, maybe then I can get a potion!” He said excitedly, as he headed back to the plaza. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you there,” you said softly. “K!” He shouted as he raced off.

You let out a deep sigh, and walked over to an empty bench. “When’s the last time we’ve done anything I wanted to do? Or the last time we’ve done regular couple stuff?” You asked yourself as you leaned back into the bench.

“Hey! The woman said that this’ll grant my deepest desires! Maybe it’ll help Luffy be romantic again, like when we first started dating!” You said excitedly, as you opened your bag and pulled out the bottle. You stared suspiciously at it before you opened the lid. It made a hissing sound as you slowly opened the lid.

You shrugged it off and chugged it in one swoop. “Ugh… it tastes terrible,” you said in disgust. “If anything, at least Chopper can cure food poisoning or… regular poisoning,” you said.

All of a sudden you felt a nauseous wave rush through you. “I think I’m gonna pass-“ you immediately knocked out.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)! Wake up, please!” You felt yourself being shaken. You slowly opened your eyes, and saw Luffy cradling you. “Luffy?” You asked as your eyes adjusted to the light. “Yeah it’s me, are you ok? I found you passed out on the bench,” he said, worriedly. “I-I’m fine,” you said as you tried to get up but slowly fell back. “Be careful, here I’ll carry you,” he said as he picked you up bridal style.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “You’re carrying me?” Yo I asked, surprised. “Well, why wouldn’t I carry you? You’re my girl,” he smiled. You felt your face heat up even more, and nuzzled your head into his chest. Just enjoying the moment.

You were finally able to stand, so after a few words of trying to convince Luffy that you can walk he finally let you down. As you were walking, you realized you were back at the main plaza. You suddenly felt someone reach out for your hand, you looked over and saw Luffy holding your hand. “I wanted to hold hands,” he smiled. “Ok!” You grinned. “Look, isn’t that the store you want to go to earlier?” He asked, as he pointed at a jewelry store. “Yeah… but it’s fine you said it was boring, let’s do something else,” you suggested.

“What? No way! Come on, you said you wanted to go so let’s go!” He smiled and dragged me to the shop. My eyes widened, there’s no way that her potion actually worked! You both spent the day like a normal couple, walking around being lovey dovey. Going to eat, exploring some cute store you found, and just enjoying each other’s company.

Now you were both at the main plaza’s water fountain. Just enjoying the sunset. “Man, I had an awesome day Luffy,” you smiled. “Me too, I’m glad you desired this,” he said, strangely. “Desired? Why’d you say it like-“ you were interrupted.

“(Y/N)?” You heard a family voice call out. You quickly snapped your head towards the voice and saw, “Luffy?” You stared in shock as he walked up to you. “L-Luffy? B-But I don’t- how- why?” You grabbed your head, not sure what the hell is going on. “(Y/N) who is that guy?” Luffy asked. “I’m Luffy, the better Luffy,” the other one said.

“The better Luffy? You’re just an imposter!” He yelled. You stared in disbelief, unsure what to do or say. “Not in (Y/N)’s eyes. That’s why she wished for me,” the other said, getting close to the other Luffy's face. “Wished for you? I-Is that true (Y/N)? Did you wish for him?” Luffy asked as he turned towards you.

You were speechless, you tried to explain yourself but nothing would come out. “Of course she did, she wanted that old spark we used to have. She hated how you treated her like a regular crew mate, how you would ditch her, ignore her wants or feelings, and just take her love for granted,” the other one said. “T-That’s now true, I love (Y/N)! You don’t know anything about us,” Luffy shouted.

“But it is, why else would she wish to do regular couple stuff with you? Because you never took the time to do it, that’s probably why she thinks you don’t love her anymore,” the other one explained. “Is this true (Y/N)? Do you really think I don’t love you?” He asked softly. “No, I-I… all I think is that you don't treat me the way you used to when we first started dating. Why?” You asked tearfully.

“I-I don't know, I guess I didn't realize it… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I promise!” he said as he reached out for me. However, you felt a different pair of arms wrap around you from behind. They pulled you into a close hug, you looked to see the other Luffy who was holding you. “What makes you think that she’ll still want to be with you? After the amazing day we had? I carried her, held her hand, followed her to some nice shops, and ate nice food. We both know you wouldn’t have done that,” he said as he tightened his grip.

“Shut up! (Y/N), please believe me! I’m sorry, I do want to be with you. I love whenever you smile, when you smack me around whenever I’m acting dumb, when you rub and take care of me whenever I’m feeling down. I see now that I should’ve done the same for you, but please… Please let me try again, I won’t make you wish for a better me again,” he pleaded. “Oh Luffy,” you said softly. You quickly pulled yourself out of the other Luffy’s arms and leapt onto your Luffy. “(Y/N)!” He said, holding onto you tight.

“I’m sorry, this will never happen again. I swear,” he said with a light tremble in his voice. “I know,” you said as you pulled him into a kiss. This kiss almost made your legs give out, but luckily Luffy was keeping you steady.

“Hmm… it’s not 24 hours, but I guess my job here is done,” the other Luffy said. “Huh?” You asked as you turned your head. “Yep! I granted your deepest desire, to have your Luffy treat you like before,” he smiled, and you noticed his body began glowing. “But before I go,” the other Luffy said and ran over to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Hey!” Your Luffy shouted, pulling you back into his arms. “Take care of her, she deserves it,” the other Luffy said before disappearing.

Once the other Luffy was gone, you were quickly turned around. You felt a million kisses placed on the cheek the other Luffy kissed. “L-Luffy?” You blushed. “Good, now that fake’s kiss is erased,” he huffed. You laughed and pulled him into another kiss, happy to have your boyfriend back. I guess that woman is a real witch after all.

206 notes · View notes

blythsholland · 3 months

Text

No More Secrets! Part 3

Pairing: Tom Blyth x Actress!Reader

Warnings: None.

Summary: You join the cast of TBOSAS, sparks fly between you and Tom, and fans are quick to notice some things.

AN: Part 3 of No More Secrets! You can find part 1 and part 2 here! If you want to be tagged let me know! Hope you enjoy! More works at my masterlist!

Also, want to thank you all for the support in this. I really really appreciate it! 🥹🤍

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tomblyth posted a photo

liked by youruser, rachelzegler, lionsgate, hunterschafer and others

tomblyth That’s a wrap 🎬 The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes coming on November 17, 2023 🐍

tagged: rachelzegler, youruser, joshandresrivera

View all 3,123K comments

youruser I’m definitely NOT going to miss you 🫡

↪️ tomblyth sure, whatever you say love! I’m going to miss taking naps in your trailer tho.

comment liked by youruser.

↪️ blythyouruserlovers he called her love! 😭😭😭😭

↪️ user21 WHATS GOING ON IN HERE????

↪️ blythloverrrr taking naps in @/youruser trailer you say?✍🏼

rachelzegler you sweetheart! going to miss you! ☹️ also the pic of josh with my loveletter??? 😭😭😭

↪️ joshandresrivera MY loveletter.

lionsgate See you next year! 🐍

user okay but why is no one talking about the last photo???? That has to be @ youruser

↪️ user89 it can be someone else, why does it has to be her?? 🙄

↪️ user74 forget her, look at Tom’s arms??? oh my god.

youruser posted a photo

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler, hunterschafer, ashleyliao and others.

youruser That’s a wrap on tbosas! Forever grateful for this and for all the beautiful memories made 🤍 now a small break before no way home press tour! 🕸️

tagged: tomblyth, rachelzegler, ashleyliao and others.

View all 2,378K comments

rachelzegler is that? I knew it!

↪️ blythloverrrr rachel, bestie, what do you know?

↪️ user is rachel one of us?

blythyouruserlovers is everyone seeing what I am seeing?

deuxmoi 👀

tomblyth you said I snore like crazy but you still took a nap with me!

↪️ youruser tbf you were the one that decided to nap on MY bed. So technically you took a nap with ME.

↪️ tomblyth okay you got me there i guess.

useranti i take naps with my friends all the time. It’s normal.

useranti2 it’s always the same people. Don’t ship irl people!!

userfan I just love that both of them keep posting cryptic pics about one another and they ignore every comment made.

*three weeks later*

e!news

liked by deuxmoi, variety, tmz, vogue and others.

e!news Tom Blyth makes an appearance at the Spider-Man: No Way Home red carpet premiere. We interviewed him and he replied he came to support @ youruser and gushed about how amazingly proud he is of her. The pair even posed for some pictures together. Full story at the link in our bio. (📸 Getty).

View all 234 comments.

user11 They’re such a hot couple!

user @ user11 they aren’t dating.

userfan He went to support her and the way he looks so happy in the interview everyone! That man is in love!

↪️ tomblythlovers IKR??? the way his eyes literally shined when he was talking about her. So so cute!

↪️ user4 @ tomblythlovers THE EYES NEVER LIE!

↪️ blythyouruserlovers This reminds me of that vogue interview @/youruser did last week. The interviewer asked her about her experience working with Tom and the smile never left her face when she was talking about him.

↪️ user11 @ blythyouruserlovers omg share the link!

user112 I won’t be surprised the day they finally confirm their relationship. It’s so obvious they are a thing, but if they aren’t already, they’re pretty much in love with one another.

youruser posted a photo

liked by tomblyth, tomholland2013, rachelzegler, zendaya and others.

youruser Spiderman: No Way Home premiere! The movie is finally yours and I can’t wait for everyone to see it. Love everyone dearly! 🕸️🕷️❤️ Here’s some bits of the premiere last night and the press tour!

tagged: tomholland2013, zendaya, jacobbatalon, tomblyth, marvelstudios.

View all 6,345K comments.

tomblyth you looked absolutely stunning love. ❤️

comment liked by youruser.

↪️ youruser Thank you, love. 🥺❤️

↪️ blythyouruserlovers SOMEONE SEDATE ME!

↪️ youruserlovers can I be the third?

↪️ blythloverrrr they😭called😭each😭other😭love😭

zendaya ABSOLUTELY! 😍😍😍

rachelzegler MY BEST FRIEND! LOOK AT HER! 🩷🩷🩷

↪️ youruser PLEASEEE, ILYSM 🥹

tomholland2013 that pic of all of us during press 😂

versace we LOVE a Versace moment 😍

blythyouruserlovers No, you don’t get it. The way she posted that pic of them where they look like such a powerful couple. They are insane!!!

youruserupdates_ so proud of you! Excited for the future!

useranti They’re probably another fake PR couple. Let it go people!

user1 They’re friends, of course Tom is going to support her.

user73 shippers are so annoying!

deuxmoi

liked by blythloverrrr, user, userfan, e!news and others.

deuxmoi New Year, new couple alert!! Over the holidays these two rumored lovebirds got caught. Sources tell us these two have been dating on the down low for a while now. They’re very happy with one another and they want to keep their relationship as private as possible. Head to the link in our bio to know who’s the rumored couple! (📸 anonymous)

View all 100 comments.

blythloverrrr that’s definitely @/tomblyth and @/youruser.

↪️ blythyouruserlovers it’s definitely them. It looks a lot like them.

↪️ userfan leave them alone! And if they are, so what??

user98 I have to say, I saw this coming! They’re very cute!

e!news 👀

user1 oh no, the shippers about to be annoying.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tags: @coconut-dreamz @kuromismom7 @bobgirllll

If you want to be tagged let me know! Part 4 coming soon!

#tom blyth #tom blyth x fem!reader #tom blyth x actress!reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth fic #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader

220 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 3 months

Text

In Deep Water

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW vomit mention, CW Inaccurate medical procedures, CW injury, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW guns.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 7 >>> CHAPTER 8

The laughter gets louder as the source of it shows itself aboard the black hellion, the fog makes way like a curtain opening to start a performance.

Hobie's grip is tight, fingers weaved around your arm, bruisingly strong. Your nails dig into his flesh as the uniformed man tilts his head to look at you, his toothy yellowing grin thrown in your direction. His powdered white wig flutters in the breeze, medals glinting off the single lamp on the bow, hands resting on the pommel of his pristine sword. The angelic figure head is a stark contrast to the devil sneering down.

The blackened wood of his ship groans as it continues to break a part of the revenge. The sails unfurled behind him, blue wings fluttering in the wind.

The angel of death has come.

“Look at what we have here.” He clicks his tongue, eyes boring a hole through your skulls, he narrows them into slits, and like a snake, he slithers as close as he can, tethering close to the edge. There's a flash of emotion in his eyes, snarling, the navy man chuckles, the mere sound makes you want to cower. “Hello little birdy, now how far did you fly to get where you are now?”

Hobie clenches his jaw, stepping over to hide you from his view. His hand never leaves yours, the dull ache from his hold says that this isn't just a nightmare.

You want to wake up even if it means losing his hold on you.

“Oh where are my manners? Mummy would whip me if she ever knew I didn't introduce myself to a lady.”

Hobie shifts his weight, ready to pounce if need be. You grab his shirt, making sure he doesn't do anything drastic. Subtly flicking your eyes to the side, you see the crew do the same. They look at you with fear in their eyes, the hunter’s gazes illuminating their contorted faces.

You can't help but let out a shuddering breath, the sound echoing around the open waters, hoping to get your cry for help to somebody who can do something, anything to get you and everyone out to safety.

“My name's Captain Mathias Bradshaw.” He drawls, thin lips curling into a smirk. “This here is my little merry band of sailors who has a bone to pick with—” pointing at Hobie with his thick finger, white cosmetic smeared on his palms. “Him. The red hydra. I forgot to greet you yet, long time no see you rapscallion.”

You hear Hobie's shallow breathing. Grey eyes thundering, a storm brewing, lightning flowing through his veins. The only reason why he doesn't let himself loose on Mathias is your touch.

“You see here, sweetheart,” The man addresses you and you only. “For the past three years your so-called captain and I have had a bit of a tiff.” He chuckles coldly. “A rivalry of sorts.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Is it still a rivalry if you're leagues above your rival?”

“No, sir.” A gruff voice says, hidden behind the mist.

Mathias turns back around. “Well, we got our answer then.”

Hobie sneakily murmurs to you. “Hide—”

“I'm not done talking!” The sudden outburst makes you jump in your skin.

“You should've been done with your senseless dialogue a long time ago.” Hobie straightens his posture, head held high, a picture of a pirate captain. “Come down here and fight like a fuckin' man, show me your flames and I'll show mine.”

The man scoffs, amusement in his green eyes. “Flames? Yours is barely a spark.”

Hobie scoffs. “Let's be done with it then. Get the closure we both want, fight me in single combat.” Mathias knits his brows, Hobie smirks. “No? Thought you were a gentleman, where's your fuckin' honour?”

A booming laugh replaces Mathias’ scowl. “I guess it died with your little red hair—”

Hobie lets go of you, drawing his gun, pointing it directly at the monster's head. The crew takes this as their cue, doing the same, pointing their weapons towards the men surrounding them.

There's hunger in his eyes, beneath the swirling grey there's a hunger waiting to be fed.

The enemy ships don't even aim their cannons at the revenge, instead they float still in the water, unmoving, the men aboard their ships smirk in your direction like you're being served to them on a silver platter. It's then you notice the sons of the sea’s ship is no more. They took the brunt of the hellion’s collision.

No longer their sails fly, their crow's nest and pieces of wood lay floating in dark waters.

Left behind, slowly drowning in the depths.

You feel droplets sliding on your cheeks, for a second you thought it's your tears. And then more and more of it comes pouring down, splashing on the wooden floorboards.

Thunder booms from a distance, lightning flashes in the sky, lighting everyone's scornful faces.

A few of Karl's men stand with Hobie, clutching their injuries. You don't see Robbie, his lack of presence makes you glare at the sneering men.

“Say her fuckin’ name.” Hobie says through gritted teeth. “After what you did— Say her name.”

“Eh.” Mathias shrugs, “I forgot.” the laughter of his men echoes in the mist.

“You fucker—!” Hobie's hand shakes despite this, he draws the golden gun, aiming it at the navy man whose smirk gets wider.

“I recognize that little blunderbuss.” He chuckles, wiggling his pointing finger, “She pointed that at my head too, you'll be unsuccessful just like she was.”

It takes every fiber inside Hobie to not just shoot and face the consequences later. But he's surrounded, his crew is surrounded, they have no chance of escaping death if he shoots. The only option he has is through single combat and to appeal to the man's ego. He's hoping the idea works.

One look over his shoulder, one glance at your trembling face and he's back to that day, the day MJ was lost. He prays that this day doesn't end the same way three years ago.

“Little dove,” Mathias’ devilish eyes roam over your trembling body. “Look at you,” he chuckles lowly, “I'd say dear ol' Hobie here got an upgrade just because this one's got her head still glued on her neck!”

Hobie almost shoots him until someone from his crew screams, their voice full of malice, venom dripping with every utterance.

“Fuck you!” Gwen exclaims, “Don't you have any honour? She's dead and you're still spitting on her watery grave! After everything you've put her through!”

“Ah! Gwen Stacy, the ballerina turned pirate. How you doin', miss Stacy? I heard your father's still down in the stables, trying to repay his debt to the crown.” he rags her on, scoffing.

