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lilacmingi · 4 months

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PILLAGED

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Pirate!Yunho x barkeep!fem reader

Word count: 8,245

Note: Another pirate imagine from 2022 from Wattpad! All the pirate imagines for this series are ones that I’m very proud of. This one is one of my favorites!

You were busy washing dishes and tidying up the mess left by your previous customers. Empty glasses and spilled alcohol littered the bar, the strong stench permeating the air. You sighed as you placed a clean glass onto a shelf with the others, making a mental note to scrub the bar once you finished dishes. The sound of someone kicking open the entrance to the tavern pulled your attention away from the spotless glassware.

A man with dark hair strode into the establishment, brandishing a small pistol. He wasted no time jumping onto the bar, catching everyone's attention, as if people weren't already staring because of his dramatic entrance. You could tell immediately by his attire that he was a pirate, and pirates are bad news around here.

"I'll be taking three barrels of whiskey." He spoke to you before turning towards the patrons to address them.

Before he could speak, half of the customers ran out shouting, "Pirates!"

The man watched as they ran out, but didn't do anything as he continued speaking to the ones left in the tavern.

"If all of you would be so kind, empty your satchels and pass the contents over to these three gentleman." He announced, waving a pistol around as three more pirates entered the place.

While he was facing the customers who were in the process of removing the contents of their bags, you grabbed a musket that was kept underneath the bar. You pointed it at the man, cocking it, causing the weapon to make a small click sound which prompted the pirate to turn around.

"I don't think so." You spoke.

He crouched down on the counter, his eyes darkening as they met yours.

"On second thought..." He trailed off.

The weapon was snatched from your hands and you were grabbed by another pirate who you didn't see approach.

"I'll take you as well." The man on the counter smirked.

"No!" You fought back, jerking around in the pirate's grip.

"Are you done?" The man in charge asked, turning to his two lackeys that appeared to have collected a few things from the remaining customers in the establishment.

Said customers seemed to have evacuated the premises, leaving just you and the four pirates.

"Now, doll, why don't you do us a favor and serve us something to drink."

"I'm not serving you anything." You spat.

"We'll see about that." He sneered, standing up and hopping off the counter.

The faint sound of a weapon being drawn from a sheath could be heard before you felt the cool sensation of a blade being pressed against your neck by the pirate holding you.

The leader rested his elbows on the counter as he watched you.

"If you don't serve us, I'll have my crew mate here gut you like a fish. How's that?"

You gulped, your neck momentarily pressing against the sharp blade. You grit your teeth as you answered.

"Fine."

"That's more like it."

You were released as the leader and his crew went to sit at the bar. You watched with a sour expression as the one who was holding the knife against your neck merely climbed over the bar to get to the other side, joining the rest of the group. Oh well, the bar hadn't been cleaned anyway.

The man and his three crew mates began going through the satchels collected from your customers. Your eyes darted towards the exit, but before you could make a move, one of the crew mates pulled a musket out, cocking it.

"Don't even think about it." The dark-haired pirate spoke, looking at the (stolen) rings on his fingers. "You won't even get the chance."

Letting out a sigh, you chose to comply for the time being.

"Enough." The lead pirate waved his hand dismissively, the crew mate lowering his musket. "Barkeep, get us some whiskey, will ya?" He demanded.

"If you say please, I'll consider it."

He looked to you, his eyes dark. "Pirates don't say please."

Your jaw clenched as you turned to grab enough glasses for him and his crew. He had to be the captain, if not the captain, then someone in a high position. Though you were almost certain he was the captain. There's no way he wasn't.

You placed four glasses of whiskey onto the bar, watching as the pirates took them.

"What's some fine whiskey without a fine woman to serve it?" The dark-haired leader, presumably the captain, winked at you before raising his glass.

You cringed at his pathetic attempt to flirt.

"To pillaging!" He grinned.

"To pillaging!" His crew echoed as they clanked their glasses together so hard, some of the alcohol spilled onto the already messy bar top.

You watched from behind the bar as they downed the drinks. The captain let out a long ahhh as he slammed his glass onto the counter.

"More." He demanded.

You had to fight back the urge to refuse, choosing to comply, as it seemed to be the best option for you.

The captain and his crew stayed much longer than you wanted them to, drinking nearly all the alcohol you had, save for what was in the back, which they made very clear that they would take with them.

"Alright, men." The captain sighed, slamming his stein down onto the bar as he got to his feet. "Don't wanna overstay our welcome."

"You already have." You muttered.

He glanced your way, letting out a short noise that sounded like a mix between a chortle and a scoff.

"Barkeep, show us to your stock room."

Despite his amicable tone, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to sick one of his lackeys on you if you refused. Feeling like you didn't have a choice, you led him and his three crew members to the back room where large barrels of alcohol were kept.

"Oh. You've got quite a selection." The captain commented, his fingers tracing over the wooden cask. "I think I'll take some of this as well."

"You said you'd only take three barrels of whiskey." You spoke up.

"I change my mind."

You watched helplessly as his crew rolled the barrels out of the room and into the main dining area. The stock room began to be emptied right in front of you, one barrel after the next. Once the space was completely barren, you turned to the captain.

"Alright. You've taken my entire stock. I think it's time for you to leave."

"Ah, but there's one more thing I need."

"What more could you possibly take? There's nothing left but glasses and tables."

"There's you." He responded.

Your brows pulled together.

"I'd like to take you with me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did you not hear me earlier? I said I'd be taking you as well."

"I'm not for taking."

"Your bar is under the mercy of Captain Jeong Yunho. You don't have a choice."

He grabbed your wrist harshly, tugging you towards the stock room entrance, pulling you out to the dining area where his lackeys stood amongst the barrels of alcohol. He snapped his fingers and gestured towards the door, prompting his men to roll the barrels of alcohol out of the establishment.

"Let go of me!" You hissed.

"Telling me to let go won't work, darling."

You jerked in his grip, trying to free yourself, using your unbound hand to pry his off your wrist.

"This would be a lot easier if you stopped moving." He told you, grabbing your other wrist, preventing you from moving at all.

He pushed you forward, keeping a secure hold on you as you stumbled ahead towards the entrance of the tavern. Wriggling one last time in an attempt to free yourself, you stepped forward trying to run ahead, hoping you'd be moving so much the captain would have no choice but to let go—it didn't work. You simply weren't strong enough.

"Surely, you didn't think that would work. Did you?"

You grit your teeth as he shoved you forward out of the tavern and into the streets where chaos was ensuing. Pirates were everywhere, carrying an array of different things ranging from jewelry, money, crates, and clothes. You watched with sad eyes as you saw the homes and businesses lining the streets being looted. Windows were broken, doors had been ripped off their hinges, everything was in ruins.

"Keep moving, darling." Yunho nudged you ahead.

"Stop it with the nicknames." You grumbled.

"If I knew your name, maybe I wouldn't have to call you such things."

"Please." You rolled your eyes.

"I'm waiting, darling."

"It's Y/n." You muttered angrily.

"Y/n, what a nice name. Now, keep walking."

Once at the docks, you saw the menacing ship belonging to the vagrants that were plundering your small town.

"You can't just take me." You told the captain.

"I can, and I will." He responded in a tone that was far too relaxed.

"I'm just a barkeep. You don't even need me."

"We'll see about that."

You turned to him with a scowl, pausing for a moment. It was the first time you'd looked at him since stepping outside. You noticed uniquely colored red streaks in his hair that weren't visible in the dimly lit tavern.

You were snapped from your thoughts when Yunho dragged you with him up the gangplank and onto the monstrous pirate ship.

"You two, go down to the tavern and collect the rest of the barrels of alcohol." He pointed to a couple crew members standing around.

"Yes, Captain." They responded in unison.

"Now to take care of you." He tugged you over to a set of steps leading to the forecastle deck.

"Mingi!" He called.

A tall, slim man dressed in a baggy blouse and trousers hurried over.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Get me some rope."

Mingi nodded heading across the deck to retrieve a rope from a small crate, bringing it back to his captain. He gave you a brief glance before looking away, averting his eyes.

Yunho began to tie your wrists to one of the posts on the stairs, tugging the ropes tightly causing you to hiss.

"What are you doing?" Mingi asked, looking a little uneasy.

"Tying up the hostage so she can't run off."

"Hostage?"

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna leave her here. I just need to make sure she doesn't go anywhere until we get back out in the waters. Will you keep an eye on her?"

"Uh." Mingi glanced at you looking unsure. "Yes. Of course."

"Great. I've got captain duties to tend to. I won't be long."

And with that, Yunho walked away, leaving you with who you assume is his first mate, Mingi.

For someone who's supposed to be higher in the ranks, he seemed a bit anxious.

"Are you okay?" You asked him after watching his odd behavior.

"I'm fine." He responded.

"You don't look like it."

"Yunho doesn't usually take hostages."

"I find that hard to believe." You scoffed. "He seemed to take me with no remorse whatsoever."

"I promise he never does this. I don't know why." Mingi then looked at you. "You're not gonna try to escape, are you?"

"I don't know." You jerked on the ropes a couple times, but it was no use. They were tied too tight and wouldn't budge. "I guess not." You dropped your head in defeat.

Mingi shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He didn't like that Yunho tied you up, it was so unlike him.

"What did you do?" He finally asked, wondering how you managed to get on the captain's bad side so quickly.

"Defended myself. Fought back."

This Mingi guy seemed pretty soft. Not only that, but he didn't seem to like the fact that you were taken against your will. You assumed maybe you could talk him into helping you.

"Hey, Mingi was it? You think maybe you'd be able to untie these and let me go?"

His already round eyes became rounder at your suggestion.

"Oh. N-no." He shook his head rapidly. "I can't. I'd be going against Yunho's wishes. I can't do that."

"Come on. You seem like a really nice guy." You pressed.

"I'm really sorry. I can't go against his wishes. He—" Mingi paused mid-sentence to clear his throat a few times, then continued. "He trusts me a lot. I can't break that."

Yep, Mingi was soft, but he was loyal as ever.

You wanted ask if he was just going to let an innocent townsperson be taken and held captive on a ship, but this guy seemed upset already, so you kept your mouth shut. If you do end up as a prisoner on this pirate ship, at least there's a decent guy who you might be able to befriend.

"You're a pretty loyal guy, huh?"

"I suppose." Mingi answered, biting his bottom lip. "What's your name?"

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but you didn't mind answering.

"Y/n."

"I'm Mingi."

You had already heard Yunho refer to him as such, but it was nice to hear him introduce himself.

As if on cue, the very captain stepped back on board, assisting the last of his crew with supplies that had been stolen from your town.

"Alright men, raise the gangplank, get those masts ready! We're getting out of here." Yunho ordered.

The crew immediately got to work, preparing to depart from your ravaged town. Mingi gave you a sympathetic look as Yunho walked by, moving up to the forecastle deck to begin steering the large sea vessel away from the docks.

"Keep watching her, Mingi." He ordered.

The gentle brown-haired pirate nodded and continued to keep a watchful eye on you.

The only thing you could do was stand and watch as the ship departed from the harbor until your hometown was no longer in view. Before you knew it, the only thing you could was the ocean surrounding the vessel on all sides.

Yunho stayed at the wheel for what seemed like forever, until finally he stepped away, moving towards you.

"There's nowhere to go." He told you as he began untying the ropes that bound your wrists.

"I could jump into the ocean."

"If you want to be eaten by sharks, sure."

You scowled at him in response.

"That's what I thought." He smirked before turning to Mingi. "You did a good job. Thanks for watching her."

Mingi smiled brightly before walking off.

"Now, what should I do with you?" Yunho hummed, thoughtfully.

"I'd like it if you could let me go."

He let out forced laughter in response. "That's really cute, but we both know that's not gonna happen."

Your jaw clenched in annoyance, watching him as he tilted his head in thought.

"I could put you work, make you clean the galley, or you could be my personal maid and make sure my quarters are always neat and tidy."

Your features twisted in distaste. You could think of a million other things you'd rather do than serve such an arrogant and egotistical man. Yes, you worked as a barkeep and served mostly men, but at least they didn't tie you up to staircase posts and kidnap you against your will.

"For the time being, just stick by my side. Got it?"

You'd rather jump ship than be stuck with this jerk all night.

"I said, got it?" He repeated more sternly.

"Yeah." You responded, flatly.

Night fell over the ship, cloaking the sky in darkness as the vessel continued to sail over black waters. The dim light from the torches stretched across the boards of the main deck which were being stomped upon by the scuffed boots of the pirate crew as drunken sea shanties spilled from their lips. Yunho thought it was fit to throw a party in celebration of the pillaging that took place earlier that day. Ironically enough, he forced you to serve your own stolen alcohol.

With a sour expression, you handed Yunho a glass of whiskey.

"Like I said, what's some fine whiskey without a fine woman to serve it?" He grinned, giving you a smirk that made you wanna barf.

The flirting wasn't the only thing making you feel sick. Seeing everyone have a good time, celebrating the destruction of a town made your stomach churn as well.

"Gentleman!" Yunho called everyone's attention. "I'm pleased to say that we're close." He told the crew, causing them to cheer in response.

Close to what, you weren't sure, but everyone sure seemed happy about it. You assumed it was treasure of some sort, which made you roll your eyes. The crew clanked their steins together causing the alcohol inside to spill over the edge, splattering on the deck. It reminded you of the way townspeople would come in and make a mess on the bar. You wished you were there right now.

Yunho and Mingi linked arms, dancing in a circle as they laughed together. The crew cheered them on, singing and stomping their feet against the deck.

