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NOT A REQUEST BUT THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR DOING THE KAZUHA YANDERE FIC REQ I HAD I LOVE YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️ IRS SO GOOD
Oh hello! You are so very welcome ♡ I usually don't post requests fast enough for the original requester to find them so I'm stoked you saw it haha. And I'm really glad you liked it, lovely! ☺️
hii !!! would it be possible for you write a yandere fic about kazuha from le sserafim 👀👀
laso i just wanna say i love your writing and your love for it 😭😭
hiii anon! I did my best... sorry, it's a bit cliche! Also thank you so much, that's really kind! Hope you enjoy the fic, lovely!! Gonna leave it under the readmore because it's a little too long (800wc) for a drabble but too short to be a full fic (hehhh). Also the summary is really bad but it's short so take a chance on it (if you like dark fics)!
"Summary";; You've been chosen to be Kazuha's understudy and you have to work twice as hard to show you have what it takes to stand beside her. (Un)fortunately she's taking it upon herself to make sure you're training properly.
Warnings;; Yandere Kazuha with a timid reader, Ballet references but not many because I don't know ballet at all, Kazuha is a little rough, a little mean, a little 'evil' but also a little sexy?? (according to my beta reader), degradation, accusations of sleeping one's way to the top.
Stats;; Written: July 22nd, 23rd. Time: 1 hour.
Her harsh scoff cuts through your concentration, whittling you down instantly. "Your pirouettes are atrocious."
She stalks across the ballet studio and you stumble into the wall in an attempt to keep some distance between you. It's all in vain. She doesn't hesitate to get close, her presence looming as she looks down on you.
"What were they thinking, making you my understudy?" The question lingers long enough that you think maybe you're meant to answer when she continues, "Everyone is saying you slept with the director to get the part."
Your blood runs cold. "What–”
"Did you? Sleep with him?"
"No!" Tears spring to your eyes and they burn, forcing a pathetic squint as several droplets roll down your cheeks. "I don't know why he chose me…”
Kazuha's lips turn up in one corner. "No one does."
But that isn’t true because you both know she asked the director, that she personally got you the position, that the director was as confused as you but relented after you promised to live up to her expectations. Not his; hers. He said she must’ve seen your potential yet seemed doubtful of its existence, doubtful of your ability to shine next to her. Everyday and every spare moment spent in this studio practising for her, to prove your worth and impress her…
"I'm sorry..." you whisper, looking at the floor to avoid her judgement.
"What a loser."
A flash of movement further blurred through tears is all you have time to register before pain clears the fog and brings clarity. You whimper as her nails dig into your jaw, her pretty fingers caressing your face with an iron grip. Forced to gaze upon her, you take in her beauty alongside the cruelty.
"Looks like I have no choice but to give you... private lessons." And when you straighten up ever so slightly, lips parting in anticipation, her eyes narrow. "Don't look so excited. This whole situation pisses me off."
But it's a dream come true, working side by side with the lead and upcoming star of the company, Kazuha. One of the greatest talents of this generation, her knowledge and guidance would be invaluable. Your fellow ballerinas would kill for this opportunity! So why does it feel…
"Don't you have anything to say?" she asks, breaching your comfort zone as she leans in. There's nowhere left to retreat; your back is against the wall. “‘Thank you', or maybe 'what an honour'?"
"Thank you," your voice is low but she's so close she can probably hear how your breath staggers and your words tremble, "for taking care of me."
like a nightmare?
"It’s not like I have a choice," she says, and her breath wisps against your lips, the taste of cherry, both sweet and sour, lingers. Her grip on your jaw loosens as her fingertips massage the flesh she tenderized. "You're bringing the whole troupe down when you can't even plié properly."
"I'm sorry," you repeat, bowing your head.
"Right now all you can do is be sorry, but I'll make you better."
She tilts your head up and you follow her silent cues, gazing into her eyes, resisting the urge to flinch from the intense fire burning within them. The ghost of a smile lights her face and you find yourself falling into her shadow; a puppet for her to control.