“You're still defending her? She's a traitor, a navy spy. The greatest one we've ever had in fact. Her only downfall is loving a bunch of…” he sucks in his teeth, trying to find the word. “Thieves like you. Love got her head cut off and love will be your ruin too.” Flicking his eyes to you, he observes everyone's faces after his tirade.

Hobie steps between Gwen and Mathias, his guns still raised, eyes brimming with the anger of a forsaken God. Yet he remains calm, clearing his throat, standing tall.

“Mathias Bradshaw, I challenge you to single combat, a duel. I win, you let us go. You win and you get to take us all back to the capital.” Hobie's voice booms louder than the thunder above. Lightning strikes near, the water sizzles at the contact. “I know a man of your stature can't say no.”

The man in the uniform guffaws loudly, broad shoulders shaking. “Oh that's hilarious, you think you'd win against me, little pirate? Hmm?”

“Yes.” Hobie doesn't miss a beat.

Mathias smiles, “I guess this one's less messy than what I was planning. Name your terms.”

“Guns only, five bullets. You get shot three times you lose.”

“I'll add a tiny thing to your wager.” The navy man looks over to your direction, pointing his crooked finger at you. “Same terms but I get to keep your little bird.”

Hobie turns to you, wide eyes staring back at you. “No—” He's already shaking his head before you speak up.

“Deal!” You roar above the thunder storm, deciding your own fate. The rain is getting heavier, drenching your terrified self. “The captain will take your terms as long as you honour it.” Nodding to Hobie, he holsters his weapon away from you.

Mathias cackles in the background.

Gently holding on to your arm, you already know what he'll say.

“Don't. Do you know what you just agreed to?”

“I do,” you stare at his raging eyes but they're tender when he looks at you. “I know you can take him, I trust you.” Taking his hand away from your arm, you squeeze him once before pulling him towards you. “Don't play fair, because he won't.” you whisper. “Fucking obliterate him, for MJ.”

Hobie takes you in like it's the last thing he'll ever do. He imprints your touch in his mind, wanting to remember the softness of it when the bullets get too much for him to bear.

He nods slowly, still unsure of your decision. If you trust him enough to sell your soul then he'll fight to the death so you don't have to.

With one last look at you, he turns around, facing up to the man he loathes the most, wanting to just strangle him with his bare hands. Maybe he'll do just that.

For the crew.

Mathias takes his blue coat off, grinning the entire time.

For MJ.

He grabs on to a rope, rappelling off the black hellion, landing in a thunderous impact on the deck.

For you.

Now that he's leveled with your gaze, he's a lot smaller down on the deck, stout with a round belly, face painted with white lead that's currently melting in the downpour. Hobie's taller and slimmer but he makes up for it in his agility and speed. You've seen him fight but Mathias' form could be compared to Finn's build, all muscle and strength hidden behind his uniform.

You're glad this was a duel of pistols if it was any other fight Hobie could be in trouble.

A few of his men do the same, jumping off the hellion while the ones on the smaller ships stay on board but keeping their eyes peeled.

Surrounding the bloodsail pirates, the hands of Mathias' men never leave the pommels of their rapiers. Hobie clenches his jaw, now standing before the king's flame, he can't help but gaze behind the man, back to you and his crew.

Gwen goes to your side, lacing her trembling fingers through yours, Pav sidles behind you, clutching the back of your vest. Miles stands next to Gwen, holding her other hand. You see them look at eachother with a knowing glance and glimmering eyes.

Your eyes meet Hobie's, you give him a nod, eyes full of fury, and trembling lips. You mouth a ‘Bleed him dry’.

The simple act of Hobie smiling at you, makes you tear up. It's the same one he gives you after you patch him up, it's the same one when he handed you the hot chocolate. It's the same smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

You're afraid as you part with the crowd to the side of the duelists, lest you get caught in the crossfire. As the one in front, you get a good look at the enemy on the other side, all lined up perfectly like the obedient soldier men that they are. You roam your eyes to their faces, wondering how they could obey a man like Mathias.

You assume the uniformed man walking towards the duelists is Mathias' right hand man. Left eye covered in an eye patch, his hazel eyes observe you. He's carrying a large wooden box, pristine and smooth at the edges with golden locks and embellishments. He opens it with a creak, rain water landing on the wood and soaking the velvet inside.

“You're the challenger, you get the first pick.” Mathias gestures towards Hobie, all smiles like he's not about to meet the end of a bullet.

You stand on your tippy toes to take a peek inside. There are two dueling pistols, flintlocks. One white as fresh snow, one is black like the hellion.

Hobie takes his pick, pocketing what you assume is the five bullets. The black gun in his hand shines when a lightning strikes the mast of the hellion. You hear splintering wood in the distance.

He steps back in place, measuring the metal’s weight in his hand.

“Good choice.” Mathias eyes down the gun. “Death has touched that one.”

Hobie glares, baring his teeth. If only that was enough to kill the man before him.

Mathias takes the remaining gun, wiggling it in his hand. “You ready, little pirate?”

Hobie doesn't show an ounce of fear. “You're going to die today.”

“How confident, confidence alone won't help you aim straight.”

Your entire body shakes whilst they stand back to back, guns raised on their sides. They walk slowly, counting their steps.

The pouring rain doesn't help, raindrops obscuring your vision, the cold mixing in with the ice in your veins.

With every step Hobie takes,

Five

with every hit of his boots on the floorboards,

Four

your heart tries to escape,

Three

pulse hammering,

Two

threatening to give out. Afraid of what's to come. No one else dares to make a sound.

One

Standing end to end on the dock, they turn around swiftly.

After a beat, the man with the box yells. “Fire!”

Bang!

The sound echoes out in the dark, above all the rain and thunder.

Hobie hits his mark, Mathias groans, clutching his dominant shoulder. Smoke bellows out of their guns, dissolving into the rain.

Your words are repeating in Hobie's head ‘Don't play fair’ you say, then he won't play fair.

He notices his bleeding arm, looking down he sees the bullet nicked his skin, leaving an angry gash in its wake. The wood behind him gets the brunt of the bullet, the metal embedding inside, splintering a gaping hole.

You jump when Mathias laughs along the thunder. More and more lightning pierces the sky. You can taste iron in your mouth, not realizing the pain from biting the inside of your cheeks.

They reload, Mathias’ man observing with his watchful eye, making sure they both adhere to the rules; but you highly doubt he's doing it for fairness sake.

Metallic clanking, gunpowder clinking against steel, Mathias' voice enters the fray to your dismay.

“You know, you were too easy to fool.” He starts, finishing up his reload. “You never asked why I left my lieutenant in your hands and why was it so damn easy for you to get my travel documents.” Smiling, the lead on his face melts further, dripping on the floorboards, the white paint mixing in with his blood. “Just like I said, love will be your downfall.”

Hobie doesn't have enough time to squabble, instead he would let his aim talk for him.

“Twenty paces!” The eye patch man yells again.

Hobie and Mathias move forwards, getting closer and closer to each other. You want to put a stop to the duel, but you have to trust Hobie that he'll make it, that he'll win. He has to.

You dare not blink.

“Fire!”

Bang!

Hobie almost keels over, his shoulder heavily bleeds, trembling hand holding his flesh together. You see him smile underneath the pain, following his gaze, Mathias clutches his shooting hand, groaning and hissing. It looks like Hobie shot a hole right in the man's hand. The white gun lays on the bloodied floor, discarded.

Gwen's hold on you tightens, you can hear Pavitr sob quietly.

You catch Hobie's eyes. There's hope in the swirling grey, nodding, you encourage him, mouthing an ‘end it’. He seems to understand, straightening his stance, he reloads the gun as best as he can with an injured shoulder.

Mathias wheezes out a strained laugh. “I gotta hand it to you, your aim is pretty good.” He stands, grabbing his gun on the way up with his uninjured hand. “No matter how amazing your aim is, you're still bloody blind!” He screams, spit flying out of his mouth.

“My two bullets that's in you say otherwise.” Hobie tilts his head mockingly.

“No, no, no.” Mathias clicks his tongue, waving the gun wildly. “You still don't get it do you? You're not asking questions, letting everything fall into your lap, thinking God's on your side on your little revenge quest. But he's not,” he chuckles. “Sacrificing my lieutenant was the best decision I've ever made, especially knowing the fucker can absolutely sing. Loose lips sink ships, little pirate. Do remember that. Especially since you didn't seem to learn from it last time.”

Hobie's face falls, dread filling his chest.

“Bribing the governor to plant my travel documents and telling him to go unwind in a brothel for a couple of days was well worth my coin.” Mathias stretches his shoulder, reloading his pistol with bloodied hands.

He continues. “The two idiots at the gates were…well idiots, I barely had to do anything to them. The lock was a false security to make you sweat a little bit.” The king's flame proves himself. “You're blind. You've focused so much on taking me down that you didn't notice the little details. It's either that or you're also deaf, preferring not to hear your crew's concerns.”

“Not a very good attribute for a supposed captain.” he shrugs, he says his words mockingly.

“Fuck you!” Hobie aims directly at his rival's head.

It's all his fault, everything that led up to this point is his fault.

The gun trembles in his hold. Mathias looks pleased, smiling at Hobie.

“You know the rules.” Mathias sucks in his teeth. “Don't fire until lieutenant Dubois says so or I win and I get your little bird.” he looks over at you. “Oh we're gonna have so much fun together, every night, every day.” His laughter makes you want to grab the nearest knife and shove it down his throat.

You don't back down from his disgusting gaze. “If he doesn't kill you, I will.” Pavitr tries to hold you back. “And it won't be quick.” your voice shakes from sheer anger.

“I look forward to it, duchess.” Mathias spares you one last glance.

You don't notice how Hobie looks angrier than he did, he's clearly holding back. His glare alone could burn a hole through Mathias' skull. Yet he stands tall, getting a second wind; he's gonna shoot a hole in his skull instead.

His head goes a hundred knots per hour, thinking of all the what ifs. What if he just listened, what if he didn't let her stay, what if, what if, what if, the words are tattooed in his mind, clawing and biting at his psyche.

“Ten paces!”

They walk in sync, closer to each other more than ever. Pausing in place, they stare each other down, Mathias' smile never leaving his lips. Hobie's scowl gets deeper with every second that passes.

“Fire—!”

“Fuck this.” Mathias lunges in surprise, grappling Hobie.

Hobie doesn't get a chance to dodge, his gun clattering on the floor as the heavier man tackles him to the ground. The wet floors make it hard for Hobie to find leverage against Mathias who's currently choking him with his large arm.

Chaos ensues, everyone breaks the line, unsheathing their weapons, fighting, steel and skin clashing. Pistols going off left and right, but your main focus is on the two men writhing on the floor.

You hear Hobie choke so you run faster, taking a fallen dagger from a corpse, you quickly dodge people, determined to save Hobie.

“This is what happens when you let your feelings decide for you!” Mathias yells above the mayhem.

Finally making it close to them, in one swift movement, you stab Mathias on his back, crimson ebbs on his white shirt like spiderwebs. He screams, letting go of Hobie.

You don't spare him a glance as you take Hobie by his arm, dragging him below deck. Shutting the doors closed, Mathias bids you farewell with one last cackling.

Guiding him through the corridors, you hope the winding hallways help make it harder for the enemies to find you.

“Y/N.” He wheezes out.

“Don't fucking talk.” Your feet brings you to the galley. Sitting him down, he plops like a fish on the chair, head lolling to the side.

Slapping his cheek, he wakes back up with a groan. “Actually, keep talking. Stay awake, please.”

Hobie nods, “I need to go back up, I can't leave them there.” He tries to stand but your hands stop him, making him sit back down.

“You can't help in this state. Let me treat you then you can go and help.” You look in his pained eyes. “Please, at least let me help with your shoulder.” your other hand fumbles to his back, searching for an exit wound. You already know the answer when you feel the hot crimson weeping out from the puncture left behind.

You plead with your eyes.

“Alright, do what you have to do. Make it quick.” he nods, you leave his side to light a fire in the hearth, laying a metal poker on top of the hot coals. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Whatever keeps you awake.” Taking out the first aid kit from your bag, you notice your hands tremble. They never shake when you're treating someone, with your back turned away from him, you swallow down a sob.

“There was this girl, she had red hair like one of those…” he sighs, injuries aching, throat throbbing. “Apples.”

You reach his side once again, trembling fingers dipping into the wound ointment. “You have a way with words.”

He grabs your shaking hands in his, “Are you alright?”

You pause in your frantic movements, blinking rapidly. “Y-you’re the one who's bleeding right now.”

“You're shaking.”

You twist your wrists away from his touch. “I'm alright, worry about yourself and your crew.”

“You're a part of my crew”

“Shut– just…” you exhale. “Continue your story.”

Hobie nods, eyes drooping. “She just one day showed up on the docks, asking for a place.” He inhales sharply. “I needed to fill the second ship so I agreed, I let her in. I shouldn't have done it.” His eyes well up but no tears fall. “I should've turned her away but she was determined, she had the skills to stay— can you give me somethin’ for the pain? A fuckin' rum or wine, anythin’”

“No alcohol, if you want to bleed out be my guest.” You hold a cloth above his wound, pressing down to stop the bleeding as much as you can.

“Fucker!” He stomps his foot, “you can be such a little shit sometimes you know?”

You can hear the struggle upstairs. Weirdly enough, there's no sound of cannons firing.

“I know—” the ship tilts suddenly, flinging you and Hobie brutally to the side. You do your best to shield his injured self, taking the brunt of the impact, back stinging from the wall.

He lands on top of you, arms on your side, face hidden on the crook of your neck. You can feel his staggered breathing on your skin.

Bottles and pans fly towards you two. Pushing him away, you guide each other to the corner of the room, huddled together, protected by the hearth.

“Shit!” Hobie protects your head with his hand when a pot flies towards you. The ship keeps turning and tossing the both of you until it finally straightens out, you can feel how fast its going by how wild the utensils are swinging.

“Someone got hold of the helm.” He whispers, his cool hand on your tender shoulder. “We're running.” Hobie doesn't say it with pride or dejection, he utters it with embarrassment.

“That's good,” you stand up, giving him a helping hand. “We can get out—”

The unmistakable sound of a cannonball whizzes past and the ship lunges harshly on the side again. You can hear frantic yells from above.

Hobie takes your hand, “I need to get up there.”

Helping him up, you nod. “And you will, let me close that wound off and give you something for the pain and we'll go back up there.”

“Y/N, you can't—”

“We will go up there.” the fire in your eyes makes him obey. “Sit down, I'll make this quick but not painless.”

He flops down, masking the pain with a grimace. Inhaling, he continues. “I let MJ in.”

You pause for a second before taking the metal poker. “Even after seeing all the bloody signs.” He sighs. “Maybe I am blind.”

You hold his face tenderly. “You were, but you still have a chance to change that. You can still help your crew. Make it right for their sake.”

He holds the back of your neck, kneading the skin with his bloodied fingers. “I don't regret letting you stay.”

You look at him apologetically. “You will after this.” Shoving the leather pot holder in his mouth, moving aside his clothes. “Inhale” you place the hot poker directly on his bullet wound, cauterizing the gaping hole.

It sizzles, Hobie holds on to your sides tightly, bunching up the fabric in his hands. Muffled screams eaten up by the leather in his mouth.

You move the rod away once it's done. Hobie's eyes roll in the back of his head. Slapping him lightly, he wakes back up.

“Stay awake, hey. Look at me.” He stares at you through half-lidded eyes. “There you are, captain.” You smile to reassure him. He gives you a tired nod. “Now for the exit wound.”

Hobie inhales, more than ready this time around. His skin is clammy, eyes red from the brimming tears. He clenches his entire body, determined to get it over with. Twisting around in his seat, he hopes the ship doesn't rock as you push the searing metal poker on the back of his shoulder.

With a muffled yell from him, you take the tool away, letting it cool down. Moving his head with your hand, you look at him apologetically.

“I'm sorry, if I warned you first you would've flinched.”

Hobie spits the leather out of his mouth, patting your cheek with his sweaty hand, he leaves it there, stroking your skin.

“I wouldn't have flinched.” He chuckles through the searing pain.

“Of course you wouldn't.” You hold his hand that's on top of your cheek. “You did good.”

He laughs, hand leaving your skin to hold your hand instead. “Not the first time I've felt fire.”

You smile, without thinking, you lay your forehead on his as more cannonballs fly around the revenge.

“You did good too.” He whispers. Eyes closed, he leans away. “Now get me something for the pain and let's get the bastard.”

You smile, nodding to him. Taking a bottle from your bag, you rub mint oil on his upper lip, igniting his nerves, keeping him awake.

“That's the only thing I have that could help. I can't give you alcohol.”

Hobie tentatively stands up, “Maybe after this then.” He groans, slightly limping. “‘m gonna need an entire crate of ‘em.” he thinks adrenaline is enough to keep him on his feet.

He faces you, a ghost of a smile on his pained face. Hobie bends at the waist, you scramble to help him but he refuses with his hand raising to stop you. Taking something from inside his boot, he grabs a shiny and slender thing.