It took about 25 minutes for you to be fed up with the obnoxious celebrations and horrible off-key singing. You got up from your spot on the steps and approached Yunho who had just downed his third glass of alcohol.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" He grinned, his cheeks already showing a pink tint.

"I'm ready to go to bed." You told him.

"But the party's just started."

"I don't care."

Yunho sighed. "Fine. Follow me."

He headed over to a set of doors nestled between the steps that led to the forecastle deck and pulled them open.

"What is this?"

"The captain's quarters, obviously. Have you never been on a pirate ship before?" He rolled his eyes.

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol that made him ask such a nonsensical question or if he truly was that stupid.

"You'll be staying here in my sleeping quarters."

"Why? Can't I have my own room?"

"No. I need to keep an eye on you."

As much as you didn't want to share a room with the pirate captain who forcibly kidnapped you, you'd rather have a bed to sleep in than be tied up on the deck all night.

"Alright, fine. Where am I supposed to sleep?" You asked, looking around the room only seeing one bed.

"There." Yunho pointed to a cot on the far side of the room. It looked so much like a bench that you hardly noticed it.

You honestly didn't care what the bed looked like. You'd take anything at this point.

"Have fun at your party." You muttered, going over to the cot and lying down.

"I will."

His response was followed by the sound of closing doors, letting you know he returned to the main deck. Tugging the blanket up, you tried to make yourself as comfortable as you could on the unsupportive cot where you somehow managed to doze off.

At some point, you were woken up by the sounds of the doors opening and Yunho singing quietly to himself, the notes coming out muffled and incoherent. His uneven and draggy footsteps let you know he was absolutely wasted and struggling to get himself to bed. You paid no mind to it until you heard a loud thump causing you to sit upright. Yunho had collapsed on the floor while trying to take his boots off, one of them halfway off while the other was still on his foot.

Ignore him, Y/n.

You went to lay back down only to stop, guilt beginning to build inside you. Letting out a long sigh, you reluctantly got up from the cot and walked over to the intoxicated pirate, tugging off his boots. He groaned a bit, but didn't fuss. You tossed his shoes aside and pushed him into a sitting position.

"Come on." You grunted.

"Get me another glass." He raised his arm.

You scoffed. "You're drunk."

"Nooo I'm Yunho." He chuckled.

"Get up." You grumbled, pulling him to his feet. "Don't think I'm helping you because like you. I just don't want to hear you complain about waking up with a stiff neck."

He stumbled slightly as he tried to keep his balance. You struggled to hold him up, shuffling towards his bed where you let go of him, allowing him to collapse on the mattress, not caring how he landed. With a final sigh, you returned to your cot, crawling back under the covers and closing your eyes, managing to get back to sleep.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

Your eyes squeezed shut at the loud voice shouting above you.

"Get up." Yunho nudged you. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

"There is no us."

"Yes there is. Now, up and at 'em."

"Aren't you supposed to be hungover?" You grumbled.

"I stopped getting hungover years ago." He chortled, pulling the covers off you. "Now, come on. Outta bed, sleepyhead."

"I hate how chipper you are." You groaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

He ignored your commented and grabbed your forearms, pulling you out of bed despite your protests.

"What do you possibly need me up for?" You complained, grabbing your shoes as he pulled you out on the deck.

"Don't know, but you're awake just in case."

You huffed out of annoyance and pulled away from him, plopping down on a nearby crate to slip on your shoes.

The other crew members were already hard at work swabbing the deck and tying up the sails. The sun's warmth hit you immediately as the bright rays shone down on the ship.

"You have a whole crew to do work for you." You muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought." Yunho commented, walking across the deck.

"Morning, captain." One by one his crew greeted him.

"Morning." He paused, turning to you. "Y/n, come on."

You rolled your eyes and hopped off the crate, following the pirate down into the ship.

"Where are we going?"

"The galley. It's time for some breakfast. I'm starving."

Just the mention of food had your stomach feeling particularly empty. You hadn't really had anything to eat since boarding the ship.

Upon entering the galley, you saw a few crew mates sitting about, one of them being Mingi. The two of you approached who you assumed was the cook on board and were served eggs, a biscuit, and to your surprise, juice. It wasn't much, but you were grateful for it, especially since you hadn't eaten anything in many hours.

You trailed behind Yunho who made himself comfortable across from Mingi. The captain expected you to sit beside him, but you moved to the opposite side to sit next to Mingi.

"There's a perfectly good seat here." Yunho pointed.

"I'm well aware." You commented.

The dark-haired pirate looked you up and down suspiciously as if he was trying to figure out an explanation.

"You think I want to sit next to you after you took me from my home?"

Yunho opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it, causing Mingi to chuckle. You couldn't stop yourself from smirking, even a little bit.

"Yunho, have you tried the juice yet? It's so good and fresh. The meals after a good looting are always the best." Mingi commented.

To that, his friend took a sip, humming and nodding in satisfaction.

As you ate your breakfast, you noticed your's and Yunho's plates were becoming emptier quicker than Mingi's, even though he started eating before the two of you. Eventually, the both of you had finished your breakfast, but Yunho continued to sit, watching Mingi.

He must have noticed your lingering gaze because he spoke up.

"Mingi's a bit of a slow eater. I always wait on him."

"Oh." Was all you said.

Truthfully, you thought it was kinda sweet that Yunho was willing to wait for his friend to finish eating—that didn't mean you thought he was a good guy, though. It would take more than that for you to change your outlook on him.

"Y/n, you don't have to hang around. Don't let me keep you." Mingi spoke up.

"It's fine." You assured him. "Plus, Yunho won't let me out of his sight."

Mingi seemed upset by that.

"Anyway." You sighed. "I'm gonna go take my dishes."

When you walked away, Mingi turned to his friend with a slightly disappointed expression.

"Yunho, why don't you trust her? It seems like she's just an innocent townsperson. One that you ripped from her home, by the way. Why'd you bring her here?"

Yunho shrugged.

"That's not a valid reason. She looks miserable. Why'd you take her from her town?"

"Because I can."

Everything became quiet for a moment as Mingi looked his friend over.

"You like her, don't you?"

"No." He answered too quickly. "I've only known her for a day. How could I possibly like her?"

Yunho's ears became red as he continued to make up excuses. Mingi watched him with an amused expression.

"Alright. You want the truth? I don't know why I took her." He finally said.

"It's because you like her."

"No I don't. Stop saying that." Yunho was getting very defensive and his ears only got redder, causing Mingi to start laughing.

"Look at you. You're so embarrassed right now." He laughed, throwing his head back.

That laughing soon turned to coughing. Mingi took a sip of juice to clear his throat, shaking his head.

"I don't know much about dating, but I'm pretty sure kidnapping a girl isn't going to win her over."

Yunho rolled his eyes.

Just then, you returned to the table.

"Your cook gave me a weird look for bringing my dishes to him."

"We usually leave them where they are." Mingi answered, clearing his throat, his voice sounding a bit strained.

"Are you alright?" You asked him.

"Yeah. I just laughed a little too hard."

"Whatever it was, it must have been pretty funny."

"It was." Mingi chuckled.

"Alright that's enough." Yunho spoke up. "Let's go."

"No. Mingi isn't finished eating."

"I will be." He told you. "Don't worry about me."

You noticed him give a glance to Yunho as the two of you walked out.

Throughout your stay on Yunho's ship, you did a few things here and there, easy tasks like helping to move something or washing dishes, but nothing more. You watched the crew fish and do other things around the ship as well as cut up with each other in their spare time. You had even heard a few interesting stories from some of them. Meals served on the ship were fairly good and usually consisted of soup, some sort of bread and sometimes meat or fish.

You had only been on board for a week, but you liked the crew and were slowly realizing these people were nowhere near as bad as the men that entered your tavern, even Yunho. He liked to act tough sometimes, but he was actually kind of sweet, however he could be cocky at times. You felt less like a hostage and more like a guest. Since that first day on the ship, Yunho never tied you up again. You had a bed to sleep in, you got at least three meals a day, and never really had to do anything on the ship.

All that made you wonder, why had Yunho taken you in the first place?

Your feet swung back and forth as you sat on a crate that you often made yourself comfortable on. You didn't have anything to do, so you spent your time watching the ocean and the crew. Across the deck, you spotted Yunho and Mingi together laughing and cutting up. The captain acted differently around his friend. He was brighter, cheerful, and much more bubbly.

Throughout your stay on the vessel, you saw just how close the two pirates were. Mingi was very loyal to Yunho and you could see why. The two were like brothers. They're always hanging out and Yunho is always calling on Mingi when he needs assistance or a second opinion.

The latter tossed his arm over the captain's shoulders before pulling him into a playful headlock. Yunho laughed, his hands holding onto Mingi's forearm as he feigned an attempt to pry it off him. It was like watching two young boys play fight with each other.

As the two laughed, you noticed Mingi start to cough. It was just a couple small coughs, but it caught Yunho's attention immediately. Mingi held his hand up to let his friend know he was okay, only to double over as another coughing spell hit him. The sound was horrid and raspy, making your face scrunch. You watched worriedly as Yunho hastily escorted Mingi off the deck and down into the ship.

You stopped seeing Mingi on the deck that day. It worried you greatly, especially since you had gotten to know him a little.

The crew seemed to be feeling the effects of Mingi's absence because they had become much quieter and the atmosphere had a tenseness to it. There was less cutting up and more hard work. At first, you weren't sure why everyone seemed to be on edge, but then you witnessed Yunho snapping at crew members for seemingly no reason and it all made sense.

"Hey!" Yunho shouted. "What's wrong with you? There's a whole deck to walk on."

"Sorry, captain." Muttered the crew mate who'd accidentally bumped shoulders with him.

He stormed up the steps to the forecastle deck without another word. You pressed your lips together and briefly considered going after him, but decided against it.

One thing you knew for sure was that Mingi's sudden collapse was serious and effecting everyone—especially Yunho.

Later in the day, you found yourself standing on the forecastle deck with Yunho, watching as the sea breeze blew through his red-streaked hair. He seemed very much at peace stood at the wheel of the ship, steering the vessel through the clear waters. It appeared that he cooled off a bit since his outburst, so you decided to talk to him.

"Yunho, are you okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." You responded. "You haven't seemed like yourself."

He scoffed. "What does that mean?"

"You just seem a little different."

"I'm fine, Y/n."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I think you're lying."

There was a beat of silence before you spoke up.

"This is about Mingi, isn't it?"

"No. It's not." He answered sharply, his voice much deeper than normal. "Even if it was, it's none of your business. You've known him for less than two weeks."

"I was just worried. That's all."

"Just stay out of my business, alright?" He raised his voice a bit. "You're not my friend. You're not even part of the crew. You're just some girl I chose to take hostage. Know your place."

The sheer amount of anger you felt after those words left his mouth was indescribable. You merely asked if he was alright because you were worried about him and all you got in return was hate.

You let out a dry chuckle. "You're right. I don't even know why I asked. I shouldn't care about you. In fact, I don't. So, you just do whatever you want. Snap at your crew. I don't care. Like you said, it's none of my business."

Turning on your heel, you left the forecastle deck, leaving Yunho alone.

Two days passed and you didn't speak a word to him. You avoided him at all costs and always went to bed early so you'd be asleep by the time he turned in for the night.

One night, you were awoken by a crash somewhere outside, the noise startling you awake. One glance across the room and you saw that Yunho wasn't in his own bed. You immediately sat up, pushing yourself out of bed. It wasn't until you got to the doors of the room that you stopped to consider why you were even going towards the sound in the first place.

"Whatever." You sighed, pushing open the doors and stepping out onto the deck.

The first thing you heard was incoherent murmuring that seemed to be coming from the forecastle deck. You moved up the steps, spotting Yunho talking to himself. He shouted loudly into the night air, swinging a bottle around. He paused his ranting, taking a swig before breaking the bottle on the railing of the ship and angrily tossing it out into the ocean.

"Yunho?"

He spun around, stumbling slightly.

"Y/n?" He slurred.

"Why are you up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Still mad at him, you kept your words to a minimum, muttering an "Okay." and turning to leave.

"Wait!"

You stopped and faced him.

"Stay with me."

You wanted to say no, but his soft, pink-tinted cheeks and round, sparkly brown puppy eyes tugged at your heartstrings. When you didn't give an immediate answer, his bottom lip stuck out slightly, making you give in. You hated that that was all it took for you to cave. You told yourself it was because he was drunk and looking particularly adorable, but deep down, you knew the real reason.

You walked over to the drunken captain and stood beside him, a long silence hanging in the air.

"He's sick." Yunho spoke up, cutting through the silence.

"Who's sick?"

"Mingi." He hiccuped. "He started getting a cough about six months ago. It was mild so he brushed it off and so did I... until it got worse. Eventually, I made him see our medic on board and he said he's got some disease that's progressing fast. Last week, he collapsed on the deck from coughing, so I took him to the sick bay. He's been bedridden ever since." Tears fell from Yunho's eyes as he spoke.

"The worst part is, I can't find anything for him. I've pillaged town after town searching for information or any item that could possibly help. Someone in your town told me I could find a doctor that might be able to help, but I don't think Mingi has much time left." More tears stained his cheeks, making your heart break.

"I'll help you." You suddenly spoke up.

"What?"

"Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it. I want to help your friend."

"But I was so mean to you the other day." Yunho commented with a frown.

"I don't care about that anymore."

"I said some hurtful things." He hiccuped. "I'm sorry. I don't deserve your help."

He looked like he was about to start crying again, which prompted you to try and comfort him.

"It's okay. You weren't thinking straight. You were worried about Mingi and you let it get to you. We all say things we don't mean when we're stressed or worried."

Your words seemed to have the opposite effect as Yunho began to tear up.