"I'm going to make you perfect'," she whispers as she cups your cheeks, "And what do we say?"
Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you force out a ‘thank you’.
"For what?"
"For pitying me…”
She scowls, hold tightening around your face, the pressure forcing your eyes shut in a pained squeeze.
"And?" she insists.
"For making me perfect!"
You sigh in relief when her gentler side returns, her hands softening against your overheated skin.
"You don't need to thank me," she coos, her breath warm and inviting, her lips inches from your own. "I like perfect, pretty things. Don't you want to be liked?" You nod with frantic energy. “I might even come to love you, wouldn’t that be nice?”
Forcing a smile, you clench your teeth and open your eyes wider, praying she takes the wet glimmer in your eyes as desperate enthusiasm as you nod.
“Aw, what a good pet,” she mocks as she grabs your wrist and pushes you into the centre of the room. “Come on, then. From the top.”
You scramble into the starting position and your knees threaten to buckle, already exhausted from practising all day into the night.
“And remember!” she trills, her tone much lighter than the narrowed glare she’s assessing your every movement with, “I will be disciplining you for every mistake, so do your best, okay?”
Kyungsoo returns from his tour early and, wanting to surprise you, heads home to wait for your work shift to end.
Your day, however, is long and fraught, made worse by how much you miss Kyungsoo… and his total lack of correspondence all day.
“Warnings”;;
Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort? (lowkey), a little sappy (as all my romance pieces tend to be).
Two people who are so focused on their partner they forget to take care of themselves.
Summary sucks but it’s hard to write about slice of life pieces… like what happened, you asked? They had feelings and thoughts and then they expressed those feelings and thoughts with one another through subtle action.
Told in both 2nd Person (from Reader’s POV) and 3rd Person (from Kyungsoo’s POV) but not at the same time.
Request;;
“Hi author-nim! Recently came back to tumblr and discovered your Kyungsoo fics; thank you for writing content of our king <33 Are you taking requests right now? If so, may I request a suggestive/mild smut of being reunited with Kyungsoo after he finishes his tour or something where there's mutual pining/missing each other?” – @deetaedoh
I didn’t quite hit the smut aspect – it’s a little suggestive though? Hopefully it’s still good!
Notes;;
Written: May 19th, July 2nd, July 3rd.
Time: 3hrs
and uhh yeah I totally didn't post this on the wrong account initially lmfao
Main Masterlist | EXO Masterlist | Fluff Masterlist
It's a little after midday when Kyungsoo enters your shared flat. He's earlier than planned and you're at work. If he has to wait to see you he might as well recuperate, the tour having taken its toll. He places his bags in the bedroom and sits on the edge of the mattress. A minute passes. The luggage waits almost tauntingly. He checks the time – a few hours until you're home. With a small sigh he gets to work unpacking.
—
Not even an hour later and he’s fidgeting, his body tells him to rest but his mind races loops around the image of you. The luggage is taken care of but there's laundry in the hamper and dinner to prep. You've been doing everything the last few months–taking care of the place and yourself–alone. Tidying up would make for a nice surprise. Besides, it won't take long.
He can rest after.
—
Kyungsoo collapses into the lounger by the balcony window, a heavy sigh on his lips and a book in hand, and stares out the window. The city is a grey metropolis of skyscrapers and parking complexes. The sun lowers, edging toward sunset but not yet dark enough to justify living room lights or trigger streetlamps.
The apartment grows colder as the day passes.
The city moves on, but you're not home.
—
Another day gone by, another shift worked. Most of the time you enjoy work (as much as anyone can enjoy it, at least) but today slogged by. It wasn't any specific task or project, and it wasn't the trainings or impromptu meetings; you just hadn't heard from Kyungsoo. Radio silence. Not a peep all day, and you worried. You checked the news a little too frequently, fearing the worst, but found nothing significant. The tour, in its last leg, was going well. No mishaps, no disasters. You could investigate further, but respected the boundary between persona and personal. Idol D.O. was theirs; Kyungsoo was yours. Besides, fandom could get messy. Peace of mind is best achieved through separation of social media and reality.