“Here.” Hobie hands a silver dagger to you, intricate carvings of a turtle and a sea snake looping around the glimmering handle. “Somethin’ to defend yourself.”

“Are you sure? It looks—”

“I don't mind givin’ it to you.” He closes your hand around the hilt. “Make sure this one hits his neck this time.”

“I will.” Your eyes fill with determination, adrenaline still coursing through you.

He wobbles towards the door, sparing you a smile on the way.

“Hobie,” you call after him. “Continue your story after this?”

“Only if you tell me yours.” He looks over his shoulder, giving you the same smile he always has.

You scoff with a small smile, “Maybe I will.”

“Let's fuckin’ go and be pirates then.”

—

Getting up the deck was tedious work with all the rocking and shifting from the ship and the wild waves, add that with all the cannon balls whizzing past, it was like riding an angry bull. Meeting halfway with Karl on the way there made it easier, filling your chest with hope.

“Where's Robbie?!” He frantically yells, forehead bleeding, hands gripping Hobie's vest.

“I-I don't know.” Karl's face falls. “But we'll find him, I know he got out.”

“Got out from what?” His voice trembles, “what happened, Hobie?”

Hobie holds his friend’s wrist, “I'm sorry.” Karl weeps. “Go find Robbie and your crew.” He shakes his head. “And get the hell out of here, he's after me not you.”

Karl's eyes fill with tears, flicking towards you who look on with sad eyes. “What about you and the others?”

“We'll find a way out. We always do, remember?” Hobie reassures him with a smile. “Take one of my dinghies, and row the hell out of here.” he takes Karl's hands away from his vest. “We'll see you back at the old place, yeah?”

“You fucking better, Hobart or I'll drown you myself.” Karl takes your hand briefly, nodding. “I hope I see you again, doc.”

“Me too, captain. Find Robbie.”

You part ways with Karl, praying that he finds Robbie and what remains of his men.

“Ready, trouble?” Hobie gets your attention by brushing his pinky against the back of your hand.

“I'm right behind you.”

—

It's war.

The moment Hobie opened the door to the deck you smell petrichor and blood in the air.

You get a glimpse of the battle before he could shut the doors. Bodies, both pirates and navy alike lay motionless on the floor. The sound of thunder mixes in with the pained yells, flashes of lightning illuminates the night sky and you see the faces of the dead clearly.

Two-fingers lay face first on the deck, arms bent at an angle, blood pooling from his head. Through the smoke and splintered wood, Foul screams when a sword plunges through his heart, silencing him immediately. Danny takes a bullet for Finn who promptly avenges him with his cutlass, swiftly separating the man's head from his body.

One face you were hoping was among the dead was missing. Mathias isn't on board.

Something flashes in his eyes when he looks at you. Grabbing your arm, he leans in, your heart stops.

Hobie moves past your head to press his forehead on your shoulder. Bathing in your presence, hand squeezing your skin

“Hobie?”

He smiles, moving his hand up to cup your jaw. Chuckling, he cleans his dried blood off your cheek with his thumb. “Do me a favour, Scuttlebutt?”

“What is it? We need to get up there!”

Hobie ignores you, leaning away. “Survive for me would you? Live, find your family. Promise me.” He sniffs, eyes glinting.

“What?”

“Just promise me, trouble.” He shakes you.

“Alright I promise. Can we—”

“I'm sorry.”

“What—?” Hobie pushes you hard, you fall off the steps, landing on your behind, he exits without looking back, shutting the doors closed. “What the fuck?!”

You rattle the doorknob but it's no use, he locked it on the outside. Frustrated, you try to kick in the door, hurting yourself from the hard wood.

“Fuck! Hobie!” You bang the door, peeking through the keyhole you see carnage as Hobie makes quick work of the remaining men. “Let me help!”

The sound of cannon balls going off almost deafens your eardrums. If only you had your lockpick you could open it.

Your lockpick.

It's a stretch but you still run towards your cabin, feet thudding loudly, echoing around the hallways that you've memorized.

You feel relieved after seeing your door. Shouldering it open, you frantically search for the metal on the shelves. The tip of it scratches your hand but you don't care, already bolting off towards the exit. Running off with your bag tied around you, hoping the medical kit inside is enough to treat the wounded, you hold the lockpick in your hand while you run.

Your hope dwindles with every cannon hitting the ship.

Doors whizz past, ankle stinging, the sounds of screams and gunfire makes you sprint faster.

You don't notice the blood soaked hulking man leaving Hobie's cabin.

Running into him, you stagger, tumbling down, heart falling into your stomach as he looks down at you through his nose.

“Hello there.”

Scrambling to get to your feet, you slide under his legs, stabbing his achilles heel with your lockpick. The man screams in agony, you take the opportunity to sprint like you've never ran before. You'd take running away from O’hara any day.

Your lungs scream for you to stop, but you go on as you hear thundering stomping behind you.

There's no exit and you can't run forever.

The metallic click rings behind you, rounding the corner, you barely dodge the bullet aimed at you, nicking your hip.

“Shit!” You almost fall yet you continue on, entering the library, you shut the doors behind you, locking it swiftly.

Lifting your hand away, the sight of your own blood turns your fear into fury. With your trembling hands, you unsheathe the dagger from your belt.

You have a promise to keep, and you never break a promise.

Hiding behind the armchair you always sat on, you crouch down, gripping the dagger, ready to strike like a viper in the sand.

You look back on what she taught you, “Strike fast and hit hard. Don't give them a chance to get back up.” her voice whispers it to you and you intend to follow it.

The door bursts open, splintering the wood to a thousand pieces.

“The captain wants you alive, little birdy. This doesn't have to hurt if you just come with me, eh?” You hear him chuckle lowly, blatantly lying to you.

His heavy footsteps thud closer.

You use the shadows as your guide, the oil lamp left open on the corner table does the work. For once you thank Gwen for forgetting to close the light.

“I can help with your wound. Glue your wings back together again” he whistles. “The red hydra can't help you with that but I can. I'm a surgeon you see.” Getting closer and closer, you time your strike right.

You come out of your hiding place with a battle cry. Still crouches down, “I highly doubt that!” Slicing his tendons in one quick movement. The second he falls to his knees, you stab him in the neck.

Stepping back, he chokes in his own blood. With wide eyes you flinch when he stands, seemingly unaffected but his shaking pupils say otherwise. With a garbled noise from your assailant, he reaches for you.

“What the fuck?!”

With a split second decision, you dodge his hands, moving backwards, throwing books from the shelves which bounce almost harmlessly on his head and body.

There's a loud thrumming sound outside, its warbling is almost mechanical but definitely something an animal could've made.

He heard it too, pausing in his movement for a second before he lunged towards you. With a scream, your back against the corner, he jumps you.

Your head hits the wall in an ugly crunch, seeing stars, sliding down the wall, landing on the floor, he chokes you with his bare hands. Indistinct noises escape from his mouth, your dagger nowhere to be found in his throat. His entire body hides anything in front of you, drowning your vision, filling it with your murderer. His blood drips down on your face, almost drowning you in it.

You know he's running on fumes but based on your vision fading, lungs gasping for air, you think you'd go out first before him.

Hands grazing something metallic on the floor next to you, you inch your fingers towards it. Finally finding your grip, you smack it on his head.

You've got a promise to keep after all.

He yells, the oil from the lamp spreading on his skin and clothes, engulfing him in flames.

You frantically roll away, killing the fire clinging to your clothes until there's nothing left but burned cloth.

The flames light up the entire room in orange and reds, the paper around him helps feed the fire as he tries to desperately put it out.

There's that thrumming again.

You watch on, holding your tender neck. Your face is flat, eyes reflecting the fire that's quickly eating at the man. Fabric burns on his flesh, flesh turns into charred muscle, the fire eats at that too until he falls, silence hanging in the room except for the fire cackling, ashes and flames surrounding his corpse.

You stand up, ratty shoes stepping over fire to grab the fallen dagger with a thick cloth from your bag.

For a second you stand amidst the fire.

The thrumming outside and the warmth wakes you up, flames licking at your clothes, it's heat scorching your skin, nose filling with smoke. Even with all the pain you still escape with your life, determined to keep your promise.

Running outside the former library, the cracking of splintering wood fills your ears, you instinctively dodge, backing away before the mast of the revenge falls on your head.

Shielding your face, you cower. The mast stills, sharp wood lay next to your feet. Tentatively opening your eyes, the sounds from above are clearer in your ears, all the screams and guns going off, you hear it loud and clear that you can decipher whose screams belong to whom.

The fog enters below deck through the gaping hole left by the broken mast. All the while, the smoke from the library rises up, replacing the mist.

Your exit.

You don't hesitate to climb up. Jagged edges of sharp wood rip amd snag your clothes, stabbing your skin. Finding leverage, you manage to prop yourself up on the deck, meeting face to face with a lifeless Ned.

The light in his eyes is gone, unsung music escaping from his open lips. Skin dirtied by flowing ichor.

You don't hear anything else other than skin meeting skin in a brutal dance.

“No.” You quickly jump up, leaving the fire behind you to consume, to devour what's left of the revenge. “Ned?”

Desperately feeling for a pulse, your heart wretches in your throat, saliva filling your mouth, bile rising up from your gut.

There's no pulse.

With a choked sob, you close his eyes for him. The sound of wet punching makes you turn to your side. Hobie's eyes are wild, vicious and desperate, bloodied knuckles pummeling the man under him. Skin broken, nose cracked, skull open for the world to see. Yet, Hobie doesn't stop even with the obvious signs of death. Fueled by rage, he paints the wooden floorboards with the man's brain.

It all feels sickenly real, your heart is still beating in sync with his punches but there's so much death around you that you feel like you're a part of the dead. Blood and smoke filling your senses, adrenaline slowly washed away like the tides.

You're sitting in a graveyard and nobody else has noticed.

“Hobie.”

His fists pound harshly through the man's head, splintered wood now embedded in his skin.

You apprehensively crawl towards him, your various injuries aching, blood seeping out from your hip. The chaos around you still continues on while he still doesn't stop.

“Hobie—” your fingers brush his arm, he flinches back, fist raised to knock you out. But he halts, knuckles kissing the tip of your nose, painting it with crimson.

With wide eyes, he heaves, muscles tensed, grief all over his expression. You shove your fear down, holding his raised knuckles, moving it away gently. You hold his face in your other hand, smearing the fresh ichor on his cheeks, staining your own skin.

“It's done, he's dead.” You nod, caressing his face, turning it away from the carnage below him. “Hobie,” you unclench his fist carefully, shattered bone and hair sticking to him. With a shallow breath, you let the tears flow on your cheeks. “He's dead.”

His face flashes with fury only to be triumphed over by misery. With a heavy heart, he nods.

Behind Hobie, a uniformed man raises his pistol, without a second thought, you take the golden blunderbuss from his waist, hastily aiming it directly at the man's head.

Your ears ring, the smoke from the gun blinds you for a second before you see your target fall dead with a bullet right between his eyes, blood splattering like fireworks from his head.

Hobie looks at you in surprise, taking his gun away from you carefully. Hands soft on your raised skin. He pats your cheek and you could only shake your head.

“We need to—” the ship collides with something, Hobie holds you close, covering you away from debris. With his embrace, he protects you. Scarred hand on the back of your head, face hiding in the crook of your neck. Leather, sea salt and blood invades your senses.

The hellion is once again looming over the revenge, its golden façade cracking under the damage made by Hobie's ship.

Mathias shows himself, looking worse for wear, he wobbles on two feet, clutching his injuries.

You hear footsteps around you, raising your head, eyes widening at what's left of the crew, they stand behind you and Hobie. Wiping blood off their faces, reloading their guns, sharpening their swords. The red sails of the people's revenge still fly above, more than ready to take what they're owed, no matter what it takes.

Gwen's blond hair is dipped in ruby red, hands tight around her blunderbuss. Miles wipes his face clean, stepping next to Gwen with clenched jaw. Pavitr stands directly behind you, face covered in what you hoped to be someone else's blood. He nods, reassuring you.

Yuri and James take one look at Ned, their expression alone could make you weep again. Finn, crouches down next to you, nodding wordlessly, blue eyes glossy.

Hobie exhales, with shaky legs he stands up, helping you back to your feet. Gripping your knife, you scowl at the man above.

“How cute. The power of friendship isn't enough to save you.” Mathias says through gritted teeth.

The rest of his crew arrives, there's less ships than before, proving how the bloodsail pirates is a force to be reckoned with. They have what Mathias doesn't have, giving them something worth fighting for.

Mathias nods, signaling his ship to turn their cannons towards you and your family.

You step in front of Hobie. “I have a proposition!” Yelling above the rain and metallic clanking, you push away Hobie's hand from your shoulder.

“What is it?” The man rolls his eyes, looking incredibly bored. “We can't be here all night.”

“Me,” the crew voices their concerns, Hobie takes your hand, face terrified.

You smile, “it's alright.” Whispering to him and the crew only. With tearful eyes, you turn back to the devil above. “You seem like you really want me, so fucking take me instead. Let them go.”

You feel the heat beneath your feet. The fire devours everything just a few feet below you.

They all yell your name behind you. Protests fill your ears but you choose to ignore them. You feel his calloused fingers squeeze your hand.

The man guffaws, “Holy shit! You like them that much?” He observes Hobie's contorted face.

“You like her that much?” He chuckles. “You know what? I don't even want you that much, sure, get on up here, birdy!”

There's that thrumming and warbling again. It's much clearer now that you're above, it seems like it's coming from beneath the ship.

“Come here and take me then!” The rain mixes in with your salty tears. Raising your arms, shoving everyone away, you taunt him. “But let them go or I'll plunge this dagger through your eye!”

“Christ, you're as insane as him. Perfect for eachother eh?” he sighs, gesturing for his cannons to cease. “I'm already satisfied even though a few of your men escaped from a dinghy but eh, I'm sure I'll get them soon enough. Just like how I'll get you one day, little pirate. I'm a very patient man, I'll wait three more years if I have to.”

Hobie's face is full of anguish when he swivels you around to look at him. “Don't fuckin' do this. He won't keep his word,” he flicks his eyes to Mathias, then back to you, grey eyes darker than before. “the moment you step foot on that ship he'll kill you.” his mind comes back to that fateful day.

He can't let that happen again, not to you.

You look at him softly. “I know, but I'll make it hard for him, that'll give you enough time to escape. Hobie, I have nothing else, just this.” swallowing the lump in your throat, there's heat under your eyes. Taking his hand, you squeeze it once. “Let me do this, for you and for them. You still have to get your revenge so let me do this. Don't let him win.”

“You promised.” His voice cracks.

“I don't think I can keep it now.” You flick your eyes behind him, the crew looks on with grief marring their eyes. “They're too young for this, Gwen, Pav and Miles, they deserve to live too.”

You hear the rope fall from the hellion's deck. “I'm glad I got stuck in that net even though you made me walk the plank.” chuckling through the tears, you give them your best smile to remember you by.

“Don't leave.” he pleads.

Sliding your hand away, you take one last look at them, making a sketch of their faces in your mind to remember when the inevitable happens.

“I have to go now or this won't work.”

The captain has no plan on how to fix it, how to fix everything, and he beats himself bloody for it.

Turning around, with every step you take feels heavier than the last. You make amends to her in your mind, praying that it reaches back home. You also thank her, but you don't regret running away that day.

You'll never know what lies for you up north or if there's someone there waiting for you. If there is someone, you apologize to them too.

You leave traces of yourself to the people behind you with the hope you live on through those pieces. That at least they won't forget your name.

The howling wind and rain whips at your drenched form, committing the feel of it to memory.

Grabbing the rope, you fight the urge to look behind.

“Hurry up, birdy!” Mathias cackles. “Come on then—!”

The thrumming is deafening, everything seems to freeze mid motion.

Giant mounds of flesh rise up from the water. Snake-like features curl above, rising to the heavens, cutting through the grey clouds.

You can't help but be mesmerized by the beauty of it. Iridescent scales glimmer against the lightning, cracked scales teeming in gold. the lightning bolts ricochet off their scaly skin, unharmed.

More serpents appear from the depths, towers of scaled flesh. They rain sea water from above, dripping from their massive bodies.

One curls just above the hellion, opening its eyes, revealing an entire ocean in its orbs.

You can't stop looking at it, petrified.

“Dragons.” You say in awe.

“Y/N!” Hobie races towards you. His hand brushes against your shirt, so close yet so far.

You get yanked up with the hellion, grip still frozen on the ropes. Holding on for life, the beast has curled around the ship, in your peripheral you see men jumping off, splashing down into the depths, taking their chances in the cold.

Facing the creature, they trill and thrum, crushing the hellion and the navy ships in their massive jaws and swirling flesh.

You wake up from the trance they had you in, almost losing your grip off the rope.

“No!” You screech, saving yourself, arm socket straining against your weight. Twirling the rope around your hand, you tie it just like how they taught you.

Palms burning on the hemp, looking down, you're hanging high above the revenge. You watch as the crew frantically unties a dinghy while Hobie and Finn stay behind, they're too far for you to make out what they're doing.