"Yunho, no. Please don't sta—"

He threw his arms around you, allowing his head to drop onto your shoulder.

"You're so nice, Y/n."

You stumbled back at the force of his weight being put on you suddenly, your hand going to pat his back comfortingly.

"You're wasted right now, I'm sure you don't mean that."

"I doooo." He drew out the word. "You're gonna help me save my friend!"

"Keep it down." You shushed him.

"Oh." He whispered, letting out some giggles. "Okay."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

You coaxed him down the steps and onto the main deck. It was a feat, but one you somehow managed despite Yunho's stumbling. You could see his eyes getting droopy as you pulled open one of the doors to the captain's quarters, hurrying inside before the drunken pirate decided to pass out.

As you brought Yunho over to his bed, he stepped away from you and pulled the covers back, ready to crawl in.

"Hey, hey. Wait." You spoke abruptly, stopping him before he could get in the bed. "Take your shoes off first."

"Oh." He giggled and started fumbling with his footwear, unable to properly remove it as he wobbled, not able to keep his balance.

"Let me help." You leaned down and untied his boots while he propped himself up on a nearby desk. He lifted one foot at a time and allowed you to tug off his boots.

"Ahh." Yunho sighed in response.

"This situation seems familiar." You chuckled, recalling the last time you helped Yunho to bed when he had too much to drink.

Yunho giggled as you helped him onto the mattress. "You dropped me on the bed last time. Thanks to you, I didn't wake up with a stiff neck." He grinned drunkenly.

You felt something in your chest when he said that. You didn't think he remembered you getting him to bed, he was pretty out of it.

"You remember that?" You asked, softly.

He didn't answer, he only snuggled into his pillow and closed his eyes. You sighed, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you pulled the covers up over him.

"I love you." He murmured.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat.

He must be really drunk.

Brushing off his comment, you returned to bed, taking one last glance at Yunho before going to sleep.

The next day, Yunho woke up feeling particularly hungover for the first time in years.

He groaned as he sat up in bed, not quite remembering how he got there. Images of your face flashed in his mind.

Were you with him? Did you bring him to bed?

He got to his feet, slipping his boots on noticing you were nowhere to be seen. Without giving it a second though, he left his quarters, the bright sun burning his eyes, making him squint.

"Morning, captain." You greeted.

He opened one eye, glancing at you under the sun's bright rays.

"Sleep well?" You asked.

"Too well. I hardly remember last night. Were you with me?"

"I was, but only briefly. You were making a racket out on the forecastle deck."

"Yep." He sighed, seeming to recall it. "Sorry if I caused you any trouble."

"You didn't. You should go have some breakfast. It'll help."

"You already ate?"

You nodded, guiding him to the doors leading to the galley.

"You look rough." The cook chuckled as he handed the captain a plate.

"Gee, thanks."

"I haven't seen you hungover in a while."

"I haven't been hungover in a while. I think I went too far last night."

"It's nothing a good breakfast can't fix." The cook gave Yunho a grin as he went to sit down.

The galley seemed much emptier without Mingi. Ever since he was forced to stay in bed, everything has seemed emptier.

Yunho's brows pulled together as he tried to go over the events of last night. He felt like you had told him something pretty important, but he was having trouble remembering. He thought really hard for a moment, then finally a brief memory flashed in his mind, his heart softening afterwards.

You offered to help with Mingi.

"After the way I treated her?" He muttered.

He then remembered something else.

"I love you."

His eyes widened as he covered his face feeling absolutely mortified.

"No way. Did I really say that?"

Yunho hurriedly ate his breakfast and headed back out onto the deck in search of you. He wouldn't bring up the other thing he said, but he did want to thank you for being kind.

"Y/n?"

You were standing by the railing of the ship, staring down into the water, watching the water glide past the ship.

"Y/n!" He called.

You lifted your head, turning to look at Yunho.

"Is something wrong?"

"I just remembered something."

Oh no. You thought.

"Yes?"

"You offered to help me with Mingi."

You breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"I did."

"Thank you. I don't deserve it after the way I treated you, but I appreciate it."

You smiled softly. "You said pretty much the same thing last night."

"Did I?"

You nodded.

"Do you... remember anything else?" You asked, hesitantly.

He stiffened. "No. No I don't."

He was lying. It was so obvious. He knows what he said to you.

You rocked back and forth on your feet, nodding. "Well, I'm sure it'll come back to you. Anyway, I'd like to know how I can assist you in your voyage to this doctor who can help Mingi."

Yunho was thankful you changed the subject, breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

"Yes. Follow me."

It took less than a week for you to arrive at the town where the doctor resided. During that week, Yunho taught you how to read maps and help raise and lower the sails. You did whatever you could to make the voyage easier.

"I'm gonna go get Mingi." Yunho told you as he watched his crew anchor the ship by the dock. "You should come with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'll need you there for emotional support."

"Alright."

The two of you went to the sick bay where Mingi lie unmoving in bed.

"Come on, Mingi. We're gonna get you some help." Yunho assisted his friend in sitting up.

The sight broke your heart. Mingi's usual bright expression and features seemed duller. His eyes were droopy and donned dark circles, his face was ashen and had lost some of its color. A wheezy and raspy cough left his body followed by a groan.

"Y/n, you can help."

At Yunho's okay, you stepped in, assisting Mingi out of bed.

He let out a few more coughs as the two of you got him to his feet and helped him off the ship. When a Mingi stumbled, you helped to catch him, giving Yunho a worried look.

"We have to hurry."

The two of you quickened your pace as you hurried through the town.

"We're looking for a Dr. Choi." He told you.

You nodded and began reading the signs on the businesses lining the streets.

"Over there." You pointed.

Yunho looked over and spotted the doctor's office you pointed at, heading directly towards it. Once at the building, you and Yunho helped Mingi inside where a middle-aged man in a white coat sat at a desk.

"Are you Dr. Choi?" Yunho asked.

"I am. May I help you?"

"My friend, he's very sick. He came down with a cough six months ago."

Just then, Mingi let out another horrid cough.

"Oh my." Dr. Choi murmured. "Follow me."

You and Yunho helped escort Mingi to an examining room where the doctor began to look over the sick pirate. Your nerves built up quickly as you watched Mingi, looking tired as ever.

"I'm gonna go stand outside." You told Yunho.

"Alright."

"What? No security guard?" You teased.

He gave you a small smile. "I trust you."

A sigh slipped past your lips as you stood outside, leaning against the building. You couldn't bear to be in the examination room seeing Mingi looking so disheveled.

As you focused on your breathing, you overheard a conversation from two nearby townspeople.

"A buddy of mine went to a tavern recently. It's a few towns over." One guy commented.

"Oh, really?" Questioned the other.

The conversation captured your attention, causing you to glance over at the two.

"Excuse me. You wouldn't happen to be talking about..." You gave them the name of your tavern.

"Actually, yes." The first guy nodded. "It got pillaged by pirates a few weeks ago, but you'd never know."

"Really? May I ask who's running it?"

The guy gave you the name of a girl and proceeded to describe her. You knew exactly who it was. She was from your town and told you she'd like to run a tavern one day. After the pillaging, you guessed she decided to take over and help get everything back to normal. Your heart felt heavy, but it seemed that your tavern was doing just fine without you, maybe even better.

You didn't have time to think about it any longer as the front entrance to the doctor's office opened and out walked Yunho with his arm around Mingi, who still looked lethargic.

"The doctor gave Mingi some medicine and is sending some with us for him to continue to take."

"So, he's going to be okay?" You asked with a hopeful tone.

"Yes. He's going to be just fine."

"That's wonderful news."

With good news and medicine for Mingi, the two of you helped him back to the ship and put him in bed so he could rest and let the medication work.

"Do you need anything?" You asked.

Mingi shook his head. "I do want to say thank you." He smiled, looking at the both of you.

"Yunho is the one who got the location of the doctor." You mentioned.

"Yes, but Y/n offered to help find him." Yunho added.

"You both helped." Mingi smiled. "Thank you. I was so scared I was going to d—"

"Don't even say it." Yunho stopped him. "I don't even wanna think about it anymore. The only thing that matters is that you're going to be okay."

Mingi nodded. "You're right."

"We're going to let you get some rest. I'll come back and check on you later."

"Me too." You added, earning a small smile from Yunho.

The ship departed from the docks and you were back at sea once again. You felt an immense sense of relief knowing that Mingi was going to be alright. You knew Yunho probably felt the same, especially since the atmosphere on the ship was much lighter now.

Yunho, who stood beside you stared out at the calm waters as the ship sailed forward.

"I guess I should let you go now." He spoke up suddenly.

"What? Really?"

"You helped save my best friend's life. I owe you so much more, but it's the least I can do."

You frowned, thinking about returning to your town where there wasn't much left for you.

"What's the matter? You don't look so happy."

"Well, I overheard someone in town saying another girl is running my tavern. It seems to be going well too. I don't think they need me."

"I see." Yunho hummed. "In that case, would you want to stay with us?"

You knew your answer immediately, but pretended to think about it just to tease him.

"Please?" He asked quietly.

"I thought pirates didn't say please."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Oh, so you're desperate." You teased.

"Yes."

"Desperate enough to beg me to stay?" You grinned.

"Don't push it."

The two of you fell into joint laughter.

"So, is that a yes?" He finally asked.

"Yes."

Yunho couldn't help it. He got so excited that he pulled you in for a hug, muttering a small "Thank you." into your hair.

It took a moment for you to process what was happening, but you soon relaxed into the hug, resting your head on his chest.

"So, about that night." You spoke up, parting from the hug.

"What night?"

"The night where you drunkenly confessed to me."

"What?" He chuckled. "I didn't do that."

"You sure? Because I remember you saying you loved me."

"Did I say that?" He questioned, his voice going higher.

"Yes you did."

Yunho continued to chuckle nervously, muttering excuses. Only when you gave him a kiss on the cheek did he stop.

He placed his hand on his cheek as you pulled away, his eyes staring off in the distance in shock.

"So, did you mean it when you said it?" You questioned, quietly.

"Yes. I didn't mean to say it out loud, though. I'm sure it freaked you out."

"I blamed it on the alcohol, honestly." You grinned a bit. "But I did wonder if there was some meaning behind it."

The look on Yunho's face said it all.

"You know, I was in denial of my feelings." You continued. "Sometimes you'd do or say certain things that would have my heart fluttering, but I pushed it aside. Now, I think I'm ready to face the truth."

"And what's that?" Yunho urged gently.

"That I like you."

His eyes became even wider as a faint blush blossomed on his cheeks.

"You do?"

"Yes."

Yunho took your hands in his, gazing down into your eyes as he held back a smile.

"I really want to kiss you right now."

"Then do it."

That was all he needed as he leaned in and closed the space between your lips. It was crazy how you ended up here in this position. You thought of everything that led up to this moment, and it may sound odd, but you've never been more thankful to have been taken by the pirate captain.

Your hands gently cupped his cheeks as you allowed your lips to linger on his for a few moments before parting ways. You turned around in Yunho's arms, resting your back against his chest as you gazed out at the horizon before you; the open ocean representing the start of your new life and it's endless opportunities.

Yunho held you close as his ship sailed through the blue green waters, moving towards your next destination, wherever that may be.

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143

#jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #yunho pirate au #ateez imagines #ateez pirate au #yunho #jeong yunho #ateez oneshot #kpop imagines #jongho x reader #jongho x you #jongho x y/n #choi jongho x reader #jongho pirate au

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highonincense · 21 days

Text

One thing I absolutely despise in drarry fics —and by this I mean a specific subset, not like in general cause there are many amazing fics— is the characterization of harry (and draco), the way he's an absolute fucking doormat!!!! I get it y'all are tryna portray him as a social dimwit, it can be done in a normal way without making him seem like a piece of cardboard! Are we talking about the same dude here?? You don't actually have to completely demolish a character, take away their key traits just to make the other half of the ship look better.

Let me give a pointwise description:

1. Dude stutters after every bloody sentence, like he's so overwhelmed talking to draco "smirking, smooth as butter, sardonic, sleek, godly" Malfoy who keeps insulting him every fucking second. Do you really think that harry would entertain that bullshit, especially in post-war fics!!! Like he'd just take it and not put him in his place?

2. I read this fic long ago and I don't remember the name, but good god it was unbearable. Basically the golden trio apologizes to draco for his tragic life that they were responsible for after the war? Like wtf? Why is there even a need to do that? 😭 That was too much and I stopped midway

3. Again, draco "3 OWLs" Malfoy, some supersmart / second coming of tom riddle, keeps patronizing every action of harry, the amount of times harry's intelligence is insulted? Immediate no from me, like are we still doing the whole "harry dumb mf potter is unobservant, slow, stupid, can't function without some rat hissing in his ear that he's an idiot 24/7"? Don't you think it's lame?

4. Harry has to always put up with his shitty attitude, I am all for character development, I know characters are multi dimensional and complex, and showing draco having a difficult personality is well and good, but it starts to get annoying when there's no real growth in him. I've read fics where he's absolutely despicable until the end which is covered up as him being a dickhead in general and harry "fondly" keeps up with his shit. *gag* canon harry would NEVER

5. I think it genuinely wouldn't make a difference if harry was there or not, I am not kidding or being dramatic, those fics might as well be character × y/n fics

All of this leads me to hate draco's character more! You portray him as this insufferable bastard who has a heart of gold apparently (where?) who has no real growth, shows no humility or regret or even pretends to and you think harry will put up with that?

It would be interesting if he starts out that way, works on himself and grows and changes, that would be more tolerable and interesting!