... though your peace of mind wasn't particularly great right now.
Assuaging your worries over his well-being did nothing to address the real root of your discomfort: you missed him. A single day apart is torturous, let alone an entire tour. The calls and daily texts eased the ache, but paled in comparison to his physical presence. Warm, strong, caring – you yearn for his return.
But another gloomy thought crosses your mind: if he hasn't text, he's too tired to reach out. Exhausted and so far away from home. You resolve to contact his manager first thing tomorrow morning to arrange a care package. It's during this last stretch of tour that he'll need a boost the most. Some flowers and treats to say, ‘I miss you and I understand’.
Solution prepared, you drive home a mix of anticipation and relief.
—
It's dark by the time you park and enter the elevator. Your mind is racing, wide awake and making plans for tomorrow, while your body is already falling asleep. You rest your head back against the cold metal of the elevator, watching the numbers increase as you ascend floor after floor. A warm bath might help you sleep, or some herbal tea. Perhaps reading by the window? Nestled up in Kyungsoo's favourite chair...
The elevator dings and you depart, walking the short distance to your front door. There's a light on inside, its cool light spilling into the hallway as you enter. You frown. Were you really that out of it when you left this morning? Slowly pulling off your shawl and tossing your belongings on the entryway table, you make your way to the living room and instantly brighten.
Dozing on his recliner is Kyungsoo. He's the epitome of serenity; not a modicum of tension on his face. Soft hair bounces as he readjusts his position. You know he'd be more comfortable in bed, but the thought of waking him seems egregious. Instead you find a blanket and cover him. With a ghost of a kiss on his cheek, you take the chair opposite him, promising you won't fall asleep.
Just a few minutes to decompress…
—
When Kyungsoo wakes, the first thing he notices is you. Beautiful in your sleep, angelic even. His body moves before he processes the blanket draped over him – a testament of your affection. He scoops you up into his arms, too tired to realize the action isn't as soft as he envisioned. You startle awake, eyes wondrously alert before your gaze locks onto him and you instantly relax, melting into his embrace.
"You're awake," you say, your tone warm and fuzzy.
"Let's get you to bed," he says, voice low and quiet, as if he hasn’t already woken you.
"No." You squirm in his arms and he helps you stand straight, hands remaining perched around your waist. "I was going to take a bath..." You trail off as you look around. "What time is it?"
"It's pretty late. I'll run the bath."
"No, no, no. I think I'd fall asleep the moment I got in. I'll just shower – you go rest, okay?"
You kiss him on the lips, chaste and sweet, before stumbling toward the bathroom.
Kyungsoo has no intention of leaving your side, especially when you're five seconds from collapsing. Like a stalwart guardian he follows in your shadow, always ready to catch you should you fall.
—
Water drips from your hair and chin into the sudsy bubbles of the bath. Despite the late hour, Kyungsoo insisted you take one, saying you earned one after your long day. You'd barely mentioned how your day went before he pulled out the salts and soaps. Selfishly, you didn't tell him what truly made your day unbearable: how you needed more than anything to see him. Selfishly, you wanted every moment with him to last forever.
It isn't until he pulls you close, his chin resting on your shoulder, that you realize some of the droplets running down your cheeks are tears.
"What's wrong?" he asks, the words a deep rumble you feel through his chest.
You don't reply; there's no words to convey what you're feeling. Instead you sidle just far enough away to give yourself the room to turn and take him in. Gentle eyes watch you in turn, and it’s in those eyes you capture the emotions you've bottled up over the months: yearning, scattered across a thousand small moments, shining like stars.
Sitting up, you lean toward him. He meets you halfway, his lips plush against your own. Your eyes flutter close and you let your body speak for you, chest pressed to his as you chase his heartbeat, slow and steady, relaxed in the way only lovers with eternity ahead of them can be. Your heart syncs with his, calm now that it's reunited with its other half.