Your only chance is to jump in the water but you know that'll be the end of you.

Water parts for something swimming fast under the water, it moves towards the Revenge. You scream their names in an attempt to warn them.

“Gwen!” Your throat struggles from the screaming. “Brace yourselves!”

The serpent crashes on the starboard side, away from where the small boat hangs. Hobie clings to the remaining mast, knife in his hand. Heart pounding, you watch as Gwen runs towards Hobie, he yells, she shakes her head but in the end she bolts for the dinghy. You nod, hoping she saw that you forgave her.

The beast constricts around the helion, crashing the oak and its gilded carvings in its wrapped body.

You sway in the wind with the serpent’s movements, praying that the rope hangs on to the figure head. The figure head of an angel looks down at you, lifeless eyes observing your slow demise.

This is the end for you, you've never thought you'd be killed by a mythical being turned into reality but here you are, hanging on by a thread, waiting for death to come.

With one last glimpse at the revenge, you see the fire finally reaching above deck. Gwen and the others lower down on the dinghy while Hobie grabs onto a rope, cutting the knot off the steel rings, remembering James' teachings, if he keeps doing that he’ll get yanked up, and with the wild wind, it will surely be a disaster.

You yell his name in a futile attempt to stop his effort at saving you.

Finn raises something in his hands, heaving it over his shoulder.

You sharply turn your head when a snapping sound fills your ears. The hemp untangles, with the rope breaking in the middle, you close your eyes.

The sea serpent lets out a guttural scream, the sound alone sends shivers down your spine. It uncurls around the hellion and you get a glimpse of a sharp harpoon sticking out from its eye.

Falling with the hellion, the serpent's eyes turn from blue to a bloody red, bathing everything in its gaze in crimson. it's the last thing you see before you shut your eyes.

You feel a familiar arm around your middle, looking over your shoulder, you think you've already died.

“I've got you!” Hobie yells, with him carrying you and his hand grasping on the rising rope, he struggles to hold on.

So you help him, wrapping your arm behind him, you hold the rope in the other, face close to his as you two fly above the revenge, swinging and whipping uncontrollably in the storm.

The beast trills, jaw unhinging, its rows of shark like teeth in full display.

“Shit!” Hobie manipulates the rope to swing you two away from its sharp teeth.

It fails to catch you, instead it turns its attention to Finn on the deck.

“Finn! Run!” Your blood curdling scream gets his attention, yet he pays no heed.

But everyone already knows it's too late, with one last fight in him, he raises his harpoon, yelling, meeting the serpent's opened mouth halfway.

It swallows him whole.

You just stare at where Finn once stood, he leaves patches of his ichor on the floor.

The revenge sinks, fire and water engulfing Hobie's home, your home.

“Love!” The name rots in his mouth, it gets you out of your frozen state. “I—”

The last standing mast cracks and breaks apart. You lose your grip on Hobie.

And you fall once again. For a second you fly, eyes peering towards the clearing sky, with white clouds in your vision, you brace for impact.

“MJ!”

That's the last thing you hear as you fall in the depths in a harsh splash.

A/N: so sorry for the late update!! Hope you like it 🫶 (if i forgot to put any warnings on the tags please tell me)

191 notes · View notes

cherrybyunss · 6 months

Text

Ship: Park Jisung (NCT) x female reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption, Smoking, Dirty Talking, Oral (M receiving), Fingering, Protected Sex, Nipple Play.

A/N: This is the first scene of the new fiction I'm working on called "Make Me Feel Lightweight", which was inspired by the song "Streets" by Doja Cat. And by inspired, I mean I was listening to the song an started writing. The entire story is a little angsty but this excerpt is just pure smut, so till I'm done, please go ahead and enjoy whatever smut excerpts I post on here lol.

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), not proofread, protection is important, this is purely fictional and has nothing to do with the real idol.

cheryybyunss Masterlist

________________

“Hey.”

Courtesy of the flashing lights and loud music of the club, combined with the alcohol in your system, you’d barely heard yourself, but you were sure you had the attention of the man you’d whispered to, with the lingering touch, and the dangerous eye contact – his body language matching your own flirtatious one.

“Hi.”

Jisung was a junior in college. He was a part of the brother fraternity of the sorority you used to be in. Part of the same social circle, you’d talked to him enough over the past couple years, quantitatively and qualitatively, to occasionally be considered close.

You showed him the cigarette in your hand. You wished to smoke with him alone, and he seemed to love the idea, for he took your hand and led the two of you to a secluded corner where the bass from the sound system didn’t feel like your own heartbeat.

“Say,” You spoke as Jisung took the last puff. “Are you single?” Just to be sure.

“Yes.” Jisung breathed, exhaling the smoke. Damn was he hot.

But you knew that. “Do you do hook-ups?”

“Yes.” His eyes got darker, in spite of the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

“And...” You stepped in front of him as you spoke. “Do you...” You moved in closer and spoke against his ear. “Hook up with people you might have to see again...” You made your way down his ear, your lips ever so slightly tracing the skin. “And again...” You breathed against his neck, as if waiting for his permission. “And again.”

You felt him snap as he turned you around and slammed you against the wall, and his lips against yours. You felt your soul leave your body from how fucking good that felt in your tummy. Jisung was hot.

His hand grabbed your waist under your top, and you gasped, clutching his back and shoulders for support. The longer you kissed, the more desperate you grew, and Jisung was the same.

He pushed your chin up with his thumb as he frantically moved down to kiss your neck with the same heat, and you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back.

Ah yes. Just what you’d wanted.

He found a weak spot, and sucked, and you positively lost your mind.

He pulled away, catching his breath, mercifully letting you do the same, and looked at you with eyes that made chills run down your spine.

“You sure like dangerous games.” He spoke, not looking away even for a second.

And you smiled playfully in the drunken haze, as you took his hand, slowly bringing his fingers up to your mouth, and his eyes turned dark with anticipation.

You licked a stripe up his fingers, looking him straight in the eyes, before closing in on two, and taking your sweet time pulling them out as you sucked in.

You were making your own case worse if you were being honest, for his hands were the fucking epitome of sex appeal, and the reason you’d first gotten off to the thought of the younger boy fucking you.

But you could see him gradually lose his mind as his breathing got heavier, and reveled in the effect you were having, pressing your legs together for your own sake.

Jisung was hot.

You leaned in, whispering into his ear again. “You wish you were privy to the games I like, sweetheart.”

And he grabbed your hand and made his way across the club.

You were sure some of your friends had seen you. And maybe you weren’t supposed to fuck Jisung. But it was way past you to care. You had nothing to lose anymore.

The restroom would’ve been a nuisance, so you ever so discreetly snuck the two of you into the staff-only restroom, which turned out to be way cleaner and more spacious than you’d imagined.

But that thought could only last so long when Jisung pushed you up against the counter in front of the mirror, using his own arm as a shield from the impact as the other circled your waist so your back was pressed up against his chest.

He nuzzled into your neck as the two of you stood face to face with your reflection, before licking a strip up to a sensitive spot, and sucked again, tightening his grip on your waist.

You gasped as your eyes rolled shut, and your head fell back onto his shoulder, giving him access for more. But you needed to see. See how bothered you looked at his mercy.

“Allow me,” He looked your reflection straight in the eyes as whispered against your ear, and you felt yourself lose your mind as you felt impossibly turned on by him.

His hand moved down, making you burn in anticipation, before he pulled your skirt up and ran a couple fingers between your legs.

You shuddered, your legs almost giving in.

He pushed the cloth adorning your core to the side, and exhaled as his fingers massaged the slit, making your breath come out in broken moans.

“So fucking wet...” Jisung spoke before biting onto your ear.

“Aah–”

He teased the clit and entrance a little, simultaneously leaving hickeys on your neck and shoulders.

But you groaned in desperation, and he bit down onto your skin as he pushed a finger inside and curled it onto the sweetest spot, and you saw stars.

Not allowing you fall forward, he propped your chin up with his thumb. “Look at you, so pretty.”

He hummed in satisfaction, a dark smile appearing on his face when you clenched around his fingers. His compliment had a condescending tone but you loved every bit of it.

He found the perfect rhythm as you screamed in ecstasy, your back arching away from him and legs closing in, but you were no match for his strength, for he continued to assault that one spot till you were clenching around his fingers and begging him not to stop.

“Jisung–” You were cut off by your own moaning. “Oh my god, that feels amazing!” You managed to exclaim.

Jisung smiled, and you caught the sight of him just in time as he licked a strip up against your ear and breathed, “Cum for me.”

You felt your soul leave your body as you came all onto his fingers, and he knew exactly how to let you ride that wave out. It was the best fucking orgasm you’d had in a long time.

And looking at the mess you called yourself in the mirror through and after it – with your flushed out cheeks and teary eyes, made you feel butterflies in your stomach – a feeling you knew you wouldn’t be acknowledging ever again.

Jisung only waited till you’d caught your breath before turning you around and kissing you like a man starved. And not yet having recovered completely at all, it made you lose your balance.

One of your hands latched onto his shoulder, as you supported yourself up against the slab with the other.

His tight grip on your waist, combined with the heat he kissed you with was starting to make you dizzy, when you felt his hard on against your abdomen, and of all feelings, it made you blush.

Never breaking away from him – for it felt like you never could, one of your hands travelled forth on its own, and you heard Jisung gasp when you bit his lip at the same time as you gave his length a stroke.

Jisung pulled away and looked at you with shadowed eyes, and breath heavy. And you felt your walls clench around nothing.

“Do you have a condom?” You spoke.

And Jisung wasted no time before pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, and taking out the condom before discarding the wallet onto the counter.

He watched you as you unbuckled his belt and lowered yourself onto the floor.

Jisung was big.

The initial shock wore off as he caressed your hair, setting your skin on fire, before holding all the hair back so you had none in your way.

You’d had guys acting like this all the time, but Jisung was driving you haywire for some reason.

He was hard already, standing bigger than anything you thought your already sensitive core could take at the time but you couldn’t help but give him a couple of strokes, meeting his eyes every now and then, before taking the length into your mouth, and sucking.

Jisung took sharp breath, his grip on your hair tightening.

You continued to work your mouth in ways you knew would drive him crazy, and his groans and sighs felt like music to your ears.

Saving yourself from getting carried away, you pulled away and stood up. And thankfully, Jisung needed no instructions, for he grabbed your waist and slip you onto the counter top before pulling your panties off and discarding them.

He rolled the condom on, lined his cock up against your entrance, and with a singular nod from you, he rammed into you, making you grab onto him and scream.

Oh my god! It was absolutely outrageous how amazing Jisung felt.

“Aaah–” Your screams came out in broken moans with every thrust as you felt yourself get consumed by pleasure in lieu of sanity.

“You like that?”

“Fuck yes! Jisung– Aah! Please don’t s-stop!”

“Of course, baby.” He spoke in a harsh voice, and bit your ear, increasing the force he was using, and you positively lost any semblance of grace you’d ever felt.

One of Jisung’s hands went behind you, and he undid the clasp your bra, before pulling your top down, and exposing your breasts to him.

He grabbed one of them, still fucking into you like an animal, and sucked onto your nipple. And your back arched as your primitive self practically took over with how loud you allowed yourself to scream as you came.

Jisung fucked you through your orgasm, the way you clenched around him triggering his own, hands desperately gripping onto the other as waves of pleasure washed over the two of you.

Both of you stayed in the same position till you caught your breath, and then looked at each other, before a smile made its way onto both of your faces.

Jisung carefully pulled away, discarding the condom, and getting to cleaning up after the two of you.

“Fuck.” You said, and grinned as you sat atop the slab.

“What?” Jisung smiled softly himself.

“I needed you to be good at this so bad.” You said, covering your face sheepishly.

And Jisung chuckled. “I’m assuming I was.”

“An understatement, if I may.”

Jisung walked over in front of you, cupped your face with one of his hands, and kissed you.

Your eyes fell shut, and a familiar feeling returned.

Jisung kissed your jaw, and then neck one more time before pulling away.

“Should I be looking forward to getting used to this?” He smiled.

And you felt the sinking feeling deepen till it clutched your brain.

You shook your head, plopping yourself up on the floor with your hands.

“It was a one-time thing, Ji.”

Jisung looked like a mix of puzzled and disappointed. Rightfully so.

“I have someone I love.”

________________

cheryybyunss Masterlist

202 notes · View notes

kiwiana-writes · 3 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Thank you so much @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls and @onthewaytosomewhere for the tags!

So... look. YES this is from something new, but it's FINE ACTUALLY because this is a collaboration. So really, it's only half a new thing. Basically it turns out @indestructibleheart and I had individually had thoughts about the same AU and had both thought to ourselves "hmmm idk who would read that though" and then @stereopticons started egging us on and now here we are: armed with a title, a vague plan, a playlist, and some snippets written in Discord DMs at 4am 😅

“Love?” Henry called out, hands slowing to a stop where they’d been scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of cheese baked into the bottom of a pan. Alex appeared in the doorway a few moments later, leaning against the frame and blatantly letting his eyes travel up and down Henry’s body. “Domesticity looks good on you, sweetheart.” “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Alex—I will not be Pavloved into doing all the chores.” Alex just grinned, tongue poking out between his teeth. “I was actually wondering about the chain? Why did you take it off?” “Oh, yeah.” He stepped fully into the room, plastering his chest to Henry’s back, his face pressing into Henry’s shoulder as he dropped a kiss there. “I just… I don’t need the constant reminder of where I come from anymore. I found where I was going instead. The key is my past, the ring is my present…” He wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist, hands splayed on Henry’s stomach, pulling him impossibly closer. “This, right here, is my future.” “Christ, Alex.” There were tears in his eyes when he turned around, pulling Alex into a fierce kiss. The tears in Alex’s eyes came a little later, when Henry bent him over the kitchen island and ate him out until he was begging; their relationship was, at its core, all about balance.

Forever feeling feral for whatever y'all are up to, so tagging @affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @blairwaldcrf @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @hypnostheory @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

#wip wednesday #kiwiana-writes #wip: RWYLM #definitely no feelings to be found here don't even worry about it

98 notes · View notes

jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request prompt 19 with Din Djarin? Fem!Reader. Thanks in advance 😊✨

As We Fall (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?

Prompt: ARGUING!!!!! then a heated “kiss me.” and suddenly their hands are all over each other

A/N: ohohoho I loved writing this!!! Oh nonnie, thanks for the ask

Warnings: MDNI, smut, sexual content, roasting the shit outta each other, play fighting, Din removes his helmet.

Word Count: 1.2k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You and the Mandalorian had a lot of free time after Grogu left the both of you to join Luke Skywalker. You both had been moping around the Crest like sad parents, but the both of you were mostly bored out of your minds.

You could not stop thinking of the man before you. He had removed his helmet when he said goodbye to Grogu and you almost collapsed at how beautiful his face looked. He had a gorgeous rugged beard and fluffy hair that you wanted to touch and run your fingers through, although you never admitted to it.

His eyes were a special shade of chocolate and you would fight whatever evil force that plagued the galaxy to see them up close. You wanted to memorise his face but Din had not removed his helmet in front of you since that day and you were too shy to say anything about it.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” his modulated voice broke through your thoughts.

“Nothing, just of how bored I am.” you said casually, leaning against the chair you were seated on.

Din was smirking under his helmet. He might not be a Jedi who can mind read, but he could see the subtle spike of your heartbeat through his visor as you not so subtly stared at him. His steady voice didn’t betray the fact that he already knew what you were thinking about and he was already concocting his own plan.

“Why don’t I teach you how to spar?” he said, tipping his head slightly, making your heart quicken again.

He knew you wore a good mask with the way your face didn’t twitch, not even for a millisecond.

“Oh, please, I know how to fight, Din Djarin, too scared to challenge me?” you tipped your chin upward and smiled sweetly.

“It’s not a challenge when I know that I could take you down easily, meshurok.” he casually got up and brushed invisible fluff off his beskar armour and you gulped.

You loved it when he called you that. Meshurok. Gemstone. You were his gemstone, a treasure that he found and cherished with his life. He didn’t know you knew what he meant and you intended to keep that knowledge to yourself to shield the Mandalorian’s ego.

“Oh I bet you can, Tin Can.” you say as he threw you a stick that replicated your sword and his Dark Saber.

He simply tilted his helmet again and positioned himself.

“Ladies first,” he said.

You waited for him to make his move, raising your eyebrows at him when he didn’t.

“I’m clearly the one with the dick, sweetheart.” he said flatly and placed one of his gloved hands on his hips.

“Hey, ladies can have dicks too, okay?” you quickly say swinging your stick at him after taking note of his lack of defence.

He blocked you just in time, almost lazily as he pushed you and your stick away with his. You knew he was grinning under his helmet with the chuckle he let out.

“Yep, I walked straight into that one.” he huffed, swinging at your hips but you caught him and pushed back with a groan when met with resistance.

You swung for his head and he ducked, but you took another swing at his legs instead, missing by an inch.

“What? You walked straight into a dick? Man, please tell me you didn’t break the mirror, it's the only one on this god awful ship.” you frowned at him as he went for your chest.