But no, he's always this annoying guy who hurls insults, keeps mocking harry or his friends every other line, you might argue it's in his character, but aren't those the traits which make him unlikeable? like those aren't cute or quirky? wouldn't it make more sense to show him grow out of it? It's really annoying

And harry, let's not go there, he's a completely new character, might as well be an oc atp, you can't even compare him to canon harry, that's how bad it is! I still haven't completely discussed it cause it's already getting long, but he's this wet bloody blanket and I can't stand it, the gryffs (except Hermione) in general are shown as some bumbling buffoons who can't differentiate between their hand and foot!! And the slytherins are all savvy, masterminds, geniuses... I really don't know whether it's admirable cause it's weird seeing them pushed into these moulds where they can only behave a certain way!

I'm so tired this is still going on like?? Why are their characters such caricatures? All of this sounds like it may have been a thing of past, but I am appalled it's still happening!!!

This is not directed at all drarry fics out there, cause there are some gorgeous fics written by amazing authors who fucking get these characters and make it about them, about their relationship and explore it in a depth and nail their characterizations without making either one of them boring. There are a good number of fics that I actually enjoy cause of the way they write drarry's characters, which makes or breaks the fic imho

#drarry #harry james potter #draco malfoy #harry potter #rant sesh #draco lucius malfoy #anti drarry?#anti drarry #wizard #wizarding world #hjp

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hum-suffer · 4 months

Text

I'm yours

Ishan is a hopeless romantic. In the sense that his romantic interests never let him hope.

The most recent person that he has been head over heels for is going to give a seminar in their college and he's Ishan's favourite.

Ishan is the head of the Cultural and Intellectual Committee and as such, he's in charge of almost all the extracurricular events that take place in the college. He's always had such bloody issues with 90% of the guests and speakers for being unprepared or late that these days he just assumes that the guests will be late, but hopefully not too late.

Which, brings him back to his current romantic interest— Shubhman Gill.

The man has been guest speaker in their college twice by now, third time monday, and he has never disappointed Ishan. He's always on time, he's always perfectly dressed, and he always emails Ishan his speech and let's Ishan point out details that he would humbly request to add or remove. Ishan could have kissed him for being a half decent human being the very first time he did that.

Plus, the college being the Techno faculty, the super famous technological prodigy of India coming as a guest speaker, Shubhman sometimes gets assaulted with too many questions and people and sometimes with no good interactive audience at all and yet, he smiles and talks to the teachers afterwards.

The first time Shubhman talked to him, Ishan had been putting away the gifts Shubhman received so that the man could take them on his bike without damaging the Tulsi plant.

(And that was another thing. A famous and important personality coming on his fucking bike? Ishan drooled a little bit when he heard Shubhman softly ask Ritika ma'am for a place to keep his helmet at.)

"Thank you for inviting me," Shubhman told him in a bashful way, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

Inexplicably, Ishan wanted to bite those cheeks. He held himself in chem and smiled back,"Thank you for coming, Mr. Gill. You've been a pleasure to work with."

"Please, it's Shubhman! And honestly, I had fun coming here as well. I hear you're the organiser of the event; it's amazingly done, I must say. Your management is impeccable."

So what if Ishan let the praise get to his head? So what if he stalked Shubhman on Instagram later? They had exchanged numbers—for future seminars, Shubhman had explained, much to Ishan's misfortune— and Ishan was entitled to be a little over his head for once!

The second time they talked, was when Ishan congratulated Shubhman on his award as the leading influencer of social media. The third time was when Shubhman wished Ishan on his birthday. The fourth was when Ishan had to invite Shubhman for ALASKA organisation's collab with their college and his presence as a guest judge.

Shubhman had sought him out again.

"I had a lot of fun," he said with that damnable smile of his,"thank you for inviting me again, Ishan."

Ishan shook his head,"Thank you for coming, man. Honestly, your way of interaction makes learning more interesting for the students. And, well, throws me some points to become the favourite teacher of the year."

Shubhman laughed, a sound that Ishan wanted to get drunk on for the rest of his goddamn life. "You have those competitions?"

Ishan looked around dramatically and leaned towards Shubhman, as of telling a secret. Shubhman, that perfect man, leaned forward as well, looking completely serious about this so called secret.

Ishan reached on his tip toes to whisper,"The students do that in their classes on Teachers' day. If they do it publically, they have to give the best teacher paper crown to teachers senior than me. So, a private award for me to take."

Somewhere in the background, something huge fell and Ishan startled badly enough to almost stumble but Shubhman caught him by the arm and grinned,"Cheers to the best teacher, then. What's the other activities you planned amazingly?"

And that's how Shubhman had ended up getting VIP passes to see the Darshan Raval concert that had been arranged.

Virat bhaiya had raised an eyebrow at Ishan showing Shubhman around the campus while they prepared for the concert lightings and all, but hadn't said anything. Ishan was so thankful.

They haven't talked in the four months after Ishan wished Shubhman a happy birthday.

____________________________________________________

So, in short, Ishan is a hopeless romantic. He turns every little gesture into a gesture of love and he has many one sided love stories that live rent free in his head.

He would have romantisized this as well, to be honest, if he wasn't confused as fuck.

He's been home for all of five minutes after a damn long day— it's exam season— and all he wants to do is flop on his bed and sleep for the next four weeks. A text pops up on his phone, from an unknown number.

'Are you tired, love? Anything I can do to help?'

Ishan frowns. None of his friends changed their numbers recently and moreover, none of them use nicknames. Can't be a student, no student of his would dare disrespect him. He may be lenient most of the time, but he's tempered enough to break their audacity on the very first lecture.

'Who is this?'

The reply came instantly. 'Your admirer? Your worshipper? Your fan?' a second passed as Ishan gawked at the message. Another message dropped. 'Whatever I am, I'm yours.'

Well, damn. Someone's smooth.

'Thank you for your kind words, but I prefer not to own people. It's illegal yk?' Ishan feels like an idiot as soon as he sends the text but he can't do anything because it's seen immediately. The person on the other side must be bloody stuck to their chat.

They send a few laughing emojis. 'I could turn the world around for you to be mine, though.'

Goddamn.

Ishan leaves the message on seen as he types the unknown number on Truecaller, but there's no registered name under the number.

He's about to leave and go freshen up when another message pops up.

'Searching for me on Truecaller will result to nothing, love.'

Ishan leaves the message on delivered as he looks around himself, his big house feeling emptier by the second. He blocks the number, somehow feeling a weird mix of anticipation and trepidation. He takes a fortifying breath and nods to himself, throwing his phone on the dinning table on his way to his bed room.

He tries to get the message out of his head as he looks for another YouTube video to see while eating his dinner.

'Do you know that blocking someone in the middle of the conversation is rude, Ishan?' the pop up message reads.

'Fuck off.'

____________________________________________________

There's a swarm of notifications going off and that's how Ishan wakes up at the ungodly hour of 2:34 am.

He blindly reaches for his phone, the brightness will kill him he's sure, but somehow manages to read the notifications with squinted eyes.

It's an annual Spotify subscription? What the fuck?

He scrambles to sit up and turns on the lamp, trying to focus more. The bloody notifications are an absolute onslaught to his ears. He even has an email announcing his annual Spotify premium account but there's no SMS of deduction from his account. What even—

Before he can start to plan a schedule to go to the bank tomorrow and also somehow plan a call to the customer service of Spotify, another message from that unknown number pops up.

'Happy belated Birthday, Ishan. Sorry I couldn't get you any actual gifts this time, I'll do better next time.'

Next bloody time?

'There won't be a bloody next time. Don't interfere in my life again. And cancel this bloody premium, i don't need it.'

And he lies.

He does need the premium for when he pulls all nighters and for when he drives to and fro to college. He needs it because he needs someone to talk and listen when he wants to be awake and podcasts are the only way that happens lately when he's off work.

Yes, he has a horrid social life— as a professor often does. All his friends are his colleagues. His family usually knows that he pulls insane hours and they only call at weekends.

'Don't reject it, pls' the message comes, as Ishan ponders his lonely life. When was the last time he enjoyed his life thoroughly? Another message pops up. 'Look, I just want to do something nice for you, okay? Leave it be, it's not your money thats costing you and I've got plenty of money to spend on my dear ones, with god's grace.'

Ishan doesn't know what to reply and he is incensed at himself for it. What the fuck? Ishan has never been greedy or wanted what he couldn't have. This random person suddenly gifts him a Spotify premium, Ishan contemplates his life and he hesitates in doing the right thing?

'Pls Ishan?'

Oh god, he can hear the puppy eyes. He turns off his internet and throws the phone on the bed. Somehow, Ishan manages to sleep.

____________________________________________________

The next morning, it's thankfully Saturday. His Saturdays go great almost always.

His hand itches to listen to his Spotify playlist he's made specifically for travel, but he doesn't want to use a stranger's gift. The stranger might know him and do it out of good of his heart or whatever, but Ishan, in all good conscience cannot use someone for their money.

As he absentmindedly drinks his evening tea, Ishan contemplates any tasks he has for the next day— grocery shopping, getting a haircut, finding a plumber to fix that minor leakage in his kitchen tap. It's gonna be a long day.

"Ishan!" He blinks up like a deer in highlights as he's startled by Rohit bhaiya. "What are you thinking?"

"Kuch nahi, bhaiya," he says and grins when Rohit bhaiya puts his hand on his shoulder. Ishan has always been a fan of skinship, and while Virat bhaiya being touchy is normal and comforting, Rohit bhaiya being touchy is rewarding and privileged. "Aap batao, how was your day?"

He groans in reply,"Puchh mat, Bhai. These B.Com students look innocent but they're so not! Apparently some kids sold around a paper of Accounts saying it's a leaked paper but it wasn't and making it clear to the students as well the board members? Hell. Why did I even accept to be the Secretary there when I'm Dean here too?"

Ishan laughs,"Because you love Virat bhaiya and lost a bet?"

"Shh, don't speak about it where students can hear you!"

Ishan laughs again. Feeling happy is a natural state of his when he's around his colleagues, they're all so good to him. It's what makes him stay in the college despite him getting offers from a lot of colleges in bigger cities. He's never gonna get the same affection anywhere else and he's ready to face some separation with his family while he works here. He's already made it clear that they're gonna come love with after his father finally retires.

"Accha, tell me what is the status of overmorrow's seminar?"

The one where his celebrity crush is going to be the main speaker?

"Spectacular. I've done everything, bas I'll get the flowers and the gift watch and everything else is set. Bhaiya bas Monday ko maachis dhundhni na pade, haa?"

It happens almost every damn time. It'd be ten minutes from arrival time of the guest and Ishan would tell some student to get the matchsticks for the auspicious diya lighting and no one would find the matchsticks. With everyone else, it's fine, but Shubhman? He's a punctual man, running around like headless chicken in front of him is not how he wants to establish himself and his students.

Rohit bhaiya nods understandingly. "Pakka. Varna ye apna hai na vo, usse lighter le ke candle light karke de Dena."

Ishan shakes his head at the confusing slang Rohit bhaiya uses. Amar, one of his students, has a smoking habit and hence carries around a lighter. The idiot always saves himself by offering his lighter at times when lighting something was necessary.

"Thik. Anyways, I'm going home, bhaiya. Anything left for me to do?"

Rohit bhaiya shakes his head with a grin and lets him go.

Its almost reflex when Ishan puts his earphones in and starts Chhaiya Chhaiya.

The bloody quality makes him blink and straighten up. And oh. Yeah, he's using premium.

Even as he feels a little guilty, his head bops to the beat as he drives back home.

____________________________________________________

When Ishan comes back home again, his garden looks different.

He's convinced that it's because he's not inspecting it properly so he crouches down and cranes his neck to look at the grass and some flower plants he has. He can't put his finger on it, but it's different.

He glances around the rest of his garden and that's when it catches his eye— the mower. And the pile of grass beside.

Someone fucking mowed his garden? And somehow, to the exact way he likes it.

And then, he hears the start of a two-wheeler, and before he's even out of the gate, the person has turned the corner and all Ishan can see is the shade of their taillight on the trees.

Ishan hightails it inside his house and checks it all over.

No lock broken, no thing stolen and no money moved. Everything is as it was when he left in the morning.

His phone pings with another message.

'Sorry to leave like that, ik it was obnoxious'

'how'd you like your garden tho? Did I do well?'

And. Ishan is a weak man, okay?

He knows this is wrong, he knows he has a stalker probably, and someone with probably deep issues, but. He bloody can't accept such big help without saying anything in gratitude, okay? He's weak.

'Its fine, tho I'd like to meet you someday' what the fuck is he saying. He wants to meet a probable sociopath?

'And thanks for the garden. You've done it perfectly and it's a great help. Thank you' there. He's been polite.

Another message comes. 'I think you'll enjoy our meeting a lot, love. And your welcome'

No other messages pop up throughout the evening.

Ishan denies to even himself that he checks his phone every five minutes for the stranger.

He's intrigued, he says to himself when he goes to sleep.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @onthecloudseven @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @kyayaarkiraa @fortunatelycrazyyouth @khwxbeeda @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @ishkrisq

#desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #ishman #shubhish #ishan kishan #shubhman gill

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onlycosmere · 1 year

Text

OUTSIDE by Brandon Sanderson

Snow is falling. So I look up.

The world mystifies when you stare up through falling snow. Even standing still, you can soar. Even alone, you are surrounded. Even mundane, you find magic. I’ve spent my life chasing the fantastical, yet everything I’ve ever imagined can be casually matched by someone tilting their head up. The soft. Settling. Aspiration.

Of snow on an otherwise ordinary day.