He's warm, so much warmer than the steaming water, as you wrap yourself up within his arms. He’s quick to reciprocate, holding tight like you're no more than a dream he might lose in the morning. You deepen the kiss, hungry for him, desperate in your need to have him. It's been so long since he was here with you and you've missed him – every aspect of him, of the intimacy not just emotional, but physical as well, you’ve missed him.
When you break the kiss with a single thought ready to pour forth he says it first, tender yet unshakeable, as if his words are a universal certainty.
"I love you,"
and you know no matter time nor distance that you’ll always find your way back to one another.
There's a constant drip keeping you awake and stressing you out. You don't want to wake up Taeyong but it's nigh impossible to ignore.
Warnings;;
None! Just domestic fluff! Established relationship. A little anxiety/stress on Reader's part but Taeyongie is there to comfort <3 also my attempt at freestyle poetry at the end might need a warning lmfao
Prompt;;
'Drip Drop' from my 2025 July Prompts!
Notes;;
Happy Birthday to our lovely Taeyongie!
This one goes out to my worrywart of a sister. Stop stressing, my dude.
Bruhh, I was on my melodramatic hopeless romantic shhh when I wrote this one.
Main Masterlist || NCT Masterlist || Fluff Masterlist
There’s a leak in the walls, or the apartment above, or maybe it’s the kitchen sink. It’s hard to tell. You shouldn’t get up to check. You really shouldn’t. Who in their right mind leaves the perfectly comfy and warm embrace of their comforter in search of a phantom drip? There’s nothing you can do about it, anyway. You’re not a plumber. This is a problem for Maintenance.
But if it is the sink faucet and you can put yourself out of this misery, shouldn’t you? It’s not like you can sleep with this incessant drip drip thundering throughout the entire apartment. It’s practically shaking the walls of your mind, a miniature earthquake behind the lids of your eyes. Checking the sink will give you something to do, a way to pass a whole minute before you’re plunged back into the sleepless abyss.
You move to get up but you’re stopped when an arm wraps around your waist, grounding you. Strong. Protective. It can be none other than Taeyong. He’s lying beside you, bundled up in the bedding, asleep – at least you thought he was. Did you wake him, or is the drip torturing you both?
“What’s wrong?” he mumbles, still half-asleep.
“You don’t hear that?” You don’t bother with an inside voice. “The dripping. It won’t stop. Do you think there’s a leak?”
A knot twists in your gut at the thought alone. Bills. More and more bills. Always a new bill or a hidden fee, not to mention the stacked charges, and this apartment complex has a knack for finding sly ways to pin damages on you, make it your problem, drain your bank account for their incompetence. And now you’ll be paying for a hotel room while Maintenance takes their sweet time repairing the issue.
It’s stressful.
You’re stressed!
What if the place is waterlogged? What if the whole structure needs work? You could be in that hotel for months!
And then there’s the possibility of mold. That could make you both sick! That could kill someone! That could–
“There’s no leak,” he says and despite the tiredness in his voice, he sounds so sure.
It’s reassuring… but the worries linger all the same.
“They could be hurt.”
He pulls you closer, tighter, secures you against his chest. “Who?”
“The upstairs neighbours. They could have died in the bathtub so it’s going ‘drip drip drip’.”
“Hmm.” Taeyong nestles closer still, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“They’re morning shower people.”
“So? People can change.”
“Not overnight.”
“Is it really not bothering you?”
Your question hangs in the air for a moment before he shimmies his leg between both of yours and he slides his other arm underneath your side. With both of his arms wrapped around you, he pulls you into a deep embrace, practically squeezing your breath away. After a long moment he loosens his hold, but only enough for you to breathe without strain.
“I didn’t notice it until you mentioned it.”
“How? It’s driving me insane!” you huff, head sinking into the pillow as you welcome the sheer exhaustion threatening to wipe you out.
“I focus on something else.”