“Well, you don’t need a mirror to tell you that you look like a fuckin’ Wookie on spice.” he countered back and you feigned hurt clutching your chest, ducking his swing again.

It was time to pull out the big guns.

“Really Mando? So you’re telling me you fisted yourself silly over a Wookie on spice?”

He froze and you took that chance to disarm him and knee him in the stomach, making him collapse to the floor in a heap. You quickly climbed over him and placed the stick you were holding against his neck, sitting on his abdomen. His breathing was coming out in quick puffs, and you grinned down at him, bathing in the fact that you knew about his little secret.

A few weeks ago, he had walked in on you in the refresher, turning into a blubbering mess and running out almost instantly when he saw you bare. You thought nothing of it until you heard soft groans and whimpers from his quarters late that night. You never brought it up, but today seemed like a good day to let it slip.

His gloved hands grasped at his helmet and with a soft hiss he pulled it off his head and set it aside as he scanned your face. Falling for you was never part of his plan, but that day sealed it all for him. You looked perfect, with all your curves and scars and he craved to see that again, to rip off all the baggy clothing you wore and let his lips and bare hands travel the planes of your skin.

Now, he looked down at where your body met his and he actually believed that you were sculpted for him, the way you fitted so perfectly against him. You shifted slightly and his eyes snapped up to look at yours once again. You had a soft smirk on your lips and your hand was twitching at the stick you were holding.

“Stop looking at me with those eyes, Mandalorian.” you whispered, drinking in his beauty from up close.

“Fuck, I can’t, meshurok.” he breathed, keeping his eyes on yours.

Suddenly, everything was a blur. You felt the stick being pulled from your grasp and tossed aside as Din flipped you over. He loomed over you and kept you caged between his legs, not breaking eye contact. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, pressing into you like you were a breath of fresh air after he had been poisoned with thoughts of you. Your hands were soon clawing at his scalp as your legs wrapped securely around his abdomen.

You were too lost to know when it happened but he had pulled his gloves off at some point during the chaos and was now feeling you up, swallowing your moans and groans. You pressed yourself against his hardening member under his flight suit and he bit at your lip, unmercifully drawing blood from you as you cried at the pain and pleasure that blossomed through you. His lips travelled to your neck as you pulled his hair harder, soft nips making you whine and writhe against him as you pulled him closer.

“Have it Din, take it, gar serim.” you moaned in the language of his people and he almost melted against you in shock, instantly lifting himself off you and carrying you up, presumably to his quarters.

You certainly had enough time to memorise every inch of his face after the events of that night. Sure, the Mandalorian Din Djarin managed to cure your boredom, but he also had rendered you paralysed for about a week and left beautiful bruises blooming throughout your body like you were his latest art piece.

He had thrown you around and used you like you were his very own ragdoll, clutching you to him like you were going to run away, his cock stuffed deep in you for hours. Your throat was hoarse from screaming, pleasure and pain twisting together as you felt Din’s skin against yours.

If falling for the Mandalorian was this dangerous for your body, you should’ve just done it from the second you met him.

Translations: Meshurok: gemstone Gar serim: That's it.

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @joygirlmelii @wolfbook87 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @lia275

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

924 notes · View notes

random-thot-generator · 5 months

Text

Dirty Little Secret

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH x FEM READER

Summary: Being Johnny MacTavish's dirty little secret isn't easy, but you don't have the strength to walk away.

Warnings/Tags: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral- F receiving, P in V Sex, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, No Y/N

(Notes: Another smut purge but with feelings and angst. Maybe a part 2. Not sure yet. We'll see.)

Word Count: 2.3K

"Tha's it sweetheart. Feckin' hell, ya feel so good."

It's three in the morning, you've got to be up for work in a few hours, and you're currently folded up like an accordion under Johnny while he takes his sweet time. He's been gone for two months, shipped off to God knows where, and now he's come home in one of his moods.

You whine at the snail's pace he's using to fuck you. His hands are like vice grips on your thighs as he slowly sinks into your wet heat, hissing through his teeth when his balls finally make contact with the tacky, slick-coated cheeks of your ass. He grinds down into you, muttering curses under his breath before slowly dragging his hips back… back… back until only the throbbing head of his cock is all that's left for your cunt to clench around.

"Steamin' Jesus, hen. D'ya feel how ya got a'hold o' me?" He leans back to look, breath huffing out of his slack mouth. "Christ, would ya look at tha'…"

Before you know what he's about, he's pulled out completely and is shifting his body down your own. You whimper and grab for him, a weak attempt, and watch helplessly as his head dives between your thighs with a ragged groan. He spent a small eternity with his face buried between your legs already, the beard burn on your inner thighs making you wince when his stubbled jaw rubs over the raw flesh again. You'll be feeling this for days, you know.

Overstimulated, you choke out a pitiful cry when his lips suction around your swollen clit, suckling it like a juicy peach he's just sunk his teeth into. You hips levitate off the bed, tears tracking across your temples into your hair as your orgasm suddenly breaks like a wave over you. When your walls bear down and you cum with a strangled gasp, Johnny surges up your body and bullies his cock into your pulsing channel. Your walls seize him, clenching and pulling, milking his length as it pulls him deeper.

"Christ! Hen, I canna hold—!" His words are cut off with a strained whimper as he climaxes, his back arcing like a bow. Fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, locking you in place as he holds himself there, buried deep, letting his release fill you to overflowing.

Mindless bliss and panting breaths, a lingering kiss on your parted lips. He leans his sweaty forehead against yours and sighs as the tension in his body lets go.

Finally spent, he lifts himself away on shaking arms and falls beside you with a grunt, dragging you into his arms to press wet, artless kisses over your cheeks and sweaty brow. His hand smooths down your back to grip your ass, his other hand curled around the nape of your neck. He molds you to his body, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours as he buries his nose at the crook of your neck and breathes deep. "Missed ya so much, bonnie," he whispers against your throat. "So much…"

The last of his energy drained, he succumbs to exhaustion and falls asleep within minutes, head cradled on your breast.

When you wake up for work the following morning, he's already gone.

There's not much you can say about your situation with Johnny. It started out with a random drunken hook-up, which became another and another, until finally he just started showing up at your flat.

You can't call it friends with benefits, because you're not really friends. He doesn't hang out with you, doesn't text or call. He just shows up, wrecks your world, and is gone by morning.

There's never been any discussion about boundaries, though you think you might have reached the limit of yours. How much longer can this go on? How much more can you take? How can you live with yourself knowing that you're nothing more than his dirty little secret?

You ask yourself these questions when you wake up alone the next morning, only the soreness between your legs and the fading smell of sex and his cologne on your sheets as proof that he was ever even there. Yet you dread the day when he stops coming 'round. It's like living with a gun pointed at your head, wondering when he'll finally pull the trigger and put you out of your misery.

It's torture, but self-inflicted; you're doing this to yourself. Sure, you talk a good game, tell yourself you'll put your foot down next time, but you end up tripping over it instead when you hear his knock at your door late at night. You see it for what it is: you're the fiend and he's the drug, and each time you give into your addiction, he only leaves you wanting more.

There's only one remedy for it, because you know he'll never love you back. You'll have to go cold-turkey, remove him completely from your life, but just the thought of it terrifies you. The thing is, you're not sure what scares you the most, the thought of losing him or the thought of him being okay with it.

Either way, you're too much of a coward to find out.

You saw him today, on your lunch break.

He didn't see you, but you saw him— with her.

He was walking with her, arm slung over her shoulders, head tipped down to hear what she was saying. His face split into that grin that always melts your heart and he laughed, gave her a playful shake before pulling her in to plant a kiss on the crown of her head. He led her to a coffee shop, holding the door for her to enter, the two of them still laughing as they disappeared inside.

It was like a slap to the face, the way it hit you, a hot mess of emotions that bombarded you all at once. The worst of them, though, was the shame you felt, that deep-seated embarrassment that made your shoulders curl forward and filled your head with heat. Ears ringing, you staggered into an alley and threw up your turkey on rye, then went back to work.

Whatever happened afterward was a blur, your body on autopilot, your brain numb. At some point your supervisor stopped by your cubicle and told you to go home, that you looked unwell. Even after you left, the word kept repeating itself; unwell, unwell, unwell...

Yes. You were unwell.

You made it inside your flat before the dam broke, and then sobbed yourself dry slumped against your front door.

The knock came later that night, long after you had already dragged yourself to bed. Wadded tissues scattered as you jerked fully awake, ears attuned to the muffled knocking that sounded again. Your heart was pounding.

Climbing out of bed, you crept through your flat, jumping when the rapping grew sharper and more insistent. You scurried the rest of the way to the door, rattling the chain to stop him before he started pounding with his fist.

"Jesus, bonnie! I thought somethin' was wrong," Johnny hissed, taking you by the arms and walking you backwards into the flat. You yelped as your feet tangled, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt as he caught you up in his arms to steady you. "Was ready t'kick in the door," he huffed, bringing a hand up to cradle your face.

Your chest clenched, all the hurt and sorrow that had settled during sleep now welling back up inside you. There was so much you wanted to say, but the culmination of it came out in one wavering word.

"Why?"

There was a beat of silence, then Johnny huffed a quiet laugh. "Ya must still be half asleep, sweetheart. C'mon, let's get ya back t'bed."

His words sounded flippant until you realized he couldn't properly see you in the dark room. You were glad the darkness hid your face, hid your red, swollen eyes and splotchy skin, hid your tears and your heartache. You let him lead you through the dark flat to your bedroom, but this time you were at peace with the decision. It was okay because you knew this time you weren't giving in.

You were giving up.

This would be your swan song with Johnny MacTavish, this one last time to tell him goodbye.

When he kissed you, you kissed him back, taming his hungry mouth with gentle lips, pouring every bit of your broken hope and useless love into him. Let him have it; it was all for him, anyway.

When he stripped you bare and laid you down on your bed, you clung to him like a lover would, for once, unashamed of how you felt, your heart letting him go even as your arms pulled him closer.

You wondered if he could feel it, could somehow sense that this was the end. There were several times that he pulled away, peering down at you in the darkness, his breaths panting and unsteady. He was quiet, too; unusual for him. He always talked during sex, but not this time. Instead, there was something akin to a reverent silence, the moment sacred. No words would suffice; it could only be felt.

When he entered you, you sobbed, just one gasping breath that hitched up in your chest. You felt him tense, heard him draw in a breath to speak, so, you pulled his head down and silenced him with a kiss, wrapping your legs around him and holding on tight.

A ragged sound escaped his throat as he rolled his hips and began to move. His kisses were lingering and deep, his body pressed close to yours, his hips rocking in the cradle of your pelvis but never losing contact. It was slow and sensual, but unbelievably intense.

When he finally rose above you, you felt him trembling, his thrusts growing stronger, faster, as he angled his hips to hit that spot that only he knew well. You arched to meet him with every stroke, your bodies moving in perfect accord, locked in an ancient rhythm that carried you both up that peak.

You came with a moaning cry, limbs locking around him as you rode out the high. His thrusts grew erratic, his grunts broken and choked. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep, hips hitching up as he came with a ragged, "Bonnie—!" punching out of his throat.

Panting breaths in solemn silence, that's all that can be heard in the aftermath. He didn't move away, choosing this time to stay inside you, his weight a familiar burden that you already miss. His kisses were slow, his hands affectionate, petting and stroking as he sighed into your skin. Eventually, he wrapped his arms around you and turned you both to your sides, the tip of his nose brushing yours as his big hand cupped the back of your head. You could feel his smile against your lips.

Once he fell asleep, you got out of bed to clean yourself up. As you washed away the spend that had dried on your thighs, a sense of grief overtook you, so you locked the door and cried into a bath towel. When the tears stopped, you washed your face then went back to bed.

You didn't sleep, made a concerted effort to stay awake. You wanted to be awake when he left this time, this one last time. At five in the morning, a muffled buzz broke the silence, and Johnny stirred beside you with a sleepy groan. So, that's how he did it, you thought absently. He set his alarm and slept with it under his pillow. You'd always wondered how he managed to be up and out of your flat before you awoke.

You felt him shift behind you, and pictured him sitting up, weight resting on his elbows. He blew out a long sigh, scrubbed his hand over his mohawk before drawing it down his stubbled cheek. When he reached out and traced the line of your body from shoulder to hip, you tried to be as still as possible, but his lips on your shoulder made you gasp. He huffed a quiet chuckle and rose from the bed.

While he was in the loo, you blinked your eyes open, the hot prickle of tears threatening to reveal your ruse. Not too much longer, you promised yourself, knowing he would be leaving soon. When his quiet steps came towards the bedroom again, you closed your eyes, willing your body to relax.

You listened to the rustle of clothes being slipped back on, the jingle of his buckle, the dull thud of his boots. Once he was dressed, he rounded the bed to your side, then stood there a moment before you heard him shift. His knees cracked when he dropped down to his haunches, one hand on the bed near your folded arms. He brushed his knuckles over your cheek and sighed, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Sleep tight, my bonnie," he whispered. "See ye soon."

He rose and stepped away, his footsteps heading toward the bedroom door. They paused in the threshold then continued on through the flat, the sound of your front door opening and closing reaching your ears. Your eyes opened and you stared at the dark, empty room, feeling hollowed out but at peace.

"I'll miss you, Johnny," you whispered. "I love you. Goodbye."

part 2

#john soap mactavish x fem reader #john soap mactavish x reader #cod soap x reader #cod soap x fem reader #soap x reader #soap x fem reader #john soap mactavish #cod soap smut #soap smut

76 notes · View notes

hugmekenobi · 11 months

Text

The Long Haul

A Bad Batch Series interlude oneshot

Gif by @ivonhart

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: The work from Cid doesn’t stop despite past events but this one sees you needing a little bit more help.

Warnings: Mentioned canon-typical violence, no y/n, swearing, a mention of a past spicy moment (not described at all but putting it here anyway), mentions of death, mild hurt/comfort, descriptions of illness and vomiting, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy scare, pet name (sweetheart), awkwardness, the Force and Force communication works how I say it works, Star Wars flowers do what I need them to and Star Wars first aid being what I need it to be, overall fluff and feelings

Masterlist for S1 Chapters

Word Count: 2.4K

Rating: 18+

Author’s notes: It’s the first oneshot with these two actually together! Hope you enjoy! Can’t wait to share the other ones and S2 with you all! To those I’ve tagged, let me know if you don’t want tagged in these oneshots and I’ll keep it to the series and if there’s anyone else who wants tagged, just let me know :)

“You alright?” Hunter called down as he peered over the edge of the small ledge. You had been tackled by the man they had been tracking and had tumbled over the side. Thankfully it wasn’t a huge drop, and the lush grass and dense bunch of flowers would have lessened the impact but he checked nevertheless.

As you felt the dead weight on top of you, you couldn’t help but think that the last time someone had been this close to you had been a long six weeks ago. Cid had been keeping you guys pretty busy, and you knew the only reason you had that time with him in the first place was because the squad had politely, but awkwardly, given you the Marauder for a few hours.

You ignored the pain in your spine and heaved a sigh as you pushed the dead body off you. You took your vibroblade out his chest and wiped it on his top before you brushed off some of pollen that had gotten onto your hands from the pile of flowers you had landed in.

You walked over to where your blaster had landed and picked it up before you glanced up to where Hunter and Echo were. “Have I ever mentioned how much I can’t stand using this thing?” You waved your blaster for emphasis.

Hunter smiled under his helmet. You were fine. “You may have said something once or twice.”

“Well, it’s a pain in my ass. It’s jammed at some point on every mission since I got it! Gotta say the Jedi knew what they were talking about with this one.”

Echo let out a short laugh. “You ever consider that you might be the problem?”

You took your mask down and scowled up at him. “No.” You opened the man’s vest and took out the necklace and you recognised the diamond that was hanging from it as the one Cid had shown you before sending you on this mission. “This is it, right?”

Hunter nodded down at you before he spoke into his comm. “Tech, Wrecker, Omega, we got the necklace. Meet back at the ship. You coming up?” He asked you.

“Sir, yes sir.” With that, you took a few steps back before you called on the Force to assist your jump back up to where Echo and Hunter were.

Hunter wrapped his arm around your waist and the three of you began the walk back to the Marauder.

As the ship left the Glee Anselm, your eyes suddenly began to feel very heavy, and your limbs were screaming for rest. You put it down to the fact that you had been searching for that guy on that planet for the past two days with very little rest. Every time Hunter had got a read on him, the circumstances seemed to change and put those environmental factors combined with avoiding the Imperial presence, well, it had made for a stressful mission. I’m going to lie down for a little bit, you told Hunter.

Hunter regarded you curiously. He hadn’t seen any physical injuries after your fall today, but you hadn’t slept very much on this mission, so he just nodded before he turned his attention back to Tech as he gave the estimated arrival time.

You walked back to your bunk and unholstered your weapons and laid down and sleep came a lot faster that you had expected.

“Sweetheart.” Hunter shook your shoulder for the fifth time since the ship had landed, adding a little bit more vigour to it but still you made no move to wake.