When I was eighteen, I moved from Nebraska to Utah. Here, snow is fleeting, embarrassed to be an obstruction. But in Nebraska, snow squats. It claims land, builds empires. You fight it all winter, carving pathways, reconquering your sidewalks. The cold digs inside, frosting your bones with a chill that lingers, even after you return to warmth.

I often think of those snowy days, now that I live in a desert. But each year my memories are a little less fresh. We build our lives with layer upon layers of years, like falling snow. And like the new snow, most experiences melt away. In interviews, I’ve been asked to recount my most frightening experience. I struggle to answer because it’s the lost memories that scare me—the unnerving knowledge that I’ve forgotten the majority of moments that made me who I am. Those dribbled away when I wasn’t looking and joined the spring runoff of life.

Fortunately, some experiences do remain. In one, I’m fourteen, and it’s a cold night in Nebraska. My best friend at the time was a boy we’ll call John. Though we went to different schools, he was one of the only other Mormon kids around, so our parents often had us play together. When you’re very young, it’s proximity—not shared interests—that makes friends. This often changes as you age. By fourteen, John had found his way to basketball, parties, and popularity. I had not.

On that day, after a youth activity, another friend suggested we leave to go have some fun. I don’t remember where. Strange, that I’ve lost what this was about, though the rest of the scene is etched into the glacial part of my brain. One of us was old enough to drive, so we headed out to their car.

Five seats. Six teens. They’d already counted.

Without a word to me, the others climbed in. John gave me one hesitant look, then settled into the front passenger seat and closed the door. They left me on the curb. The car vanished, taillights flaring in the night like lit cigarettes.

The memory settled in for the long winter. That night. Watching. Remembering John’s face, which was so strikingly conflicted. Half ashamed. Half resigned.

I was no stranger to being outside. It happens when you’re one of three Mormon kids in a large school. You’ll be at a birthday party, and the wine coolers will come out. Everyone stands there worrying you’ll judge them—while you just want them to stop staring. But you leave anyway, because you know they’ll enjoy themselves more if you and your unusual morals aren’t there to loom.

It should have been different that night though, watching John and the others drive away. They were in my church group—ostensibly, my tribe. They’d still left me outside.

This event shocked me in how dramatic it was, as I wasn’t generally bullied. I tended to be adept at social settings. People generally liked me. At the same time, there was something I’d begun to notice. Something distancing about me.

It happens still. It isn’t that people shun me or don’t want me around; indeed, they seem to appreciate me. When I join a group, I generally end up leading it in some way, and I never sense resentment to this fact. But I also have an air around me. Some writer friends call me the “adult in the room.” I tend to attack projects too aggressively, tend to be the one who steps in and gets things done—even when they don’t need to be done immediately, and when everyone else would rather relax.

This comes, in part, from a certain…oddity about me that started in my young teens, around the time that John drove off. As my friends grew hit puberty, they became more emotional. The opposite happened to me. Instead of experiencing the wild mood swings of adolescence, my emotions calcified. I started waking up each day feeling roughly the same as the day before. Without variation.

Around me, people felt passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy. They loved, and hated, and argued, and screamed, and kissed, and seemed to explode every day with a pressurized confetti of unsettling emotions.

While I was just me. Not euphoric, not miserable. Just…normal. All the time.

Often, it genuinely seems like I exist outside of human experience. It’s not sociopathy. I’m quite empathetic—in fact, empathy is one of the ways that I can feel stronger emotions. I’m not autistic. I don’t have a single hallmark of that notable brand of neurodivergence. It’s also not what is called alexithymia, which is a condition where someone doesn’t feel emotions (or can’t describe them).

I care about people, and I feel. I’m not empty or apathetic. My emotions are simply muted and hover in a narrow band. If human experience ranges between a morose one and an ecstatic ten, I’m almost always a seven. Every day. All day. My emotional “needle” tends to be very hard to budge—and when it does move, the change is not aggressive. When others would be livid or weeping, I feel a sense of discomfort and disquiet.

My emotions do go a little further than this on occasion, maybe once a year. It takes something incredible—such as being deeply betrayed by someone I trusted.

I’m not looking for sympathy; I don’t want to be fixed. I appreciate this aspect of my makeup—and it’s part of what makes me so consistent at writing. When everyone else is in crisis, I’ll just steam along. At the same time, when everyone else is elated by some good news…I’ll just steam along, unable to feel the heights of the joy they feel.

It makes people uncomfortable sometimes. Makes them think I’m judging them. While I’m absolutely not, I do try to be careful how I talk about my condition. Not as something to fear. Something, instead, I’m proud of—not because it makes me better than anyone else, but because it’s me. I like being me.

My neurodivergence came up in a recent interview I did. The interviewer latched onto the fact that I don’t feel pain like others do. (More accurately, some mild pains don’t cause in me the same response they do others.) I asked the interviewer not to mention it in his article, as I felt the tone to our discussion was wrong. I worry about my oddity changing the way people think of me, as I don’t want to be seen as an emotionless zombie. So I try to speak of it with nuance.

As the interviewer ignored my request, I thought I’d talk about it here. Profile myself for you—because this aspect of who I am has deep ties to another happening from my teenage years. In this, I want to answer a big question for you, the one everyone wonders about. The key to understanding Brandon Sanderson.

Why do I write?

Why do I write so much?

Why do I write so much fantasy?

Let me tell you about the first day, that beautiful day, when I found myself inside.

It was when I opened a fantasy novel. I was an isolated kid whose emotions were doing something bizarre. Even John leaving had left me feeling…disturbed more than angry. Alone, and outside. Then I opened a book where I found emotion.

In that story about dragons, and wonder, and people trying impossible things, I found myself. I felt a variety of powerful emotions through the characters—emotions that I remembered from when I’d been younger.

I hadn’t tried reading fiction in a long while, so I was blindsided by this perfect book. The experience transformed me, quick as a boy tilting his head back, looking up, and finding a new world.

When I read or write from the eyes of other people, I legitimately feel what they do. There’s magic to any kind of story, yes—but for me, it is transformative. I live those lives. For a brief time, I remember exactly what passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy feel like. My emotions mold to the story, and I cry sometimes. I legitimately cry. I haven’t done that outside of a story in three decades.

Stories bring me inside.

My second published novel is called Mistborn. It’s about a world where ash falls like snow, and I can linger, looking up through it via a character’s eyes. Near the beginning of Mistborn, the teenage protagonist finds herself standing outside a room. It is full of light and laughter and warmth. But she knows, she knows she doesn’t belong inside that room.

She’s wrong.

Nearer the end of the book, I linger on as similar scene—only now, she’s sitting with the others. Light and laughter. Warmth. Mistborn was the first novel I wrote after getting the call offering me a book deal. Finally—after slaving over a dozen unpublished manuscripts—I knew I was going to be a professional writer. With that knowledge, I wrote Mistborn, the book about a girl who learns to come inside.

While writing Mistborn, I changed. Now that I’d made it inside of publishing—now that I’d joined those authors I’d loved for so long—why would I keep writing? I needed a new goal, and I discovered it that year.

So let me tell you why I write. It isn’t about worldbuilding; that’s a mistake everyone makes about me. Assuming I write because of worldbuilding is like assuming someone makes cars because they love cup holders. It’s also not because I’m Mormon, as some profiles bizarrely conclude. My faith and cultural heritage are both important to me, but if I were any other religion, that aspect of me would rightly be a footnote—not a headline.

I don’t write for plot twists, or dragons, or clever turns of phrase—though I enjoy all of these. I write because stories bring people inside. And I sincerely, genuinely believe that is what the world needs.

Lately, I’ve seen a resurgence of something that genuinely disquiets me: an attempt by some members of our community to hold others outside. Science fiction and fantasy is forever gatekeeping what constitutes good or worthy stories. Like my old friend John, who sought cooler friends, we renounce anything accessible—part of our perpetual (and largely fruitless) plea for legitimacy with the literary establishment.

Thing is, I can’t really get mad when someone does this, because I’ve done it myself in the past. The unfortunate truth is that we all probably have at times. The moment a group finds cohesion—discovering the warmth and peace of being inside—we decide there aren’t enough seats, so we start muscling and pushing. Readers who came in because of the latest popular teen novel? Outside. Fans of the film version of a story, instead of the book version? Outside. People who don’t look the same as the supposedly conventional fan? I suspect they know this struggle far better than I do.

To use a thematic metaphor, it’s like we’re dragons on our hoard of gold, jealously keeping watch, worrying that if anyone new enters, their presence will somehow dilute our enjoyment. The irony is that there is infinite space inside, and if we open the way, we’ll find many of these newcomers are the very treasure we’re seeking.

Fantasy, out of all genres, should embrace the different, even if it doesn’t match our specific taste. This is the genre where anything can happen—and should, therefore, be the most open genre. Only fantasy offers me the full range of emotion. The wonder of exploration. The magnificent highs of epic scope and the miserable lows of cataclysmic terror. In writing it, I can learn. Monomaniacal, I hunt experiences of people different from myself, then explore them in prose until I feel—in some small part—what they do.

This is why I write. To understand. To make people feel seen. I type away, hoping some lonely reader out there, left on a curb, will pick up one of my books. And in so doing learn that even if there is no place for them elsewhere, I will make one for them between these pages.

Those who interview me seem to have trouble understanding this fundamental part of who I am: that writing for me isn’t so much about performance as it is about exploration and elevation. I love prose both literary and commercial. And I think I write great prose. I’ve slaved over my style, practicing for decades, honing it for crisp clarity. My prose is usually intended to convey ideas, theme, and character, then get out of the way—because this is how I strive to bring everyone inside.

That said, I know my goal is impossible. Occasional strolls through the outside are part of being human, and I can’t eliminate that. And even I have to admit that there are lessons to be learned on those lonely paths. For example, contrast is the only way to appraise growth. Emotional alien I may be, but that very alienation has motivated me to understand. I value the connections I’ve made so much more for that struggle.

Moreover, I find that occasionally looking in through a window at everyone else gives a person a more complete perspective. Inside, things can get messy, and a streak of color finds it hard to comprehend the painting. I’m a better writer because of my time spent looking in. I don’t know that I could have written Mistborn if I hadn’t been left on that curb.

This isn’t to discount the pain of those who have been forced outside. Nor is it an advocacy for extended periods spent in the cold. I also don’t know if I could have written Mistborn if the wonderful people of the science fiction and fantasy community (including many of the friends I now work with) hadn’t latched on to me in college and—at times—forcibly pulled me inside to be with them. Beyond that, as I’ve grown older, I’ve found people like Emily, who love me in spite of (and partially because of) my quirks. Blessedly, because of this, my times outside have been increasingly brief.

My goal here is merely to point out (as I’ve had occasion to remember recently) that beautiful moments do accompany the isolation. You can only watch the snow fall when you’re outside. Only then can you look up and experience that mystifying world, where fragments of the sky drift past and lift you toward the heavens.

I’m forty-seven now, enjoying desert snowfalls in early April. The man I am is separated by distance and time from that boy who stood on the curb, and I’ve forgotten most of the steps that led between the two. I still don’t feel strong emotions outside of stories—but I did tell an interviewer lately that I sometimes cry when writing scenes in my books. They just aren’t the scenes that I thought he’d expect.

I don’t necessarily cry when characters die, or when they marry, or even when they find victory. I cry when it works. When it all comes together, and in a beautiful shimmering burst of humanity, I feel what it is to be that character. At those times, I remember what I learned twenty years ago writing Mistborn. That there’s a reason I do this. And even if I’ve lost more memories than I retain, each of them had a point, because they collectively brought me here.

So when you find yourself in the cold, know that sometimes, there’s a purpose to it. Trust me; I’ve been there. I might be there right now. Feeling the cold on my cheeks—but these days, no longer in my bones. Knowing that this will pass, and that it might be for my good. Most of all, looking up so I can appreciate it. The still. Solemn. Perspective.

Of one who stands outside.

#brandon sanderson #cosmere #cfsbf #root #branderson #wob #kind of #long post

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monpalace · 10 months

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Okok, so my brain is not working with writing rn BUT i will finish that “reader and time pinning” thing that i was doing I PROMISE

BUT for now imma just share some thoughts of Time because he is THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND I NEED TO RANT ABOUT HIM

*ahem*

Ive said before (on my blog) that Time uses really old and kinda cringey petnames because 1, he genuinely loves them and 2, because he LOVES making the boys squirm in second hand embarrassment. SO, have a few more of those nicknames :D -> snookums, sugarplum, baby cakes, muffin, foxy, and toots

Young time (like teenage/young adult) was an absolute bastard BUT when he falls in love with someone, he is an absolute sweet heart! Think the ‘i hate everyone but you’ trope :3

Young! Time did not know romance AT ALL! That boy was raised by a tree and a bunch if spirit kids, he has know idea what a ‘date’ is. This leads to him just acting the same around his crush but being a little nicer to them

Is then very confused as to why they dont know that he likes them. “It was so obvious? I gave you a piece of my apple pie! I was so clear with my signs 🙄🙄”

He THEN reads all the romance novels he can get his hands on (legally and illegally) just so he can impress them! Completely misunderstood everything and now he just has to straight up tell them, cause how their hair is on fire…somehow

(Modern) Time is totally the type of guy that ‘doesn’t like drama shows’ but if his lover was watching one, he’d stand behind the couch and watch. But when his lover offers to move so he can sit hes like ‘no, im not even watching it. I was just bored’ and the proceeds to watch the next 3 episodes while standing.

(Modern) Time has a leather jacket that he LOVES!! Like he will cut someone for that thing, do not fuck with it. No one is aloud to wear it expect him….And his crush/lover but SHUSH!