Holding back a quick retort and the scoff resting on the tip of your tongue, you try your damnedest to listen to anything else. There’s nothing as consistent as the drip. A dog barks in the distance, a cat yowls. The wind picks up into a howl only to lose her nerve and fall silent. Some kind of engine revs to life for a solid beat before it, too, putters and fades.
“There isn’t anything else,” you whine.
He chuckles into your hair. “Really? It’s my favourite soundtrack. You don’t hear it? It plays every night.”
“Stop teasing.” You yawn. At this rate you’ll black out but at least you’ll finally be asleep. “Just tell me – I’m losing my mind over here.”
Your eyes droop until they close and you’re on the edge of passing out when your entire world shakes with the thick plop of water hitting water. Anxiety wells in your gut. A puddle. If it’s the upstairs neighbour then that puddle will turn into a bubble and that bubble will burst into a torrential downpour all over your bathroom or kitchen or, Lord forbid, your bedroom! Somehow, someway, the water will roll above your head then pop! Your whole life you’ve built here with Taeyong, the memories and the mementos, the big step of moving in together, the future it laid out… gone. Submerged in an early, watery grave.
“Here,” he says as he places his hand over your heart. “Feel this.” You breathe deep. His hand warms your skin as your chest rises. You exhale and he follows, both with his hand and his own soft breathing. With your bodies pressed so close you can feel every inhalation. You fall into sync with him, exhaling as he does. “Now listen. Do you hear it?”
Try as you might, you can’t hear anything except…
His gentle breathing, serene and almost inaudible, a melody whispered mere inches from your ear.
And his heartbeat, slow and steady as it reverberates from his body to yours.
The song of intimate vulnerability shared between lovers.
“I hear it,” you murmur, afraid to speak too loud, to break the trance and fall victim to wandering thoughts.
“And you feel it?” he asks, his voice deep with oncoming sleep.
“I do.” But you’re unsure if you’re even speaking out loud anymore, losing yourself to the rhythmic drum of his heartbeat, to the evening of his breath as he falls into a peaceful slumber. One you’re soon to follow, your body relaxing as the worries cease and the thoughts slow to a trickle.
I feel it.
in the loneliest hours,
when consciousness slips endlessly,
he reaches for you,
his breath your guide.
your love for me.
in the loneliest hours,
when sleep tears lovers apart,
he holds onto you,
his love a lighthouse,
his heart your anchor.
-fin-
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College is a time for studying and planning for your future… so why must Jay insist on winning your heart? And why are you considering letting him?
Warnings;;
None! <3
Oh, I guess Reader is a bit of a tsundere
Notes;;
Based off the prompt ‘Candy Hearts’ from my Valentine’s Day prompt list~
Main Masterlist || ENHYPEN Masterlist || Valentine’s Masterlist
He’s a dark fleck in contrast to the dull grey building he’s loitering against. Sunlight lingers on his black jacket, absorbing into the leather while leaving a bright glow that catches the eyes of passersby. It’s hard to see him in clear detail from your elevated angle but his jeans appear ripped and his shoes look designer. Or at least they’re a very interesting shade of red - a burgundy that morphs into the blaring red of a stop sign. They’re eye-catching. Sort of like Jay himself.
Calling it a day, you toss your lab paperwork into your bag and turn off the computer. There’s no point sticking around when you can’t focus. Knowing Jay is waiting outside to ambush you the second you leave the library dampens your ability to pay attention. Not because he’s anything special (he’s just a guy, albeit a very attractive one) but because you’d rather just get the interaction over and done with.
okay, so after another 4(0,000) years, I've actually completed this request ahaahaaaa 😅 I kinda wrote it up in a fever state (because mafia au, I couldn't help myself) and got it done in 2 days/7.5hrs. Gonna type and edit it soon!
Tentative Post Date: August 8th! (for his birthday 🥳)
Hi author-nim! Recently came back to tumblr and discovered your Kyungsoo fics; thank you for writing content of our king <33 Are you taking requests right now? If so, may I request a suggestive/mild smut of being reunited with Kyungsoo after he finishes his tour or something where there's mutual pining/missing each other?