“She’s still not awake?” Omega asked as she came to stand next to him.

“No...” Hunter said distantly. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong, you never slept like this.

“I can get her up.” Wrecker said happily as he picked up an abandoned weapons crate.

“Wrecker, I’m not sure she would respond very well to that.” Tech advised.

“It’ll get her up, won’t it? Hunter?”

Hunter kept his eyes on you but nodded his permission.

Wrecker lifted the crate high above his head before he brought it to the ground with a loud crash.

You jolted awake. “Jeez! I’m up, calm down…” You trailed off from any further comment as you felt a strong wave of nausea rise through you.

Hunter laid a hand on your knee. “Well, we tried do to it quieter but you-” He didn’t get to finish since you had quickly stood up and pushed past him, hand over your mouth as you ran to the refresher.

You just made it before you rather undignifiedly and violently vomited. Hunter’s hand holding your hair whilst the other one rubbed gentle circles on your back only provided you some comfort.

After you finished what felt like spewing your guts out, you wiped your mouth and sheepishly turned to face the concerned faces that were all staring at you since you realised you forgot to shut the door. “So sorry, that was disgusting.”

“I’ll be right back.” Hunter said before he set off towards the middle of the ship.

You held your tired body against the doorframe and focused on ignoring your unsettled stomach, a task that was easier said than done. You gratefully took your flask of water from Omega who looked at you anxiously as she stepped away.

Echo and Wrecker looked on worriedly.

Tech brought his datapad out. “What have you eaten in the past 2-3 days? Did you drink anything strange on Glee Anslem?”

“I’ve not eaten or drank anything strange, Tech. I’d know if I had.” You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt the nausea return.

“Okay, let’s go further back. What about injuries? Did anyone we came across manage to cut you with anything? It could be a wound that’s infected.”

You shook your head, “Same missions as you guys, you’d know.” You said through clenched teeth as you struggled to push the nausea away.

“What about-”

You held up a finger to stop him from continuing before you swiftly turned away, shut the door, and threw up yet again.

After you sorted yourself out, you opened the door again. “Well? Anything?”

Tech awkwardly shifted his goggles and looked up from his datapad. “I, uh, can think of one explanation.”

“Great, what is it and what’s the cure?” You asked tiredly.

“Um, well, first of all, is there a possibility that you’re uh, could you maybe be pregnant?” He stammered out uneasily.

Before your brain could catch up to what he just asked, you were distracted by a loud clatter.

All heads turned to face Hunter who had dropped the medkit.

Hunter quickly threw the items back in, ignoring Tech’s slightly irritated look. He straightened up. “Omega, wait outside the ship.”

“But what does that-” She started to argue.

“Now!” Hunter said firmly.

She let out an aggravated sigh but complied.

Hunter waited until she was out before he spoke again. “No, Tech, she’s not… are you?” He asked as he made his way back towards you.

You only shook your head and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I only asked because you two are in a relationship and, I um, assume there is a physical aspect to it. Not that I’m thinking about that, I only meant that that- what I mean is that there is a statistical likelihood-” Tech stuttered.

“Hey, Tech.” You interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.” Tech replied, letting out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you.” Echo and Wrecker muttered.

“Bottom line is, I’m not pregnant so there’s gotta be another explanation.” You continued before you felt your knees grow weak.

Hunter could feel your body grow heavier as you leaned against him. “Come on, let’s get you back to the bunk.” He put his arm around your shoulder and supported you as he led you towards it. As he helped you lie down and he saw the weariness written across your face and the gaunt look of your skin, he hoped that they’d figure out what was wrong with you and figure it out soon.

Tech rubbed his forehead and began to fiddle with his datapad again. He couldn’t understand what was wrong you and they weren’t getting any closer to figuring it out and it was driving him crazy. “Okay, one more time.”

Hunter had removed his armour for you, and you were in the space between his legs with your back pressed against his chest.

You let out an exhausted sigh and angled your head towards Tech. You had quickly formed this routine where you would go throw up, come back to lie with Hunter, Echo and Wrecker would offer their sympathies, Omega- who was allowed back on the ship and after she realised no one was going to tell her what Tech had meant earlier and the closest she got was a ‘we’ll tell you when you’re older’- would give you more water, and after this, Tech would ask you to go over your routine from the past missions you’d gone on. “I don’t know what else there is to tell, Tech. I’ve eaten nothing but ration bars since we were sent on all these missions. I only drank water on Glee Anselm. No one has wounded me. I felt fine when we were looking for that guy, the only trouble we ran into was when my blaster jammed, and I fell into that bunch of flowers. After-”

“Flowers?” Tech’s head snapped up at this new information.

“What?” You asked.

“You hadn’t mentioned the flowers before. What did they look like?”

“Um.” You furrowed your brow as you tried to remember but, to your horror, nothing was coming to mind, you were too exhausted to even remember something as simple as that. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt nauseous again.

“They were white with purple spots on them.” Echo answered for you.

Tech tapped his datapad. “Ah ha!” He said triumphantly.

“What is it, Tech?” Hunter asked urgently as he heard you let out a soft groan.

“Those flowers were likely Pixy Cloves. They have a defence mechanism that involves secreting spores into the bloodstream through the skin of whatever touches them. It can cause a serious infection in their host. There’s no cure, unfortunately, but it’s not fatal. Your body just needs to flush it out. You should feel better within the next 4-5 days.” Tech said brightly.

“I take it ‘flush it out’ means I’m going to be spending a lot of time in that refresher?” You asked glumly.

Hunter rubbed your arm soothingly.

“I can give you something to ease the nausea but that’s all I’m afraid.” Tech replied.

You huffed out a puff of air. “Well, no sense in you guys staying here.” You fished the necklace out of your pocket and handed it to Omega. “Better explain the situation to Cid and give this to her give so we get paid, and she stays ‘happy’ with us.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Omega asked as she took the necklace from you.

“Yeah, kid, don’t worry. Thanks for the help.”

“Hope you feel better soon!” Omega laid her hand on yours before she made her way to the exit.

“Yeah, feel better!” Wrecker said, patting your shoulder gently.

“Thanks, Wrecker.”

“I take it you’re staying?” Echo asked Hunter after he gave your hand a consoling squeeze.

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Hunter corrected.

“Hunter, this is not going to be a pretty time. When I’m not sleeping, I’m going to be in that refresher violently vomiting.” You said, looking up at him.

“I could always use more sleep and I don’t mind that.”

“Hunter-”

“I’m in this for the long haul. A bit of throwing up isn’t going to scare me away from you.” Hunter kissed your forehead.

“It should. I’ll hardly be at my best.” You maintained with a grumbled sigh.

Hunter stroked your arm to reassure you. “I know we’re new at this but I’m pretty sure looking after each other is part of the description of what we are. Plus, we’ve kinda been doing that all along anyway. A new label doesn’t need to change that.”

You did have to admit that he had a point. You’d both seen each other in less than desirable states before your romantic relationship began. You figured you were just feeling more pressure now, but you could past it and you guessed this would be a good test. I mean if seeing me heaving into a toilet bowl doesn’t scare him away then what will? You thought to yourself before you gave him a small but grateful smile. “Okay, if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

“I guess we’ll see you later then.” Echo said before he and Wrecker left the ship.

As he took the medicine out, Tech made a mental note to tidy the medkit up once you didn’t need it anymore. He walked over to you and gave you the injection. “This should help with the nausea. Hunter can give you more if you need them over the next few days.” He patted your knee. “I’ll check in later.” He stood up and made his way to the door.

“Thank you, Tech.” You said.

Tech smiled and nodded at you before he joined the others, and they all made their way to the parlour.

“Thanks for staying.” You said as Hunter came back from shutting the door.

“You’d do the same for me and I’ll take time alone with you any way I can.” Hunter said with a smile.

You managed to let out a quiet laugh before you moved so Hunter could slide in next to you. “Do you know what I’ve realised?” You mumbled as you closed your eyes snuggled closer to him.

“What’s that?” Hunter whispered as he gently pulled you against him.

“That this is all that damn blaster’s fault. If it hadn’t jammed, none of this would’ve happened.”

Hunter chuckled and planted another kiss to the top of your head. “I think you’re going to be just fine. Get some sleep.”

You weren’t sure how long would you sleep for before that next inevitable urge to vomit struck but if you had Hunter with you, you were sure you could get through this and anything else the galaxy would throw your way.

Masterlist

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @tpwkcalli, @fuckoffthanos, @arctrooper69, @graciexmarvel, @flyingkangaroo, @nightmonkeysstuff, @a-streakofazure, @ladytano420, @dragonrider9905, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx

#the bad batch #hunter x reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x femaleJedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #fluff

160 notes · View notes

usopps-devotee · 1 year

Note

Wait but

Pasties shaped like whichever OP sweetheart you want’s personal Jolly Roger. Ex: Give everyone’s favorite sniper a simultaneous ego boost and heart attack by flashing him his own sigil — pasted on the boobies he loves so much! 🤯

Banger idea, I was gonna make this a smut hc, but smut has been killing me. I plan on making a pt2 to this one day, tho.

Tags: implied nsfw, readers tits are out, no pronouns or gender specified but afab implied,

Usopp

Someone please help this poor baby

He can not handle himself

Also worried about the process of making them, he wants to make sure he's the only one who has seen them

He's only a little upset that he's not

You'll have to do it in the workshop

Had a moment of pure shock before reaching out to grab you

The way his hands study and caress your body shaking from the slightest touch

High key worried about how cold you are

Sneaking into his workshop was easy. When usopp is focused, he tends not to pay attention to his surroundings. He doesn't hear the sound of you opening the door and walking over to him, nor does he hear the sound of your shirt dropping to the floor, the sniper only notices your presence when your practically bare chest is against his back. He'll let out a startled yelp whipping around to see the love of his life only for his jaw to drop. To say he was gawking would be an understatement. For a good 30 seconds, there is nothing in Usopp's head other than processing the breathtaking sight in front of him. "Where did you get them?" His voice is hardly above a whisper as his hands trail the underside of your breast. "Made them just for you." He nodded as his thumbs down to your sides, gripping your hips the sniper lifts you up on to his work bench. "Who's seen them?" You chuckle at this question. His possessive nature is something you've always found cute. Always make sure you belong to him alone. "Robin, she helped with placement." He sighs slightly jealous as his hands move to your thighs, creating goosebumps along your skin. "Are you cold? Wait, where is your shirt? Do not tell me you walked all the way here shirtless!?" You throw your head back with laughter at the idea of walking around the ship tits out for all to see while pointing out the lump of fabric that laid a few feet away from the door.

Buggy

FLUSTERED

Scatters like bowling pins due to pure shock

Hesitant to touch, you're a work of art to him, and he really doesn't want them off

His hands will wander everywhere, BUT you're chest at first. He wants to take his time with this gift

The second your robe is off, he's already muttering how you're too good for him

Lots of thoughts running through his head NONE of which are coherent

Now might not have been the best time to bother your captain, but you're feeling a bit neglected and starved for attention. What better way is there to get what you want than to put on a show for the clown. Buggy had been below deck working to improve the explosive power of his buggy balls. He almost looked like a real chemist, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he mixed chemicals into compounds You called out his name, voice laces with silk and honey as you made your way into the pirate's field of view. "Buggy baby, I've got a surprise for you." His eyes trail up your body as you let your robe slide from your shoulders, setting your chest free from its fabric confines. While you're expecting an explosion, thinking it would be the highly reactive substances in his hands and not buggy himself. Regardless, you've got his attention now as his disembodied hands put everything in its proper place his eyes don't leave your chest, other body parts slowly make their way over to you and piece himself back together. "Show stopping" was the only thing muttered under his breath. You giggle, dropping the robe you had on revealing the rest of your bare skin and a blue lace thong. Free from the gloves, his hands start on your waist, groping the skin at your sides and tummy, hypnotized by the red nose of the jolly roger covering your areolas. "You're too good to me, treasure."

369 notes · View notes

emilykaldwen · 1 month

Text

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter One

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Author's Note: After a lot of encouragement, I will be posting chapters in their entirety here and on AO3. Many many huge thanks to @acrossthesestars for being my co-pilot, and for holding my hand through writing this story. Thank you to everyone who has reblogged and commented. Your words mean the world to me.

CHAPTER ONE - THE WEIGHT THAT BROUGHT US HERE

Alicent watched the lords of the council settle into their seats, placing their markers in the proper place. Lord Tyland Lannister took his seat at the opposite end of the magnificent table, Lord Lyman Beesbury to his right. Maester Mellos and then Lord Larys at her own left hand. Jasper Wylde sat beside her father’s usual place at the right hand. The power of the realm all concentrated right in this room. They prayed to the Crone for guidance and wisdom at the beginning of every meeting, a practice that had thankfully not reached the ears of the king, as he’d been cloistered in his rooms since his illness had taken more of his body. It was one thing to allow her Faith to grace their dinner table. It was a whole other to have the Faith find its place at the Small Council. While his signature still graced the decrees, and his decisions still paramount for he was the King, Viserys had left the dealings of the realm to them. It was for the best - Viserys’ mind was giving way to his illness and the less seen, the better. Alicent didn’t know what she preferred: her husband demeaning her and neglecting her children, or him calling her Aemma when she came to care for him at night.

She grazed her fingers over the polished black marble ball in front of her as Maester Mellos began rattling off the never ending fighting between the Brackens and Blackwoods that not even the Father bearing down from the heavens himself could stop. They continued to tear themselves apart as if they would win all the gold in Casterly Rock for the longest, most ridiculous spat that the Tullys were no longer capable of handling. Sometimes she wished she could just drag charcoal lines along the map, piece off the floodplains to the north and the west and the mountains, let the other kingdoms take their pieces.

“Begs the question if perhaps it isn’t time to elect a new Lord Paramount to bring them to heel,” Lord Wylde harrumphed in his self-important way. The man was well and agreeable enough, Alicent thought, but every time he spoke, she missed Lyonel Strong. None of his proposals contained this ‘begging the question’ sort of nonsense, and none of Wylde’s attempts had any of the late Lord Strong’s well thought out solutions and easy friendliness.

“Unless grievous injustice is done, we cannot normally strip the title of Lord Paramount, but their inability to bring either house to heel since given the title is threatening the stability of the realm. Blackwoods own more land than the Tullys, and now we have reports they’ve gone undermining one another’s orchards, and putting others at risk.” Jasper turned his gaze to Larys, who had not spoken since the prayer. “Strong, your holding is Harrenhal. What do you have to say about this matter?”

Larys’ manner did not fool Alicent, but it worked wonders, as always, on Jasper. “This quarrel of theirs has lasted as long as the dynasty and longer still. King Jaehaerys brokered peace, and we cannot ascertain what sparked it again.” From the nervous licking of his lips to the fidgeting of his hands, he was a master at seeming far less dangerous than he truly was. “You might seek instead the opinion of my dearest uncle Simon. He is the castellan and knows both it and the Riverlands far better than I do, as I’ve been here during most of this recent infighting. ”

Wylde humphed, twitching his nose in such a way that his bushy mustache reminded Alicent of a walrus she’d seen at Driftmark. She dug her nails into her palm to hold back her laugh. “Should we offer the Tullys more incentive?” Wylde blustered, reaching for a solution that he could take credit for.

“Incentive for not letting their bannerman destroy harvests?” Tyland Lannister snorted, reclined in his chair as if he were the one running the meeting. “That’s their duty. If they can’t do it, then there’s a bigger issue to deal with.”

“Perhaps a betrothal,” Lord Beesbury spoke up, his eyes darting from Larys’ to hers. Alicent straightened, watching the man try to figure out how to present his own suggestion. “The Tullys are proud, and the Riverlands command a great host when they come together. Lord Tully’s great-grandson is around Princess Helaena’s age. It would be a show of friendship and goodwill.”

“A show of a dragon is what you mean, isn’t it?” Her father’s voice cut in smoothly, but she could see the annoyance in his eyes at the prospect of Helaena being sent to the Riverlands. She did not want her sweet girl sent so far away either, but his words hurt in their easy protectiveness of her daughter, when they had never done for herself.

“Dragons are a statement, my Lord Hand. If not the princess, perhaps… Lord Strong, your youngest sister is not yet married,” Beesbury continued, flush with ideas. Was Rhaenyra feeding them to him?

“If Grover Tully, or whomever is handling their seat, cannot bring them to heel, we should have the Lords Bracken and Blackwood come and explain themselves to the crown,” she cut in before Beesbury could really get his momentum going. Heads turned to look at her, and Alicent looked to the Grand Maester. “Send ravens today. By the moon’s turn, I want them before the Iron Throne explaining themselves.” There was a curl of satisfaction on her lips as the aging Mellos gestured to his assistant. “We should also have Lord Tully, or his son, also come to answer. I know Lord Grover has been recently ill,” she continued. Authority and compassion were the balance she must always strike, so that her decisions could not be questioned, her judgment nothing but sound. She was the Mother of the Realm after all.

“Well said, your Grace,” Larys said softly, that shadow blink of a smile on his face. Lord Beesbury’s suggestions were easily dismissed.