Time enjoys polishing his armour/sword while you read a book out aloud. You both find it rather relaxing. Until something dramatic/a polt twists happens, all if the sudden the armour/sword is dropped to the side as Time is BAFFLED by this. “They killed Aaron?! Wh-what? Why!? He was the best choice for Max!” (Hes so invested, his duties are now discarded until you two finish this chapter)

I wanna do more but this is kinda chunky :3

I love dis man so much 🫶🫶

THE WAY I PHYSICALLY AND VERBALLY CRINGED AT FOXY??? bro's the type to say "hey foxy mama" when you walk into a room unironically, he literally has no shame whatsoever whenever someone points out how dated that sounds to

time would fit the secret admirer trope so well though? but he wouldn't even be secret about it?? the lon lon sisters def gave him the advice to "just be himself" and that gave him the idea to take stuff from his woodland-spirit background

"link, why is my house filled with flowers from floor to ceiling."

"that's not a declaration of adoration here? huh."

AND HIM TAKING THE ROMANCE BOOKS? personally, i feel like he's the type to sneak into the library when (supposedly) nobodies looking and just taking whatever he can carry before sneaking back out-- but in actuality it's just that nobody cares

someone asked zelda if he was allowed to take the books because they've been coming back in a damaged state (it's not bad, but while he's workshopping how he's gonna bring words to reality, he messes up a little) and she just says its fine so long as he isn't committing crimes with them (which he has done. several times. no one knows)

ofc there are questions as to WHY he's taking the romance books specifically, but the guards and librarians just chalk it up to him entering his weird boy phase ™️ and not because he has an interest in somebody because him?? having a love interest before half the other people in the castle??? Nah.

you catch modern! time watching a (raunchy) reality show once (like love island, or jersey shore-- maybe even teen mom) and he swears up, down, to the golden three, and to the sand goddess that he just kept it on for noise and that he's paying all his attention to his work even though you caught him ON VIDEO having the most expressive reactions to certain moments

BUT THE LEATHER JACKET ONE?? someone walks up to you while you're wearing it (your relationship with time isn't common knowledge yet) and they make a joke about him burying them alive if they mess it up-- no less just because you're wearing it.

time pops up out of literal thin air making excuses that you were cold (you were not), he was hot and didn't feel like carrying it (his goosebumps say otherwise), he thought there was a tear and he wanted to try and fix it (.. yeah, okay.), he only gave it to you because you said it would go with your outfit (that is not the only reason he'd give it to you), and everything else just to try to hide the fact that he's soft

(also, bonus points if you made it??? now not even the goddesses could touch it. he's about three seconds away from giving into the inner ferality of his childhood self and biting someone if they even look at it)

but tell me why i just imagine time getting ready to like, get in a fight or something, you read something so earth-shatteringly shocking in the book, and he's immediately like "the battle can wait. [opponent] was gonna lose anyways. we have to figure out what the devil is about to happen"

i'm literally scooping ur brain from ur skull, putting it on a table, and i'm gonna examine it for the rest of ur ideas mwah

#the palace answers #stargazing in the palace #loz x reader #legend of zelda x reader #lu x reader #linked universe x reader #loz link x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #time x reader #linked universe time x reader #lu time x reader #loz time x reader #legend of zelda time x reader

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strangerthings-writer · 22 days

Text

Save A Horse, Ride A Freak

(FtM!Eddie x MtF!Steve)

Word Count: 1,398

Summary: Eddie begs Stevie to ride his face, and while Stevie is nervous she’ll be bad at it… she’s actually quite good.

Warnings: NSFW (MDNI) gendered terms for genitals, use of names like “ma’am”, degredation, praise

Eddie has always been the type to initiate things, be the one making the demands while Stevie just seems to follow along. He’s usually a top, for lack of a better term. He doesn’t mind it being that way, in fact he enjoys it, but sometimes he does think about what it’d be like the other way around. Stevie has thought the same thing too. She’s thought about grabbing Eddie by his long hair and fucking him from behind. Getting him down on his knees and fucking into his throat until his lips were all swollen and dripping from his own drool and her cum… God, she would always get carried away with her thoughts, but she was always too anxious to execute them. What if Eddie didn’t like being submissive? What if this was how he liked it and he wanted to stick to it? Sure, it was a bit of a bummer, but she wanted him to have fun.

The aura of tonights little session seemed a bit different, and it had Steve a bit perplexed. Eddie was whining, letting Stevie take the lead in their heated kiss. His hands still wandered, but seemed to only wander very little. He had done this quite a few times now, maybe he wanted to have her on top for once, or maybe he was just playing a trick on her? She had no idea, and had a hard time reading anything Eddie did to begin with, so she pulled away.

“Are you alright? You’ve been acting weird these last few times and uh- I have no clue what’s going on- do you want me to do something different? Or-“ she began, but was cut off by a loud whine from Eddie.

“Jesus christ babe I want you to just- can you fuck me up? Like, just once? Twice maybe? Push me against the bed and drill me, sit on my face and fuck my throat I don’t care just- for the love of god would you please just dominate me once?” He finished, letting out a nervous laugh before covering his face. He knew Stevie was dense but not this dense. He had hoped she’d get the message at some point, but to no avail…

“Oh.” Stevie whispered out, sitting upright and staring down at the man. She felt dumb that she hadn’t caught on to that yet! And here she was, shirtless and looking stupid as she tried to wrap her mind around what her boyfriend just said. “You want me to… you want me to sit on your face?” She spoke, giving him a little smirk.

Eddie’s face went bright red and he huffed, crossing his arms. “I said what I said.” He spoke, trying to hide his bashful state with arrogance. Stevie let out a giggle and stared down at him for a moment contemplating whether she should or not. “…but what if I crush you?” She murmured, “I don’t want to hurt you or anything…”

Eddie rolled his eyes, shaking his head and grabbing onto the hem of her shorts, a pleading look on his face. “If you did, I’d die a happy man, now get up here, Harrington…” he grinned, tapping his lips with his fingers before letting out a laugh. Stevie only rolled her eyes and slipped her shorts and panties off, revealing her half hard cock.

Eddie’s eyes scanned over her body before letting out a delighted giggle, his hands going straight to her hips before looking up at her.

“How do you want this-? Like… my ass? My dick? What?” Stevie asked, getting a bit red in the face for having to be so crude about it. Eddie hummed in thought for a moment before gently grabbing her by the base of her cock, squeezing gently, “dick.” He said simply, giving her a big grin. She let out a little whimper and gave him a nod, “alright alright- I got it,” she laughed, gently slipping up and closer to his mouth before stopping. “You’re sure about thi-“

“Oh my god, Stevie, please.” Eddie whined like a child, stomping his feet impatiently too, just to go with it. He was being dramatic, but all he wanted was his girlfriends cock in his mouth.

Stevie giggled and gave him a slow nod, gently positioning herself over his face and slipping herself down into his mouth. God, it was so warm… so inviting. She could feel herself twitch and harden more-so as she cascaded down further to the back of his throat, earning herself a gag from the messy haired man under her.

“Fuck… that- that feels good…” she whispered, watching him silently. Eddie gagged around her length, his own arousal beginning to work its way up. He was harder than ever, his cunt dripping onto his boxers. God, he could feel it. The way she just eased down into his throat made him melt into putty in her hands.

She decided to test the waters, bringing a hand down to his hair and gripping onto it tightly before she drew herself out, then gently slid back down his throat. “G-good boy…” she whispered, her eyes never leaving him just to make sure she got a good reaction.

And by god, was his reaction heavenly. His eyes fought to stay open as he moaned around her, bucking his hips up into absolutely nothing but the now painful and teasing feeling of his boxers and jeans. This was perfect, both of them couldn’t get enough of one another in that moment, and they had only just started. Eddie gripped onto her hips, watching her as she would pull herself back and sink low into his throat, repeating this motion. She relished in the noises of the soft gagging and moaning coming from Eddie’s mouth, along with the sputtering from the excess saliva collecting in his mouth. He was covered in his own drool, some dripping down his cheek as he kept his tongue out to give her enough room to slide deliciously down his throat with ease.

She was practically dripping down his throat by now, her cock red hot and seeping at the tip. He could feel it… it felt like something out of a porno he had watched.

She tugged on his hair a bit harder and bit her lip, letting out a moan, “fuck- such a g-good little slut… you like when I use you like this, hm? When I make you my little whore?”

Those words sent Eddie’s blood running straight to his clit, his cock throbbing and straining against the fabric. He wanted to move his hands, give himself some sort of release, but Stevie was quick to stop him. “Ah ah, no. You can touch yourself when I’m satisfied…” got it?” She grunted, pulling from his mouth to let him speak. What followed were sputters and coughs as her spit covered cock was set free, his eyes going glossy. “Yes ma’am-“ he struggled to get out, looking utterly blissed out.

She was not expecting that one. It was so simple, yet so fucking hot. Something about Eddie Munson calling her ‘ma’am’ sent a shockwave down her spine. She bit her lip and let out a small giggle, slipping back down into his throat as she began to thrust a bit harder. “Good boy…” she gasped, gripping onto the bed frame.

It didn’t take long for her to get closer to the edge, letting her mouth hand open and small words of praise and expletives spilling from her parted lips.

Before she could reach orgasm, she pulled out from Eddie’s mouth and grabbed his hand, setting it onto her cock. “You know what to do-“ she gasped out, and Eddie was quick to move his hand along her length, leaving his mouth open with his tongue peaking out of his mouth.

Stevie’s orgasm was quick to envelope her entire body, a shiver running down her spine and a loud moan escaping her lips as she shot her load onto Eddie’s face, getting it in his hair, on the apples of his cheeks, his eyelids, his tongue, his chin… needless to say, he was well painted.

Eddie licked up some of the cum from his chin while Stevie wiped off the bit that was on his eyelid and he smiled up at her, giving her a daring look.

“My turn.”

#stranger things #steddie #nsft #mtf steve harrington #stevie harrington #ftm eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington

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adhd-merlin · 11 months

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unpopular opinion: arthur (as much as i like him as a character) was useless in terms of prophecy and liberation of the magic people. not just bc he never ended up lifting the magic ban but bc literally anyone sitting on the throne could have done that. i see no reason why it had to be arthur specifically. but the show liked to pretend like he was the only way to achieve a positive future bc the opprressed community cant simply help themselves that would be silly ig? no no they need to patiently wait that maybe one day their oppressor (whos literally continuing his fathers genocide even if less zealously) has a change of heart and they wont be hunted down like animals anymore. never mind the countless people that will have to die in the mean time. merlin can kill a bajillion people on screen and thats fine and for the greater good but if someone tries to kill One guy sitting on a fancy chair with a fancy hat suddenly thats too extreme. half the time it felt like the show was pointing to merlin as a poster child of how to act when oppressed. the fact that morgana growing bitter about uthers reign is framed as inherently bad and what directly lead to her becoming evil tm is particularly infuriating to me. the choice to create this very ya dystopian setting and then cast the oppressors as part of the main cast and the final solution is just very weird to me. i think it wouldve been objectively for the best if the magic community had overthrown arthur (or uther really but thats not really contested.. unless youre the bbc. this show is so british (derogatory))

in that vein: mordred has never done anything wrong in his entire life and that includes killing arthur

one more for the "arthur was a loser" folder

[ok but about the rest!! I have many thoughts about it. merlin as a member of an Oppressed Minority. his betrayal of his own kin. I'm putting it all under a cut bc you guys don't need to see me rambling about this and the disir again]

you make a good point — the way in which a story is framed, even the moment we choose as a "beginning", determines what characters we'll feel sympathy for, even when the facts at our disposal are the same.

I don't think the writers were trying to create any kind of deep social commentary btw. just so we're clear. merlin is the hero of the story and his mission is to keep arthur safe. we've got to root for them both.

to have a king with a hatred (fear) of magic gives us a convenient antagonist within the court. merlin having to defend the men that would have him killed for his magic is a great source of dramatic tension. it sort of follows that the people he has to fight against to defend the king/prince are other magic users, or magical threats. (it also keeps things interesting because there would be no challenge for merlin otherwise).

there isn't much of a point in exploring the motives and backstories of other characters with magic (with the exception of morgana, perhaps). They are only briefly touched upon — so these characters remain vaguely antagonistic for the most part. Neutrally aligned at best (see mordred).

We are shown that the druids are (mostly) aware of the prophecy that marks merlin/emrys as the saviour of their kind.

what I find fascinating are merlin's interactions with magic people who are either not aware of this prophecy (gilli) or have no faith in it (kara, possibly?) Because we're never given the chance or the time to see things from their perspective. To see merlin through their eyes.

When gilli says:

"It is time that someone struck a blow for the likes of you and me. And if you're too weak, then I will." (!!!)

It makes him sound like some kind of extremist, but really, when you think about it. isn't his anger kind of justified? I'm not condoning his violence, I'm just saying — it's understandable. uther has killed so many innocent people. literally drowned innocent children. and merlin's like "violence isn't the answer!" — and I can see his point!! but I can see gilli's just as well. and I find it so interesting that he's still addressing merlin as a brother ("the likes of you and me"), even when expressing disappointment in his actions and calling him weak. because they are the same. he's saying "you're deluded, and cozying up to the enemy won't save you"

this episode also contains what is (probably) my favourite dragon call. when merlin summons kilgharrah in other episodes, he's usually in the middle of some Urgent Situation. matters of life or death. there is nothing urgent here, really. yeah, it is arguably a matter of life or death, but nothing merlin couldn’t have stopped on his own. he really just called on kilgharrah to have a heart to heart with a friend — a member of his class.