Hello! 🫶
Welcome back to Tumblr! I also recently came back :)
Kyungsoo is very fun to write for - he has such a great range of genres that suit his personality and persona.
I don't really accept requests anymore but I also don't not accept requests. It's really more of a 'I accept them all but it might take years for them to be finished... 😅'.
But I finished this one a few days ago! Just have to type and edit it, and then have my beta reader look over it. Should be posted... soon? Maybe? Probably.
Tentative Post Date: Soon!
Thanks for the request and I will tag you when it's posted so you don't have to sit around and wait for it ☺️
I'm writing again, y'all ♡ I'll be posting in... August? Maybe. Definitely September! Got a ton to edit (over 35k in one-shots from my last count and I haven't typed them all yet 😅) from before this latest hiatus, as well. But I'm only taking two classes this summer so I've got time to burn and I plan on getting a lot written for October!
I saw the Kyungsoo request in my inbox and I'll post that for sure soon! It's not too long so it shouldn't take much to finish up and edit. It was a little difficult for me to get into the flow of that one so hopefully it's good 🤞
I can't even tag everything I have ready to go because there's just so much lmfao I should've posted it for Kinktober last year but 😭 even if I don't write anything else this summer, I WILL be posting my backlog.
Sending a random womp womp anon to a dead account isn't going to advance your cause. If anything you're making me want to come back and write again lmfao
Well... I still have lots to post come October (and late September!) but after the last five or so days of pain and surgery, I won't have as much as I was hoping :( I'll still be posting daily but maybe not twice daily now, or even a long fic twice a week aghh. At least physically I'll be a bit better 😭 hopefully this helps my back pain too because !! I'll be able to write more if it does ♡
I'm working hard over here, I promise! Everyday! I'm writing my little heart out so I can have something to post daily throughout October! I'm hustling! My fingies and my wrist and my hand - it's all practically broken from how hard I'm writing! Sometimes 2k words a day! Which is a lot for me considering I was writing 0 words per day just a few weeks ago!
Ahem.
So far I've written "shorts" (ranging for .3k to 2k+) for...
Bang Chan, Rosé, Nicholas, YangYang, Seulgi, Hokuto, Eunwoo, Jeonghan, Hunter, Yujun, Yunjin, Jimin, Minghao, Taeyong, Lay, Jake, and Sukuna, though he'll be posted on @animetrashlord-007, and I'm working on a Jisoo fic right now~
And that's just the start!! I hope you and at least a few other people like them! There's a whole range of fluff, angst, supernatural and spooky for Halloween, sexy and smutty for Kinktober - oh, the variety! It's too much! Bahahaha~
And what are you working on lately, huh, Sinpie?? Hmm?? Huh!!
Thanks for stopping by, pretty lady~ looking forward to your Summer Camp with SVT!! Don't forget to whip up some more LDW fics! And if you need any ideas, I have plenty of priest/church/religious AUs floating around my head!! ♡
Hihihi! I love your Astro content. When are you going to write something for Eunwoo? 🥺
Shut up, how did you know?! I do have something planned for Eunwoo! I think I have some requests, too. But I'm going to be doing one of my typical Astro hurt/comfort fics for him soon ♡ It's meant to be a short drabble but we'll see, haha.
Also thank you!! I'm so glad you like them 🥺🫶💕 I love Astro sm. I miss writing for them but it's been hard 👉👈
Your world is turned upside when you wake up inside a small room. More akin to a prison than a bedroom, every passing moment evokes greater terror as the room shakes in a rhythmic sway. Things only go from bad to worse when a foreboding stranger lets himself in.
Warnings;;
Dark content, kidnapping and isolation, threats of violence / the implication, bodily fluids (blood, tears and vomit). Delusional JK. Reader incurs injuries including head trauma.