Tension knotted between her shoulder blades, and she shifted in her chair to relieve the pain. She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the chair as her father’s warning spun dizzily through her thoughts.

Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

That morning, Ser Criston found the boy who might be king passed out in the stables with his cock in hand; at least her father hadn’t found out. Alicent felt nauseated at the idea of sacrificing a girl barely younger than she’d been in an attempt to corral her son into leadership.

The doors of the chamber opened. Ser Harrold Westerling entered the room with the head dragonkeeper, Arryx, following behind. Her father rose not in a show of respect for the Kingsguard Commander, but some show of power - the unyielding stone and height of the tower that would not bow to neither wind nor storm.

“Forgive my tardiness, your Grace, my lords.”

Her father waved a hand and sat back down. “We were told that you were attending to an urgent matter, Lord Commander.”

Ser Harrold clasped his arm across his chest and bowed to her. “This morning, I was alerted to events that transpired last night inside of the dragonpit. Keeper Arryx wanted to speak of the matter to you personally.” Ser Harrold stepped back to allow the aging keeper to take the floor. Alicent gave her own nod to the man as he rose from his prostration.

“Dreamfyre has laid another clutch of eggs. Only three, your Grace, and she will let no one near them. Vhagar has been circling,” Arryx said.

Alicent frowned. Dreamfyre had not laid a clutch in several years now, and Vhagar rarely came to the pit. She was too old, too large, with little desire to be kept with her smaller brethren. The horrific beast preferred a rocky outcropping far out into the bay.

Aemond had given her a quizzical look when she’d brought it up once, when he was still bedridden and recovering from his mutilation. Her sweet boy was now strung through with a confidence that she’d never seen ignite within him when he had both eyes. The dangerous glint that confidence took as he’d grown older was also new.

She’s protecting what is hers, mother. We both are, he’d said.

“I have spoken with the Commander of the City Watch, your Grace, to ensure that those in the areas closest to the pit keep their distance unless absolutely necessary. It has allowed us to take stock of the current state of those neighborhoods.” Ser Harrold turned to look at Ser Otto. “A full report will be on your desk.”

Her father nodded, and Ser Harrold looked once more to the keeper.

Arryx shifted on his feet, and Alicent watched his eyes flick to the Grand Maester with an expression that she could not discern. The Citadel and the Hightowers have always stood side by side for the betterment of the realm, Alicent, and you’ll continue to foster that friendship, won’t you?

“Five of the kitlings have also died, your Grace. They were unbonded, brought from Dragonstone before…”

Before Daemon had come back.

“How many dragons does this put us at?” Her father’s deceptively mild tone was the opposite of his glee when Aemond had claimed Vhagar. The numbers requested were ones he’d calculated in his head, monthly, since he’d come back.

“Claimed, my lord?” Arryx asked, pausing momentarily. “Eleven, throughout the family. Lady Rhaena’s dragon hatched, but it was born twisted and sickly and did not last. I have not received word otherwise of any intention for Lady Rhaena to come and try to claim another dragon.”

Half of the dragons were claimed. Alicent watched her father drum his fingers along the table. Identifying the pattern took only a moment. He was counting.

Specifically, the dragons that were on their side.

“I want reports of the necropsies upon their completion,” her father said with a narrowed and assessing look, disturbed by the news. “The last thing we need is some strange illness to rip through all of them.”

Alicent chewed on the inside of her lip and watched the shining outline of the seven-pointed star beaming down on the table.

“Syrax is almost big enough for two riders now. Will you come touch the clouds with me, Alicent? Please?” Rhaenyra had always begged, mouth close to her ear, hands stroking her arms, her wounded and bloody fingers.

The joyful look that Aegon once gave her now reserved for a beast: “I’ve never known love until Sunfyre, mother. It’s like the world has color now that we’re together.”

“Dreamfyre keeps me tethered to the ground even as I fly in my dreams. She’s the only anchor I have,” said Helaena, who would withdraw from her touch as if it were a sting from a bee.

Little Daeron and his dragon clutched in his arms: “I can’t leave Tessarion behind, mother! I won’t know how to be happy without her!”

Dragons had robbed Alicent of everything.

“Thank you, Arryx. I will speak to the children and see what Prince Aemond might do about Vhagar.” The idea of her sweet, once immaculate and tender-hearted child being near that twisted, hoary thing still terrified her, no matter how gently reassuring Aemond could be.

Arryx did not move to leave just yet. “Forgive me, your Grace, but Vhagar is no Vermithor or Sunfyre: she is old and willful, and although she is bonded with our prince, I would suggest caution. He is… young, and Vhagar was forged in the fires of battle.”

He bowed once more before taking his leave.

Even in indescribable pain, in the face of his own father’s disregard and disdain, Aemond sought to soothe her. “Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

What else would her father do to get more dragons on their side?

Nervous tension pulsed in the silence left when the doors closed behind the dragonkeeper, filled only by the soft creak of the Kingsguard’s mail and the gentle clink of the chain around Grand Maester Mellos’ neck as he shifted in his chair, barely audible. The enduring mystery and curiosity of dragons was a specter of The Stranger above them all. Alicent had heard her kingly husband remind Rhaenyra repeatedly: Dragons were not pets. The bond with them should not blind their riders to the power that thrummed ancient and thick in their veins.

She breathed slowly, letting the quiet ease, refusing to meet anyone else’s eyes as the tumult of feelings inside of her crashed upon the jagged edges of her broken ribs. This was the right choice. Her babies were only half-Targaryen, and Rhaenyra’s bastards were the same, whether she’d ever admit to it or not.

Everyone in the room had grown up with the stories that the Conquerors spread when they forged the throne: The Valyrian blood magic that had made them dragonriders was only to be found in their Targaryen blood. That bloodline needed to remain pure. Yet, Rhaena’s pure Valyrian blood did not save her first dragon from being born sickly and dying quickly, while Aemond - Targaryen only by half - bonded with Vhagar, the most powerful beast in the world.

There were no further reasons to believe the Targaryens were gods after all, and above the realm they had conquered.

The great chair of the King creaked as she slowly rose, taking in the council before her. There were no Targaryens in this room, even if she had birthed her own clutch of half-dragons. Alicent bore this task without joy or fanfare. It was a duty to be endured for the good of her family, for the good of her realm.

She stood with her hands folded in front of her, the image of the Mother of the Realm. Alicent had done this once before, when she had declared that she was standing in an official capacity for her husband.

“My lords of the council,” She hedged a glance at her father before moving her gaze to each man at the table. Ladies of the realm should be on the council. “It is with great joy and love that the King and myself, with Lord Larys Strong, announce to the small council that we have arranged the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, and Lady Abrogail Strong.”

Each of the lords straightened in their chairs. Lord Beesbury frowned and glanced away from her. The uncertain and uncomfortable shifting in his chair belied the embarrassment he was attempting to hide. Alicent felt no need to point it out. It was a fine idea that he’d presented and not his fault he did not know what had already been decided. Even if he was Rhaenyra’s lapdog, Alicent would be the better person, and not rub his face in it.

The congratulations buzzed in her ears as she sat back down in her chair, and beneath the table, she tore at the skin along her left thumbnail. The pain was as dull as the congratulations in her ears. Her father’s voice was distant, jovial even.

They hadn’t even told Aegon and Abrogail yet. She remembered standing in the same position, knowing what was coming, knowing what it would destroy and desperately hoping that it might not.

I have decided to take a new wife. I intend to marry Lady Alicent Hightower before Spring’s end.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Rhaenyra forgive me forgivemeforgiveme.

“A feast is in order to announce Prince Aegon and Lady Abrogail’s betrothal,” Tyland’s jovial tone broke the silence. His suggestion—or statement, depending on how Alicent took it—was not one that she’d expected when she sat down in Viserys’ chair, but welcomed the confirmation of his support.

Meanwhile, Larys’s expression gave nothing away. He simply inclined his head in agreement.

Her son — her trueborn son — for all his faults, deserved to be celebrated. She was happy she didn’t have to fight for this. It was Mellos who spoke next: “Given the last wedding that was celebrated within these halls, it would be a reassuring gesture to the Lords of the Realm if they were given the opportunity, and for us to show unity within House Targaryen. With the Prince’s nameday in a few moons, perhaps we can celebrate with a tournament.”

Alicent’s eyes cut to her father, who smiled lightly, nodding in agreement but careful not to say a word, allowing the Maester to be responsible for the idea.

“Even better,” Tyland raised his goblet in agreement. “We haven’t had a proper celebration in years. What better occasion? Lord Rickard Reyne will be overjoyed to hear the honor bestowed on his granddaughter.” He looked over at her father. “I take it you’ll be writing to him, Lord Hand?”

The last time Alicent had seen her uncle Lord Rickard had been at her mother’s funeral: now no longer the worst day of her life, but the memory that was still seared into her mind. She recalled Lord Reyne as a stoic man, but he’d been kind to her in her grief. Alicent hoped the years had not taken that away from him, but they likely had.

Time always stole away kindness.

Lord Beesbury looked pensive. Alicent could practically hear the man pushing house markers along the map in his head as the conversation continued. “Was Princess Rhaenyra involved in such a discussion?”

“The Princess Rhaenyra has continued to seclude herself and,” he paused, his gaze heavy and considering as he took in those around the table. “Her second husband, Daemon Targaryen, at Dragonstone. Neither has she come to the small council as her status allows, nor has she engaged with matters of the realm that her being heir gives her right to,” her father said smoothly, and he was right. “The king still grieves his daughter’s choices, and she has yet to amend with him. I agree with Lord Lannister and our Grand Maester. This would show the strength and unity and willingness of House Targaryen to bond and celebrate with the realm.”

Beesbury gave a humorless chuckle. “And nothing to do with presenting Prince Aegon formally.” As a contender. As a choice - that was left unsaid.

Alicent felt a surge of anger inside of her, instinct compelling her to protect her children and pull the wool Viserys and Rhaenyra spun from Beesbury’s eyes so he could see the truths they refused to acknowledge.

Not long after Aemond had been born, Lord Lyonel had enlisted her in trying to get Viserys to hold another declaration to follow Rhaenyra, if she was truly his desired heir even with two healthy boys of his blood. The King had originally chosen Rhaenyra because of the loss of Baelon and Aemma. Everyone wanted to keep Daemon off the throne, lest he became another Maegor the Cruel… and now, he was to be Rhaenyra’s consort, and Viserys still would do nothing. Alicent refused to believe that Rhaenyra would kill her half-siblings, that she would kill Alicent’s children for whatever love had been there. Every dark, curly haired little boy caused her to fear not what Rhaenyra would decide, but what others would encourage her to do. Her father had not been wrong - her sons would be beacons of rebellion, damned by the man who had so desperately craved a son, yet now ignored. How bitter a pill.

Daemon terrified her. They should all be terrified of him. Daemon now had Rhaenyra’s ear and her heart and her body. Daemon was not one to hesitate if something stood in his way.

Did you fuck Daemon Targaryen in a pleasure house? Targaryens have such queer customs.

“Prince Aegon is eight and ten, an accomplished dragonrider, ah…” Mellos trailed off, and the uncertainty on his face clawed at Alicent’s insides. Failure was acid in her throat.

Either you prepare Aegon…

That boy who would be king had groped six serving girls at the last feast before drinking and whoring his way through the Street of Silk.

“My sister and heir is of unimpeachable character,” Larys’ quiet voice carried within the room. “As a child, Abrogail was a playmate of Prince Aegon and his siblings, and she has become a beloved ward of Queen Alicent, who has done a remarkable job of raising her after the deaths of our parents. I would consider her to be a prime example of all our realm offers to a family that has, if I may be candid, gone to great lengths to keep to their own since the conquest. Wouldn’t you agree, Grand Maester?”

That poor girl she’d now chained to him was a picture of the Maiden. It had taken everything to ensure that her father waited for it. She would not have another bride offered to the throne before she was of age, while her father wanted nothing more than for Aegon to grow up.

Tension crept back into the room at Larys’ words. Nobody would think to utter these thoughts had Viserys been sitting there. Mellos cleared his throat and avoided her father’s gaze to adjust the heavy chain around his neck. The title of Grand Maester had been his even before Viserys’ reign, and he was possibly the closest representative that was not her to speak to Viserys’ mind.

“I would agree, Lord Strong. Perhaps even exploring the eventuality of wedding Prince Aegon’s children to Prince Jacaerys’ would… reassure Princess Rhaenyra. She once suggested a betrothal between Princess Helaena and-”

“We already have other candidates in mind for my daughter,” Alicent cut in immediately. She wouldn’t say anything about Jace’s children and future grandchildren. She refused to entertain the idea that Helaena would marry Rhaneyra’s son to cover her indignity and insult to everything that she had been given and born into. “We have time before the wedding,” she said with a gentler tone. “A year should be more than enough to introduce them to the realm and start introducing Prince Aegon to newer responsibilities befitting his station.”

That was time enough to beat her son into someone who could be King.

Morning light streamed through the gauzy, sage curtains of the princess’ room. Abrogail licked the honey clinging to her fingers as she moved towards the washbasin, abandoning half-eaten bread and cold cuts of meat at the table. Helaena also ignored their meal as she lingered at the only window that could give her a good view of the Dragonpit. Vhagar had been on the prowl that morning, unusually territorial, and the change in the dragon’s temperament had entranced the friend whom she called sister. She jumped when Abby ventured near her, eyes wide and body tense as a startled cat, so the redhead pivoted in the opposite direction in order to retrieve Helaena’s bodice. Normally, she did not wear one unless the Queen noticed, but on days when her mind drifted, the structure of the garment seemed to keep Helaena focused on the moment instead of her dreams. The princess was somewhere else in her thoughts, mechanically holding up her arms to have the bodice slipped over her shift.

“I’m going to tighten the laces now, alright, Helaena?” Abrogail told the princess as she always did, walking through the process so she wasn’t surprised by anything.

Helaena gave no verbal indication that she was listening, but Abby noticed her pale blonde head bob in acceptance. Slowly, she began straightening the garment, mindful of keeping her touch on the lacing and the chemise from pulling and pinching uncomfortably and defeating the purpose.

“Pink and red, he might be dead. Blue and black, no coming back,” Helaena murmured. Her gaze drifted to Myrella Penrose, who approached with a yellow, diamond patterned dress for inspection. “I don’t want my scales to be so bright.” Helaena’s voice did not rise from her quiet tone, and her gaze flitted away.

“How about the new one from Sevenmas?” Abby offered brightly before Myrella’s face could twist into the uncertain and disturbed look it took whenever Helaena drifted. “The ocean blue one with the beading. That’ll be nice to feel, right, Helaena?”

The princess tilted her head about, humming. “Yes, that would be.” She threaded her fingers together, pressing in so the knuckles would crack. Myrella visibly winced at the sound, but Abby just shook her head and carefully tucked the laces into the bodice. “The perfect hug,” came the breathless statement, before Helaena’s bright lavender eyes finally focused away from whatever she was tracking to turn around and look towards her. Abby took the dress from Myrella and offered her cousin a smile as she held it up. She was used to Helaena’s inquisitive gazes, as if she was a bug under the pretty Maester’s glass Aemond had gifted his sister. “Do you need them, too?”

“A hug?” Abby frowned.

“Scales - armor to protect you,” she clarified. Helaena held her arms up to slide the dress over her head, and Abby left her to do the little buttons down the front herself. “Or would you prefer a pretty carapace? Silver and reds, greens and blue. Pinks and black and gold.”

Abby laughed at the idea of being covered in so many colors, and Helaena even returned the smile as she finished her buttons. It was a good sign, and the tingle of worry that had been crawling up and down along her spine immediately eased. “To be decorated in so many colors? That would make for lovely armor.”

Helaena’s mood was improving, which meant that when the Queen finally came in, she wouldn’t immediately launch into fretting and worrying about the princess being in ‘one of her episodes.’ Abby knew the Queen did not mean it badly, but it still made her uncomfortable. Were her mother still there, she would say something if Abby expressed her concern. She was alone here now, and things were as different as the day and night.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Alicent who entered. Helaena’s little smile turned bright and beaming: “Aemond!”

At four and ten, the boy was steadily growing with each passing turn of the moon. While bypassing Abrogail in height was no difficult feat, he now stood as tall as his sister and mother. Prince Aegon was the next family member he was bound to outgrow, and the Queen had already tasked her with ordering clothes to be made ready for when Aemond shot up again. Lord Otto towered over most, and he japed that Aemond might make it where Aegon had failed to surpass him.

Hearing Helaena’s joyous declaration, Abby caught a spray of pink blooming on his pale cheeks, and Aemond reached up to adjust the soft leather strap of his eyepatch. The scar no longer looked angry, but it was prominent; a ridge of thick skin that was only just smoothing out with time. The prince held a jar carefully in his hands. He took several steps before Abby clucked her tongue at him the way she would at her own cat, though Theraxis had not joined her that morning in Helaena’s room. Earlier, a maid brought along with their meals news that the cat was gallivanting in the discarded feathers while the scullery maids plucked chickens.