("You are a creature of magic, and only a creature of magic could hope to understand.")

this episode is about merlin looking for kinship and still feeling isolated from his magic brethren. there's something tragic about the way the prophecy makes him unable to connect to some of the people who would be best placed to understand him.

and gilli plants a small seed of doubt in merlin's mind. "You've been pretending for so long now that you've actually forgotten who you are" (!!)

but kilgharrah reassures merlin that there's a golden age coming. so merlin does what he has to do — he saves uther once again. before gilli leaves, merlin reassures him that one day they will be free.

he tells mordred the same:

"It won't always be like this. One day we will live in freedom again."

and then, when he has the unique opportunity to use his influence on arthur to sway his opinion in the right direction. he fails.

he condemns himself, and the people he spoke to of freedom, to keep living in fear and in hiding — and what's even more upsetting, he does so while talking of a "just and fair kingdom"!

("You must protect the world you spent your life building, a just and fair kingdom for all." What an interesting choice of words. camelot isn't just and fair to all — as merlin knows well. he's lying to arthur, and possibly to himself.)

imagine being gilli or mordred and hearing him say that "there can be no place for magic in camelot." (!) What a slap in the face.

I've read meta suggesting that the disir were testing merlin just as much as arthur (or even more so than him). I'm inclined to believe it — I want to believe it. If anything because it makes the story all the more interesting and tragic. (I know what some are going to say — if mordred's destiny was to kill arthur, it would've happened anyway. but remember what else kilgharrah said — the future is never clear. there are many paths).

I understand why merlin did what he did, I really do. but for a moment, the fair and just kingdom he spoke of was within reach, and he failed to grasp it.

so was gilli wrong after all?

[and kara. I feel quite sympathetic towards her. we know arthur. she can't see him from our (merlin's) perspective. for her, he might as well be uther. magic people are still persecuted under camelot's law. she has spent her life on the run, she has seen people she loved be killed. and from our (arthur's) perspective, she looks like some kind of fanatic. but in reality. put yourself in her shoes. when arthur offers her a chance to save herself by "repenting" for her crime, she says she has nothing to repent for. "it is not a crime to fight for your freedom". that's the belief she's willing to die for. did she deserve to die for it?

(I also think there's an interesting parallel in merlin failing his kin in the disir, and arthur failing mordred in ep 5x11 by condemning kara to death. something about pinning all your hopes on someone who's going to fail you, and doom you both. idk idk.)]

sorry anon. you were saying

#merlin meta #more like brain vomit really #there is nothing particularly insightful in here #do you have an episode or a scene that makes you lose it #for me its that scene in the disir probably #I just [insert stick figure violence meme] when I think about it #many thoughts about merlin and the druids and those who knew him as 'emrys'#you have people like alator and finna - with an almost fanatic level of faith #but surely there must have been skeptics #druids who were like “what is he even doing. he's been in camelot for years”#“are we sure he's the right one”#it's just... from an outsider & skeptic perspective. merlin is a race traitor #defending uther and arthur like that #merlin iscariot #betrayal is such an interesting concept #but yeah I love it when he talks of freedom to his fellow oppressed sorcerers #bc it's easy to forget how much he suffers because of camelot's stance on magic #even merlin is so busy looking after arthur that he doesn't seem to have much time to dwell on his own oppression. if that makes sense #and meeting other sorcerers. it brings it back to the forefront #these are the people he's fighting for. brothers and sisters.#asks

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

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Itward...

*gasp from the audience*

With reader...

*another dramatic gasp*

Who is scared of Itward leaving them because they're "too old"!

*even more dramatic gasp*

Not in a grandma/grandpa way. In the way "hey you're every childs imaginary friend right? Riiight. Uh. So what happens.. once the child isn't a child anymore?......"

They turned 14 or 16, maybe the latter would be better, and realize that. Holy shit. From a legal standpoint they're half an adult now. Will he leave them? Will they forget about him, given the "every childs imaginary friend" status you can assume grown ups maay have forgotten about him(no you cant. Reader is just too paranoid to think normally)? I think it would also be fun if it escalated from jealousy and worry - Itward started coming to hang out less and less, where os he? Oh, he probably was with another kid.. sure... while dear itward just has important buisness to do because something on his ship broke and to fix it/change out the broken parts after trial and error of finding them is gonna take some time. They're more clingy, more desparate - even if they don't show it, and just appear more emotional.. it worries him, has something happened? Had he missed anything?

OBV PLATONIC DAD ITWARD DHKHKDHKD

Itward w/ a reader who's growing up! (Platonic)!

SPEED RUNNING THIS CUZ I GOTTA START MAKIMF CHICKEN ALREDO SOON BJT I LOVE THIS IDEA SO SO MUCH

I feel like even before you start to few up, itward isnt always there with you every might since he has to juggle around so many kids as well as take care of other things

But with that being said, you notice that hes stopping by less and less; although he does sincerely apologize for any lateness and such

For whatever reason itward came into your life; be it you needing a friend or other reasons, you and itward develop a father/child relationship

He was there when you needed someone to hold you and tell you it was going to be okay. He was there to share your accomplishments and milestones. And he has plans to keep it that way

Personally I think at some point itward fazes himself out of a childs life when they dont need him anymore, like when their situation gets better of theyre safe from outside forces. Typically he does it when they're still young, out of fear that someone talking about their "imaginary friend" will lead to complications

But I'm getting a little side tracked from the requests idea, right now...

You're different, for really any reason, and he decided to stick around. I mean it's not unheard of that hes shown up for older kids (Clara and mia are the main example)

Notices you're a little off, as if you have something on your mind

Gently presses for information, but I don't think he would corner you for a confession

He let's you know that you can talk to him about anything and he wont ever be upset at you if you've done something

Itward has a habit of talking about stuff hes done; be it with his own hobbies or about his other kids

He notices your face kind of fall when he talks about this new kid hes recently started reading bedtime stories too

Asks once again if you're okay but wont push for an answer

Imagine the truth spills when hes late one night to visit you, on a night where he promised to see you.. but let's say, he needed to get some fuel for his ship.. thus the delay and he finds you getting all up in your head :(

Maybe even crying

Oh his poor heart, he gently settles himself down on the bed next to you and rubs your back; he doesnt wanna hug you out of nowhere and risk making you uncomfortable

You just spill out all your thoughts and oh his poor heart (again!)

Of course you wont forget about him, infact I don't think he has the ability to erase peoples memories.. even if he did I dont think he would do it unless the situation is dire

Hes so so apologetic about neglecting you these past few weeks/months, he assures you that hes not going to go anywhere

In fact if you want him gone youre gonna have to tell him yourself; and he might even hover to the side to make sure you're doing fine

Tries to clear room in his schedule to hang out with you more, even offers to take you on overnight adventures with him if it's not too dangerous (assuming you still live in the third reality and with your family)

Hugs, lots of hugs! Itward gives the best hugs, I think... as long as you ignore hes cold and hes a skeleton..! Its the feeling he puts into it that matters!

Very hard to fix given he has to take his other kids into consideration

Obviously we dont know how many kids hes helping at once, but given he said hes "the one many children talk about" and the fact hes canonically labeled as a wanderer (safe to assume hes always. You know. Wandering and exploring), I would assume it would at least be a few but not a lot at any given time; afterall theres only one of him

#itward headcannons #itward imagine #itward x reader #fran bow itward #itward

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thanks--for--listening · 1 year

Text

divine monstrosity

Chapter 1: Ava

it’s finally here, the Lilith centric fic I’ve been promising for months! is it good? who knows. but it exists, which at this point is all that matters.