You wake with a jolt, or rather with a lurch. Heavy lids fight to stay open as you flail free of your nightmare. There’s a pounding within your skull that threatens to split you in two. Reaching for anything solid, your nails hover over the dreary grey wall. Before you have a chance to deny your reality, the room once again rocks and dips.
Without any type of steady grip you’re a victim of physics. Headfirst you collide with the wall. Your vision darkens. There’s no sound except the pain, tangible and screaming. It blossoms outward from your fingertips. Fingertips smashed between your chest and the wall, fingertips warm with blood.
Fighting to remain conscious, you avoid assessing the damage. Your stomach is already resting within your throat, the airway threatening to constrict. Breathing deep, your head lolls against the wall. Ice-cold metal bites your skin; a silent reminder of the box you’re trapped within.
There’s an unnatural chill in the air, alongside the stench of iron and salt. A small gust whips into the room when the door swings open. Shivering, you cower into a ball, using your own body as a windbreaker. When the rush subsides you allow yourself to glance over your shoulder at the intruder.
In front of the door stands a man of average stature. Atop his head is a navy blue bucket hat. Water drips from its edges. While his face is pleasant, his eyes burn dark like a wildfire. The longer you stare at him, the wider his smile grows. It’s unnerving; there isn’t a hint of his motivations nor intentions, just blind adoration.
“Goooood morning, sunshine!” he sings, swaying in tandem with the room. “We’ve hit a rough patch but it’ll pass soon. Are you hungry?”
“Who… who are you?”
His expression is quizzical for a brief moment before it morphs back into a mischievous grin. “Are we roleplaying?”
When he steps into the room his boots clang against the steel floor.
Slow. Thud. Heavy. Thud. Deliberate. Thud.
Each step reverberates against the walls before settling within your chest.
“I’ll play,” he chimes, the song melodic compared to the harsh crack of his neck. “I’ll be the nice captain who saved a sorry wretch like you. How does that sound?”
He looms over you and you slink closer to the wall. Ice claws at your back, numbing your skin. There’s no more than a foot of distance between the bed frame and his legs. Water slides down his pants, leaving a glimmering trail on the grey surface. His coat is made of the same thin material. Discomfort rumbles within your gut.
“Where am I?” you whisper, lifting your gaze to meet him.
“Is that any way to talk to your captain, wench?” he teases, placing a gloved hand on the wall beside you. He carries the scent of the ocean with him. It fills your nose before seeping down your throat. “I’m starting to think you want to be punished. Is that it?”
It takes great effort to bite back obscenities and instead say, “No, sir.”
“Oh…” He falls to his knees before you. Reverence brightens his doe eyes. Moving his hand from the wall to your face, he caresses your cheek. You flinch away from his cold touch. “I might like that a little too much.”
It’s while he’s chuckling to himself, a flush heating his cheeks, that you snap. Your hand collides with his, batting him away. Without pausing to process the indignant shock creeping across his features, you raise your legs and kick him square in the chest. He tumbles onto his haunches. A sharp exhale breaks past his lips and he winces. Leaping off the bed, you curl your toes and slam the arch of your foot against the side of his body. Soft flesh contorts around your attack.
You don’t look back at him as he yells your name. Throwing yourself toward freedom, you yank on your prison’s door. Precious seconds are wasted pulling the heavy door open wide enough for you to slip through. Even so, there’s no clear evidence of his pursuit. No footsteps, no panting, no shouting – the room fades into silence the moment you’re free of it.
The moment your eyes catch the gleam of light reflecting off a staircase, you bolt toward it. Rolling down the stairs, cold, dry, salty air licks your skin free of all moisture. Wind howls above you. Somewhere in the distance comes the splash of water lapping against steel.
Climbing two steps at a time, the metal underfoot groans and shakes. What should take mere seconds feels like an eternity. Each clatter and bang ignites terror within you. Even outside the room your world shakes and rolls, and the worst possible scenario invades your thoughts. When you breach the surface, exploding forth from the shadowy depths of the lower deck, your nightmare becomes reality.