“Your mother will be up any minute. She said she doesn’t want to catch you in here anymore,” Abby warned with an arched brow. There was no censure in her teasing tone. Aemond was nearly her own little brother, although much was changing as they left their childhoods behind.

“She won’t be here for him,” Helaena said in a voice far more present than it had been before, Aemond’s very presence pulling her back down to earth and away from the clouds. “What did you bring me?” Even though her buttons were only half-done, Helaena rushed across the room to Aemond with her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. “Oh! It’s beautiful! Abby! Look!” She held up the jar filled with little sticks and leaves – a fat blue and yellow cocoon precariously hanging from one forked stick inside. “I wonder if it belongs to the ones I released last year.”

“You’ll be the mother of all the moths and butterflies in the Red Keep,” Aemond said softly, so softly that Abby could hardly hear him despite standing close by.

Abrogail moved away from the siblings, smiling at Myrella and leading the woman to the opened door. “Thank you for your help this morning. I believe the Queen will need you more today. Let her know we’ll be going to the gardens later, if you please.” Lately, the Queen had been sending the Penrose woman to help Abby tend to the princess’ needs. It had made her nervous. When she asked the Queen if she was being replaced, the words stuck to her throat. Her Grace had been adamant that it was not the case at all, that it was only so Abrogail could learn from her in preparation for her own running of a household, and give Helaena time to get used to someone else helping her.

Another part of Abby wondered if the Queen knew Aemond was still coming to visit in the morning. Or worse, that Uncle Otto was spying. Abby was protective of her friends, her kin. They were siblings bonded through the years of fights in the mud and pranks and stories in the nursery. Bonds such as theirs were not so easily broken; they only changed as time passed, as things happened, like Aemond losing an eye.

Myrella Penrose gave her a tight smile and left down the hall. Abby watched her go, lingering in the door as Aemond and Helaena whispered in the room. Her friend’s quiet giggles were a rare sound, and Abby would do anything to protect those moments for her, for them both. She tugged at the embroidered cuffs of her dark blue-gray dress, thumbs brushing the little weirwood leaves sewn in delicate scarlet thread. Little golden dragons danced through them as a symbol of her ties with the family. Aegon had picked the golden thread, predictable as ever, when she’d asked his opinion.

She thought of the embroidered knot Helaena had been making – silver and green, tangling with red and black and gold. There were so many twists, but Helaena assured her that there was a rhyme to it, a dance with complicated steps. Aemond’s soft laugh cracked a bit, and Abby bit her lower lip to hide her giggle at the sound. She turned her head, and while she couldn’t quite make them out, she could see their shadows along the stone floor. They stood close together, heads bowed over something - maybe the jar, she couldn’t tell.

Heavy and purposeful footsteps echoed down the hall. Abby’s head snapped up from where she stood within the doorway, not immediately visible. She strained to identify the cadence, and her stomach twisted when she did.

“It’s him,” she hissed, glancing wide-eyed over her shoulder. Aemond’s head was close to Helaena’s with her hands resting on his shoulders. At Abby’s raised alarm, her fingers twisted in his dark green doublet and yanked him towards the partition, shoving him behind it. Abby snatched the jar with the precious cocoon inside and tucked it on the bookshelf behind the embroidered manticore Helaena had just finished. Otto Hightower’s footsteps were not alone, although the Hightower guards did not enter the Princess’ room when he swept in. Abby immediately dropped into a curtsy, a murmur of, “Lord Uncle.” Helaena bobbed slightly, twisting back and forth a bit. “Good morning, grandfather,” she said, bounding up to press a kiss on his cheek. If Otto had any weakness, it would be his unparalleled love and favoritism of his granddaughter. It was hard to tell how much Helaena enjoyed her grandfather’s attention and how much was one of her games, but whatever it was, it worked.

“Good morning, sweet girl. You look lovely today.” Otto’s voice was fond, his smile more gentle than he seemed capable of. He was an intimidating man. Abby had received nothing but kindness and vague disinterest, but he still made her nervous. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to borrow your cousin.” She felt her cheeks color as Otto’s gaze moved to her. Her mouth dried as her nerves returned to where they’d been when standing before the Queen, wondering if she was being replaced. Perhaps Larys was sending her back to Harrenhal or her sister was demanding she go to her in Casterly Rock.

Helaena smiled at her, though, with her hands folded across her stomach. “I’ll help you with your carapace later,” she reassured her. “You won’t be without armor.”

Closing the door behind them, the Hightower guards followed a few paces behind as Abby fell in step with him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked as they went left instead of right, towards the Hand’s tower. It had been years since she’d walked this path that had been as familiar to her as the gardens of the Red Keep. Her eyes glanced for the loose stone at the corner of the step, where she’d stow secret messages in the little hollow behind it. Had she left a note there? Was there perhaps a mystery one waiting for her?

“It is. And I hope you have been well yourself.” Lord Otto looked down at her gently, and she nodded. “The Queen says you pray often in the Sept?”

A prompt. A strange one, but a prompt all the same. She swallowed past her dry mouth and put a smile on her face. “Yes, I enjoy the quiet, and it helps me feel closer to my parents.” And brother, but she was careful not to mention Harwin around anyone but a handful. “It’s especially nice when her Grace joins me. It’s almost like I have my mother back.” No one could replace her mother, but the Queen had been there for as long as she could remember, and sometimes, when she tilted her head a certain way and the light caught in Queen Alicent’s auburn curls, she could pretend her mother was there once more.

“Her Grace speaks highly of you – how good you are with Princess Helaena, well behaved and polite. She said that you and the princess have made things for the poor children of the city. A very kind and admirable pursuit for you both. Your father would be very proud.”

“Thank you.” Abby wasn’t sure what else to say or what he was getting at as they began climbing the winding staircase. The familiarity of it hit her like a scent memory - one sudden and revealing of long-forgotten feelings. “I do my best to follow the Queen’s guidance and reflect well on my position within the family and her example.”

“Good. Very good.” She wasn’t sure if it was something she was supposed to reply to, so she hedged her bets and remained quiet. Her palms were sweating, and she discreetly wiped them on her skirt as she held the fabric. “I’ve noticed that you and Prince Aegon do not spend as much time together as you used to.”

Aegon? Why was she being asked about Aegon? Her stomach twisted, and she felt a prickle of heat along the back of her neck. It was true: they didn’t spend as much time together, but they hadn’t for years now, not since she spent more of her time with Helaena and… Aegon? Well, Aegon had been withdrawing slowly but surely for so long, like fraying threads at the seams. She’d be lying if she claimed to not miss him, because she did. She missed the happier boy he’d been, who did not constantly ply himself with drink and was more mercurial than a wild dragon.

Abrogail would also be lying if she claimed they saw little of one another, or spent no time at all because that was untrue as well. Until the past few moons, she’d gather lunch for the two of them when he finally rose well past noon, and he’d take her flying wherever he and Sunfyre desired to go. It had been something quiet and cherished, simply the three of them away from everything. Until Aegon had gotten in the tavern brawl all that time ago. Until Aegon started avoiding her. Until he barely acknowledged her at meals that he decided to join, even when he sat beside her. There was no way that Otto Hightower would not be aware of that, and she would not hedge around it. It wasn’t like anything untoward was happening.

“Not as much, but that is a natural casualty of leaving behind childhood. He found me earlier this week because it seemed there was a lack of honey cakes in the kitchen and I was the first to be interrogated.” There was a note of amusement in her voice, and Abby smiled in memory of his indignation and how silly he looked when she shoved honey cake into his mouth to stop his ranting. “He occasionally accompanies me in the Sept to pray. It’s incredibly kind of him to do so.”

She mounted a few more steps before realizing that Lord Hightower had paused. She turned to look at him. Morning light streaked through the narrow, delicate paned windows, casting shadow and illuminating dust in the air. He stared up at her, and with a few steps between them, she stood at his height. It was the first time she’d ever met her uncle’s eyes. Unlike her own unreadable brother, Otto’s face was not so impassive. He looked intrigued by her admission. Abby’s hands wound into her skirt so as not to fidget.

“He was not inappropriate, if that is your concern, my lord. Prince Aegon behaved with due respect.” To defend Aegon was second nature to her, and she would do so towards arguably the most powerful man in the realm if it meant to spare Aegon more shame and ire when, for once, he’d done nothing wrong. Which was true. Aegon hadn’t said a single thing. He knelt beside her, lighting candles, and simply stayed with her while she prayed for her family. He hadn’t even put a hand of comfort on her shoulder. She felt that was worth mentioning, given his current proclivities. She would not deny his vices, but she would not break confidence, and she would let no one, especially Lord Otto, think any worse of him if she could help it.

“Very good.” It took everything in her to keep the bewilderment off her face as she tried to understand what exactly he was trying to figure out. Otto resumed their progress, although now he rested a heavy hand between her shoulder blades like a father guiding a child. “So, you have no current complications with him?”

Complications? Did he think she’d lifted her skirts for Aegon? It wasn’t like she’d never thought of kissing him on those lazy afternoons when they’d lay in the grass and stare at the sky somewhere in the Kingswood with Sunfyre sunning himself like a cat. Of course she’d thought about kissing him, especially when he was at his most melancholy, with tears pooling in his eyes, making them pinker than normal. A kiss beyond the games children play, a kiss to comfort an angry prince in the firelight’s glow, his tears coursing down his cheeks with each snip of her embroidery scissors that sent locks of moonlight hair to the ground.

He’d never touched her more than a handhold, and far less than she touched him in her casual affections.

“No. No complications,” she confirmed.

They reached the landing, and Abby ran her hand over the stone dragon curled up in eternal sleep at the top of the stairs. Her fingers scratched along the smooth curve of its head the way she’d done every morning when she visited her father. She felt her uncle’s gaze on her, and she drew her hand away, hurrying to follow him into his office with her cheeks burning beneath her freckles, relieved only just by his vaguely amused expression.

The room was darker than it had been before. Gone were the stacks of books with various slips of paper sticking out haphazardly, or Theraxis lounging lazily along the cool stone floor by the door with his fluffy tail, sending motes of dust into the air. She instinctively clutched her skirt on the right to pull them away, so used to a giant paw the size of her hand grabbing at the fluttering fabric. But Theraxis was not there. The crumbling tome about the Andal invasion was absent from where it once rested on the side table. Instead, Larys stood by the fire with his back to her, as did the Queen, her lovely green dress covering her from neck to wrist with a golden pattern woven in the fabric that caught the firelight. Her face pinched in the way it did when she was uncertain and trying not to pick at her nails.

Abby noticed, of course. It usually meant that someone was about to get yelled at or she would send them away with the other ladies.

The figure in the chair slouched so far down that his silver head nearly vanished behind the back of it. At the clearing of Lord Otto’s throat, Aegon jerked up. His whole body held so much tension that it made Abby’s own hurt just by looking at him. He peered over his shoulder at them with glossy, red-rimmed eyes that give him a strange, ethereal sort of gaze, skin pale enough to prominently display the flushed pink mottling of a strike against his right cheek. He looked stuffy and uncomfortable in his dark green doublet, his fingers absently tugging at the buttons and collar. As his gaze focused, his eyes widened and darted from the uncertainty she knew was on her own face to his grandfather behind her.

The thud as Otto shut the door reverberated through her, and she and Aegon both flinched at the sound. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see the Queen flinch as well. Larys, as always, looked unphased. The heavy hand on her back pushed her towards the empty chair closer to the fire, and she had no time to bob a curtsy; courtesies stuck like toffee in her mouth.

The chairs once held the delicately embroidered pillows her mother made. She would curl up with them and read aloud from the books scattered around while her papa worked. He would-

“Queen Alicent and Lord Larys have received several letters expressing interest in you, Abrogail,” Otto said, walking behind his desk. She dug her thumbnail into the pad of her middle finger, and she saw Aegon’s booted foot twitch on the flagstone – a rocking motion from the ball of his foot to his heel before slapping it back down beneath the desk. Wood crackled in the fireplace. “Lord Farman is looking for a wife for his eldest, and Faircastle would be close to your sister.”

He plucked a scroll from the basket as he spoke, and Abby felt her stomach churn with nerves as a red heat clawed along her throat. She did not venture a look at Aegon, save for the foot he kept rocking back, the heel he repeatedly ground into the floor. He’d not gone back to slouching. He could be indolent and rude when he wanted, but not even Aegon dared to in his grandfather’s presence. Abby didn’t understand what this was about, or why Aegon was here.

“Edmund Vance, the heir to House Vance, recently lost his wife. A good man, and part of the Riverlands although a small seat. Or, if you married Jesper Celtigar, the heir of Crackclaw, you’d be able to remain in King’s Landing.”

Otto Hightower produced scroll after scroll and Abrogail felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks, confusion keeping her words locked away. How was she supposed to react to all of this? What was he trying to say? Were all these marriage proposals meant to make her feel better about herself? No, that was too odd to contemplate.

Why was Aegon here?

“Lord Grover has also written of his interest in you for his grandson. A Paramount seat would let you be close to your home at Harrenhal, and he already has an heir. He would take good care of you, and your children would have every opportunity.” Another scroll plucked from the basket. “It would bring Harrenhal into their holdings. Is that not correct, Lord Larys?”

Right. Harrenhal.

A woman’s lot is to only be worth what she could bring to the table.

Her brother was a man of few words, and he inclined his head with a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. Abby looked at the queen to find that her face was pinching harder. In the interim, Queen Alicent stepped away from the fire and moved instead to the desk with the gentle swoosh of her skirts gliding across the stone. She cleared her throat, a smile fighting its way on her face.

“All the offers were wonderful for you, my sweet girl, but none seemed right.” The Queen reached out to tuck a copper curl behind her ear, and Abby could not tell if this was supposed to be comforting to her or if the Queen sought comfort in the action for herself. Her lungs felt constricted, and it finally dawned on her.

Oh.

The sole of Aegon’s boot continued to drag across the stone in both a nervous fidget and to keep himself from slouching down even further into the chair. The only reason she could hear it was because of how focused she’d been on it, but now blood rushed into her head and Abby broke eye contact with her cousin to look down in her lap.

“What does seem right is for you and Aegon to be married, after your nameday. You’ll be eight and ten, and the pair of you will go to live at Harrenhal, and make your home there.”

Oh.

“Are you fucking serious?” Aegon’s voice was a hoarse, disused rasp from a night with endless drink. When she looked at him again, she noticed that his hair was still damp, and that beads of water from the wet ends had soaked little spots into the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t looking at her, but up at his mother, and then, incredulously, across the desk at his grandfather.

Otto’s face remained impassive following his grandson’s outburst. Abby wanted to grab Aegon and drag him out of the way of whatever was about to come out of the Hand’s mouth, as if the words would physically harm him.

The silence lengthened. Another log popped in the fireplace.

“He speaks.” The amusement in Otto’s voice caused Aegon to draw back further into his chair before he finally turned to look at her. His eyes were so red-rimmed, and his sullen face was so terribly pale that the pink-lilac of his eyes stood out ethereally, inhumanly like the drawing of a fae folk from a book she had as a child - wild and cornered. He’d bitten his pouty, chapped lips bloody.

Aegon searched her face for an answer to a question that she did not know. The only thing Abrogail could do was give him the gentle, reassuring smile she’d given him countless times before. It was what she did in this world: comfort her loved ones in any way possible, even as she needed to bury her own feelings on the matter. Feelings that, in this particular case, she couldn’t even begin untangling in the moment.

“Well, that makes us luckier than most, doesn’t it?” Abby cleared her throat and turned the smile onto the others in the room. She reached up to grasp the Queen’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze before she burst into a million pieces. Whether it was her, or the Queen, that might burst, she could not say. “We are fortunate to know one another so well and to be of an age. I thank you Lord Hightower, your Grace.” She looked at Larys, who remained silent in his observations, as always – an owl in a tree, eyes taking in everything. “Thank you, brother, for looking out for me.”

She felt Aegon’s eyes continue to pin on her. She looked back at him.

The wild and anxious expression was still on his face, and instinct compelled her, as it often did, to reach out her hand to take his - but he surprised her by beating her to it. His skin felt like fire engulfing her frigid hand and his fingers tangled with hers with easy familiarity. Before she could register what was happening, Aegon’s chair was already scraping across the floor and he pulled her from her chair with the momentum of jumping from his own. There was no pause in his movement as he dragged her to the door.

“How very fortunate we are.” A laugh bubbled from Aegon’s chest. It was a joyless sound when he laughed in the presence of his mother and grandsire. It was edged with the familiar mania; Aegon laughed when he was afraid, when he was anxious, when he was trying not to scream as his world was coming apart, or the laughter and joy on the back of Sunfyre. He tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling before throwing a look over his shoulder at the three across the room. “How very lucky we are.”

Aegon’s hand was clammy around hers, his grip bordering on painful. He yanked the door open with a protesting whine of the latch. Abby heard the Queen calling after him, but Aegon’s strides were purposeful as they ate up the ground to get away. Only the grip of their hands kept her from being left behind in the claustrophobic room where their future was being decided for them.

It might have been the second bravest thing she’d ever witnessed from him.

[Chapter Two]

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon x abby #fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #my fics

34 notes · View notes