here’s chapter 1/4. also on ao3. (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4)

~~~

“feels like / we had matching wounds but / mine’s still black and blue and / yours is perfectly fine”

— the exit, conan gray

From the moment she was born, Lilith had been given the gift of direction. Hands on her back, leading her forward; under her chin, shifting her gaze. Her feet walked the path paved especially for her, a path she had been destined for, and she did whatever was required to make sure she never strayed.

Through every moment of it, there had been voices in her head. Her mother’s. Her instructors’. Every priest and member of the clergy she’d been presented to, who blessed her without knowing how precisely she’d serve them. Beneath altars adorned with gold, in front of a woman armed with an abundance of diamonds and sophistication, she’d done nothing but listen.

The silence she was left with now threatened to drive her to madness.

She had half a thought, as she jumped from headquarters to a hotel room, that perhaps the quiet was punishment for her infallible obedience. For years spent lying in wait for something that would never be. Like an open wound left untreated and exposed, the lack of noise in her head was a vulnerable, physical thing. It ached. Her body couldn’t heal from it. The cruelty felt vengeful, an intentional consequence of a lifetime dreaming about the Halo she had never deserved.

Or perhaps all of this was retribution for her blasphemy. For the moment she’d stuck a knife in the Halo Bearer’s back and tried to cut it out herself. Ava may have forgiven her, but God clearly hadn’t.

Lilith dropped the bag, let it hit the ground heavily.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Language, Ava.”

The girl turned around, hand dramatically clutching her heart. “We’re not in church. And don’t sneak up on me like that! I could have killed you.”

“It’s cute that you think that.”

Ava rolled her eyes, glanced down at the duffel sitting between them. “I didn’t realize your trip to the other side would make you the OCS’s official pack mule,” she said as she bent down and opened the zipper. “You know, we really ought to get you a bell or something.”

Anger simmered as Ava sorted through the weapons and passports. After everything that had happened, she’d have assumed Ava would finally start taking herself and this job seriously. But she was exactly the same person she’d been before their entire world had crumbled around them: a naïve girl who would never be able to handle the responsibility thrust upon her.

“Some gratitude would do you good,” Lilith snapped. “Where’s Beatrice?”

“Asleep. And keep your voice down — I wanna keep it that way. It hasn’t come easy these past few days.”

“It hasn’t come easy for any of us.”

Technically it was true, but it felt like a lie coming from her. Their bodies would catch up with them, would shut down if they didn’t stop. They were still human.

She hadn’t noticed, at first. That entire days had passed since she’d eaten a meal. Had a dream. Had a nightmare. Ever since her return, it was as if her body was energized entirely on its own, as if time itself moved differently. The rising and setting sun no longer held any kind of control over her.

It wasn’t just the stars that had lost their grip. Her handle over her own heart had all but disappeared. She’d long ago learned the lesson of where feelings were meant to be kept: buried deep, away from the view of anyone who sought to take advantage of them. That kept her safe. That gave her an advantage. But now, every emotion threatened to drown her, invigorated in the same way her body had become.

Anger was the only one that was manageable. It still burned as bright as it ever had, if she gave it any air. It didn’t seem confined to the same rules as the rest of them. It was comfortable. Familiar. The sole part of her that felt unchanged.

Lilith suspected that said less about where she’d gone, and more about who she’d always been.

Stoicism was easier. Numbness was easier. Closing her mind and heart off from any potential trigger starved off the threat that she could feel constantly lurking in the shadows of her mind. Allowing even the slightest hint of some other feeling to sneak out could set them all loose, could leave her as unhinged as she’d been at the Vatican. Lilith would rather die again than lose her composure now, when the only person who knew how to put her back together was still lost.

Mary had promised to help. Figure out what had changed and put the pieces into place once more. But Mary was gone. Beatrice was on the run. Shannon was dead. And the halls of Cat’s Cradle were filled with whispers that were never quiet enough, each one carving out space in the back of her mind. A poor imitation of the voices she’d lost.

Her sisters no longer offered her purpose or direction — all they had to give were questions. Where she’d been.

What she was.

Whose side she was really on.

The answers were unknown, but one thing was agreed upon: her resurrection was anything but holy.

“Hey, are you…good?” Ava’s question stopped the derailing train of thought. She, at least, looked at Lilith the way she always had: with annoyance and a healthy amount of distrust.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, a couple weeks ago I watched you disappear into a black hole while impaled by a demon monster.”

“Yes, I was there, Ava. I recall.”

“Ok, but like, that’s a lot to deal with? And now you’ve got these powers and gray hair and—“

“And what?”

“I don’t know, I just thought maybe you’d want to talk about it.”

Lilith rolled her eyes. “Even if I did, why would I want to talk to you?”

“Because I kinda understand what you’re going through? I mean,” she added, “I know it’s not the same, and I don’t know if you technically died, but—“

Ava’s rambles faded away, overpowered by the sound of her own heart pounding. Ava, who held her birthright in her back, thought they were the same? The Halo had given her everything. Life. Family. Freedom. Purpose. Lilith’s rebirth had taken all of that away, had corrupted something inside her so decisively that she was beginning to suspect it could never be reversed. Their bodies may both have healed, but only one of them was left with scars.

“—anyway, I guess I’m just saying that if you want to—“

“Ava.” For Beatrice’s sake, she forced her voice to stay at a near whisper. “Stop.”

“I—um, okay.”

Lilith ran a hand over her face, let her eyes roam around the room, searching for anything but the obnoxious, ungrateful girl in front of her.

They landed on scraps of paper, spread haphazardly on the desk beside her. “What is this?” She said as she reached for them. “You know you guys aren’t supposed to be communicating—“

“No! Give those back!” Ava lunged for her, but Lilith phased backward, just out of reach.

The sheet was covered in words, written sloppily, but not illegibly. Scanning the paper, she noticed the repetition. Every line contained the same name, written over and over: Beatrice, Camila, Mother Superion. Even her own.

A sarcastic comment about her penmanship evaporated when she saw the final name. It took over three lines at the bottom, as if the excess could counteract the absence. As if the effort could bring her back.

“I miss her,” Ava said, and the rage came quickly, because how could she? How could she feel the gap of her when she’d hardly known her? She hadn’t seen Mary love. Hadn’t seen her grow. She hadn’t felt the weight of her arms around her, holding her close, dragging her out of the void and back into herself.

All that time they’d wasted chasing Ava, the three of them acting no better than petulant children. Fighting over her. Dying over her. And for what? A halo that had never been holy. An angel that was nothing of the sort. A girl who had never believed in it.

“It’s my fault,” Ava whispered. “Maybe if I’d practiced more, or if I’d been stronger, I…”

The anger was inclined to agree, but logic held the words back. Lilith knew the truth. Only one of them had been compelled to whisk the group away, back to the safety of the OCS. Only one of them hadn’t been strong enough to bring everybody with her.

“Mary taught me to shoot.” She wasn’t sure where the words came from, where they were going, but she let them out anyway. “My mother thought guns were ugly, classless tools. Too common to be dignified. But Mary saw beauty in the danger. Weapons gave her an advantage, a way to protect herself and those she loved. And then she gave that advantage to me.”

Ava didn’t say anything, an occurrence almost as rare as Lilith’s nostalgia. She tried to savor it, but all it did was add to the unnatural air that seemed to follow her everywhere she went, the inescapable awareness that they were all transforming into something new. Something unrecognizable. Ava speechless, Beatrice restless. It wasn’t right.

She had an unrelenting suspicion that it had nothing to do with their loss or with Adriel, and everything to do with her. It had all started before the Vatican, right after she’d returned. It only seemed to happen when she was nearby. There was one simple conclusion: corruption by association. Her continued presence was enough to ruin them.

And yet here she stayed. Maybe she truly was selfish.

“For a long time, nobody cared to come back for me,” Ava finally said in response. “Not any of the distant family members I have scattered around the world. Not the prospective parents who saw me as a sob story instead of a person. Not even the asshole who put me in that orphanage in the first place. But Mary did. She kept coming back. Even after I pushed her away. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The familiarity of the sentiment beckoned emotions that Lilith fought off. Memories flashed through her mind, each one offering glimpses of a life that would never again belong to her. They were gone as quickly as they arrived. She forced herself into the safety of detachment, the sanctuary of the dreaded silence.

“I never understood why,” Ava added. “Why did she keep trying? Why didn’t she just give up like everybody else?”

Why, indeed? Why spend all that time fighting her, after a year of slow-growing distance and glares that lingered long enough to be intentional, only to then hold her close when she needed it most? Why believe in her only when she was already beyond saving?

She’d spent days searching for answers. Her only hope in finding them seemed to be in finding Mary herself and demanding an explanation for what she’d seen in her, because Lilith had spent long hours staring into the mirror and had yet to see anything worthy of that kind of devotion.

“Mary always has been stubborn to a fault,” Lilith eventually answered.

“I think some people might call that loyalty.”

“Same difference.”

“But why me? I hadn’t earned it.”

“Why any of us? Mary is just like that. She commits to people and refuses to give up. You aren’t special, Ava.”

Ava thought for a second. “But she is.”

Lilith nodded. It wasn’t reassurance — if either of them had sought that, they wouldn’t have come to each other. But it was something. Recognition, maybe, of what they shared. Of what they lost.

“You should know that Beatrice promised to keep training me.” Lilith waited for the joke, but Ava’s face remained entirely serious. “I’m going to fix this. Next time we fight, I’m going to be ready.”

“Nobody’s ever ready; they’re only prepared.” The words came out automatically. The dutiful student still lived somewhere inside her, still remembered their lessons and stories. Lilith wondered how much longer that girl could last in a body that now defied the very gospel it had been promised to.

“Then I’ll be fucking prepared. I know I don’t have the experience that Shannon or any of the others had, but I can still put in the work. I can still fight.”

It was a different kind of ache, knowing that if Shannon were here, none of this would have happened. Lilith would still be herself: second in line, fighting off a different kind of whisper behind her back, the one that assumed it was jealousy making her ungrateful for her role. It wasn’t entirely a false assumption, but nobody knew what it was like to be next. To stand behind her friend and be constantly reminded that in order for her own legacy to begin, Shannon’s would have to end.

She’d always thought that Shannon was her final lesson. That when the Halo did eventually pass onto her, she’d have learned everything she could from her predecessor. But Shannon had known something was coming, and she’d chosen not to prepare her for it.

Lilith wasn’t sure if she’d naively assumed she’d have more time, or if she’d known, somehow, that the Halo would never be hers. If she’d seen something in her, some otherness, some darkness, that had pushed her to secrecy. After all, Lilith had spent countless hours studying and observing, and it was Ava who’d found an evil none of them noticed. She’d seen there was wickedness in their sect, and her foresight had nothing to do with what was resting in her back.

It was her heart that led her to the truth; Lilith had frequently been accused of lacking one of those.

At the end of the day, the reason didn’t matter. What mattered was that Shannon was gone, and she had left her education unfinished. There was no one to lead her now.

“Do you still hear them?” She finally gave into her curiosity and asked. Ava looked at her, face scrunching in confusion. “The other Warrior Nuns,” Lilith clarified. “Shannon. Areala.”

“Oh. Not so much anymore, thankfully.”

“You’re happy about that?”

“Uh, yeah. They only showed up to tell me that their life was shit or warn me that I was destined to die a horrible death, so I can’t say I miss it.”

Lilith nearly scoffed at the insolence. If it had been her, she never would have insulted their predecessors. She never would have dismissed the knowledge they carried, and the constant reminder that the scars on her back meant she would never be alone. Not in history. Not in her own mind. Not ever.

For a moment, walking through the halls of the Vatican, she’d wondered if she’d found that feeling after all. It wasn’t as distinct, not quite a voice in her head, but something similar. A puppet master pulling the strings, giving her a new path, new orders, and not waiting to see if she’d listen before taking control.

It had scared her, at first. Realizing that her body, her actions, were not her own. Knowing that someone else, something else, had taken over, had led her to the boy, and the tomb, and then forced them to retreat. But every choice she’d made had turned out to be the right one. For a moment, she’d even let herself believe that God might have come back for her, despite her apparent damnation.

But the silence spoke loudly enough. Whoever had taken over had used and discarded her like she was nothing. They’d turned her into a disciple and given her no one to follow. They’d abandoned her.

“You should try and contact them.” Her voice was hushed, quiet not out of courtesy but necessity. “They may know more than they suspect.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I’ll try when we get there. Wherever ‘there’ is.”

“When you guys make it to your next location, remember not to tell anyone. It’s safest if nobody knows where you are.”

“Will do.” Her eyes lit up as she added, “Honestly, I don’t even care where we go. I’m just hoping Bea and I will have a chance to experience something new. I’ve hardly had any time to see the world, you know? I wanna make the most out of it.”

Envy flared, lingered for half a second more than she usually let it. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was longing for. The gift of being wowed by the simplest of sights? The freedom to take advantage of a second chance at life without the burden of impious transmutation? Knowing that in all of it, Ava and Beatrice would be together, side by side at every step?

Or maybe she still ached for the Halo. For the responsibility it brought. The power. Maybe nothing had changed, except now she wanted something that she knew would reject her.

“Oh! Speaking of something new,” Ava said as she ran into the bathroom, returning with a box of brown hair dye. “You can have this one. I was gonna use two of them to go incognito, but Bea said any darker and it’ll look unnatural.”

Lilith grabbed it, turning it over in her hands. She knew it was another part of why everyone stared. Up until the Vatican, her hair had always been hidden underneath her habit. A non-issue by default. But though the doors to the OCS were still open to her, she hadn’t put the familiar garment back on. It didn’t feel right anymore.

Her grip on the box tightened as she fought the rush of feelings itching to break through the surface. Even a hint of them felt unbearable, went against everything she’d ever known. Her heart did its best to overwhelm her, taking her episode at the tomb as permission to establish a new normal; Lilith did her best to bury it. The concept wasn’t new, it just required a fortified effort. Total commitment. She forced her mind to detach itself from reality. She felt nothing. She was nothing. And she would not break. No matter the cost.

“If you want to disguise yourself,” Lilith said after a moment, her voice reflecting a casual indifference she fought to hold onto, “you should probably do more than just dye it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did they not have haircuts at the orphanage?”

“Oh.” Ava walked back into the bathroom, and against her better judgment, Lilith followed, placing the box down as she stepped in behind her. She watched Ava watch herself in the mirror, anxiously running her hands through her hair. “I never really thought about it, but I think the last time anyone cut it was a little while after the accident. For surgery or something. They shaved it all off.”

“Definitely don’t do that. You don’t have the proper bone structure.”

“Gee, thanks. That’s a real confidence booster.”

“If you go for less drastic measures, I can take care of it now.” She wasn’t sure why she was offering. Ava was infuriating, and childish, and every conversation threatened her hard earned self-control. But something was cementing her feet to the ground. Something made her stay when she knew she should go.

Maybe it was because her heart was still racing. Maybe she didn’t trust it to ease when she was back on the hunt, or in Cat’s Cradle. Maybe it was the sense that this hotel room, this conversation, existed outside of regularity, outside of time itself, and the moment she left, everything would go back to the way it was. To the way it would always be.

Or maybe this was nothing but a proper distraction.

“You would do that?”

Lilith shrugged. “I have no other pressing matters to attend to. Not yet, anyway.”

That wasn’t true. She had leads to follow. A friend to find. But the words felt honest nonetheless. Like just saying them made it possible to delay everything else on her agenda for another few minutes.

“I don’t know,” Ava hesitated. “Should I? What if I cut it and I look like a ten year old?”

“You already look like—“

“Shut up, I’m serious! This is a big deal!”

To hear the Halo Bearer stress over cosmetics while Mary was missing and Adriel walked among them should have brought the rage back to the surface. Part of her longed for it. Better it than something she couldn’t predict. Couldn’t reign in. But Lilith knew, at least in this moment, that her hesitation was about the decision itself. Having control. Agency over her own body. She more than most could understand how important the mundane choices felt when they were all you had. How stressful they became when you had no practice at making them. How tempting it was to relinquish that responsibility to someone, even if they chose wrong.

But, still. “It’s just hair, Ava.”

She looked up at her, vulnerability in her eyes, and Lilith was reminded once again of just how different the two of them were. Ava showed everything. She felt everything. Fear. Awe. Hope. Lilith wasn’t sure how she hadn’t crumbled under the weight of it all yet, how those insatiable feelings hadn’t bled her dry.

“It’s just hair?”

“It’s just hair. But it is up to you.”

Ava looked back at the mirror. She took a deep breath, before squeezing her eyes shut. “Ok,” she said. “Do it.”

Lilith didn’t give her time to change her mind before letting her nail grow sharp. In an instant, she ran it through the ends of her hair, watching the stands fall to the ground as she commanded the claw to retract.

“There. Done.”

Ava opened her eyes, and gasped. Lilith held back an eye roll. Everything was always so dramatic.

“Oh my god, that was so much.”

Lilith glanced down. “It was at most four inches.”

Ava had already moved on, standing up so close to the mirror that Lilith wasn’t sure how she could even see herself reflected. “Wait, it actually looks super cool!”

“Then I suspect incognito won’t be a problem.”

Ava’s eyes narrowed. “Although, it’s a little uneven.”

“I don’t run a salon.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Beatrice can fix it for you in the morning.”

Ava blushed, just slightly, still staring forward. “Oh. Yeah, I guess she can. I mean, if she wants to. It’s not a big deal if she doesn’t, it’s only a few uneven ends, and it is just hair, but—.”

“Lord above,” Lilith mumbled under her breath. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait!”

Ava reached behind her and grabbed the bottle again. “I know it’s just hair, but it might help to look like yourself again. Or, whatever version of yourself you wanna look like.”

She handed it back. Lilith didn’t offer any kind of agreement or thanks, but she did accept it without protest.

“Plus,” Ava added with that insufferable grin, “now you can’t say I owe you one.”

“I quite literally gave my life for yours.”

“You did try to kill me first, though.”

“Technically, I just tried to take the Halo.”

“Which would have made me dead again.”

Lilith shrugged. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

“Ah, Lilith. Always so considerate.” Her voice mimicked exasperation, and Lilith knew there was some truth to it, but that’s mostly what it was. Mimicry.

They would never be friends. Not the way she was with Beatrice or Mary. But she would take this tolerable truce as victory enough.

“Okay,” Ava said, her voice turning serious. “I know we’re supposed to go no contact, but you’ll let us know if you find her, right?”

Her hands formed fists, her nails threatening to break skin. Again, she buried anything that wasn’t indignant rage. Logically, some part of her knew this couldn’t be healthy, but it was effective, and right now, that mattered most. That’s what could save her.

It was impossible to ignore all her missing pieces. Awareness wasn’t the problem — the issue was that she couldn’t put the shards of her own soul back together alone. Couldn’t help the others until she did. And if there was one person that could set off a domino effect to fix all of them, it was Mary.

She’d spent a lifetime watching Warrior Nun after Warrior Nun give their life for their sisters. Waiting for her turn. Working hard and having patience and trust and faith. She’d never received the Halo, but she’d lost a life all the same to the dedication. But her next, no matter how short, wouldn’t be wasted. She would find Mary, even if it killed her.

“The next time you hear from me, I’ll have an answer,” Lilith vowed.

Ava nodded. As she willed her body back to the Cradle, she noticed something else lurking beneath the anger. For the first time since the Vatican, she felt blessed with glorious, deafening purpose.

#warrior nun #sister lilith #pls let me know what you think i love that shit #thinking chapters 2-4 will be posted weekly but don't hold me to that i guarantee nothing #they are mostly written tho so that's a good sign #lilith deserves the world and i am doing my best to give it to her #even if i'm not 100% satisfied with how this has turned out #TFLAO3 #warrior nun fanfic #avatrice #they may be background but they will always be there lol

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