Dark clouds gather over pitch-black water. Tumultuous waves crash against the ship’s hull. No matter which direction you look, you’re greeted with more ocean. Vomit rises into your throat, searing your esophagus until you let it loose onto the grated steel floor. The sight of it sloshing around your feet, viscous and steaming, makes you hurl once more.
“Are you unwell?”
You spin to face him. That stupid doe-eyed expression is back on his face. Concern drips from his words as he repeats himself. It’s sickening, vile even. His hand reaches for you and you bare your teeth at him. He’s unhindered as he walks, indifferent to the constant, maddening pulse of the ocean.
“You’ve been acting out quite a bit since we started our vacation, honey.”
There’s a flash of lightning in the distance. As if to really drive home how absolutely fucked you are, it illuminates the sky and sea. There’s no land in sight, no birds in view.
Just miles upon miles of nothing.
“Maybe you should lie down.”
He’s closing the distance, creeping nearer and nearer. On wobbly legs you take a step back. He makes up the loss and gains new ground in a single stride. The deck is slick beneath your hesitant feet. You stumble and slip. Collapsing onto the ship’s railing, a deep-set chill settles into your bones. Before either of you have a chance to react, another wave rocks the boat. The force pushes you into the stranger’s awaiting arms.
“Let go of me!”
“Baby, I’m wor–”
“I’m not your baby,” you spit, slamming a clenched fist against his broad chest. “Let me go!”
Round eyes narrow. All traces of his jovial nature wash away. Rage bubbles to the surface in its stead. Shadows deepen in the dips and hollows of his face. A contorted smirk taints his youthful charm. He doesn’t allow you any room to breathe as he invades your space. When you’re chest to chest, he pushes you further, herding you to the edge. Greeted again by the icy railing, your back curves around the metal bar. The stranger leans down. His weight crushes you, pressing you down onto the railing without remorse.
“You want to go?” His voice is a cold whisper against your ear. A shiver tears down your spine. Paralyzed, your body refuses to fight. “Then go.”
His grip is iron-tight as it wraps around your knee. Mumbled protests depart your lips but they’re in vain – he’s uplifting your centre of gravity, sending you over the edge. Falling over the railing, the scream you produce almost sounds disconnected from your body, as if it were someone else’s fate to drown.
Your head bounces against the hull. Raw and scratched, your vocal cords give out and you trail off into a sob. Tears mix with seawater and blood. Yet when you look down, watching the scarlet drops disappear into the murky depths, you remain several feet above the ocean. It reaches for you, hungry waves lunging for you, but you’re suspended over it, dangling precariously like a worm on a hook.
“Do you still want me to let you go, honey?”
He loosens his hold to prove he’s ready to drop you should you ask. As if you ever would. But he’s waiting for a response, forcing you to play along with his allusion to free will.
“N-no.”
“Good.”
Using his other hand as support around your back, he gives your leg a sharp tug. Pain shoots outward from your hip – just another part of you that’s going to bruise and ache tomorrow. Once you’re slumped against the inner railing, he pats your head.
“Can you walk?” he asks, his tone saccharine. His teeth are on display as he smiles, giving you an encouraging nod when you stand. All the malice is gone and his faux innocence is back. “Let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.”
“I want to go home,” you cry, nails digging into your biceps as you hold yourself.
“You’ve been talking nonsense this whole time,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to draw you close. The back of his hand is warm against your forehead. He tuts before pressing a kiss against your temple. “I think you’re coming down with something.”
“I’m not s–”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it, baby. I’ll take care of you.”
He cradles your head, oblivious to the wounds you’ve incurred, and peppers kisses across your face. Doing a one-eighty sweep you glance out at the sea. Vast and endless, water stretches beyond the horizon. You’re stranded on this boat with a madman. Pressing a final chaste kiss against your tightened lips, he guides you toward the lower deck.
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Oops, my screenshot is big, haha! But thank you so much!! I really appreciate your reblog and I'm super stoked that you liked the fic 🥺🫶💕 also I love seeing your name in my notifs - thanks for reading and liking my works!!
